Finally standing upon leaf-strewn earth, I unsheathe my sword, my eyes scanning the surrounding woodland in watchful anticipation of a possible Urthmen attack. Those with me, my soldiers, keen and alert, fan out and line the perimeter. Slowly, cautiously, we enter the forest.
With eyes roving, sweeping from left to right as they search all around me, every cell in my body is on high alert. My muscles twitch. I grip the hilt of my sword so tightly my nails pinch my palms. In my periphery, Sully steals across the forest floor with the grace of a jungle cat, beautiful but deadly. All of us are ready, yet the deeper we delve the clearer it becomes that we are the only beings roaming.
Beams of sunlight sift through brush and boughs, illuminating dust particles and vaporous frost. Branches, stripped clean of their leaves, do little to conceal the enemy. That is, if any were present. But none are. Astoundingly, the only evidence of Urthmen troops comes in the form of deep footprints and overturned soil.
Stopping, I peer into morning light and see a silhouette. Dark and tall and decidedly human in shape, the form moves toward us quickly. As soon as its close, I recognize that it’s Roger, the man I had stationed beyond the wall to warn us in advance of the Urthmen arrival.
“Roger, what happened? So they really did run?” I ask in a single breath.
Roger smiles. “Did you think I was making it up?” he asks without a trace of bitterness before his features gather tightly with embarrassment.
“No, I didn’t think you were lying, but you understand why I needed to come and see for myself.”
“Well as you can see, they ran. Tens of thousands turned and ran. I assume they headed back to Kildare.” Roger pauses and scrubs the scruff on his chin then tunnels his blunt fingers through his hair. “We killed all their officers. All of them were up front, and they were wiped out. We also killed off a good percentage of their men without raising a single blade. They panicked.”
I allow the information shared to sink in. The thought of Urthmen tucking their hypothetical tails between their legs and running fills me with a sense of satisfaction. “What were they saying?” I can’t help but ask.
Roger smiles and his gaze becomes distant, as if he’s reliving the fond memory. “They were terrified. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I wonder how King Leon will react when he finds out they ran like the cowards they are,” Sully says.
“Are you sure it’s not a trap?” I ask, leery that we’re celebrating prematurely. It seems too easy. Urthmen are unrelenting, much like Lurkers in that when they stumble upon a trail, they seldom if ever relinquish it.
“I followed them from the side of the road for an hour or so before I turned back. It certainly didn’t seem like a trap.” Roger sounds certain, a fact that bolsters my confidence. Still, the need to verify his information with Rob, the only scout who hasn’t reported back yet to be sure that the Urthmen army hasn’t doubled back in our direction persists.
But before I voice my concerns, Sully, as if reading my mind, says, “We’ll hear from Rob a few hours from now. He’s stationed about forty miles south of here. If they’re heading back to Kildare, they’ll pass him soon and we’ll know about it.”
I can’t help but smile at the news. I turn to our small group and share with them that there will not be a battle. They express their relief and we return to Cassowary. Once inside the city walls, I announce to the people gathered in the courtyard that the Urthmen have retreated.
Shouts of approval echo around applause and whistles. My pulse quickens, my heart begins to race, and my belly somersaults. Caught on the undulating wave of enthusiasm, excitement surges through my core. My sword-wielding hand rockets skyward, the metal blade catching the early light, and words spring from me. “Tonight we celebrate!” I shout.
Wild cheers replace rising and falling clapping. A roar of merriment takes hold, and within it, a single word is chanted. “Azlyn! Azlyn! Azlyn!” rings through the city with striking clarity. My breathing hitches. Warmth diffuses from my chest and spans the length of my body and emotion moistens my eyes. And in that moment, I realize, my life holds a purpose that supersedes surviving day to day, merely remaining out of harm’s way. I understand my purpose. Awareness that it is my job to lead the people of Cassowary—people everywhere—to freedom rushes through my veins in time with my lifeblood. My destiny is clear.
Chapter 15
Energy crackles like a livewire throughout the city. Palpable and fairly sizzling in the air, excitement is evident everywhere I look. The long, main roadway is filled with people, as are the narrow side streets. Everyone is smiling, and for good reason. Our scouts radioed in and informed us that the Urthmen army is well on their way back to Kildare, taking with them any immediate threat and leaving behind a feeling that rivals peace. Unfamiliar to most, peace has been an unattainable state of existence, something every one of us has yearned for but never dreamed remotely possible. But for now, it is. And even if it’s just for one night, we will enjoy the freedom of a horizon without conflict looming upon it.
Inhaling deeply, the air is still laden with sulfur and bitterness. But a brisk breeze blows and carries on it the aroma of roasting boart, of rabbit and an assortment of root vegetables foraged by former slaves skilled at recognizing the fruit of seeds planted by their own hand. To some, the blend of smells might be unpleasant, but to me, it is the scent of celebration, of victory.
The sun has dipped below the horizon, leaving in its wake breadths of pastel pink and lavender. Iron sconces, spaced at regular intervals throughout town, hold torches and a bonfire has been lit in the town square. Functional for heat and lighting and pleasing to the eye, the light casts a soft, warm glow on everything it touches.
Walking along a paved pathway with Sully beside me, I turn to face him. A wash of golden light caresses the sharp angles of his face, softening them, making him appear almost boyish. I want nothing more than to grip his face in both my hands and kiss him, kiss his forehead, his cheeks and chin, his closed eyes, his lips. Overjoyed and bursting with a thrill of freedom that is intoxicating, I feel as I’ve never felt before. I feel unencumbered by fear, by the threat of impending danger. I wonder whether Sully feels it too. I wonder if he’s brimming with breathless exhilaration as I am. Stealing another sidelong glance at him, it’s hard to tell. With his hands jammed into the front pocket of his pants, he paces me, his arm brushing mine pleasantly. The contact causes a warm tingle to spread up my arm and down my back. Still, his expression is unreadable, though I detect a definite curve to either side of his mouth, a smile he’s unsuccessfully suppressing. Elbowing him in the ribs lightly, I slow and watch him. He turns to face me, a wide grin rounding his cheeks and deepening the dimple in his right cheek, and I see it. Happiness glitters in the depths of his chestnut-hued irises, and the same delighted elation I feel diffuses from him.
“I can’t believe it,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine. “Can you? Can you believe what’s happened in the last twenty-four hours?”
“No, no I can’t,” I admit.
“We forced them back. They retreated.” His eyes widen and a tremor of excitement makes his voice tremble.
“All because of you,” I say and do not hide the immense pride I feel at the battle strategy he not only devised but also executed.
“No, Avery, you’ve got it all wrong.”
His words stun me. My smile collapses and my head reflexively jerks back a bit. I just attributed our victory to his innovative thinking and implementation and he’s telling me I’m wrong. Someone can’t take a compliment! I think. “Okay. And why is that? Why do I have it all wrong?” I do not temper the hint of annoyance that spikes my words.
Lowering his brow and placing his hands at chest height with his palms facing me, Sully says, “No, I didn’t mean it to be rude.” His cheeks flush and he seems genuinely flustered. We’ve stopped walking. Raking a hand through his hair, he takes a small step toward me, standing so close our bodies nearly touch. “Tha
nk you. What you said was, well, it was probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” He fumbles his words but his point is clear, achingly heartfelt. After meeting his father, President Sullivan, I imagine support of any kind was scant and compliments nonexistent. Reaching out a hand, I rest it on his forearm. He covers it with his. “I appreciate it. But it wasn’t me, not by a longshot. It was you.”
“Me?” I splay my free hand at the center of my chest and stare at him questioningly.
“Well, yeah, of course.” His eyes are dark, bottomless pools. “You’re Azlyn. Every person we come across has heard of you and is willing to fight and die for you.”
“Hmm, not everyone.” I roll my eyes as Belchik’s smug face fills my mind.
“Okay, so Belchik was the exception to the rule, but you get my point,” he says as if he’s read my mind. “You get what I’m saying. Without you, we would never be at this point. We’d never have come this far.”
His words are touching and sincere, but they still don’t make sense in my brain. “Sully, without your idea for the moat and your bombs, this would have gone differently and you know it.” I neglect to thank him. Now who can’t take a compliment?
“No, you’re not getting what I’m saying.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. When he opens them, he looks directly into my eyes. “You’re the reason they fight. Without you, there wouldn’t be a need for bombs or moats, or me.”
I stare at him for a long moment, stunned to silence. A part of me doesn’t want to believe what he’s said or that there’s any truth to it. There is need for him, tremendous need, in my life and in everyone else’s. And while on some basic level, I know the people who currently reside in Cassowary fight for me, it remains a difficult subject for me to consider. They call me Azlyn. Maybe I am an extension of that story. Maybe it was prophetic. I don’t know. I see myself as Avery, a person who loves her sister and those closest to her intensely and would give her life fighting for their right to live free. “I need you,” I mutter feebly.
Sully cocks his head to one side, his gaze tender. He smiles and parts his lips to speak, but June bounds toward us.
Arm-in-arm with Riley, June’s feet barely touch the ground. Bouncing with each step she takes, her curls spring in time with each stride. Her smile is wide and her eyes dance with merriment. “Hey guys!” She waves vigorously as though she hasn’t seen us in some time when in reality she saw us about an hour ago when we walked her to Will’s house. “Are you two heading over to the feast?”
“Of course, we are.” Sully mirrors her enthusiasm. “Are you?”
“Uh-huh,” Riley grins from ear to ear. “I hear there’s going to be so much food! The yucky smell is starting to clear.” She fans her face. “And I can smell boart and other good stuff.”
“I know. It smells so good, and I’m so hungry.” June leans in toward Riley and nods. A ringlet of her golden hair curls around a lock of Riley’s straight, sable hair as they huddle and giggle.
“So why don’t we get a move on and hurry to the banquet hall,” I say with a smile.
Both girls look my way for a moment then their giggling resumes. Sully shakes his head and places his hand on the small of my back. Together, we make our way past throngs of people and toward the long, squat building dubbed for the night as “the banquet hall.” Ordinarily, it’s an unexciting structure with rows of tables with benches on either side of them and a massive, vented fire pit in the center of the room. This evening, however, it’s been transformed into the sight for our celebratory feast. I see it in the distance and so does June.
“Whoa, look at it. Look at the cafeteria.” She points to where vegetable husks have been woven together with colorful leaves to form wreaths and miniature gourds have been strung together and draped around the doorways. Straining to see between the many people who enter and exit the building carrying platters of food, I glimpse baskets and table coverings. “It looks beautiful.” The excitement in June’s tone, her words even, reflect my feelings. My pulse hastens, my heart beating a bit faster. For the first time in my life, I am going to a celebration, an honest-to-goodness celebration. And I can’t wait.
“This is so exciting!” Riley squeals.
I’m about to agree with both Riley and June when a small group of men and women intercept me. Bowing their heads deferentially and referring to me as “Azlyn” the word “savior” is mumbled more than once. My cheeks heat at the reference, and at the fact that I’m treated with quiet reverence. I am no better than anyone here, no different. “Please, enjoy the feast. Enjoy the celebration,” I tell them and resume walking.
Sully slides a glance my way and flashes me his signature smirk.
“What?” I ask. “What’s with your little Sully smirk?”
“My what?” His head whips toward me, one brow quirked.
“You know, that little half-smile thing you do that no one knows whether you’re laughing at them, with them, or, I don’t know, just filled their sleep sack with boart dung. The Sully smirk.” I shrug.
For a moment, he’s speechless. But after a few seconds pass, he clears his throat and says, “There’s a name for it?” The faintest hint of color touches his cheeks.
“Yup,” June chimes in. “Only my sister thinks it’s cute, and charming.” She rolls her eyes exaggeratedly.
“Oh she does, does she?” Sully bobs his eyebrows. “That’s an interesting development.” He gently nudges me with his shoulder. “Cute and charming. Hmm.”
Giving him a light shove, I say, “All right already, I said it. I said your stupid smirk is charming and cute. I admit it. Don’t get a big head about it.” I try to look annoyed, but the huge grin plastered on Sully’s face makes it impossible. Shaking my head and unable to suppress my smile, I roll my eyes at him and close the space between us, walking so near to him I feel the heat of his skin through his sweatshirt.
The four of us chat and joke, greeting everyone we come across, until we reach the banquet hall. June and Riley enter with a collective gasp that’s immediately followed by exuberant comments and animated gestures. Sully and I enter behind them, and a part of me resists the temptation to act as my sister and Riley are acting. The room has been overhauled, trimmed and decorated more beautifully than the restaurant I visited with Sully in Washington Central. Metal fittings that hold torches are mounted at regular intervals along the interior walls and fill the space with warm, golden light. Baskets filled with fall wildflowers act as centerpieces to tables with strips of rich burgundy fabric running down their middle. Pinecones threaded through lengths of twine adorn each wall from corner to corner, dipping prettily in a soft curve. Fronds of dried grasses, tall and pale, are striking arrangements interspersed among scatterings of dried fall leaves on a table overflowing with meats, nuts, and root vegetables, and even greens.
“I can’t believe it.” Sully’s eyes are wide.
“I know.” I marvel at what I’m seeing.
June and Riley, both with mouths agape, continue to turn, taking in the entire room. As they do, they spot Will, Oliver and Tom. Entering through a separate door, their expressions echo ours. As soon as they reach us, June and Riley begin speaking at once.
“Can you believe it? Look at this place!” Riley spreads her arms out wide.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it? Have you ever seen something so beautiful?” Words tumble from June in an excited jumble.
Will’s aquamarine gaze reflects their enthusiasm, sparkling painfully, familiarly. For a moment I see the Will I used to know, the one who didn’t betray me. But all too quickly, Belchik’s face fills my mind. Stiffening, I feel my features harden.
“Be nice, Avery.” Whispered words feather across my ear. “Remember what he did on the wall. He saved your life.”
For someone who was never a big fan of Will’s, Sully is pushing for me to forgive and forget, and reminding me of the small detail on the wall, the one where Will slit the throat of a man in an elevated position with his weapon
trained on me. Yeah, that’s a pretty grand gesture. I suppose forgiveness and perhaps a debt of gratitude is in order.
Relaxing a bit, I tune back in to June and Riley’s conversation with Will. They continue to chat away, pointing out and commenting on every aspect in the décor and food. Will nods and occasionally steals a glance my way with a small smile and Oliver, though trying to appear disinterested, cranes his neck to watch as a man and woman carry in a heaping plate of what looks to be rabbit meat. Tom’s head swivels back and forth, as if he can’t decide what to look at first. Only when the name Azlyn rings out and a round of applause erupts does our assembly grow silent. I’m whisked away and led to a table, a cup filled with ruby-red liquid thrust in my hand. Knocking ensues as the people in the room rap their knuckles and cups against the wooden tables. Sully makes his way toward me, an act I’m thankful for. “I think they want you to speak,” he says.
The Rise of Azlyn (Book 4): Planet Urth, no. 4 Page 17