“Me? And say what?” I can hear the speech in my head now. Uh, hi there, I’m Avery and I’d like to invite you to join me in picking a fight with the largest Urthmen offensive on the planet. You’ve never fought before and probably don’t have the will to, but join us! Oh and you might die, by the way. Yeah, that’ll go over well.
“Tell them the truth. Tell them their lives are in danger with every breath they take. Tell them that now that they’re free they have something to live for.”
“Or die for, like Sarah,” I add somberly. Tension builds in my neck and shoulders, bunching the already tender muscles there. Will’s accusations haven’t left me. Though much of his tirade was baseless, a trace of truth remained. I shouldn’t have sent her into battle. She said she couldn’t fight, but I insisted. Her death is my fault.
“Oh, don’t let what Will said make you blame yourself. He was out of line, way out of line!” Sully growls with thinly concealed acid in his tone. “I should’ve knocked him out the minute he started running his mouth, but I trust that you can handle yourself. Knowing that he infected you with his poisonous ramblings makes me wish I would’ve just done it.” Sully’s lip is snarled up over his teeth and his nostrils are flared. He looks over his shoulder. Will is talking to Tom, Riley and Oliver. Sully glares at him. Seeing his expression and doing a quick double-take, Tom leaves the group and makes his way toward us, joining Sully and me just as Sully takes a deep breath and says, “You should talk to them.”
“Hey Avery. How’re you feeling?” Tom asks. He clips his head toward Sully in greeting.
“Never better,” I answer with a groan as I try to straighten my posture.
Tom winces. “Listen, I couldn’t help but overhear a second ago that you might be addressing the people here.”
“I was thinking about it. I don’t really know what to say, though,” I admit honestly.
“Well, if you’d like, I could talk to them first. I lived here my whole life and know a lot of people here. It might help.” He bobs his shoulders.
“They trust you. They’ll listen to you,” I think aloud. Sully looks between Tom and me, his face an unreadable mask. “That’s a great idea, Tom. Yes, I’d like you to do that.” An uncertain situation has suddenly been offered a ray of hope. “I don’t want to waste any time. Let’s do this as soon as possible.”
“Avery, what’re you doing?” Sully asks as I swing my legs over what I now see is a couch of some sort and place them on the floor. “You were unconscious for hours. The wound on your leg was just sewn up and you may have a broken rib. Please, take the rest of today to rest.” He looks at me imploringly. I would say the same thing to him if I were in his position. I’m confident he wouldn’t heed my warning any more that I heed his. He realizes this and slumps his shoulders in resignation. Knowing me as he does, he knows that I view every second I lie on this couch as seconds wasted that could be used to prepare for the inevitable battle looming on the horizon. I hold his gaze and smile warmly. “At least let me help you up.” He slips his shoulder beneath mine and drapes my arm around his neck. Standing slowly, he guides me from the couch to my feet. Tom leads the way and Sully escorts me back outside as we navigate through the people—my people—who’ve gathered.
The name “Azlyn” begins to ripple among conversations. Men and women turn to greet me and express their relief that I am all right. I am humbled by their concern. I smile and accept their well-wishes as I allow myself to be half-carried by Sully to a doorway.
Limping over the threshold, the first thing I notice is that we’re not standing on asphalt or grass, but on a platform built of dark metal with waist-high columns of wrought iron that overlooks an open area where numerous people have gathered. I gaze out, over their anxious, wan faces, and feel a brisk breeze on my face. It whips through my clothes and hair, sending both fluttering. Darkness has surrendered to light. Day is breaking. The sun, an eager ball of fire, crests the horizon, streaking the sky with breadths of deep orange that pale to salmon and stretch, melding with bands of lavender and periwinkle. The sky is bursting with colors, rich and vibrant. Sadly, however, that vibrancy does not spill over to the people gathered in the square. I allow my gaze to return to them. Painfully thin with ashen skin and sunken eyes, the people I see do, indeed, look broken as Sully inferred.
As if reading my mind, Sully’s hot breath caresses the shell of my ear. “See what I mean? They look scared and confused, and, I don’t know, defeated.”
He’s right. Watching them as they mill about, sidestepping Urthmen corpses with a blend of sorrow and wide-eyed wonder, doesn’t inspire much hope that they’ll rally behind us and fight for their continued freedom, especially since freedom is an hours-old completely alien sentiment. “I do,” I reply feeling a thread of despair begin to wind its way through me. Fighting it back and refusing to succumb to negativity, I turn to Tom and say, “Are you ready?”
He nods then informs me that the balcony on which we stand is the platform Urthmen used to make announcements. A small, bulbous device sits atop a long pole. He picks it up then clears his throat and begins speaking. “People of Cassowary, may I have your attention.” His voice echoes loudly through the courtyard, halting those who’ve come to expect a very different looking figure perched on the balcony. Screwing up my features at the sound, he looks at me and says, “It’s a microphone,” and points to the device he’s holding. I bob my head and roll my hand forward, urging him to continue. “I know a lot of you are shocked by what’s happened here,” he begins. Any conversations that linger halt abruptly. “I know many of you know me. I lived here with you. I was born here, as most of you were.” The silence that blankets the square is unnerving. “Because I was born here and lived all of my life here save for the last month or so, I used to believe what you believe. I was taught as you were, since I was a child, that humans—us—,” he gestures to himself among everyone else, “cannot kill an Urthman, that we’re incapable; that Urthmen are superior to us in every way. That we deserve the abuses we’ve suffered. And that we should be proud to serve them.” More heads than I can count bob in agreement. “But I have seen firsthand that this is not true. Just look around you. Look at what humans are capable of.” Tom pauses a moment and allows his words to settle on the former slaves. Their eyes sweep from one end of the courtyard to the next, no doubt taking in the sight of slain Urthmen, beings who had just ruled them. “I’m here now to tell you that all that we’ve learned, all that’s been drilled into our heads since birth, is wrong. We are superior to them.” Incredulous gasps and sighs undulate through the crowd. “These people here,” he points at me then Sully, “are living proof of that. I escaped from here and was caught. I was nailed to a sign on the side of the road, branded a stray. It was then that my eyes were opened.” He swipes his brow, the memory agonizing to share. “I was rescued by humans that changed my life. One of them is the bravest human being on the planet, the person who is going to return this planet to the human race, and she’s standing right beside me. People of Cassowary, I present to you Azlyn, the woman who will not only lead us from a life of servitude to a life of freedom, but save us from violence and mistreatment.” He claps his hands and turns toward me.
My time to speak has come; I am still not used to being referred to as Azlyn. Though I realize that it is my persona, and I need to embrace it.
Those who have traveled with and fought alongside me cheer and pump their fists. The former slaves, still unsure, look on in confusion. Despite overtaking the Urthmen-run city, nerves still plague me. My insides quake and my fingertips feel numb. My heart thunders in my ears, the sound as loud as a stampede of boarts. I’m handed the microphone. I close my eyes for a moment and breathe from my belly, knowing fully that I have one job to do: tell the truth. “Hello. My name is Azlyn,” I say. It feels weird, yet oddly right, to refer to myself by a name that was not given to me at birth. It’s also strange to hear my voice filling the courtyard. “I want to tell you first and most import
antly that you are free. All of you are free. You’re no longer bound by Urthmen enslavement. No one has to stay here. You are free to leave if you want.” The people of Cassowary look amongst themselves. Bewilderment and a touch of what I dare dream is hope etches their features. “But I am here to invite you to stay. We are waging war against all Urthmen. We’re fighting to end human suffering and slavery. If you want to stay and fight alongside us, we welcome you with open arms. We will take back the land. We will kill every Urthmen on this planet and make it ours once again.” Cheers erupt a second time, and still it comes primarily from my people.
Once the cheering dies down, a voice calls out, “But we don’t know how to fight!”
The statement is a painful reminder of what Sarah said just before she marched off into battle at my urging and lost her life. I do not turn to look over my shoulder and see whether Will watches me. I feel the fiery brand of his gaze. Hot tendrils of blame lick up my back like flames.
“We will teach you,” I say. “We will not send you out against Urthmen without being properly trained first.” Heat blazes up from my collar and touches my cheeks. I’m grateful when I feel Sully’s hand wrap around mine and give it a reassuring squeeze. “You will have a chance to answer every injustice ever committed against you. A lifetime of captivity is over now. You are all free. And as free humans, you can decide for yourselves whether you’ll join us and make the Urthmen suffer for all the pain they’ve caused you.” I take a moment to breathe, to calm the quivering energy surging through my blood. When I resume speaking, my voice tolls like a bell, shivering with a raw and untapped wellspring of power. “I see a future for us, a future free of tyranny and constant fear. A future where the land has been purged of violent oppressors, and we live in peace. I fight for that future every day. If you share my vision, if you want that future, stay and fight along with me.”
A roar of applause and cheers rumbles like thunder, shaking the metal platform on which I stand. Only this time, my people are not alone in their shouts of approval. Freed humans are clapping as well. My eyes well with emotion, the realization that though it will be a long process, the people before me will rise from the ashes of their broken lives and break free from the shackles that bind them. They will rise. And together, we will triumph.
Chapter 7
Standing on the balcony once again I inhale deeply. The scent of snow hangs heavily in the air. The air feels thicker, not wet as it does before and after a rainstorm, and not filled with the pungent aroma of ozone, but heavy, frost-filled, and sharply cold. Filling my lungs with the icy air, I can fairly see fat, fluffy white flakes float from the sky, sticking to everything they touch and bathing the world in a luminescent sheen. Though winters have always been harsh, in the past a part of me still grew excited when the first snowflakes fell. The world would be blanketed in glittering crystals, hushing the sounds of the forest as if nature itself was evoking a moment of peace. I wonder whether I’ll ever feel that way again. I’m no longer in the forest, and I am no longer hiding, sheltered by a canopy of leaves and branches. I am leading an army. I am a different person than I was the last time snow fell.
A tiny ache zigzags through my chest. A pang of regret perhaps, of mourning for the passage of time. Whatever it is, it passes quickly. I am left alone with the ripe scent of impending snow and gray further than the eye can see. Dull and drab, the ashen hue dominates the landscape, laying claim to it like death to flesh. Massive cedars with rough and furrowed bark and drooping boughs resemble mustached sentinels, watchmen of the woods. But the distinct feeling that we are being watched by more than the cedars sends a shiver of unease whispering up my spine. And while the people I arrived with are prepared to defend this citadel we’ve claimed, the freed slaves are not.
Two days have passed since we overtook the city. The people of Cassowary, though slow to warm to our presence at first, are starting to come around. We’ve been training with them, getting them used to the feel of a weapon in their hand and the power associated with it. Mechanically, they are capable of learning. Their muscles are equipped to tone and strengthen. Their eyes are up to the task of seeking out the enemy and watching his sword as it is waved around. They have the potential to learn everything my soldiers know, but that hasn’t been the issue. The largest hurdle has been mental. Their minds, resilient as they are, still balk at the notion that they’re deserving of freedom; that they can fight and wield the weapons they’re given. The hardest part of the process has been convincing them they can take hold of their destiny. The worry that we may not overcome that aspect of the process sinks like a weight in my gut. I tunnel the fingers of one hand through my hair and mutter a plea to whatever force aligns the stars when a voice startles me.
“Avery, what’re you doing out there? Aren’t you cold?”
I whip around and see June. She hugs her arms to her chest as lengths of coiled, sandy hair stirs in the faint breeze. “A little,” I answer honestly.
“Then why are you outside?” Her pert nose scrunches cutely. I can’t help but smile.
“I needed some fresh air, I guess.”
Raising her brows so that they practically touch her hairline, she looks at me in disbelief. “This air is more than fresh. It’s brr-ing cold!”
“Brr-ing cold?” I lift a brow and ask.
“Yes, you know how when you’re outside and you huddle into your clothes and say ‘brr’?” she begins informing me of the new word she’s coined.
“Yeah,” I reply.
“Well, that’s where I came up with the word ‘brr-ing’.” She closes her eyes and nods slightly, proud of her contribution to the English language.
“Okay.” I chuckle and shake my head. “If you say so.” I hold up my hands in submission. Then I add, “I smell snow. Do you smell it?”
June pauses and tilts her chin upward, sniffing. Within seconds, her silvery-blue eyes glitter with delight. “Yes! I do! I can’t believe it’s going to snow.” She claps and bounces on the balls of her feet. Apparently, I wasn’t alone when I delighted in the first flakes. “That’s so exciting! I can’t wait to tell Riley!”
Her enthusiasm is infectious. I find a swell of anticipation effervescing in my chest. A part of me envies her, envies the fact that she can still savor season changes. But I plan to someday too. Someday soon, all of us will live free of the scourge of Urthmen.
That anticipation ends abruptly when June’s bouncing stops and a pensive look clouds her features. Her lower lip disappears into her mouth.
“What is it?” I ask. “What’s the matter?”
“N-nothing, it’s nothing.”
June is quite possibly the worst liar I’ve ever met. Her attempt to conceal what’s eating her is about as convincing as if I tried to convince her I could produce a rainbow from my fingertips.
“C’mon. Spill it.” I roll my hand forward to encourage the words.
June hesitates. “It’s no big deal, really. I just have a question. That’s all.”
“Shoot. Ask away.” She knows she can ask me anything, that I’ll answer her as clearly as I can.
She licks her lips and rubs her hands together. “Do you really think we can beat the Urthmen army?”
For a split second, her question surprises me. It never occurred to me that she gives tremendous thought to battles, to the particular significance of each. I don’t know why I’ve always assumed she doesn’t. Maybe it’s a coping method. Maybe the idea of her stressing as much as I do is just too much to bear. Regardless, I look directly into her eyes and say, “Absolutely. I believe with all my heart that we will beat them.” Her features relax, relief smoothing the pleat between her brows. “In fact, I think that is what’s meant to happen.”
“You mean like in the story of Azlyn, that it’s destiny?” Her irises shimmer, brilliant against the grim and leaden landscape.
“Kind of,” I reply.
Picking at a piece of string that sticks out near the hem of her sweatshirt, June lowers he
r gaze for a moment Then, looking up through a thick fringe of golden-brown lashes, she says, “I think you are Azlyn. I think you’re special and that maybe some power that’s bigger than all of us put you here.” Ribbons of pink kiss her cheeks. She shifts her weight from one leg to the next. “You probably think I’m silly to say that,” she says sheepishly.
“I don’t think you’re silly at all,” I say and close the distance between us. I wrap both arms around her shoulders and pull her close.
“You don’t?” Her voice is muffled by the fabric of my shirt
I lessen my grip and take a half-step back. “Of course not. June, just about everyone here believes what you believe. Heck, there are moments even I believe it!” I admit, a point that widens her eyes. “They put me in the biggest house in the city, for crying out loud.”
“I know,” June marvels as she peers beyond me and into the room I awoke in two days earlier. “It’s huge. Not as big as President Sullivan’s though. You’re not as important as he was, or at least as important as he thought he was.” She giggles. Sully’s sarcastic sense of humor is still reflected in hers, but her laughter is all her own.
“No, I guess not,” I laugh along with her. “Maybe castles like his are only for truly mean people.” I shrug but a part of me recoils from the notion that his brand of sickness is ever rewarded. “Truth be told, I don’t know how he lived in that place by himself. I hate being here. I’m a warrior, just like everyone else. I shouldn’t be here while the rest of my people are living ten or more to a house.” I sigh, guilt lacing my breath. “The leaders of Cassowary lived here.” I allow a tremor of repulsion to shake me. “Nasty, violent leaders. I’d hate to think of myself like them.”
The Rise of Azlyn (Book 4): Planet Urth, no. 4 Page 8