June smiles and bobs her head.
“So you’ll stay?” I ask her and Sully.
“Absolutely,” Sully answers.
“Uh-huh. Definitely,” June replies.
“Okay, then who do you think will fall asleep first?” I look between both of them.
June yawns as if on cue. “Me, I think it’ll be me.” She tilts her head to one side self-consciously.
“I gotta admit, I think it’ll be you, too.” Sully crinkles his nose and looks at her.
A faint blush tinges her cheeks before she turns from us and flops backward onto the bed. She scuttles up until her head touches a pillow and closes her eyes. Sully and I sit on either side of her. I turn out the lights and we stretch our legs out in front of us, using the wall at the head of the bed as support for our backs. Before long, deep even breaths whisper from June. Smooth and peaceful, her sleeping expression is one that reminds me of how very young she is. At just eight years of age, she’s seen and lived through events no human child should ever have to endure. While circumstances beyond my control have dictated her fate thus far, I still assume guilt. And I hope to change her future. To right all that is wrong in her world.
Picturing a life where Urthmen are absent and other monstrous creatures are few, June’s face is the last image I see before my eyelids grow heavy and a tide of darkness lulls me.
I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep when I’m startled awake by a loud, low noise. Echoing through my marrow, I recognize the sound immediately. It is the mournful toll of our warning bell, a bell that’s only meant to be rung when an enemy approaches. My eyes snap open and I pause a moment to ensure I’m not dreaming. Straining to hear against the hammering of blood against my eardrums, the deep, desolate notes continue to chime. Cold washes over me, bleeding my body of every ounce of warmth, and leaving in its wake the bitter awareness that the Urthmen are here.
King Leon’s army has made it to Cassowary.
Sully bolts upright and June awakes with a violent jerk. We look among ourselves, each of our faces etched in what can only be described as shock and dread.
“They’re here.” My voice is rough and gravelly and my breathing is ragged as I whisper the words. The moment, surreal as it is, has come, the moment when we learn whether we live or die.
I spring to my feet, my heart vaulting to my throat as it sets off at a gallop. Sully does the same, jumping into his boots and quickly strapping his sheathed daggers to his body. With his jaw set and his gaze intense, his eyes never leave me.
“June, you stay here. I’ll leave one of our best men posted outside the house to guard you,” I say feeling suddenly breathless and lightheaded.
June’s eyes widen and her lips part. Her expression is terrified as she protests, “No, you need every soldier you have.”
“And I need you more,” I reply firmly and with finality that doesn’t leave room for argument. Our gazes lock for several beats. And in those few seconds that they do, I pour every ounce of love I feel for her into it, wordlessly conveying a lifetime of heartfelt sentiment. Emotions unexpectedly crash against me with the force of a tidal wave as I realize this may be the last time I see my sister. I blink back tears that threaten and watch as a single teardrop leaves the corner of her eye, trickling down her cheek. The sight pains me. My lips press to a hard line and I close the distance between us, clapping my arms around her tightly. “I love you, June,” I say into her hair.
“I love you,” she sniffles. She pulls away and wipes her face. “Please, come back, both of you.” The words barely cross her lips as sobs rack her body.
Sully’s eyes shine and his smile is unsteady when he says, “See ya soon, June bug.”
No promises are made. No guarantees exist. The enemy has arrived at our doorstep, outnumbering us, and intent upon killing every last one of us. June knows this as well as I do. Her shoulders curl forward and her body shakes as she sniffles and struggles to catch her breath. I wish I could stay and comfort her, but I can’t. I must leave.
Turning with a heart so heavy each beat feels as if my ribs are being battered with a sledgehammer, I leave the room, racing down the steps and out the front door with Sully in tow. We dash across the courtyard, sidestepping residents of Cassowary as they stream from their homes and flood the streets. Running at full-speed, we do not slow when we reach the spiral staircase that leads to the top of the wall. Instead, we ascend the steps two at a time until it ends and we’re standing winded, and with an unadulterated view of more Urthmen than I have ever seen in my life.
Churning like a dark and deadly sea, their numbers are dizzying. They cover the large, open grounds from the tree line to our gate, I estimate tens of thousands. Moonlight shines on their swords, making the sharpened tips gleam with lethal light. They march in formation, their booted feet thundering against the earth in a savage rhythm that sends bolts of icy panic shooting through my core. I watch in stunned silence and with bated breath as more Urthmen cross the moat, completely unaware of its existence.
After working tirelessly and digging an enormous channel that spans approximately two yards in width in a half-circle that hugs the tree line around the eastern wall of Cassowary, the direction from which we expected the Urthmen, we covered it with boards then camouflaged them with dirt, twigs, and fallen leaves from the surrounding forest. A large area of open space has been left between the wall and the moat, enough area to fit a large portion of their army. Watching the King’s army advance and move over it now, as unsettling as it is, means the first part of Sully’s plan has succeeded. Estimating their numbers and allowing the gravity of just how many Urthmen there are means that if the second part of the plans fails, each of us will fall on this day.
Inhaling a trembling breath, I tear my gaze from the seemingly innumerable monsters marching to our gate and survey the archers. Poised with bowstrings pulled taut and arrows loaded, they line the wall, prepared to fire on my command. My eyes are pulled from them, however, when movement among the approaching ranks shifts my attention. A single Urthman, clad in shiny plates of metal that cover his arms and chest, moves to the front of the line. His helmeted head tips and he calls out.
“I would like to speak to whoever is leading this pack of strays!” His words are a demand, not a request.
Strays is a word that sends fire through my veins and trills from his lipless mouth gratingly. With my hackles raised, I answer him. “There are no strays here, only free humans.”
“Whatever you say.” He waves his hand in front of his face as if fanning an offensive odor. “Are you the leader of the strays? I’m to present the King’s terms to the leader.”
Swallowing back the rise of bitterness in my throat at his use of the word “stray” again, I say, “I am Azlyn. I’m the leader of the rebellion, and I have no interest in the King’s terms.” My words resonate with unwavering conviction, with defiance, as they resound through the field and beyond the line of skeletal trees to the forest, making my stance clear. The Urthman in full battle gear rears his head as if he’s been struck in the face, a point that inspires me. I continue. “There will be only one outcome here.” I pause, knowing fully that I have his undivided attention. “Every Urthman will die by our hands.”
A horrible, discordant sound I assume is meant to be a chuckle seeps from him. “Well, you may think that if you like. You’re wrong of course!” He laughs for a spell then says, “Here are the terms anyway.” He clears his throat and tips his chin imperiously. “If you let us in now, King Leon has generously decided he’ll spare you all and allow you to live as the slaves you were born to be, serving Kildare and our King.”
I tilt my head to one side as if considering his point, and then I turn to the archer closest to me. Killian is beside me with his arrow trained on the deliverer of the King’s terms. “Do it now,” I tell him.
Without hesitation, Killian steps forward and releases his bowstring. His arrow flies, cutting through the night with a soft whistle, until it
lodges into the Urthman’s left eye.
The Urthman spokesperson cries out and falls to the ground, the arrow sill bulging from his skull in an expanding pool of gore.
“You attack during negotiations!” the soldier nearest to him shouts, yet no one moves to help their fallen comrade. “You will all die tonight! Any survivors we find will be tortured! You will all feel the wrath of King Leon!”
Threatening as they are, his words are not what shock me. The fact that not one, but two, among them is well-spoken astounds me. My surprise is short-lived, though, and my attention shifts to an approaching sound. The growl of an engine echoes and is accompanied by twin beams of light that slice through the ether, casting shadows and furthering the ghoulish appearance of the Urthmen. The cab of a tractor-trailer rumbles to the edge of the tree line, a battering ram affixed to its front end. The large, heavy, pointed log, driven by the force of the vehicle, has the capability to easily bash in our gate.
“Ah you see? You see what’s in store for you?” the Urthman taunts. “Your gate will fall and all of you will suffer!”
Ignoring him and the restless, agitated sensation that a hive of bees is teeming within me, I look to Sully and say, “Get ready.”
Ten men gather around Sully. Each holds a remote detonator, including Sully.
As soon as the truck’s front wheels roll onto the covered moat, the boards snap, and the cab pitches into the ditch.
“Now!” Sully screams.
Each man depresses the switch on his detonator and a sharp, bass-filled bang shakes the wall, the entire forest. Pressure builds against my eardrums and I nearly topple over, clinging to Killian as I stagger sideways. Righting myself, I peer out into the field. A brilliant glow of gold and orange lights the property like the midday sun, blazing against an inky backdrop. Pebbles and debris pelt the ground, the ruined tractor-trailer falling to the earth in twisted metal chunks. The entire moat, wired with bricks of clay-like explosives, has been blown, sending pieces of any nearby Urthman showering to the ground like gory snowfall. A fiery crater sends thick, charcoal smoke billowing to the heavens, darker than the night sky as it rolls and fills the atmosphere. The Urthmen, the ones that were position toward the center of the field, turn, looking to and fro for an exit route, but they are encircled by the flaming moat. Chaos and confusion erupts. They realize they are trapped by a wall of fire.
I turn to Killian once again and nod.
Pulling an arrow from his quiver, he walks it to a torch mounted in a sconce along the wall. Placing the arrow tip to it until it ignites and glows, he replaces it to his bow then launches it. The small flame is swallowed by the towering inferno in the distance. Soon, though, that flame touches down against leaves soaked in fuel and other flammable fluid. Saturated ahead of time, the noxious fumes from the accelerant permeated the air. Had The General been in command, his keen, human sense of smell would have detected it immediately. But he is dead. And Urthmen, born with underdeveloped olfactory glands and with only small holes above their mouths that function exclusively for the intake of air, are incapable of detecting odors—even ones as strong and unpleasant as what Sully concocted.
The ground bursts into flames as more and more lit arrows are fired from the perimeter of the wall. Inhuman screams tear through the night. Unlike anything I’ve ever heard, the horrid sound of thousands of Urthmen burning to death claws at my brain, but also causes a satisfied smile to tug at the corners of my mouth.
The stench of seared flesh fills the air, so cloying it coats my tongue and thickens my throat. The overpowering urge to vomit overwhelms me. I’m forced to cover my nose and mouth with one hand. Still, I do not dare look away. My eyes are pinned to the sight before me.
I know that more Urthmen wait beyond the flames, but after losing so many they will be demoralized.
I look among my own people. Hugging and cheering as tens of thousands of Urthmen fall, they deserve to enjoy this momentous moment. I deserve to enjoy this momentous moment. I know that thousands of troops wait beyond the fiery moat. But I take heart in knowing that if or when they decide to attack when the flames die down, they still cannot breach our wall. And we’ll be ready for them. Archers perched along the wall will pick them off as they approach. Their attempt to storm Cassowary will fail.
Chapter 14
Standing atop the wall, a chill breeze bites at the exposed flesh of my body. But I’m oblivious of it. No amount of wind—or any other element for that matter—would keep me from being exactly where I am. Night still lays claim to the world but is fast losing its grip. In seconds, the sun will grace the horizon, bathing the scorched battlefield in golden light.
Hours have passed and none of us has left the wall. We’ve remained, awaiting word from the scouts who were dispatched to report on the Urthmen offensive. They’ve been keeping in constant contact with us and have reported that the Urthmen have pulled back, out of the woods, and appear to be retreating. It seems unlikely, though, for even with their losses they still outnumber us easily.
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to still the rush of thoughts crowding my brain. When I open them, I train my gaze on June. She is to my left. Huddled in an oversized coat I found in a trunk in the closet, she shivers so forcefully, the mound of curls framing her lovely face trembles. I look to my right and see Sully’s profile, the sharp planes of his chiseled face, and cannot think of anyone with whom I’d rather share this moment. Cheers and applause subsided earlier. Eerie stillness prevails. We remain as we are: silent and stoic, warriors of a new era in history. All along the wall, residents of Cassowary stand as we do. The only sign of their presence beyond the sight of them is the icy plumes of vapor that curl from their lips.
Ash rings the field beyond our wall. Urthmen, some charred beyond recognition and others mere pieces scattered about like refuse, litter the space, ethereal fronds of opaque smoke still emerging from their smoldering bodies. An acidic charcoal smell hangs heavily in the air. Tinged with a sulfurous, metallic stench, I doubt I’ll soon forget the odor of burning flesh. Putrid and wholly nauseating, I fear I’ll never purge it from my senses entirely, that it’ll be permanently part of my existence.
A blazing disk of fire peeks between barren trees, warring with the navy night with a majestic golden halo. Crowned in buttery rays, the sun bursts forth, making her stand against the staunch night, and before long, inky darkness is blanched, replaced by a wash of forget-me-not blue. A new day dawns. A new chapter in history begins.
Leaden clouds of smoke, tattered and frayed at their edges, are punctured by pinpricks of gilded rods, and a clearer view of the desiccated battlefield is offered. After taking it in for a moment longer, I turn to Sully. But before I speak a single word, the transponder at his hip crackles to life. My eyes snap to his radio then climb to his eyes.
Lifting it from the waistband of his pants, he lifts the device to his face and depresses a button on its side. “I’m here,” he says.
The voice on the other end belongs to Roger, one of the three men sent out. “The army has retreated. I repeat, the army has retreated.”
The rest of what he says is lost on the roar of blood that rushes behind my eardrums.
When Sully completes his interaction with Roger, he looks to me. “I take it I don’t need to repeat what he said.” He chuckles.
“They left? It can’t be.” My brain struggles to process what I’ve heard. It simply doesn’t make sense. “Why would they do that?” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I can’t believe it. I need to see for myself. Let’s assemble a small group and go out there.”
Sully’s eyes widen. “Why?”
“Because I have to see with my own eyes or I won’t believe it. Okay?”
After heaving a sigh, Sully agrees.
June winces. I’m afraid to look her way lest I see the pained expression scrawled through her features.
Seeing her reaction, Sully’s eyes move from me to her. His gaze is intense for a split-second, then he relaxes
and smiles at her. “Don’t worry, June bug, we’ll be okay. They’re not out there. They left.”
June closes her eyes and shakes her head slowly, as if she cannot possibly withstand the threat of any additional conflict.
“Hey, seriously, no worries. The Urthmen that were waiting in the woods saw what happened to them,” he splays one arm out at his side, gesturing to the field beyond the wall, a space once covered in weedy grass and leaves no longer visible. Too many bodies to count cover it. “And they hurried the heck out of here.” He smiles at her tenderly. “Trust me, we’ll be fine.”
“He’s right,” I say softly. I wrap an arm around her shoulders and draw her close. I feel her body shaking and wonder how much of it is from the cold and how much of it is nerves.
“I hope you’re right, both of you,” she sniffs and replies. A gag follows, the air so thick and laden with overpowering odors she cannot help herself. I rub her back and wait for her to catch her breath. Once she does, I clip my head toward Tom and he promptly joins us.
“Tom will stay with you and Riley, and a guard will be posted outside the house. Everything will be okay, June, trust me,” I say reassuringly. I bring her in for a tight hug then release her slowly, reluctantly. To Sully, I say, “We need to get moving.”
He nods and sets about selecting a group of people to join us, to mobilize and head beyond the moat. Organizing quickly, those chosen file down the spiral staircase and wait by the gate. After returning June to our home and posting guards with her, I join them, making my way to the front of the group. I will be the first to set foot in the combat zone.
The gate parts slowly and before me is an indescribable massacre.
Still-smoking flesh in an array of colors that vary from onyx to gray to bright-red covers every inch of the surface upon which we’d walk. The sight, macabre and grisly in every sense of each word, combines with the overwhelming stench and staggers me. I lift the neckline of my sweatshirt and place it over my nose, keeping my chin low so that I breathe through the fabric. Though the material does little to filter the awful smell, it helps. I look in all directions for a possible path to follow, one that winds around the countless bodies. When none becomes apparent, I look behind me at the roughly ten people with me. They wear the same revolted expressions upon their face as I do. Still, they forge ahead. Without another option, I’m forced to step on the Urthmen remains. Hot and mildly spongy beneath my booted feet, the sensation is unsettling. But I force myself to stare straight ahead, to the tree line in the distance. I know that if I don’t, I will be sick right here, all over the corpses and in front of my people, an incident I’d like to avoid at all costs. Several times as I walk, I hear Sully groan. The sound of retching echoes from behind me. Though I’m pretty sure it’s not him, I glance over my shoulder in time to see Carol, one of the few who came with us, heave the contents of her stomach atop a limbless cadaver. With a violent wave of nausea growing more powerful by the second, I quickly look away and speed my pace, not stopping until the moat has been crossed and I’m at the edge of the forest.
The Rise of Azlyn (Book 4): Planet Urth, no. 4 Page 16