by Brian Farrey
I stepped around Maloch and called over to Reena. “Essence of almaxa, is it?”
Reena nodded. Essence of almaxa was a slow-acting poison. It took a full day to hit its highest potency. It was a smart way to keep an escaped prisoner from getting no more than a day’s journey away. That explained why the water tasted sweet each morning. It was laced with amberberry pollen, the cure for almaxa poisoning.
“Well,” Maloch yelled across the river, “the joke’s on you!” He slapped his arm around my shoulders and held me close. “My buddy Jaxter here has read your little book and already knows how to cure us. You lose!” He pointed to the pouches on my belt.
“Uh,” I said, under my breath, “actually, being in the river just ruined everything in my pouches. The amberberry pollen will have washed away.”
As if she’d heard me, Reena cupped her hands around her mouth and said, “We’ve got plenty of amberberry back in the camp. And you’ll get some if you come back with us. Peacefully.” She looked right at Maloch as she hit that last word.
Maloch, overcome by the poison, sank down on the bank. I wiped my glasses off on his dry shirt, then waved our surrender.
Holm produced a small ax from the leather satchel on his back and went to work cutting down twin trees. When they fell, they spanned the width of the river. Maloch and I crawled across the crude bridge and raised our hands when we reached the other side. Reena shoved us roughly in the direction of the Sarosan camp.
By now, the morning sun was a half circle on the horizon, and Maloch and I had grown pale and even more sickly. Maloch plodded along, keeping his chin high to preserve a shred of dignity.
I didn’t even bother. Between the poison tearing my insides up and the wet clothes numbing my outsides, it took all my effort to keep from collapsing, never mind trying to look rebellious. It wasn’t long before I finally fell to the ground and curled up into a tight ball, shaking.
“I c-c-can’t go on,” I said, teeth chattering like a drummer gone mad.
“Get up!” Reena said, prodding me with her dagger.
I shook my head. “I can’t f-f-feel my feet. Or my hands. I’m going to freeze to death. I need a fire.”
Reena shook her head. “We’re near the perimeter defenses of the camp, which means we’re not far. You can make it.”
For once in my life, I wasn’t acting even a little bit. Frostbite was setting in. I couldn’t bend my fingers or my legs. She had to see that I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Look,” Maloch said, his eyelids drooping, “you’ve got us. We can’t escape. We’re only hurting ourselves by asking you to stop and start a fire. Just get Jaxter warm and we’ll go back with you.”
Reena and Holm studied each other, unsure. I played the one and only card I had left.
“I’m no use to you dead,” I said. “Please. Build a fire.”
The siblings conferred quietly. When they finished, Holm took out his ax and went in search of firewood while Reena dashed about, gathering kindling. Maloch dropped to one knee at my side.
“Th-thanks for the rescue,” I said. “I th-thought I’d d-drown.”
“You realize that they’re taking us back so they can kill us, right?” he replied.
“Er . . . no. I lied. They weren’t going to kill us. They were going to chop off my little finger.”
Maloch’s fists clenched. Dense as he was, even he realized that everything we’d just been through was for nothing.
Well, not nothing. I still had my little fingers.
“When we get back to their camp,” he said, with a low and dangerous tremor in his voice, “I’m personally going to hold you down when they swing the blade.”
Reena and Holm built a decent-sized fire. My skin prickled as the heat slowly brought sensation back to my body. I peeled off as much wet clothing as I dared and laid it by the base of the fire to dry.
With an hour tops until Warras cut off my finger, I had this one chance to reason with Reena and Holm. I had to say something that would allow me to keep all my bits intact. There was only one thing I could think to say. And it was a huge risk.
“You know,” I said to Reena, “we could help each other. No one has to coerce the Dowager. We can find the people who stole from the High Laird and clear the Sarosans’ names.”
“Jaxter . . .” The threat in Maloch’s voice was palpable, but I ignored him. I knew very well I was defying the Lymmaris Creed. But if you read the copy of the Lymmaris Creed as written in the Grimjinx family album, you’ll find lots of annotations made by my ancestors. The most important note, written at the bottom of the creed in the hand of my great-great-great-grandmother, Syra Grimjinx, says, “If you can save your hide, ignore the Lymmaris Creed.”
Reena and Holm looked at each other but remained silent, so I pressed on. “That’s all you want, right? Let us help.” A small lie, but it got Reena’s attention.
“And why would you do that?” she asked, poking the fire with a stick but refusing to look at me. “What’s in it for you?”
I clenched my fists and thought, For a start, I’d get to keep all my fingers. But I chose my words carefully and said, “Maloch’s father is a Shadowhand. You must know them by reputation. Not only are they skilled thieves, but they’re amazing trackers. Help us find Maloch’s da and he can help us track the real thieves.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see Maloch watching me carefully. I could tell that he suddenly understood what I’d suspected for some time: the Shadowhands had stolen from the High Laird and were letting the Sarosans take the blame.
“That’s right, dolly girl,” Maloch said, jumping in and running with my lie. “My da’s the best tracker there is. He can help.”
Reena remained unconvinced. “Why do we have to find your da? Is he missing?”
“It’s a long story,” I said, hoping to avoid any more explanations. I held out my shivering hand. “A truce? What do you think?”
“I think,” Reena said, leveling both Maloch and me with her nastiest look, “that you would say anything to get out of this.”
“Yep,” I said. “But have you noticed that a lot of what I’ve told you turned out to be true? Like how I told you the vessapedes would attack. And how taking the eggs would lead the vessapedes out of the camp. I was right about those, and I’m right about this.”
Holm leaned back on his hands. “Not that we’re believing you, but what is it you want to do?”
Maloch sat forward. He was interested in the answer too. Now I really had to improvise.
“You two go back to the camp, bring us the amberberry pollen, and then the four of us can set out to find Maloch’s da.” It was a ridiculous proposal. I hoped it would seem at least somewhat reasonable to them.
“You could really help,” Maloch added. “You’re . . . pretty good with that blowgun.”
Reena looked confused by the unexpected compliment. For just a second, I thought she was going to take our offer. Then she threw her head back and laughed. She got to her feet. “Break’s over. Let’s move out.”
I pointed to my still-damp clothes. “Just a bit longer? I’m almost dry.” She’d hesitated, which meant the idea had some appeal. If I could just keep her talking about it . . .
But she’d already started kicking snow onto the fire, the flames disappearing with a smoky hiss. I looked to Maloch, hoping he’d help me try to talk her into going. But his eyelids were half-closed, and he’d grown much paler.
“Let’s go,” he said with a grunt. “All I care about now is getting that antidote.” He struggled to stand, then gripped me under the arms to help me up.
Holm, who’d remained huddled by the smoldering embers to soak up every last bit of heat, looked up sharply. In one fluid action, he leaped to his feet and brandished a dagger, eyes darting around wildly.
“What’s with him?” Maloch asked Reena.
“Silence is required now,” Holm whispered. “We’re all in mortal danger now.”
“Not to criticize,”
I said, “but it’s not a very good rhyme if you use the same word twice. No self-respecting bard would ever do that. Maybe you could have said, ‘We’re in danger, boy, and how!’ Or maybe—”
My poetry lesson came to a crashing halt as a dark blur swooped down from above, collided with Reena, and sent her flying backward to the ground. Maloch and I jumped back. Holm crouched, dagger raised and ready to attack.
Reena cringed as the creature towered over her. The beast stood twice as tall as my da and had dark-red, leathery skin that shone like it was coated in oil. Its head was shaped like an arrowhead with jagged edges. Two glowing amber eyes were sunk deep into tiny holes. A double set of jaws, one atop the other, boasted crooked obsidian fangs. A glint of gold sparkled just under its chin. Its most notable feature was the two sets of sinewy arms. One pair hung off the shoulders where you’d expect to find them, and a longer pair protruded from the center of its scaly back, reaching up and over the shoulders. All four arms ended in vicious-looking claws.
The sight of those back arms brought a dozen nursery rhymes and scary campfire stories to my mind. This was a creature that shouldn’t exist. My whole life, I’d assumed it was made up, something to scare children. But every detail of the beast matched the bedtime story description, and a chill shot down my already frozen back.
Bloodreaver.
The bloodreaver’s head twisted as it regarded Reena. One of its jaws dropped, and a horrible, warbling scream vibrated in my chest. Reena quickly rolled out from under the creature and scrambled away in a half crawl, half run.
Maloch scooped a still-smoking log from the remains of our fire and hurled it at the bloodreaver. The log exploded into ash as it struck the sharp ridges along the beast’s side. The bloodreaver spun around, its glowing eyes landing on Maloch, Holm, and me. Holm let out a shout and charged, dagger held high. The bloodreaver leaped straight up, higher than anything should be able to jump, and used its multiple arms to swing back and forth from the tree branches.
The bloodreaver wove through the treetops at high speed, becoming a smudged silhouette against the pale morning sky. Suddenly, we heard a loud pop, and the bloodreaver disappeared in a cloud of gray smoke. A second later, another pop, and another burst of smoke appeared right next to Maloch. The bloodreaver leaped from inside the cloud and took Maloch to the ground. The two tumbled together until the bloodreaver came out on top, using its four arms to pin each of Maloch’s limbs down.
A thin tendril covered in tiny spikes snaked its way out of a cavity near where its nose should have been. The tendril lashed out across Maloch’s face, leaving several fine cuts that started to bleed. With no weapons, I quickly made a snowball, ran up, and threw it into the monster’s face.
The nose tendril whipped through the air, slicing my forearm. Crying out, I fell back, clutching my arm to my chest.
The bloodreaver turned its attention back to Maloch. When it did, I got a closer look at the gold I’d spotted earlier under its chin. It looked like a small amulet on a chain.
Bloodreavers wore jewelry?
Maloch squirmed under its grip, but the poison in his body made retaliation nearly impossible.
I heard another cry from Holm, and before I knew it, he’d thrown himself onto the bloodreaver’s back. He swung his dagger and sliced a tendon near one of the creature’s back arms.
Both the bloodreaver’s mouths dropped open and shrieked in pain. It lurched, sending Holm flying. He landed near Reena at the base of a tree. The creature focused on Holm, its injured arm hanging limply on its shoulder. Holm’s eyes narrowed as the two squared off. Then the boy looked sharply to the right and took off into the woods. The bloodreaver followed, its powerful legs shaking the ground with each footfall.
“Holm, no!” Reena cried. She crawled around on the ground until she found her dagger, then ran off after the bloodreaver.
“C’mon,” Maloch said weakly. “Can’t lose them . . . Only way to get antidote.”
Holm was small but fast and wiry. He stayed far ahead of the bloodreaver. To increase speed, the bloodreaver started to bounce off the trees, grabbing the trunks with its arms and throwing itself forward faster and faster. Holm looked back over his shoulder and then . . . slowed down.
“What’s he doing?” I shouted. “Go, Holm, go! Faster!”
As the bloodreaver gained on the boy, it stopped using the trees to propel itself forward and took to the ground, running at top speed. It would disappear with a pop of smoke, only to reappear closer to Holm. The Sarosan slowed even more. Only when the bloodreaver had closed the distance between them to almost nothing did Holm add a new burst of speed, keeping him just out of the bloodreaver’s claws.
My lungs burned. Maloch and I could barely keep up with Reena, who continued to shout for her brother. Finally, I tripped, and as I fell, I took Maloch with me. We pulled ourselves up on all fours. The bloodreaver was about to catch Holm, and when it was done with him . . . we’d be easy prey.
Holm howled again. I looked up to find that the bloodreaver was nearly on him. The boy’s head moved side to side, as if he was searching for something. He darted to the left and made for a fallen tree. The bloodreaver changed course to pursue, and just as it did, Holm leaped up in the air, diving forward.
The bloodreaver bore down. Suddenly, the snow beneath its feet gave way. A hole in the earth opened up, swallowing the creature. A rusty pulley overhead whined as a giant metal door dropped, slamming shut over the hole.
Holm, who had landed safely near the base of the fallen tree, crawled over cautiously. A claw shot up and out between the bars, grasping at empty air. Holm got to his feet, smiling at the trapped creature.
Reena arrived, fell to her knees, and hugged her brother. Holding each other for support, Maloch and I joined them.
Maloch walked up to Holm. “You’re a terrible bard,” he said, looking away so as not to betray the admiration he had for the boy who’d saved his life. “But you’ve got hope as a warrior.”
I nodded at the cage. “We know the bloodreaver can move magically. What’s to stop it from popping out of the cage?”
Reena ran her finger across the bars. She held it up for me to see. Her fingertip was slathered in thick blue paste.
“The cages were made to hold any mages who came snooping around,” she said. “They’ve been treated with Kolo’s anti-magic paste. That thing is stuck in there.”
The bloodreaver howled and pulled at the bars.
Reena stood and examined Maloch’s face. “Does it hurt?”
Maloch looked surprised that she seemed to care. “What? This? Not . . . not really.”
They shared an odd look for a few seconds. Suddenly, each coughed and the tension disappeared.
“Danger’s passed, we’re safe once more,” Holm told his sister, “but what the zoc was that thing for?”
The four of us stood at the edge of the cage. The bloodreaver was going wild, its arms flailing in an attempt to strike out and escape. But the heavy metal door wasn’t going anywhere.
Maloch peered down at our captive. “That’s not—It can’t be a . . .”
I nodded. “A bloodreaver.”
Reena laughed. “There’s no such thing.”
Maloch pointed to the cage. “Try telling him that.”
“Imagined or not, the question’s clear: what was that thing doing here?” Holm asked.
I took a deep breath. “I think it was looking for the two of you.” I told everyone what I’d overheard in Kolo’s tent, about how the High Laird had authorized the Palatinate to resurrect the bloodreavers by the end of the week if the Sarosans hadn’t surrendered.
“But if the warning just went up yesterday,” Maloch said, “why is the bloodreaver already here?”
Reena’s eyes grew dark. “Someone at the Palatinate must’ve gotten eager. It wouldn’t be the first time. You can’t trust mages.”
“But how did it find them?” Maloch asked, pointing with his thumb to Reena and Holm.
; “Their parents are prisoners in Umbramore Tower,” I said. “The bloodreavers must have been taken to the tower so they could get the scent of the Sarosans’ blood, making it easy to track them down.”
Holm reached out to Reena. Her back stiffened. “But that means . . .”
Suddenly, the pair turned and bolted, running deeper into the woods.
“What the—?” Maloch asked, bewildered. “Where are they going?”
I knew exactly where they were going. “The Sarosan camp.”
The higher the sun rose in the sky, the weaker Maloch and I got. Pain shot through my legs like lightning, but leaning on each other, we followed the siblings back to the Sarosan camp.
Only there wasn’t a camp anymore. The tents had been ripped to shreds. Wheelbarrows lay shattered, tools were now splinters. A few fires smoldered.
On the other side of the campsite, Reena and Holm scrambled around, calling out for anyone who might have been left behind.
“Help me,” I said to Maloch, leading him toward the remains of Kolo’s tent. It was a lumpy mass in the middle of the camp. I rummaged until I found a broken jar with a handful of amberberry pollen. Taking water from a nearby cistern, I dissolved the pollen and made enough antidote for Maloch and me. We sank to the ground and let the pollen do its work.
When Reena and Holm joined us, Reena’s face was wet from crying. Holm remained stone-faced, his hand stroking the hilt of his dagger.
“There’s no one left,” Reena whispered. “We’re all alone.” For the first time since we’d met, she seemed vulnerable.
The pain from the poison slowly left my body. I sat up and looked around the devastated camp. “No signs of resistance. They were taken by surprise, no chance to fight back. No bodies. Which means the bloodreavers took everyone prisoner. They’re probably in Umbramore Tower by now.” Stiffly, I got to my feet and put my hands on my hips. “All right then. Let’s get going.”