The Defiance (Brilliant Darkness)

by A. G. Henley

  "Can you at least walk next to me instead of behind me?" I say. "You're making me nervous."

  Bear and Calli are in the clearing playing a heated game of Sink. The goal is to toss a small rock into a hole dug in the ground. If you make it, you take a step away from the hole. Whoever is farthest away after ten throws wins. I'm terrible compared to most; it's actually surprising how often I can hit the hole.

  "Come play, Fenn," Bear says as I walk up. He sounds guarded, probably because Moray is there. "Calli's killing me. I need someone to make me look good."

  "Thanks a lot." I turn to my unwanted shadow. "Goodbye, Moray."

  "I won't be far." He laughs as he walks away.

  "What happened? Did you go in the caves with him?" Calli asks anxiously. "We heard Moray was assigned to protect you."

  Bear spits on the ground. “What a joke.”

  "It's okay. He and I have come to an understanding," I say.

  "What do you mean?" he asks.

  I pull the knife out and show them what I imagine to be its blood-soaked surface from where I stuck Moray. "He won't bother me again."

  "Did you cut yourself?" Bear sounds concerned.

  "Not myself, him! I stabbed him. Don't you see the blood?"

  "Um—" Calli says. She takes a step closer. "Oh wait, there's a little on the end."

  I skim my fingers along the blade. She's right. The dried blood barely covers the tip. I sigh. "I should give this thing back to Peree, for all the good it's done me."

  "He gave you a knife without showing you how to use it?" Bear asks, a hint of scorn in his voice. "I can teach you a few defensive moves if you want."

  "Ooh, lets. I need the refresher," Calli says. "I'll be the attacker!"

  Most Groundlings are taught to throw a spear and wield a knife. I always got the idea it was meant to be a show of force for the Lofties, like the competitions during the Summer Solstice celebration. Don't mess with us; we know how to defend ourselves. I wasn’t ever included in the lessons.

  "Okay," I say. "But watch yourselves. You know how good I am with weapons.” They both snort in answer.

  Bear shows me the proper way to hold the knife and different ways to strike. He's adamant that I should aim to wound rather than kill, giving me time to escape.

  "Killing something is harder than you'd think," he says, "even when you can see where you're aiming."

  My lesson doesn't start out well. I can't get the hang of gripping the "knife," a blunt, wooden facsimile used for training purposes. I try to do what Bear tells me, slashing and striking at Calli, but we keep ending up in a fit of giggles on the ground, thanks to her ticklishness and my sad lack of skill. Bear laughs with us at first, but he quickly loses patience. He picks me up off the ground.

  "You have to take this seriously, Fenn. I'll be the attacker now. I'm going to grab you from behind. You twist like this.” He takes my shoulders and twists me around to face him, then jerks my knife hand up and into his gut. "Remember—an opponent isn't going to be standing around waiting to see where you'll strike next. He'll be flailing if you cut him, or making his next move if you don't."

  I try it, but I accidentally drop the knife before I even get turned around to face Bear. I mop the sweat off my face. "I'm hopeless. It's too easy for someone to get out of my way." I think of Moray. "Or to take my weapon away."

  "There's always a swift knee to the groin," Calli says cheerfully.

  "I'm not even sure I can manage that."

  "You'll manage it if you're desperate enough," Bear says. "Now come on. Try again—and this time with the real knife. Maybe that'll make it more real. Start slow, with the moves I showed you."

  We've drawn a crowd now, and people can't resist giving advice and encouragement. I'm frightened to be aiming for Bear using the real thing. But he was right; it sobers me up. Even Calli quits laughing when I accidentally nick his arm. Of course Moray cheers me from the sidelines.

  I'm exhausted by the time Bear lets me quit. I'm not sure I could stab my dinner, much less a person bent on hurting me. But it feels good to know I won't be utterly helpless the next time someone—Moray or anyone else—puts unwanted hands on me.

  We collapse against Bear's shelter with cups of water. "Thanks, you two. For the lessons . . . and for last night. I appreciate that you stood up for Peree and me."

  "Doesn't seem right not to let you two see each other," Bear says. "The Three are making some pretty poor decisions when it comes to you."

  "They're doing the best they can," Calli says. "I think they should let you see each other, too, but . . . there might be stuff we don't know."

  I tilt my head. I can tell when she's trying to decide if she'll spill a secret. "Like what?"

  "Oh, nothing. I mean, I'm not sure it's nothing, but . . . I didn't really understand."

  "Tell us what you heard," Bear says.

  She clears her throat a few times. "I . . . I overheard Mother and Father talking when we were in the caves. They were kind of far away, but you know how there's that weird echo thing sometimes. Anyway, they said something that sounded like . . . maybe like they knew about the Hidden Waters and Koolkuna before you even left to find them."

  I sit bolt upright, spilling water into my lap. "How?"

  Calli starts to stutter. "I don't know. They . . . they were talking about when Father was told he’d be the old Council’s choice to join the Three."

  "Wait," I say. "I thought we all chose new Council members."

  "Well, we have a say, but the Council has the final decision, don't they? That's why the Three go to each family individually to ask who they would pick, instead of doing it in a big public meeting. So they can hear the people's choice, then decide if they'll go along with it or not."

  I frown. I had always assumed the Three weren’t involved in that process, other than tallying votes. I should know by now not to give them so much credit.

  "Father told Mother the Three warned him you really might find the Waters, and there might be other people there. He said it like it was a bad thing."

  "What did they say might happen?"

  "I don't know. They saw me listening and changed the subject."

  I hold up my hands. "I don't understand. If the old Council of Three didn't want me to find the Waters, why did they even let me try?"

  "Maybe it was Adder's plan all along for you to never come back," Bear says. "It's not like he would have told Aloe that before you left. And you did cause a lot of trouble right from the start. For Adder, at least."

  "But who would've gathered the water if I was permanently gone?" I ask. "Surely he would've considered that?"

  Bear thinks about it. "Aloe. She'd have to go back to collecting the water instead of being on the Council. Getting rid of you would've solved two of Adder's problems. Two birds, one stone."

  "Then I guess they would have chosen a new Lofty child to . . . to make Sightless. In the next Exchange," Calli says in a low voice.

  With growing dismay I realize they could be right. Shrike knew about Koolkuna because Kadee tried to persuade him to go there after she first found it. He could have told Aloe. And knowing Aloe, she would have done her duty and told the Three, either at that time, or when she joined the Council.

  I pull on my hair, smoothing it, trying to get it to stick together. It fights me. "I don't understand any of this. Why don't the Three want us to go to Koolkuna?"

  "They're afraid. Hell, I'm afraid when you talk about it." It sounds like it's hard for Bear to admit that. “The whole thing scares me. But I'd go. I want to see this place for myself."

  "I'd like to see it," Calli says slowly, "but my family would never go now that Father’s on the Council, and I can't go without them." She pauses. “Fennel, what if a lot of people want to go, but some of us want to stay here? What will happen to us? How will we defend ourselves against the Lofties or the flesh-eaters?”

  I open my mouth . . . and close it again. I honestly don’t know. It wouldn’t be easy, not at al
l, for any who choose to stay behind.

  “How would we survive?” Calli asks. “And how can the Three allow that to happen?"

  I can’t answer her questions. I don’t think anyone can.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I'm lying on my bed brooding after dinner. Eland keeps asking me what's wrong, but I don't tell him.

  What if Calli is right? Right now my community has plenty of people to do the many tasks that ensure our survival. If enough leave with us for Koolkuna, that won't be true. And that goes double for the Lofties, because there are fewer of them to begin with. We would seal the fate of the people who stay.

  But I can't remain here, either. Not the way things are now.

  There's a knock. At least someone still has some manners. Eland opens the door.

  "Come on in, Marj," he says.

  I sit up and greet our herbalist.

  "I've come to check on my patient," she says briskly. "How are you feeling, Eland?"

  "Better. That stuff you gave me helped."

  "Any headaches? Lingering confusion?"

  "Not really since the first night," he says. "When I was out there . . . with them."

  My forehead bunches. "What stuff? Marj gave you something to take?"

  "Some powder to mix in my water," he says. "Tastes awful, like when I ate the rabbit food on a dare that time."

  "I've been tinkering," Marj says. "Trying to find something to help with the disorientation after exposure to the sick ones."

  "What's in it?" I ask.

  "Mostly herbs. Bit of this and that from my workroom." She's moving around the shelter, probably picking up. Eland and I aren't great about keeping things neat and tidy. I can't see the mess, and he doesn't care. Not exactly a recipe for cleanliness.

  "How are you two doing without your mother?" Marj asks.

  Her question surprises me, but I appreciate her bluntness. Most people tiptoe around the subject, which kind of forces me to do the same.

  "Okay," Eland and I both say at the same time.

  I try again. She asked, after all. "It's hard, you know. I really miss her. I don't know what I'd do without Eland." I smile at him.

  "I'm sure it does help to have each other. You'll come see me, if either of you begins to feel low, or if you have problems sleeping, or with your appetite?" I tell her we will. "Right then, I'll be off. Eland, you don't need to use any more of the powder now that you're feeling better. Do you have any left?"

  "Only a pinch. I used most of it," he says.

  "Then you overdid it. I gave you much more than enough . . . but that is interesting. Perhaps taking more will shorten the effects of exposure." Marj sounds contemplative as she takes her leave.

  "Why didn't you tell me she gave you something to take?" I ask Eland after she goes.

  "Sorry, I forgot."

  "I'm glad it worked, whatever it was." I lie back down.

  Eland settles into his bed as well. "I lied, by the way. I still have more of the powder. I thought it might come in handy in case we run into the Sc—the sick ones—on our way to Koolkuna."

  I nod. "Smart thinking. Especially if it actually works. What do you remember about that night? I mean, when you were outside with them?"

  "Not very much. I was really scared and pretty sure I was becoming one of them. Even the next day, I . . . never mind."

  "What? Tell me."

  "I felt like . . . like my face looked like theirs. I kept touching my eyes and nose and stuff, and licking my lips to be sure they were, you know, still there." He hurries on, like he doesn't want to remember how the creatures looked or how he felt.

  "You were really brave, Eland. I was proud of you."

  "I don't know," he says. "Brave is when you choose to do something dangerous or scary for a good reason. I had to do it. That's not all that brave."

  I hop onto his bed and muss his hair. "It was brave to me. And when did you get to be so all-knowing?"

  "You and Mother were out there with them for days at a time," he mutters, sounding embarrassed. "I didn’t do anything like that."

  "But it's different for us, being Sightless. You know that.”

  "Yeah, I know. How could I not know that?" His tone is bitter, even angry.

  I touch his shoulder. "Eland?"

  "Forget it."

  "Tell me."

  He turns his back to me. "Sometimes I felt . . . I don't know. Left out. It was . . . it was like you guys could talk without really talking. Maybe it sounds stupid, but I was sort of jealous of that."

  Aloe and I did have our own way of communicating with each other. I knew instantly how she felt, not by what she said or didn't say, but through our small touches. We didn't mean to leave him out. We doted on him. Didn't he know that?

  I squirm closer to him. "Close your eyes and keep them closed."

  My hands pass over his eyelids to make sure they're shut, then I brush his forearm gently with my fingers.

  "This meant, 'I'm here with you. I'm listening.'"

  I grip his wrist firmly. "This was how she said, 'Be careful.' I got that a lot when I was a little girl, stumbling into one tree trunk after another."

  I push his hair back and away from his face and kiss his forehead. "She did this when I was upset. It was how she showed me she understood, and she cared."

  "And this," I take his hands and squeeze them, "meant I love you."

  I hug him to me. He sniffs, and I gather his tears with my fingertips. "She loved you so much, Eland. And I do, too."

  I hold his head in my lap, singing lullabies, until he finally slips into sleep.

  I sit awake, missing my mother. When the muted conversations and rustlings from the clearing finally fade, I ease Eland's head onto his pillow and prepare to meet Peree and Petrel. I still think this is a bad idea—how many times do the Three and the Covey have to threaten us? But it can't be helped. We need a solid plan for how to move the people we have to Koolkuna.

  Only the odd snore rumbles from the other shelters as I crack the door open and slide out. The forest isn't so quiet. Crickets hum hypnotically, leaves shift and sigh in the breeze, and frogs and bats keep the time with their cries. If the greenheart trees offer the forest its scent and flavor, then its animal inhabitants provide the tune.

  I creep like prey from dark spot to dark spot, minding the sound of my steps. There's probably a Groundling guard somewhere. The moon illuminates the path, so I walk under the shade of the tree branches. There's a luster ahead.

  For a long time I thought the water hole glowed at night. Calli finally told me the moon—which I’ve heard can be as slim as a curled-up leaf or as spherical as a stone—reflects in the water hole below. It seems unfair, somehow. The sighted see not only the fickle moon, they see two.

  The water sweeps softly onto the shore, then recedes, dancing with itself, careless who hears it. I hold under the cover of the forest, soaking in the sounds and scents of the night.

  After a few minutes, I hear more deliberate movements in the treetops: the low thump of quiet footsteps along the walkway overhead. They stop above me. A soft birdcall drifts down. I wave, letting them know it's safe.

  The rope ladder dives toward me, bumping against the tree trunk as it falls, and I steady it as Peree descends. My heart pulses in my chest as he draws near. I feel like I’ve stolen these moments with him, moments we’ll have to eventually give back. I don't want to steal time with him. I want it to be ours to keep.

  We embrace, and I find his ever-present bow and quiver lying in wait across his back. There are new feathers in his hair. Peree's bow and feathers: the things that mark him as a Lofty. One feather drops out of my fingers to the ground. I'm glad I brought the colorful one Calli found to replace it.

  "C'mon, you two, quit it. You're embarrassing your mother," Petrel whispers, hopping off the ladder a minute after Peree. We huddle into the shadows cast by the trees.

  "They aren't embarrassing me, Petrel," Kadee says quietly as she steps down beside us. "I love s
eeing them happy together."

  I hug her, glad to hear her voice, especially after thinking about Aloe so much tonight. My raw heart is soothed a little to know there's another woman I can turn to for the sort of motherly advice I always thought Aloe would be here to give.

  Petrel drops an arm around me, squeezing my shoulders after Kadee releases me. "I'm sorry about how things turned out the last time you and Eland were in the trees. If I'd known what Osprey was up to, I never would've left you two there alone."

  "Please don't apologize. If it wasn't for you, Eland might have hung on that tree for days," I remind him. "Things worked out in the end. How's Moon?"

  "Like a rabid chipmunk. Don't tell her I said that. But seriously. Half the time she's in a frenzy of activity—eating, nesting, and running around—the other half she's crashed out, sleeping. It's exhausting to watch." He chuckles. "She said to tell you to eat. And that she's looking forward to spending more time with you. Actually, she told me to tell you about four other things, but there's no way I could keep it all straight. Anyway, she's good. Ready to pop."

  "We'd better find somewhere else to talk," Peree says. "The water hole is too exposed." He curls my hand around his arm.

  We steal through the forest until we reach a thick stand of brush and trees where Peree and I went to be alone the first few days after the Reckoning. Before our people decided we couldn't be together at all.

  We push through the wall of undergrowth. Or maybe overgrowth—the vegetation claws at me from every direction.

  I don't usually go running through thick bushes and tree branches if I can help it. I usually end up with something hairy with multiple legs attached to me that I don't know about until I'm bitten. I decide I’m safe this time with Peree, Petrel, and Kadee along.

  Kadee joins me in the small area concealed behind all the foliage. "What is this place?"

  "A pretty good hiding spot." Peree chuckles. "Not that we've ever used it for that, right, Petrel?"

  "No, never," Petrel says. "Not even when we were hungry and shot a few rabbits on the ground . . . then climbed down to get them . . . and were stuck in here for hours while two Groundlings sat on the other side gossiping.” He laughs. “Being quiet for that long was an extreme test of our newfound manhood. Anyway, eventually we fell asleep. Didn't wake up until after dark. Shrike was furious when we finally got back home—remember, Peree? He made us eat meals with our hands tied behind our backs for days."