Resurgence (22 page)

I have fallen out of a few trees in my time. I was never the natural climber Faith was, but enjoyed showing off – even if it was just to myself. I would constantly
challenge myself to climb higher, to jump from one tree to the next and see if I could skip across the branches like a squirrel. The first time I fell I returned home with the seat of my trousers
drenched with dirt. Mum refused to let me into the house, making me strip to my underwear on the front porch before waving me in with a scowl.

My eyes are closed and I am there again. ‘What have you been doing, Silver Blackthorn?’ she asks, using my full name.

I try to pretend it doesn’t hurt but it is too painful to hide. ‘I fell out of a tree onto my bum.’

She sighs. ‘What have I told you?’

‘You never said not to
fall
out of trees, you just said not to
climb
them.’

She wags a finger in my face. ‘If you didn’t climb the trees, you wouldn’t be able to fall out of them in the first place.’

‘Yes, Mum,’ I say with a grin. ‘But climbing trees is fun.’

She starts to shake her head but can’t stop herself from smirking. ‘Silver Blackthorn, one of these days you’re going to pick a fight with gravity and you’re going to
lose.’

As the ground hurtles towards me, I can’t help but think this is that fight.

If I had only counted to four instead of six, I would have been safely on the ground. Frank told us the rope would take all three of our weights, and yet I was so desperate to get Jela out of
there safely that I waited and gave one of the Kingsmen a chance to get across the room and cut the cord.

One of the girls below is screaming, but I can’t do anything other than what I used to do if I ever slipped from a tree – tuck my arms and legs in and hope for the best.

When the impact comes it isn’t as bad as I think. My backside takes the brunt of the hit but I bounce and then roll sideways. Jela and Pietra are by me asking if I am okay. It takes a
second to catch my breath and I wave them away, saying I am just winded.

The reinforced arrow Jela shot is only a few metres away from where I finished up. She crouches, cutting through the rope, and starts to pull it out of the ground. It is wedged so far into the
soil that it takes all of her effort to free it and she flails backwards, holding the arrow high in the air with a gentle laugh of triumph. It is far chunkier than any of the regular arrows Frank
gave Pietra, with a long, thick wodge of pointed metal at its tip.

‘Why did you do that?’ Pietra asks.

‘Frank told me to make every arrow count. If I can make them count two or three times, surely that’s better?’

Jela heaves herself to her feet with a grunt and offers me her hand. ‘The boys are probably halfway back to the house by now.’

It is only as I put some pressure on my feet that I realise I can feel only pins and needles beneath my waist. Pietra notices the panic in my face. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I can’t feel my feet.’ The two exchange an anguished look. ‘Can you help me?’ I ask.

I take both of their hands and they pull me up, each putting an arm around me as I take a step forward.

‘Can you feel anything?’ Pietra asks.

I’m trying not to panic. ‘No.’

‘Do you know which way we need to go?’

I try to point but almost overbalance, leaving Jela snatching at empty air as Pietra supports my full weight. Jela stretches the strap of the crossbow around her diagonally to free her
hands.

‘It’s over there,’ I say, nodding towards a small office building.

We have to loop around one of the towers but are completely in shadow as the light is illuminating the plaza. We stagger from one side to the other but they are struggling, despite their
insistence otherwise. The ground below us is soft. It should be squishy beneath my feet but I feel nothing. I try to swallow the sensation but I’m terrified. I’ve heard stories of
people who lose feeling in their legs and end up not being able to walk again.

There is a buzz in my ear and Knave’s voice crackles: ‘House.’

I suddenly remember I have forgotten my part so we stop for a second, untangling my arms from Jela and pressing the earpiece. ‘Out,’ I say.

I don’t expect a reply but get one anyway from Opie: ‘Tell Jela she’s a star. I wish I’d seen it.’

When Frank told us he should be able to sort out an arrow point strong enough to break the glass and a cable rigid enough to take our weight, Opie, Knave and Hart were desperate to ‘have a
go’.

Boys
.

I suspect they’d think differently if they had landed like me.

‘Opie thinks you’re brilliant,’ I say, wrapping my arm back around Jela. ‘So do I.’

She says nothing as a shrieking alarm blares behind us. We all wince involuntarily. It sounds as if it is coming from all four towers, blazing loudly enough for everyone in the neighbouring
towns and villages to hear.

Our progress is slow and we have to stop every few hundred metres to get a better grip on each other. It is only when we shelter behind a building that I realise I can feel the hardness of the
concrete through my shoe.

Relief.

‘Are you all right?’ Pietra asks.

‘I think I can feel my toes. I still can’t walk, I’m sorry.’

Hart tells me he is at the house, which spurs us on but we still have at least a mile to go. I think about messaging one of them to come and help, but one of the reasons we agreed to meet away
from the centre of Middle England is because a large group of us could be easily spotted by Kingsmen or residents.

Somehow we stumble on, away from the darker shadows and onto the streets properly. There is little electricity away from the plaza; most people’s homes are lit by candles. The siren is
impossible to ignore and we see faces at windows and curtains twitching. I am unsure if anyone sees us but no one ventures onto the streets, despite the mammoth bounty on my head. Perhaps my
address has already done some good? We stick to the darkness as much as we can until Jela squeals and bundles us into a side street.

‘I saw a Kingsman,’ she whispers.

‘I can feel the cobbles under my feet,’ I reply quietly. ‘I think I might be able to walk when we get going again.’ Jela creeps towards the exit of the alley, dashing
across until she is in the shadow of the building on the opposite side. She unhooks the crossbow from around her body and takes an arrow from the quiver, shuffling forward so she is completely in
darkness. I can’t see anything but I do hear the gentle twang of the string as the arrow is cocked.

‘House,’ Opie says softly in my ear, which crackles.

‘They’re all waiting,’ I whisper to Pietra as we press ourselves harder against the wall.

Before she can reply, two Kingsmen march past with their swords drawn. If they break their pace, or so much as glance in our direction, then Jela will fire.

I will them not to. I can remember Xyalis taunting me in his laboratory when he was talking about Opie and Faith.

‘You’re so brave with your soldiers at your side.’

It hurt then and it hurts as much to see Jela doing the same thing. Already she has killed half-a-dozen Kingsmen in my name. Half-a-dozen men who might have wives and children waiting for
them.

Aside from the loud clump of their boots, the Kingsmen move silently past the entrance to the alley, striding in unison towards the plaza.

Jela emerges from the shadows, walking towards us, her crossbow still in her hand. She only loosens her grip when the Kingsmen pass the next alley. Her eyes don’t move from their backs as
she re-sheathes the arrow.

Finally she turns to face me. ‘How are you doing?’

‘I can feel my legs again. I think I can walk, just not very quickly.’

She peers both ways out of the side street. ‘We’re clear.’

‘You’re really scary,’ I say. Jela and Pietra both laugh but it wasn’t entirely a joke.

I am slightly quicker on my feet than I was when I was leaning on Jela and Pietra, but not by much. Regaining the feeling is a relief but it also means I can feel the pain stinging from the
bottom of my back, through my backside and along the underside of my thighs. Each step I take sends more shooting pains searing through my body and I have to bite my bottom lip to stop crying
out.

Jela moves ahead, crouching as I move as quickly as I can, which is very slowly. We have walked another couple of hundred metres when Jela shunts us into another side street. ‘There are
loads of them,’ she says, panicking this time.

Thunderous footsteps are pounding along the hard concrete in the distance, getting closer.

The three of us press into the shadows. ‘How many?’ I ask.

‘Ten or twelve. They’re in a line.’

Jela is on the end, back hard against the wall, but she twists her neck to see behind us. ‘They’re stopping at each side street,’ she says. ‘Two Kingsmen head in each
direction as the others wait in the road. They don’t move on until each alley is clear.’

Pietra asks the inevitable question: ‘Where can we go?’

The only option is back towards the plaza but there will be more Kingsmen there. Jela reaches for her crossbow but I put a hand on her arm. ‘There are too many.’

I move deeper into the alley where it is almost entirely dark, though it will make no difference if the Kingsmen walk this far in. There is a high wall at the end and wooden fences on either
side. I hiss for Jela and Pietra to join me.

‘We’ll have to go over the fence,’ I say.

Pietra pushes herself onto tiptoes but the fence is at least a metre taller than either of us.

‘I’ll have to go first,’ I add. ‘I can barely support my own weight, sorry.’

Neither of them objects and Jela crouches, cupping her hands. I step into them and she hoists me up with Pietra supporting my other leg. The stabbing, shooting pain is stronger than ever and I
almost bite through my tongue trying to stop myself from screaming.

I sit with a leg on either side of the fence. On the other side is a patch of concrete with shoots of grass growing through. It is overlooked by a small house with two facing windows. There are
no curtains or blinds, but no light from the inside either. Someone could be watching from the darkness but I can’t see for sure.

‘It’s someone’s garden,’ I whisper. ‘We’ll have to risk it.’

Jela provides a step for Pietra and I haul her up until she is straddling the fence next to me. We grab one of Jela’s arms each and heave her towards us. By the time we drop to the other
side, the footsteps are deafening, even drowning out the siren.

We press ourselves against the thin wood. Even though it hasn’t been raining, it feels damp. My breath spirals into the cool night air and I try to hold it, worried it will somehow drift
upwards, over the fence and then down again towards the Kingsmen. Jela said there were around a dozen of them, but it sounds like more as they march somewhere nearby and stop. Two pairs of boots
separate and head towards us, each step making the ground quake. We can hear at least two people on the other side of the fence, so close we can smell them.

As they begin to clatter away, we hear a ‘clear’ and I finally breathe out, watching as our collective plumes of breath ooze into the air. We notice at the same time and it is hard
not to laugh, even though it is so trivial.

Now my heart isn’t thumping so quickly, I take proper notice of what’s in front of us. Across the yard is another fence the same height as the one we just climbed. There will likely
be more beyond.

‘I’m not going to be able to get over these the entire way back to the house,’ I say. ‘There’s at least half a mile to go.’

Jela nudges me slightly with her elbow. ‘If Opie was here, he could give you a piggyback.’

I grin at the fact she remembers my story.

‘Shall we go back the way we came?’ Pietra asks, turning to the fence we’re hiding behind. ‘The main route will probably be clear now.’

I am about to say yes when I notice a woman’s face at the closest window of the house, staring directly at us. We freeze together, hoping we somehow haven’t been spotted. The face
disappears momentarily and then the back door clicks open and a woman walks down a small staircase, gaze fixed on us.

She is only a few years older than I am, mesmeric in the moonlight. Her skin is so white that she is almost glowing, with her long black hair absorbing the light.

‘Aren’t you going to come in?’ she asks.

Jela shuffles nervously next to me but I am relieved that she hasn’t reached for her crossbow.

I step away from the fence, limping, trying not to wince. ‘Do you know who I am?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is that okay?’

She nods and heads back to the steps, holding the door open. With little other option I lead the way, hobbling up the steps, Jela and Pietra behind me.

The door opens into a messy kitchen with mucky pans stacked in a sink and piles of random cutlery on a small dining table. It looks like somebody has emptied all of the cupboards and left
everything lying around.

She clicks the door closed and crosses to the front window, peering both ways. Her house is laid out very similar to mine in Martindale: one large room for the kitchen, dining and living areas,
and a pair of doors at the back that I assume lead into bedrooms.

Indoors, she doesn’t look as white as she did outside but her skin is still very pale, in complete contrast to her dark hair.

‘We’ve really got to go,’ I say.

Her voice is soft and barely audible, even though I am close enough to touch her. ‘There are men out there.’

‘How many?’

She steps back to the window and looks again. ‘Lots.’

I scratch my ear, wincing as I dig my nail in too far. ‘This is a nice house. I like the red window frames.’

‘My husband’s favourite colour is red.’

The woman is only paying attention to me, ignoring Jela and Pietra. ‘
Silver Blackthorn
,’ she says, rolling my name around her tongue.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Rosemary.’

‘We really have to go, Rosemary.’

I take a step towards the window but she flashes an arm out, blocking me. ‘There are men out there.’