Chapter 18
A throaty growl fills my head, echoing through my body and causing my ears to ring. Loud and incessant, the car engine sounds more animal that mechanical. I try not to focus on it, though. I’m too busy trying to see the road that rolls out before me.
Countless snowflakes, plump and white, rush at the windshield in a dizzying kaleidoscope of unique shapes. Wipers work to clear what lands and melts, but they do little to keep the whirling surge from causing vertigo.
Gripping the steering wheel tightly, I lean forward in my seat and attempt to peer into the distance. The weather has transformed the landscape from a stretch of highway lined by stately trees and woodland to a glacial vista. Blanketed in a thin layer of freshly fallen snow, the world around me assumes a preternatural quality. The gray sky melds with the silvery horizon, interrupted only by pointed fronds of dried grass that poke from frozen earth.
“Nasty day to drive off to our deaths, isn’t it?” Andris says.
“I’d have preferred a warm, sunny day to die myself, but if this is how it’s to be then so be it.” Arnost shrugs his broad, muscled shoulders.
Will offers an unconvincing chuckle.
“Well that was a fake laugh if I ever I did hear one,” Arnost snorts. “What’s got you so upset?”
Will glances at me from the corner of his eye. Neither of the behemoth twins has any family outside each other. But Will does. And I do. Saying good-bye to the ones you love when death is all but guaranteed is a surreal, gut-wrenching ordeal. A part of me wants to explain it to my dear friends Arnost and Andris, but what would be the point? They don’t need guilt to be added to the experience of driving to our deaths.
“Nothing,” Will answers casually. “Guess I’d rather a sunny day too.” He smiles, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“So what do you think this King Leon is going to be like?” Arnost asks. “You think he’ll be all fancy like Fred and Julian?”
“If he’s anything like his son, his face will be something you won’t soon forget.”
“Why? What was his son like?” Andris asks with childlike curiosity that reminds me of June.
In my mind’s eye, I can see Prince Neo clearly, see his small, malformed head with closely set eyes the color of boart dung, and wide holes where a nose should’ve sat. Though his features were similar to every other Urthman I’ve ever seen, the striking difference was his lips. Thick and blubbery and resembling a pair of tube shaped animal skins stuffed to capacity, his mouth resembled that of a fish. I recall clearly how they bounced and jiggled when the wagon in which he rode passed over rocks and pebbles in the road.
“He was bloated in every sense of the word.” My voice springs from me. “His arms, his legs, his lips, even his neck, looked swollen.”
“You mean swollen like ours?” Andris asks.
“No, not exactly,” I answer with the slightest of chuckles. “I mean soft and squishy looking, like moss.”
A fleeting glimpse in the rearview mirror reveals Andris and Arnost’s faces screwed up in revulsion.
“Sounds awful.” Arnost’s upper lip is curled over his teeth. “Will he be there too?”
Will and I exchange glances.
“No. Prince Neo is dead.” Will’s voice, his words, send a shiver up my spine. I expect questions to follow, ones I’d rather not answer. When they don’t, I’m grateful.
“I wonder what Kildare looks like,” Andris thinks aloud, but he’s interrupted by the sharp strike of an object hitting the car.
“What the heck?” Will twists in his seat, looking behind us and all around.
The sound of a hard object pelting our car echoes again.
“Urthmen!” Andris snarls and points to the side of the road where two Urthmen lumber along just within the shelter of the tree line. They scream words that are inaudible. Shock and outrage etch their grotesque features, likely a result of seeing humans manning a vehicle on an open roadway rather than scurrying for cover from them like bugs.
“Nasty creatures,” Arnost says with a shudder.
“That they are.” I nod in agreement then step down on the gas pedal a bit harder. Responding immediately to my command, the car dashes forward.
“How are we ever going to live with them?” Arnost shakes his head. “In theory, all that King Leon’s lackeys proposed is well and good, but look what just happened. That wasn’t a random occurrence. If we’d have been walking along, they would’ve attacked.” He shoves a hand through his hair. “Regardless of whether we were armed with those guns Sully found or if there was a peace treaty in place, they would’ve attacked. They can’t help themselves.”
He’s right. I had similar thoughts as Julian and Fred shared their leader’s wishes. The pitch, the plan, the invite—all of them reek of a setup.
“That’s right, Will,” Arnost agrees. “Let’s say we get to Kildare and there’s no trick. King Leon wants peace. We shake hands or hug or sign some piece of paper. But then what happens? How is peace going to be enforced?”
“Yeah, will there be an army to go around monitoring that? And will they bash their own kind with their clubs for not being peaceable? If so that wouldn’t make too much sense, would it? It’d be like spanking a child for hitting his brother and shouting, ‘No hitting!’” Andris’ cheeks are red and so is his neck. Flushed with zeal, it is evident he’s given what he’s said much consideration.
“I agree with all of you. I’m wondering the same things. But I don’t think King Leon wants peace. I think he’s got other plans for us.” The words roll off my tongue bitterly, and with certainty I cannot explain. I feel it in my gut, in every part of me. Details about enforcing peace will never come to pass. I know I shouldn’t be so blunt, or so pessimistic for that matter, but in all likelihood, we will all lose our lives once the pomp and pageantry of meeting with the King has ended. It’s best we be prepared for the worst while hoping for the best possible outcome.
“Trap or no trap, I want the chance to snap King Leon’s neck.” Arnost reaches out with gigantic hands and simulates throttling a narrow object.
“I’d like to gut the monster!” Andris slices the air laterally.
“Let’s hope you get the chance,” I say.
“What if what his people said is true? What if he does want peace?” Will asks. “What if the King and all the people of Kildare have a plan in place to make every Urthmen town comply?”
So many what-ifs exist, too many to consider. “If that’s the case, I’ll hear him out.” I almost add, “And if it’s not, then none of us are going home.” I stop myself just before the words tumble from me. If Will wants to harbor hope I’ll let him. I owe him that much for volunteering to journey with me to Kildare.
“Well, if it’s not, I can’t think of a better reason to go,” Arnost says it for me.
“To die helping to save humankind from those filthy beasts will be an honor I’d give my life for a thousand times over,” Andris adds.
“You two make me proud to be human.” I tear my eyes from the snow-covered roadway long enough to beam at them in the rearview mirror.
“Uh, speaking of being human do you think we could pull over?” Andris asks. I glance in the mirror again and see that he shifts in his seat uncomfortably.
“Yeah, why? Is everything okay?”
“I need to, uh, well, nature is calling, and pretty loudly at that,” he answers and I immediately regret asking.
“Me, too,” Arnost chimes in.
“Sorry,” I mumble and feel my cheeks heat. I direct the car to the side of the road, scanning the area around us thoroughly before coming to a full stop. All appears clear and the twins exit. I am left alone with Will.
“How’re you holding up?” he asks once the rear doors shut.
I bob my shoulders in answer, not trusting my voice to hold up if I dare discuss the fact that my heart physically aches and that I’m sadder than I’ve ever been in my life.
“Not good, huh?” I feel hi
s eyes on me before I look up and see them. Pale and a shade of blue-green I’ve only seen when thick ice coats a lake, his irises gleam against his tan skin.
“Not good,” I echo his words.
We are silent for several moments. The only sound that fills the space is our breathing. Breaking it suddenly, I ask a question that’s been burning in my mind. “Why did you want to come?”
Will’s eyes widen briefly, locked on mine, then he lowers his gaze to his lap. “I came because I want to make sure you make it back to Cassowary. I came to protect our leader, my friend.”
Friend. The word is still hard to hear. Friends don’t betray one another by divulging information that will be twisted and tortured into fallacy. Still, I am touched. “Will, why did you turn on me?” I shock myself as much as him by asking. Though the debt has been repaid and the wrongdoing pardoned, the question still burns in my mind, in my heart. “Why did you align yourself with Belchik?”
Will expels a steady stream of air. “Do you really want to know?”
Squaring my shoulders, I straighten my posture. “Yes. I do.”
“Fine, but don’t look at me, okay?”
“What? Will, that’s absurd!” I protest.
“Please, I know I don’t have the right to ask anything of you, especially given what we’re talking about, but please, do me this one small courtesy?” Aquamarine eyes plead with me.
Huffing, I say, “Fine,” and twist in my seat so that I’m looking out the driver’s side window. “I’m not looking. Now you can tell me.”
“Thanks, Avery.” I hear the relief in his tone and wonder why on earth he needs me to look away. “So, the reason I did what I did was.” He pauses to sigh. “Well, you broke my heart.”
My heart stops mid-beat and my lips part on a silent gasp. I am stunned silent. For a moment, neither of us speaks.
“Avery, c’mon, say something. Anything.”
Turning, I swallow hard and I lick my lips. “I-I’m sorry. Sending Sarah was a mistake. I’ve regretted it every day since the battle above the underground city.” Suddenly parched, my throat burns. This is the first time he’s shared his sorrow calmly, rationally. He isn’t venting. He isn’t shouting at me. He’s levelly telling me that forcing Sarah to the battlefield, which led to her subsequent death, broke his heart. I cannot argue, for I have no defense. I am wrong. “I’m sorry, Will. I’m so sorry.” Nerves take hold. I begin rambling. “I didn’t realize your feelings for her were so strong—”
Holding his hands up to chest height with his palms facing me, Will interrupts me. “Whoa, Avery, I’m not talking about what happened to Sarah. That was awful, and I was hurt, but that’s not what broke my heart.”
“What?” I whisper.
“I was never with her like that.” His gaze vacillates between me and a length of plastic string protruding from the passenger seat. Cringing, he says, “I exaggerated things between us in front of you.” Pink tints his cheeks. “I played it up. Sarah didn’t even know. I’m not proud. But I used her to make you jealous.”
I feel my eyes widen. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Why? Why would you do that?” My mouth struggles to catch up with the thoughts racing through my mind, the questions.
Heaving a sigh burdened by shame, he says, “I felt like you were slipping away. I felt like I was losing you.” Closing his eyes, he shakes his head, his lips pressing to a thin line. When he opens his eyes again, they remain focused on his lap. “I thought that if you thought there was competition you’d want to be with me more.” His tone is self-deprecating, his expression one of shame. Reluctantly, he turns to look at me. I’m certain my face reflects the shock and confusion I’m feeling. “I know. It’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard, right?”
“Uh, yeah, it kind of is,” I admit and watch as his hands fly to his face, covering it.
“Oh jeez, don’t hold back or anything.”
“What, you want me to lie? It was stupid, very stupid.”
Will’s hands slide from his face and land against his thighs with a slapping sound. “I was desperate, and as it turns out an accidental matchmaker.” He looks at me and I quirk a brow. “You know, you and Sully. I drove you right into his arms.”
“First of all, you didn’t drive me into Sully’s arms with you little jealously experiment. And for future reference, trying to make a girl jealous does only that. It makes her jealous. It doesn’t make you more appealing. It makes her feel bad about herself and bad about some other girl she barely even knows.” Will’s head rears as if I’ve just smacked him. “Sully and I were always going to be together. Sarah had nothing to do with that. He and I are alike and that’s how it was meant to be.”
“I know,” Will says softly. “I know that now. And I want you to be happy.”
His words, so gentle and kind, catch me off guard. Tears unexpectedly collect behind my eyelids. I care for Will. I’ve always cared for Will. But I let him go. And now I know he’s let me go, as well. The reality of it, actually hearing the words, is liberating and redemptive. It’s also poignant. “Thank you,” I whisper. Silence fills the space between us for several moments. Will sniffs a few times and keeps his head turned toward the passenger side window. Wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt, I try to lighten the mood. “So have you met anyone you like at Cassowary?”
Will looks at me and a small smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “There are a few girls I might want to get to know a little better.”
“Really,” I drawl out each sound in the word. “I want names, quick.” I flash a wide grin.
Absently swatting the air in front of him, he says, “What does it matter? We’re not going back to Cassowary, right?”
After the interaction he and I just had, learning that healing and redemption are a possibility, a small thread of hope begins to weave itself into my point of view. I decide I’m not going to surrender his life, or Arnost and Andris’ lives, or my life, so easily. The future awaits us at Cassowary, and I want to be a part of that future. “We will return there, Will. We will go back to Cassowary.”
“But I thought you said—”
“Don’t worry about what I said. We’ll find a way.” Our gazes clash. Our objectives gel.
Will nods somberly with tear filled eyes as Andris and Arnost slide into the back seat.
“Man, it is cold out there!” Arnost says. His brother agrees as a discussion about wintery weather ensues. But I barely hear it over the roar of the engine and the revitalized hum of energy buzzing inside of me. We will go to Kildare and detonate the nuclear weapon, but one way or another, we are returning to Cassowary. We will return to our friends and loved ones. Our futures will be realized.
Chapter 19
Snowfall tapers, leaving the world swathed in a pristine veil of white. The sun has broken free in the sky, puncturing holes in tattered gray clouds with beams of palest yellow, sending them scattering. All around us, the landscape gleams, appearing as though crushed diamonds rained from the heavens along with the snow. It is a breathtaking scene, one marked by a sense of peace and calm, and a dramatic contrast to the frenetic buzz of nerves teeming within me.
Looming in the distance, the tops of tall buildings are visible. The city of Kildare awaits, imposing and austere in its steely splendor. Whatever the city holds in store for us is about to be revealed.
“I assume that’s the city, the Urthmen city of Kildare.” Will points beyond the windshield toward the towering structures. Taking over at the wheel, he’s driven for the last four-hour block of time, giving me the opportunity to sleep, though sleep has been a challenge. Especially since my mind is turning faster than the wheels of the vehicle in which we travel. Two days of what felt like an endless stretch of icy highway has led us here, the map given to us by Fred and Julian proving both accurate and useful. “What’s it say?” he asks, referring to the meticulously diagrammed rendering of the terrain around us. “What do we do next?” Multiple turnoffs emerge at regular intervals
on my right-hand side.
Consulting the map and realizing we are closer than I thought, I say, “Take the next right.”
He does as I’ve instructed, turning right at the next exit, and my palms slicken with sweat. The tempo of my pulse accelerates. We are heading into the enemy’s lair, and while planned to some degree, I feel less and less prepared for the actuality of it with every mile we advance.
Inhaling deeply to still my mounting anxiety, I watch the menacing structures with the unwavering intensity I would a predator, staring it down as if to establish dominance. As I do, a growing sense of foreboding sends a slick slide of fear through my core. I don’t want to die, not here and not anytime soon. I will do so to help save humankind, but a part of me, the part that belongs to June and Sully, rages against it.
That sensation mounts when I realize the off-ramp we’ve just taken leads us to another highway that boasts a large, green, rectangular sign. It reads Welcome to Kildare. Painted by a careful hand, the lettering doesn’t resemble the crudely scrawled word “stray” written across Tom’s body when we found him. A craftier, more calculated hand designed it. An enemy who’s spent years practicing, readying himself.
The notion of adding wit to the inherent bloodlust of an Urthman is an unsettling prospect. My heart begins to pound a thunderous rhythm in my chest.
The Rise of Azlyn (Book 4): Planet Urth, no. 4 Page 21