“This isn’t right. Something about this doesn’t feel right,” Oliver echoes the exact sensation screaming through my brain as he draws his weapon. Lark positions herself close to him so that not even a sliver of moonlight passes between his arm and hers. My eyes leave them, however, when the shuffle of booted feet over gravel at the top of the roughly ten-foot high wall demands my attention. My gaze races upward. My muscles quiver and the adrenaline that saturated every cell in my body slowly turns to shock. Urthmen glare at us from overhead, eyes as hard and cold as steel. More than a dozen of them, bows pulled taut and loaded with arrows aimed directly at us. The hope I had earlier bleeds from my chest until it pools at my feet.
“Drop you weapons, humans!” an Urthman shouts. At the sound of his voice, nearly eight more Urthmen appear from the surrounding forest—the wooded path upon which we just traveled.
With bows and arrows trained on us, my mouth goes dry and a feeling of lightheadedness overwhelms me. Peter led us here. He deceived us. His betrayal is as obvious as the arrows aimed at my heart. Hot tears of shame and anger burn behind my eyelids. My throat constricts so tightly I feel strangled.
“Please, Luc, don’t kill them,” Peter tips his chin and pleads with the Urthman on the wall who ordered us to relinquish our only chances at survival: our weapons.
Ignoring Luc, and all the other Urthmen with fingers itching to release their grip on their bowstrings, I whirl on Peter, my voice raging against the chokehold of emotion squeezing my throat. “This was a setup! You brought us here to die!” My words fire like bullets, peppering him so that he jerks back, his features contorted in horror.
“No, no,” he tries, his tone so sincere I’m almost taken by it, almost duped a second time. “Do you hear me, don’t kill them!” His voice is strident and panicked as he calls out to Luc again. Were I not standing on the doorstep, at the very threshold of the enemy’s lair, I might believe Peter, but standing as we are, outnumbered and with Urthmen poised to off us with the flick of a fingertip, it’s impossible to do.
“Drop your weapons or we’ll fire!” Luc ignores Peter’s pleas. His brow furrows so intensely the creases form a deep V between his eyes. The corners of his mouth tug downward into a horrified frown.
I glare at him, wondering why he’s maintaining the ridiculous charade. We’re here, personally delivered by him, to an Urthmna stronghold. He knows as well as we do how this will end. He knew we’d meet our demise by bringing us here, which is precisely why he led us to this exact spot. He knew all along. And now his ruse has been exposed. “I must’ve been out of my mind to trust an Urthman, to risk my life to save you!” I spit with such vehemence the words almost hurt to say. “I should’ve let Brom kill you.” Those six words slide from my mouth, cruel and unforgiving as the stab of a finely honed blade as all of us drop our weapons. Peter looks stricken. Inexplicable guilt strikes me just as I am shoved forward by an Urthman. “Now move,” he growls. We are led to a section of the wall where an arch is carved out of the stone, replaced with a massive wooden door that lowers at Luc’s command. Metal hinges creak and wood moans as the solid slab drops. If I hadn’t been forced to surrender my sword, now would be the perfect time to strike. But I am unarmed, all of us are, like boarts awaiting slaughter. In my periphery I see that a hand, filthy and with dirt caked beneath the nails of stubby fingers, grips the hilt of my blade. I will sever that hand at the wrist to retrieve my weapon if I must. One way or another, my sword will be returned to me.
The gate lands against the earth with a thud. We are ushered over the door and inside to what I thought would be a city but turns out to be little more than a base camp. Stout buildings, three in all, form a crude triangle on grass awash in ashen moonlight. At the center of the three buildings, stones are stacked in a circle, roughly three deep. Inside the circle, branches, crisscrossed and awaiting a spark to ignite a bonfire, are positioned. Every niche of the interior portion of the wall is orderly, a vast contrast to the wildness of the woods.
Though the space is neat and free of clutter or debris, it feels hollow, and dangerous. A shiver slinks the length of my spine. I do not want to die here. I don’t want to die at all, but certainly not here.
We are marched straight ahead to a building with bars spaced in the windows at regular intervals. I steal a sidelong glance at June. Her expression is stoic, her eyes locked and staring straight ahead at the building we’re headed to. Her jaw is set and her brow is dipped. Fierce determination radiates from her. She refuses to give the Urthmen the satisfaction of seeing she’s scared. She knows all too well that Urthmen couldn’t care less about human suffering. Pride at her composure fills me.
Her composure fractures slightly, however, when the door of a structure opens wide. The stench of blood and urine hangs heavy in the air. June’s hairline retreats and her eyes widen. Untold stories are told by the odor coloring the air, the cries, the pain. I can almost hear them. Feel them. I inhale a trembling breath and watch as my sister does the same just we are shoved inside a chamber within, a door slamming closed behind us immediately. The clink of metal fastening echoes with finality. And still Peter protests.
“No! This is a mistake! They’re not my prisoners! Don’t you get it?” he argues.
“They still need to be placed inside the cell until we can figure things out.” Luc rubs his temples with the tips pf his fingers, his demeanor one of frustration.
“Enough with the act already!” Sully roars, rushing the door we are now locked behind and slamming his fist against it. He is at a loss, as I am, as to why Peter persists with the sham. I wonder, what’s the point? The end result has already occurred. We’ve been captured, caged and await a fate that promises to be nothing short of barbarous.
“I can’t believe I trusted an Urthman.” I scrub my face with both hands, the gravity of our situation blasting into my chest like bullets from a shotgun. “I’m sorry, so sorry.” I turn to face my friends, my family.
“We all followed him, not just you.” The bass rumble of Arnost’s voice attempts to soothe, but the guilt I feel will never be eased, not in this life or the next should one exist.
“Yeah, we all followed him to our deaths,” Oliver adds. Bitterness spikes his words.
His words are weapons, his bitterness balled fists that pummel me. I retreat until my back touches the far wall. No longer able to stand, I sink, sliding down the wall to a squatting position. Tipping my chin, my head hits the cavernous wall of the cell and a tear slips down my cheek. “I’m such a fool,” I mutter. But voices rise in anger, a heated discussion under way. All attention is focused on an interaction that seems to be elevating into an argument. “Can you hear what they’re saying?” I whisper.
Sully holds up his index finger, his head tilted as he listens intently. After several seconds, he says in a low voice, “The Uganna, they’re arguing about the Uganna, about whether or not they’re safe here.”
“They aren’t just arguing about that. They’re also arguing about us, about what to do with us. The Uganna are coming and they aren’t safe. We aren’t safe! No one’s safe from those monsters!” Lark’s voice quivers, pitching up an octave.
“The Uganna will kill us all, will kill them too.” June’s soft tone is a haunting, melodious sound, her words more chilling than the cold, damp stone my back is pressed against. But they strike a chord within me, one that resonates through the hollows of my being.
Rising to my feet and rolling back my shoulders, I say, “That’s right, June.”
Five sets of eyes search my face before shouting tears their attention from me, returning it to the door. Words, though loud and angry, are indecipherable, but with each seconds that ticks by, they grow clearer, closer.
Booted feet shuffle, striking the hard floor as they clamber near. Suddenly, keys jingle. With every clink and rattle, my pulse stutters until the sound of it entering the lock with a click halts it altogether. The door is being opened, and the distinct possibility that we’re all abo
ut to die becomes a near certainty.
Chapter 16
All eyes are fixed as the door begins to open. Heart slapping against my ribs, my hand instinctively flies to my scabbard, fingers searching for the hilt of my sword, only to find it empty.
“W-what’s happening?” Lark’s words are frantic as they stream in a breathy whisper. I wish I knew, wish had an answer for her that didn’t somehow include all of us dying, but the sad fact of the matter is that’s the only likely scenario that’ll play out.
The door creaks open slowly and Peter fills the frame. “We need to go now.”
For a moment, what he’s said doesn’t register. No one moves. No one acknowledges his command.
Several beats pass then he says, “Don’t you want to get out of here?”
Balling my hands into fists that I plant on my hips, I advance several steps, anger brimming within me. “We aren’t going anywhere with you.”
Brushing debris from his shirt, Peter’s gaze clashes with mine. “Yes you are,” he says levelly. “The Uganna have my son and your friend. They’re being held not far from here. We have to leave now before it’s too late.” Panic etches his features and sparks to life inside me like lightning. Riley is being held by the Uganna. She’s alive, and I suppose that should present a glimmer of relief, but knowing that she’s surrounded by wild, bloodthirsty beasts offers no comfort whatsoever.
“My sister is being held by Uganna? Where? When did this happen? Is she okay?” Oliver erupts, lunging forward as his voice rolls like thunder through the cavernous space. For a moment, I worry he’ll attack Peter. Truth be told, I’d be hard pressed to find anyone in our cell to stop him. After what he’s done to us, leading us here, I think each of us would like a turn pummeling him.
Peter doesn’t flinch. He stands his ground despite Oliver’s threatening demeanor. He’s terrified for his son, just as we are for Riley. “I don’t know what’s happened to them, and won’t until we get there.”
“We?” Oliver growls.
Peter throws his hands up, cutting off Oliver. “Stay here if you want. I’m going to get my son, with or without you.” He eyes each of us, the fierceness and determination of a loved one prepared to shed blood to save his own radiating from him.
“How can you even expect us to come with you after you brought us here?” I snap.
“I can’t, really, but you want your friend, don’t you?” He doesn’t wait for us to respond with a unanimous yes. “And I’m the only one in here who knows where she is.” He pauses and squeezes his eyes shut. “And I brought you here because I needed to see whether the people stationed here—my people—we’re alive.” He opens his eyes and rubs his forehead. “Besides, we can use all the help we can get, and you wouldn’t have come if I’d have told you.”
“That’s for sure,” Sully says.
Peter ignores the acid in Sully’s tone and continues. “I also knew that Luc and the others wouldn’t hurt you if I told them not to.”
“Yeah, you really looked like you had things under control,” Sully huffs and folds his arms across his chest. “And how did you know we wouldn’t fight, that we wouldn’t attack at the wall, as soon as we knew where we were?”
Peter scrubs his chin and flicks his wrist. “That was a risk.”
“Yeah, a pretty big one if you ask me.” Sully throws one hand in the air, his annoyance plain.
“It was,” Peter conceded. “But these people here,” he gestures behind him. “They’re my friends. You’d have done the same for one other.”
He’s right, of course. We’d have done whatever it took to see to it that we made it to our friends, even if it meant betraying one who’d saved our lives. I won’t give him the benefit of the doubt at the moment. I’m still reeling from being led here, and then learning of Riley’s whereabouts.
“All right, enough of this!” Oliver blurts, clearly unfazed by Peter comparing the loyalty he felt to his people to the loyalty we feel for one another. “Where do they have my sister?”
Peter swallows hard. But before he speaks, Luc comes into view and stands beside him in the doorway. “There is a Uganna camp about a mile from here,” he says. “They are holding many humans and some Urthmen. They’re caged.” The words seep from between his teeth in a hostile hiss. “There isn’t much time.” Urgency colors his tone.
My stomach clenches before rolling in on itself. “Why?” I ask and a part of me balks at the unending list of horrific answers I may get.
Luc exchanges a furtive glance with Peter. I watch their exchange, watch as Peter gives a nod so subtle it’s almost imperceptible. “Just come,” Luc pleads.
I’m not sure what it is about the interaction exactly that convinces me to urge my friends to go, but I hear myself agree. “Okay.” The word falls from my lips, strange to even my own ears. Five heads whip in my direction to face me. I say nothing, rather I meet each of their gazes.
“I’m coming too.” Oliver is the first to say. Sully and June follow immediately then Lark and Arnost.
Luc bows his head, the gesture bordering on respectful. He steps aside, as does Peter, and we file out of the cell and into the main area of the small building. The small group of Urthmen who led us here is congregated. They hold our weapons, and in a move that stuns all of us, redistribute them. Sully slides me a glance just before Arnost mutters, “Never thought I’d live to see the day Urthmen hand out weapons to humans.”
A lopsided grin, the one I’ve come to know and love, plays across Sully’s lips. It’s hard not to snicker at Arnost’s comment for none of us ever thought we’d live to witness what is occurring. A common enemy is the thread that unites us, that hunts us and currently holds ones we love. I look to Peter. Desperation marks his features, and a wildness I didn’t notice earlier lingering there too.
The Urthmen continue distributing weapons, arming themselves further after handing us ours. I’m comforted by the weight of my sword in my hand, rolling the hilt in my grip for several seconds before replacing it to my sheath.
“Let’s go, let’s go,” Peter urges our group as soon as my weapon is in place. Luc freezes mid motion while loading arrows into his quiver and shoots him a glance. “They have my son! We need to go.” The calm veneer Peter’s maintained thus far crumbles. His concern for his son’s safety consumes him. It’s understandable, admirable despite the fact that he led us here and put us in a precarious position, one that could have ended in bloodshed.
“Okay, we’re leaving now.” Luc’s tone is surprisingly soft. He turns on his heels and orders the rest of the Urthmen to march out, and we begin our journey to the Uganna base.
A thread of a breeze curls between the buildings in the small camp. It whips up the scent of moss and fallen leaves, and also a hint of sweetness, of burning brush, of a bonfire. I tip my nose to the air and my senses prickle. The camp, no doubt is nearer than I thought. We set off at a jog, and the more ground we cover, the stronger and more distinct the smell becomes. In no time, we arrive at a spot where the woods thin.
Hundreds of torches, both in the rock of squat structures and wedged in the dirt, light the space in a glow so bright it almost resembles daylight. We see it before we’re close, hear it. The screams and cries of human beings echoes like thunder through the woods, growing louder with each step we take. Once we reach the low-growing brush that skirts the clearing, we crouch, and what I see sickens me in a way that will haunt my days and nights for the rest of my life. I choke on fury, looking away before I do something I’ll regret. I have to make a conscious effort to not race headlong into the village, swinging my blade and taking out as many Uganna as I can in the process. I know such a move would be foolhardy at the moment; that waiting to strike is the best course of action. But it’s hard, especially when I see small iron cages. Spaced side by side with a thin smattering of straw within, cages with many humans stuffed in each, the space so tight they can’t even move. Some contain children curled on their sides and sucking their thumbs in som
e instances, mud streaked faces gazing out painfully. Their expressions are forlorn, hopeless, the cages so small they can barely move. My stomach squeezes in, collapsing on itself. All I see is June not long ago. Each of them could easily be her. Each of them belongs to someone—a mother, a father, a sister, brother or friend, a community. Someone is searching for them right now, not knowing that they’re here, captives contained behind bars. But not all are children, and not all are silent. Pleas, shouted and whimpered, tear from throats grown raw from exertion. Outstretched hands, bruised faces and bloody lips press against bars, backs hunches and low from lack of space, punctuate a scene that is horror personified.
Grinding my teeth hard, my fists clench so hard my fingernails dig into my palms painfully. Seeing their conditions, the cramped space, the welts and blood, sends panic screaming through me in time with insurmountable fear.
“They are in there, you friend and his son,” Luc says in a low voice.
Riley. Sweet Riley, no older than June and my sister all but by blood, is caged like an animal. “Why are they kept there?” The words leave me in a growl.
“You don’t want to know.” Luc’s gaze is distance, scanning the sea of bars and the thousands of Uganna.
What I believe to be guards patrol the cages. I estimate a few dozen. They are more numerous than I’d prefer, but still manageable. The rest of the Uganna are gathered around a massive bonfire farther away. Stretching and looking as if its flames lap the navy swath of sky above it, the blaze spawns spiraling tornadoes of smoke. The sweet, aromatic smell of it and the dazzling spectacle produced by it would be a treat for the senses were it not complimented by abject human suffering and monstrous creatures prowling in the moonlight. Surveying the position of guards and the rest of their legion, I realize we’d be able to kill them without being seen. Far enough away from the center of activity where the bonfire and torches glow brightly, dark shadows stretch between the rows of cages. Any move we make would be cloaked by darkness. I turn my head, trying to make eye contact with Sully but his gaze is riveted straight ahead. Following it, I return my attention to the camp. The shuffle of feet is muffled by the continual cries, but I see a commotion, see that roughly fifty Uganna are being led to the cages by one that walks on two legs rather than propelling himself forward with his knuckles to the ground first. He makes his way between the rows, inspecting them carefully before stopping.
Planet Urth: The Fate of Urth (Book 5) Page 14