by Casey Hays
“Believe me when I say we need a leader,” I continue. “But leaders should be chosen by the people. I understand now.”
My words strike the women, and their excited and confused voices tangle together inaudibly. This is something they can’t grasp—an offer never extended before—and they don’t know quite what to do with it. But Tara does. I see her eyes twitch nervously, but a smile plays at the corner of her mouth. I see what’s in her mind as clearly as if it were my own thought. I give up my role as leader, and it might open a door for her to walk clean through.
My eyes fall upon Mona’s body.
“I did not mean to . . . kill Mona. She was good to me at times, even though I disagreed with her practices. I ask for your forgiveness for what I have done.”
Whispering sweeps across the crowd, and I hesitate another minute before speaking, because what I’m about to say terrifies even me. And yet, I know it is what I must do. I face the Council.
“I have decided to leave the Village.”
I raise my chin, try to look as bold as I can. The crowd gasps in joined shock at my suggestion. We are, after all, the only survivors on Earth. How will I live outside the Village?
Anna Maria turns in surprise for the first time. I meet her eyes and continue.
“I will leave today. I don’t want to be a constant reminder of the tragedy that took place here. And I’m sure all of you will agree that banishment is worse than death.”
The crowd bursts into a jumble of noise again. Anna Maria leans over and whispers into my ear.
“Are you sure, child? Where will you go?”
Tears sting my eyes as I gaze at the old woman, the only one of the Council who has ever shown any genuine kindness toward me, and as an afterthought, I take hold of one of her weathered claws.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “Perhaps . . . to Eden.”
The tears are sliding giants now. I will be leaving, but not with Ian. Anna Maria gasps softly, her watery eyes searching my face. I smile.
“You know of Eden, don’t you?” I ask.
Anna Maria nods. “So the stories are true. He’s alive, then?”
I furrow my brows. “Who?”
“Ian, of course.”
“No.” I shake my head, sniffling. “He died. You—you saw.”
Anna Maria squeezes my hand tenderly, and her old, grey eye twinkles. “Go, and I will send for you when the time comes.”
I eye her suspiciously. “Send for me? Why?”
She raises a brow. “You’ve been chosen, Kate.”
“But, no. The Village will decide who will lead them.”
“You can give them all the choices you want. But they will only be able to choose what was meant to be in the first place. The future is already written, dear. It cannot be changed because you give a choice.”
“But, how can you know? You can’t see the future.”
“No. But I’ve lived long enough to see the future in the past. You will be back, Kate. And you will take your proper place among us.”
I back away, moving toward the steps, but Anna Maria grabs my wrist before I can go.
“Be careful. Eden is very different—and very dangerous. I don’t know everything about it, but I know that much is true. ”
I don’t understand her, but I nod, remembering John and his warning in the dirt. I haven’t thought about John for some time, and my heart aches when his face crosses my mind. Perhaps he will go with me. Yes, I will take him.
“Thank you. I’ll be careful.”
I can’t get off the stage quickly enough. My mind is spinning with everything I’ve experienced today. I cast one last look over Mona’s body as I pass her. I want to vomit.
Despite Anna Maria’s words, I don’t believe I’ll be coming back to my village. I shake my head in defeat. It was foolish for me to think I could change the minds of the women. I did my best today, but I know what will happen. Tara will be leader, and the Village will remain as it is.
But as for me?
I will never come back.
Chapter 35
“So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” John 8:36
I weave through gawking eyes and out of the clearing to the path that leads back to the Village. I watch my feet and focus on the one thing that keeps me from thinking about everything else: I must get to the Pit to rescue the boys, and we must leave the Village before my speech wears off and Tara gains control again. My execution, no doubt, is still strong in her mind.
“Kate!”
I turn. Mia and Diana rush toward me. And in that moment, all the adrenaline fueling me drains out as fast as the tears that suddenly overflow.
“Oh, Kate,” Mia throws her arms around my neck. “Are you really leaving?”
I nod, and her wet cheek sticks to mine, our tears trickling together in a salty combination.
“I have to,” I sniffle. “There’s nothing for me here.”
“But you have us.”
I look deep into her dark eyes.
“Tara will kill me if I stay, and you know it to be true,” I say, and she sobs. I cup her cheek in my hand and brush at her tears with my thumb. “I will be lucky to get out alive as it is. And besides, I—I can’t live this life. I never could.”
I look at both of them with as much tenderness as I can.
“You were chosen as leader,” Diana squeezes my arm. “This is why you wouldn’t leave with Ian before, isn’t it?”
I shrug, my eyes connecting with hers.
“And now, you must leave.”
“There has to be something more out there—now that I know there is an ‘out there’ to discover,” I say. “I thought I was supposed to stay here, to take the Village and lead as Fate has ordained, but I don’t think I am after all. Ian is gone.” I close my eyes, fight back against the tears that won’t stop flowing. I wipe at them. If only I had gone with Ian when he first came back for me . . . . All of this could have been prevented. “I want to honor him by going out there and finding my life—the life I am supposed to live. The world we dreamed of together.”
Mia presses her fist to her lips, trying to staunch her tears. Diana’s voice is calm when she speaks.
“If it’s alright, I’m coming with you.”
She holds Tabitha close to her. I raise my eyes and nod through my tears.
“Yes. You should.”
Mia attempts to swallow a sob, but it comes out in a weepy gulp. I wrap an arm around her.
“You’re both leaving me?” She leans into me. “How will I survive without you?”
“Come with us.” I squeeze her gently, but she shakes her head.
“No. I can’t. I—I’m not strong enough. I can never leave the—the familiar. It’s not in me to do such a thing.”
“But you’d have us. You don’t need to be scared.”
She shakes her head furiously, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. “I can’t.”
I hug her close. “I’ll miss you so much.”
Suddenly, we are in a three-person huddle, crying quietly. We’ve been together for so long—friends from nursery days to now. It’s not easy to say good-bye.
“Be careful, both of you,” Mia’s words are wet with sniffling. “Will I ever see you again?”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head and look at the ground. “I hope so,” I whisper.
We leave each other with a stale place in the pits of our stomachs because there is no closure—none—and I don’t think there can be. And so we make ourselves move on with our own self-created agendas to keep from hurting so much. Diana hurries off to gather her things. Mia makes her way back to the clearing and to the women, a villager to the end.
And I continue down the path toward my new destiny feeling miserably lonely. I’ve lost everything today, and I don’t know how I will begin to rebuild my life. I can’t think just now, and my only desire is to curl into a tight ball and cry myself out.
Mona’s image penetrates my tho
ughts, and sickness overpowers me. Clutching my stomach, I stop on the side of the path and vomit. The guilt is a fresh wound that has no cure. I lean over the brush, wiping the back of my hand across my lips. I can never tell Mona how sorry I am, and even as I think it, the words seem empty. As empty as the yawning grave that will swallow her body and deliver it to the dust. I vomit again.
Mona was a cruel woman, but I can’t deny there was something of kindness in her. I saw it, even if it was corrupted by her self-interests. I tried to convince myself that she had no love in her, and I couldn’t let her gentle moments fool me. But I know somewhere deep inside, a tiny sliver of her soul was hiding. And this makes what I’ve done even harder to bear.
It’s fruitless to think this way, I know. But I can never ask her to forgive me, and this tears at my very core.
I round the bend in the center of the Village. My thoughts turn heavy with memories of Ian now, and a new wave of tears strikes me. I run our last conversations through my mind. I was his princess, and he was my prince—my savior—who designed a world that waited for us; a world where he could love me forever. The image of his crumpled and bloodied body invades me, and I close my eyes.
After a moment, I raise my shoulders, head high, and take a deep breath.
“That’s what makes it worthwhile. To do the impossible. I do it every day, Kate.”
Ian’s words ring in my memory. And so I will do the impossible. For him, I will find our world.
I dread climbing down into the Pit. I don’t want to see his lifeless body. The path blurs before me. My heart hurts as if the very arrows of the Archer himself have pierced it. Perhaps he sends this punishment for not believing in his power over me. Rebellion always comes at a price.
I feel a presence near me, and I raise my eyes thinking it will be Diana returning. I squint through my tears. But it isn’t her.
It isn’t her at all.
My heart stops. I raise a shaky hand to my lips and gasp.
The shadows cast by the trees seem to fade away, and he emerges from a dream—strong, whole, and beautiful against the landscape. He smiles at the same moment that sunlight breaks through the leaves at a perfect angle, and I see blue—the blue eyes of a million oceans flooding into my soul and drowning out my sorrow.
And in all its glorious, pulsating magnificence, my dead heart begins to beat.
I run as I’ve never run before. I leap into his arms, ignoring the dried and plastered blood that paints every inch of his body and clothes. I ignore the pain that sears through my aching flesh. I feel nothing but the racing of my own beating heart.
“You’re alive!” I choke. I bury my face in his neck, take in his smell, feel the warmth of his skin pressed into me. “You’re alive! You’re alive!”
The words come out of me in a blubbering mess, but I don’t care. I cling to him, and concentrate on his big, safe arms engulfing me.
“I thought I would never see you again.” I’m sobbing now, still pressed against him.
He hugs me so close I can’t breathe, but again, I don’t care.
“Hey,” he says gently. “Didn’t I tell you it was hard to kill me? It would take a lot more than a fifty foot fall.”
I clutch him to me with grasping hands, afraid that if I let go he might tumble out of my reach. He’s alive—completely, perfectly alive. How it’s possible is a mystery, but I don’t question it. He’s returned to me, and this is all that matters.
He pulls back and kisses my forehead, leaving a bloodied streak. I welcome it.
“So, Mona is dead.” He lowers his eyes to look at me. “What now?”
I squeeze close against his chest. I’m never letting him go. Not ever again.
“I’m coming with you,” I whisper.
He leans back surprised and looks me right in the eyes.
“You aren’t going to lead the Village?”
I shake my head. “I’ve changed my mind. When I thought you were dead, it changed everything.” I nod my head decidedly and firmly. “I’m coming with you.”
His eyes grow soft. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
I take a deep breath. For the first time in my life, I’m able to make a decision without fearing Mona’s wrath. And in the clutches of this reality, I realize that I’m free to say aloud what I want to say. I can shout it from the mountaintops. I look into his eyes, and I see the answer written there for me to read. I smile, pressing my palm against his cheek.
“I want you,” I whisper.
Without a second thought, he kisses me. I cling to his lips, savoring the sweetness as if it were our very first kiss. It’s the most precious moment I’ve ever felt. Ian is alive, and the world is whole again.
“We need to get to the Pit,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me behind him along the path. “It’s time to get the guys out of Hell. Do you need anything from here?”
I think for a minute and shake my head.
“Only Diana.”
Ian sighs, and his jaw stiffens. “You’re sure she can make the trip? It’s a good ways, and it will be pretty uncomfortable.”
I tilt my head. “Once again, do you see any comforts around us? Diana will be fine. Neither one of us needs much.”
He frowns.
“I can’t leave her in the Village.” I shake my head. “I won’t, Ian. She can make the journey.”
Sympathy crosses his face, and he nods.
“Where is she?”
“I’m here.”
Diana’s strapped a thin blanket over her shoulder and tucked the baby into it, tying it snuggly to her waist. A small pack is her only other burden. She steps up to stand beside me.
I smile. “And this is Diana.”
Diana’s eyes remain neutral as they wander over Ian’s bloodied body. He nods at her.
“Kate says you’re coming with us.”
“I am. If you’ll have me.”
He purses his lips, but he nods.
“If you’re dead set on going with us, I won’t stop you.” He faces me. “Let’s get the guys and get out of this place.”
I look at the entrance to my hogan. This is the last time I will ever see it, and my heart crunches a little. Ian takes my hand.
“Wait—”
I free my hand and slip into my hogan. My eyes scan the room, fall on my mat, my basket of clothes, the only things I possess. The tears come. I move quickly to the wash basin where a small bottle of lilac shampoo sits. It’s the last batch Mia and I made together. I scoop it up and slip it into my pouch. My fingers brush against Justin’s wooden rose tucked inside. I squeeze it once and sling the strap of my pouch over my shoulder. And I turn my back on the only place I’ve ever called home.
Outside, Diana and Ian wait quietly. He smiles, and he takes my breath away—this boy that I love with all my heart.
Up the path, the women are beginning to trickle in from the clearing. I tug on Ian’s arm. “We have to go now.”
Diana moves on ahead of us, away from the other women and toward the Pit—for the last time.
I’m leaving. The idea is fearful and foreign to me. Soon, miles will lay between me and my village forever. I’ve hated my trapped existence in this village, but I’ve known what to expect each day. Today, I step out into the unknown, and I am so very afraid.
At the edge of the Pit, Ian mounts the top of the ladder. Our eyes meet for a split second before I look upward at the blue sky. A breeze kicks up on cue and swirls the dust at my feet. From somewhere above, the Archer looks down on me, hidden though he may be. He sees my rebellion. I have defied what he spoke for me, and I have no idea what he may have in store for me now. But I will embrace whatever he contrives, and I will fling it back at him in full defiance.
A single, small cloud drifts lazily overhead. The billowing folds create a puffy cross-like section in the expanse, and for some undefined reason as I trace it with my eyes, I am moved. A tiny and sure spark of hope ignites in my soul. I watch it float for a moment, a misty
beacon in the sky, and I smile.
I may be frightened, but the Archer? He no longer has a hold over me.
I’m free.
Read on for a look at Archer, the upcoming second volume of the Arrow’s Flight Series...
Archer: Prologue
John sits half-hidden in shadows at the back of the cave, facing the wall. His drawing stick hangs limply from his fingertips. He doesn’t draw, and he is a statue in the heat of the day, quietly musing, perhaps over his mundane existence. A mosaic. A true picture of a day in the life of the stock. My heart catches, and for a moment—on the outside looking in—I simply watch him.
I place the wooden key in the lock. Click!
At the sound, he stirs, and his face brightens. He chucks the stick and rises, searching for the jailer. When he sees none, he faces me, confused. I smile weakly.
“Hello.” I move into the cave, leaving the door wide. “I’ve come to bail you out,” I say, using one of Ian’s terms.
His eyes narrow suspiciously.
“I know it sounds absurd, but it’s true. Come, we must hurry.”
He bends, draws the word W-H-E-R-E in the dirt. And my heart quickens.
“To Eden,” I say tentatively, and I wait for his anticipated response.
In the rays of the sunset streaming through the opening, John’s eyes pierce me with a solid fear. He blinks, grabs hold of my upper arm, and shakes me once, fiercely, angrily, as if his intention is to shake this insane idea clear out of my head.
His mouth moves, absent of the words he longs to say.
“You need to write it, John.”
My heart suddenly beats quickly, pulsating in my throat. His eyes are hot with his fear. I free myself from his grip and pick up his stick.
“I know you’ve never wanted to talk about Eden, but I need you to. More than ever, I need you to today.”
He yanks the stick from me and instantly drops to his knees. And he’s drawing—erratically, painstakingly. Big squares here. Circles there. A knife, or . . . what is that? I can’t decipher a bit of it. I shake my head and fall to my knees beside him.
I study the frantically scribbled images. Is this Eden? He reaches out, lifts my chin roughly. Desperation outlines his features. He nods sharply at the drawing. I shake my head, and he pounds his fists against his thighs. His features erupt with his frustration, brows furrowing, his eyes squeezing into tight creases. It sears his expression—his inability to talk to me, to tell what secrets burn deep in his memories. He stumbles to his feet, giant tears sliding down his cheeks, and I feel my own welling up in the corners of my eyes.