“You’re nothing like them.” June’s gaze locks on mine.
“Thank you. That means a lot to me. I still think this is way too much.” I gesture toward the house.
“I know you feel guilty. I mean, Sully had to practically drag you into this place kicking and screaming.”
“I wouldn’t say I was kicking and screaming,” I say.
June’s nose wrinkles. “Ya kind of did, though.”
Not my proudest moment, I’ll admit, I did require a tremendous amount of convincing that I should stay in the largest building in the city. Sully had been the single brave soul responsible for ultimately swaying me. And while I still don’t feel the least bit comfortable here, his argument that I am the leader of the uprising and that it is necessary for me to be seen as such did hold a degree of merit.
“I did, didn’t I?” I say, and now I’m the one who’s sheepish.
“Did what?” Sully wraps his arms around my waist from behind and plants a kiss on my cheek. Thankfully, June no longer cringes as she did when first we tested the waters with our budding relationship in front of her. She used to pretend to gag when he held my hand and brushed my cheek with his hand tenderly. The first time he hugged me in her presence I thought she was going to retch. But time and exposure has ended all that. Now she seems almost happy for us.
“We’re talking about Avery’s hissy fit when you told her she should live here.” Mischief dances in June’s gaze.
“Ah, yes, that night.” Sully bobs his head. Though he’s behind me and I cannot see him, I can hear the expression on his face. His crooked smile is on full display, the dimple at the center of his right cheek deep, and a naughty glint lights his eyes.
“All right, all right. None of us needs to take a stroll down memory lane. Yes, I was . . . resistant to the idea of staying here at first. But I came around. And I’m here now.” I roll my shoulders back and stand taller.
“Resistant, huh? There’s a word. Not the one I’d necessarily use, but okay,” he jokes.
I elbow him in the ribs playfully. “Hey! Whose side are you on here?”
“The one where I don’t get manhandled,” he replies and nuzzles my neck.
I love the feel of him close, of the easiness of our interaction. But other matters need to be tended to. Chief among them is the report from a scout, Roger, who I sent out the afternoon after we arrived. “Any word from Roger?” I ask. I twist and look at Sully to gauge his response before he utters a word. Judging from the sudden hardening of his expression, I assume the news I’m about to hear won’t be good.
“He said the Urthmen have mobilized their army. They left Kildare a few days ago and are heading in our direction.”
His words land like a punch to my gut. “Hopefully they don’t know where we are exactly,” I mutter.
“They do know that The General and his troops have disappeared and are probably traveling to the desert,” Sully adds gravely.
“So they might know we’re here, is that what Roger thinks?” I spin to face him.
“Yes, Roger thinks they might. He believes it’s likely that the leaders of Cassowary radioed Kildare as we were storming the city, letting them know what was happening, and that troops could be on their way here right now.”
June gasps.
I stifle mine. But hers pretty much sums up how I feel.
We found a lot of radio communication equipment in the city, in this house even, it does seem probable that the King was contacted.
My head swims, and a sheen of sweat glazes my skin like ice.
“Don’t worry, June bug, we’ll be ready for them if they are on their way here,” Sully says calmly.
The tolling of a bell interrupts us. The ringing is followed by a loud knock at the front door.
“What the heck?” Sully exclaims, his head whipping toward the sound.
“Come in!” I call out as all of us dash to the doorway.
Derrick is in the entryway. His thin face is troubled, his broad forehead scrawled with worry. “Avery we have a problem,” he announces. “There is an army headed for the front gates.”
His words freeze the blood in my veins. It’s not possible! The King’s troops can’t possibly be here! My mind swims in dizzying laps. “What?” I hear myself mutter. “It isn’t possible.” Cold panic spreads from my chest and disperses through my body in an icy web.
“Let’s get out there,” Sully says. “Let’s get to the wall.”
Nodding numbly, I follow after him as he leads the way through the house and out the front door. We cross the courtyard until we reach the spiral staircase that leads to the top of the wall.
Bitter wind whips through my hair and strikes my skin like a raid of razor-sharp needles. Hundreds of archers are already positioned along the barricade, bows drawn taut and arrows sited. In the distance, a line of soldiers approaches. A line of men mounted on sleek, powerful beasts with billowing manes and tails leads the way. Donning helmets and plates of metal upon their chests they ride what appear to be horses, animals so rare I believed they fell to extinction. Until now. Puffs of icy vapors waft from their panting mouths with each hoofed step they take. The overall presentation is regal, and threatening. With a trembling hand, I reach for my binoculars and stare through them. The helmets hide the faces of the men, but I see only a hundred or so. What they are and why they’re here remains a mystery, but I assume their presence is far from friendly. “On my command, fire on them!” I shout to my archers.
Several moments, fraught with tension that quivers like the strike of a finely honed blade, pass. With bated breath, I watch as the troops on foot halt and only those on horseback approach. Ten in all, they reach the front gate and remove their helmets. Men, human men all of them, pause before the seam in the wall, seemingly awaiting entrance. I draw in a sharp, shocked breath.
One among them, with hair as dark as soot and eyes to match, calls out. “I am Lord Belchik.” He shouts his name with haughtiness that implies we’re supposed to know who he is. I’ve never heard of him, and as far as I can tell, no one on the wall has either.
Even from my elevated position, I can tell this Lord Belchik person is a large man, larger than even Jericho was. Resembling a mountain astride a steed, I wonder how the beast manages to move bearing that much weight on its back.
“We are here to see Azlyn, to see for ourselves if it’s true that a human army has been raised,” Lord Belchik continues.
“As you can see, it’s true.” Sully spreads his arms and gestures among the archers.
Eyes as hard and dark as volcanic glass narrow and glare up at us. His boxy jaw slides from side to side. A low growl rolls. “So it is.” His gaze travels the wall. “May we enter?”
“You may, but your weapons stay behind, on the ground, and only the ten of you may enter for now,” I shout down to them. I’ve learned my lesson where humans are concerned. Though we are all in the same position, some can be trusted more than others, while few can’t be trusted at all.
“What is it, Avery?” Sully asks. “You’re reluctant to let them in.”
I am. There’s no denying it. I have a bad feeling about this Lord Belchik. Mercilessness lingers in the depths of his black eyes. And I wouldn’t need my binoculars to see it. It reaches out with shadowy fingers, spanning the distance between us and prickling my skin. “Something about Lord Belchik doesn’t feel right.”
He holds my gaze, and I worry he thinks I’m crazy. That worry is dispelled when he says, “All right, that’s good enough for me.”
Derrick stands with his arms folded across his chest rubbing his chin and nodding in approval.
I turn and make my way down the concrete steps to the wheel. Several men are already stationed there. I nod to them, and they begin turning it. Loud creaks and groans protest the substantial weight of the gate and the sound of stone rubbing stone echoes loudly. As soon as it parts wide enough for the men and their horses to fit, I order the men to stop turning the wheel.
Eerie stillness shrouds the immediate area around me. All that I hear is the rhythmic clip-clop of the horse’s steps as they prance inside. The doors begin closing behind them. Flanks coated in shiny sable hair quiver when the gate thunders shut.
“Whoa there,” Lord Belchik’s voice rumbles as he pets his beast and looks down at me from his perch. He dismounts his horse in a fluid, easy manner that contradicts his considerable size. “I’m looking for Azlyn. Where is your leader, girl? Where’s Azlyn?” He stares down his long, crooked nose imperiously. The fact that he refers to me as “girl” only serves to rile me further.
Matching his tone and taking a step toward him, I tip my chin to look up at him. “I am Azlyn,” I say.
A look of utter confusion crosses his scarred and weathered face. He runs a hand down his thick, dark beard.
Standing at eye level with his barrel chest and feeling dwarfed by comparison, I refuse to be intimidated. “What’s with the look, Belchik?”
“Lord Belchik,” he corrects me, a hint of annoyance peppering his words.
“What exactly are you the lord of?”
Puffing out his massive chest further, he gnashes his molars so loudly I swear I can hear enamel splintering. When he speaks, it’s with disdain that’s barely harnessed. “I am lord of my men.” Bushy brows lower and nearly cover his eyes and ropey veins begin to bulge from his thick neck. I am getting under his skin as much as he’s getting under mine. Good. In doing so, I’ll be better able to get to the root of his reason for being here. People inevitably make their intentions known in a fit of emotion.
“Hmm, that’s odd,” I say smoothly and watch as the pulse at the base of his neck begins to throb wildly. “I was taught that the title ‘Lord’ was only given to people of nobility, to royals and those who held positions of superiority long ago.” I purse my lips and tap my chin. “Given that humans are hunted like animals, calling yourself ‘Lord’ of anyone seems like a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?”
Belchik’s face reddens to an unhealthy shade of crimson. He looks as if he could spew lava if he tried hard enough. I’m getting close.
“So tell me, Belchik, how come you looked so surprised when I told you I am Azlyn?”
“Because you’re a young girl, not at all what I expected.” He shocks me when he doesn’t erupt. Perhaps I was wrong about him. Perhaps.
“My age is of no concern to you or anyone else,” I reply immediately.
Placing enormous fists on his hips so that his meaty biceps swell to a size that rivals a child’s skull, he moves on from the matter of my age. “How is it that you’ve risen such an army? I’ve been traveling the country my entire life and only raised the hundred twenty-two men you see outside.”
His point piques my interest. “And you’ve all managed to live out in the open without being seen?” I ask.
“Hardly,” he laughs. It’s a deep, mirthless sound. His eyes leave me, settling, instead, on a distant, unseen point. “We’re constantly battling, moving from place to place.” He shifts and folds his arms across his chest. Muscular forearms as thick as my thighs bear multiple slash marks and puckered flesh, visual legacies of battles past. “A few days ago, I got word that your troops had overtaken Cassowary and freed the slaves. I didn’t believe it, had to come and see for myself.” He huffs and looks around.
“As you can see, what you heard was true. “We took Cassowary. We’re here.”
“Yes you are,” he levels a flinty gaze my way. His lack of respect for me, for all that my people and I have accomplished, vexes me. “We need to join forces and prepare for the coming Urthmen attack,” he blurts, unexpectedly revealing the true nature of him showing up at our gates.
“Join forces?” I echo his words as more of a question than a statement.
“Yes, we’ll lead these troops to a victory over those monstrous bastar—” I interrupt him before he finishes his sentence.
“We?” I lift one eyebrow. “Belchik, or Lord Belchik, as you call yourself, you are welcome to join my army. But that is the only way our forces will merge.” My message is clear, my words concise.
Belchik smiles, an expression that looks more frightening than cordial, and rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not sure my men will take orders from anyone but me.”
“If they wish to join us and live beyond the wall they will.” I match the curtness of the tone he used when speaking to me and meet his gaze.
His upper lip thins to a line that’s swallowed by the bristly hair above it before another nasty sneer tugs the corners of his mouth. “Very well then.” He shakes his head then turns to his men inside the gates. “We are joining Azlyn’s army,” he barks. “From now on, all of you will take orders from this little girl, understood?”
“Little girl,” I hiss and contemplate unsheathing my blade. A quick glance at Sully who shakes his head “no” halts me.
“I’m sorry. I meant no offense.” Though his words are meek and apologetic, his tone and demeanor are anything but. “May my men enter?” Derision dances in his eyes, a point that’s not lost on Sully.
“Your intentions are to join us and fight alongside us under her command, yes?” Sully asks with the poise and deadly determination of a coiled snake.
“Of course,” Belchik answers with inflated indignation. “If you intend to kill Urthmen, this is where we need to be.”
“Wiping the earth clean of them is our plan.” Sully nods his head.
“The men who follow me have killed thousands of Urthmen over the years. They’re the fiercest warriors on this planet. They’ll be a fine addition.”
Sully twists and looks at me, asking with his eyes whether I wish to grant Belchik’s men entrance. I stiffen, my skin tingling with sudden warning. The fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. In spite of what my body is telling me, I gesture to the guards at the gate to let Belchik’s men in.
In the seconds after my hand returns to rest by my thigh, the distinct feeling that I’ve just made a huge mistake settles upon me with leaden heaviness.
Chapter 8
The night sky, a bruised shade of blue with black slashing clouds, is visible from the bed on which I lie. Sully is beside me. His eyes are heavy, his gaze filled with warmth. Propped up on one elbow and lightly tracing my forehead with the tips of his fingers, his touch is a comfort despite the many misgivings that nag at my brain.
“I don’t trust him,” I blurt out, unable to hold it in any longer.
Sully eyes widen and his hand stops moving. “Belchik,” he says.
“Yes, Belchik. I’m worried about him being here. I don’t trust him at all.” I want to add that the guy makes my skin crawl, that just looking at him fills me with inexplicable rage, and the urge to punch him in his giant face. But I don’t. I fear that saying all that might scare Sully, or at the very least make him think I’m crazy. Perhaps I am.
Sully licks his lips and looks pensive. “Me neither,” he admits. “I keep trying to tell myself that he wants what we all want. That ending the Urthmen’s reign on earth is the endgame plan we all share.” He closes his eyes. “I want to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“But?” I wait in expectancy for him to elaborate.
“No ‘but’, that’s it. I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt. What else can I do? He agreed to the terms you set forth.”
“True. But still, his whole attitude, his oh-you’re-a-little-girl-demeanor really bugged me.” I rake a hand through the front of my hair and massage my scalp a bit. Physically, I’m exhausted, but mentally, my mind is working overtime, replaying my interaction with Belchik over and over again. “Ugh! I hate that I feel this way,” I groan.
“Then just let it go for now,” Sully says gently. “See what he does while he’s here.”
I know he’s right, that my annoyance is largely unfounded. Gruff, uncouth men are in abundance here. What’s one more? True, none of them has ever spoken to me with such obvious contempt before. They’ve balked, sure,
but outright scorn has been absent. Until today.
Balling the covers with my fist, I squeeze tightly then release them, leaving behind a wrinkled wad. “I guess you’re right,” I sigh. “What can he do, really? He and his men are a tiny fraction of our army. It’s not like they’re going to turn people against us or anything. We all fight on the same side.” Even as I utter the words, cold spreads through my chest and tingles down the length of my limbs, a foreboding presentiment I fear. In an attempt to shake it off, I change the subject. “So June went right to sleep tonight, huh?”
“You’re not kidding. As soon as her head hit the pillow, I swear she was out, sleeping soundly and snoring.”
“Don’t tell her about the snoring part,” I chuckle.
“No way, I wouldn’t dream of it. I don’t have a death wish.” Sully winks at me then smirks.
“She’s got a sharp streak, doesn’t she?” I shake my head. “Wonder where she picked that up?” I frown and nod incriminatingly toward him.
“Uh-uh, I’m not gonna be blamed for it. Miss June bug was like that when I found her.”
“No she was not!” I protest with exaggerated zest. “She was—is, a sweet little girl. She’s just had the misfortune of spending too much time with a handsome but mischievous guy who’s a bad influence.” I lower my chin and look at him with playful disapproval.
“So you think I’m handsome, do you?” He bobs his eyebrows impishly.
“Out of everything I just said, that’s what you choose to zero in on?” I laugh.
“Yes, yes it is. And for the record, it’s the first time you ever said that to me.”
Color touches my cheeks. I’ve never told him he’s handsome before? How could that be? Especially since I’ve thought it hundreds of times since I met him. “I-I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I meant to, I mean, I thought I did, but, I don’t know, I just didn’t.” I roll onto my side and cup his face in my hands. “You’re handsome, Sully,” I say sincerely.
The Rise of Azlyn (Book 4): Planet Urth, no. 4 Page 9