Shadowmark (The Shadowmark Trilogy Book 1) (12 page)

Mina opened her eyes. Clouds drifted across the sun, the resulting shade causing her to shiver. She sat up. A deer moved near the trees at the edge of the field, out of place. Mina rarely saw them this time of day. It sniffed the air and then bent its slender neck to nibble at the new grass growing there. The deer didn’t have to worry about food.
 

Mina’s stomach growled again, and she wished she could eat the grass, too. No—she wished she could eat the deer.
 

She resented her marathon training now, her desire to stay fit. Would she starve more slowly if she were fatter?

The sun disappeared for good as a chilly breeze blew in, bringing with it more clouds and another whiff of smoke. Mina shivered again and rose to her feet. The deer started at her sudden appearance and bounded across the field, disappearing into the trees.

She shuffled across the hard ground toward another creek, her feet creating miniature dust clouds. She’d left the nature trail behind. Here, the trees were less dense, and a creek wound between hills and around fields. At the bank, Mina slid down to the earth next to the water. The soft mud caused her to sink down all the way to her ankles, and she almost fell over as it sucked at her feet.
 

Mina managed to extract herself without losing her boots and then spent considerable time cleaning them. When she finished, she sat at the bottom of the embankment. The water churned with debris and brown sediment. The air was warmer now she was out of the wind. Maybe there were fish in the water? If she tied her shirt to a couple of branches, she could scoop them out. Right now, though, she wanted to rest. Mina freed her wild waves from their ponytail and sat back. Without another thought, she slept.

A face swam through her dreams. White ash drifted around her. Smoke. Too much smoke. Mina coughed and raised her hand to the gash on her forehead. Warm blood oozed through her fingers. Someone ran past her in the haze, the shadow blocking her light. Blood dripped onto her arm, and Mina looked up.

A large drop of water splashed her face and she started awake, heart racing as thunder rolled across the fields like a great booming drum. Wind swirled debris across the embankment as dark green clouds moved ahead of the storm. Mina massaged a knot in her neck leftover from her awkward sleeping position and climbed to her feet.
 

The heavens opened in earnest, and Mina closed her eyes and spread her arms wide, allowing the rain to soak her dirty clothes and wash away the dream. The smell of smoke disappeared. She opened her mouth, tasting the water. It was fresh—fresher than any she’d found in days.

Cold water tickled her ankles, and Mina looked down at the creek. The runoff from the fields was rushing over the sides of the embankment, the water level rising faster than she would have imagined. Mina turned and tried to lift her feet. The water flowed, swirling and sucking around her legs, filling her boots. She fought to keep them on as she made her way through the churning water to the embankment and tried to climb out. The slippery mud gave way beneath her, and she slid back into the water beating at her knees, threatening to pull her under. She grabbed hold of tree roots to pull herself from the creek, but her cold, muddy hands refused to grip anything for long. The kept rising—she was going to drown. Mina took a deep breath and did the only other thing she could think of.

“HELP! SOMEBODY! ANYBODY! HELP ME! Oh God, help me! Down HERE! Help!” She hugged the tree root as best she could, fighting against the water threatening to sweep her away. Rain pelted harder and harder, drowning out her shouting.
No one will hear me
, she thought. When a face appeared at the top of the embankment a moment later, Mina almost let go of the tree in surprise.

“Help!” she cried.

The stranger reached down and grabbed her outstretched hand, pulling her up in one strong movement. As she regained her footing, Mina turned to thank her rescuer and found several men standing around her. The butt of a rifle made contact with her face, and she reeled back to the ground. Her hearing dulled and her vision blurred. The men around her seemed to float in the air. She kicked feebly as someone picked her up and swung her over a bony shoulder. Men yelled at one another. Someone swore at all of them. Bright and colorful stars swirled up toward her from the ground, and the world shifted to grey.

“… so then I said, I ain’t no gopher! Get your own water. I never ran errands for no one, and I ain’t gonna start now. But he kept at it, ordering me around like I was gonna change my mind. So I knocked him out and left him for the Glyphs. Hit me again.”
 

The voice drifted in and out for a moment as Mina woke. A man laughed stupidly. Glass clinked on tin. A crackling fire warmed her wet clothing.
 

Mina’s wrists were tied in front of her, and her feet were bound at the ankles. Her right arm was asleep from lying on it. She carefully rolled back, and pain spiked through her jaw. Stifling the urge to cry out, she halted in the mud, grateful no one seemed to notice her. Disoriented, her head pounding with an ache that threatened to rip open her skull, Mina had pretended to be unconscious on their journey to the camp. When someone had dumped her on the ground only to ignore her, she had dozed off with her forehead in the mud. Although her jaw still ached where the butt of the gun had hit her, the headache had dissipated with sleep, and her mind was now clear. Clear enough to imagine all the terrible things that could happen to a lone woman in a group of armed men. She kept her eyes closed and listened.

“None of them know what they’re doing, I don’t reckon,” a second man was saying, “but how are we supposed to fight an enemy we don’t never see and that always seems to know exactly where we are? This is the third band like this I’ve found. Sooner or later, Glyphs’ll show up and exterminate us like cockroaches.” He stomped his foot for effect.

“And how did you get away from them the other times?” asked the first man. Both men had pronounced Southern accents—Mississippi or Alabama maybe—their dialect even more pronounced from alcohol.

“Some cockroaches are bound to slip through them cracks in the wall, don’t you think, Reed?” Reed didn’t have a chance to reply before footsteps approached and another voice joined the conversation.

“Doyle! I need you to show those dumbbells over at the end of the line how to make sure no one follows us tomorrow. I don’t want to be caught by surprise. I figure it’s about three days to reach the mountains using the trail. We gotta be well out of the way when they discover it. And put out that fire! It’s almost dark.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said the second man, the one apparently called Doyle. “Them idiots won’t get it right no matter how many times I show them.”

“Well, then, stay back there and make sure it gets done yourself.” The man walked over to where Mina lay and nudged her with his foot. She pretended to be asleep. “Shame you ruined that pretty face, Reed.”

“I reckon her face’ll heal,” said Reed.

“Doubt it,” said Doyle from behind him. “You busted her jaw. If she’s lucky, she might not starve to death. You'll have to feed her food to her all mashed up.”

“I ain’t doing that!” said Reed. “Let her starve. If she doesn’t, then she can earn her keep like all the other chicks around here.”

“You’re an idiot,” Doyle said.

“You mash her food up, then, if you like her so much.”

“I ain’t mashing up her food, either. I was just saying you’re an idiot, is all.”

The third man spat into the fire. “I don’t care what you do with her, but you better see if she can walk before you start worrying about feeding her. We’re leaving at first light. Anyone that can’t keep up gets left behind.” He stomped off to yell at someone else, his cursing echoing all the way down the trail.
 

The man’s words did not surprise Mina, but they lingered in the air well after he had left. The twine they had used to bind her cut deeply into the skin of her wrists and ankles, and she cursed her own stupidity at getting caught. Someone extinguished the fire, splashing her with the water as he did so. She stifled a groan—she had almost begun to feel dry.
 

“Hey! You awake?” Reed asked.
 

Mina didn’t answer.

“Hey!” Reed threw something at her. Mina finally opened her eyes. The man who was speaking stood near the fire with an empty plastic bottle in his hand. Reed was a small, wiry sort with brown hair that fell over in his eyes. He was most likely in his early twenties, but his pale eyes were hard.

“There she is! Right. We’re gonna see if you can walk. Stand up.” Mina stared at him. Reed chuckled to himself. “Guess I gotta untie you first.” He crouched down and leered at Mina, the alcohol clinging to him like bad cologne, his unshaven face smudged with dirt and sweat. Mina slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position, looking warily at Reed. He pulled a knife from his belt and fumbled it against the cords, his hand slipping more than once as he cut the twine.

“Finally,” Doyle called dryly from behind Reed. “I thought you were gonna have to amputate her feet.”

Reed stood and gestured with his knife. “Up.”
 

Mina used her bound hands to steady herself as she pushed up onto her feet, struggling to balance. Every part of her body ached, but it was nothing compared to the sharp stabbing in her jaw. She swayed as a cold sweat broke over her face and a wave of nausea washed through her. Willing herself not to vomit, Mina took a few awkward steps. She was sore, but she had full use of her legs.
 

“Sit down on that log there,” Reed said. She stood a full head taller than him.

Mina obeyed, simply because she was in no frame of mind to resist. As soon as she sat, Reed tied her ankles again, more tightly than before. He glared at Doyle, daring him to object, then looked back at Mina and placed his hand on her thigh, patting it. Mina jerked away, but Reed only grinned, then rose and walked into the trees at the edge of the trail. Doyle ignored Reed and began gathering his gear. As soon as he had shouldered his rifle, Doyle headed down the trail without glancing back.
 

Other groups were settling in for the night all along the trail. Men armed with guns and knives stood or sat around, unpacking their bags. A few had tents. They shouted and called out to one another and barked orders to younger men, teens, who scurried as if dogs were nipping at their heels.
 

The light faded, and a few campfires still blazed on. Mina saw a few women moving around the fires. At least two were armed, establishing their status in the group, but the rest begged for food. No one gave them food out of charity, and the women seemed resigned to the fact they would have to earn it. Mina scoffed.
Unbelievable. How long has it been since the first attack? Two weeks?

Reed eventually wandered back over and sat down on his log, leering at her again. He settled himself in, taking a bottle of whiskey from a duffel bag. With a grin, he said “Cheers!” and took a swig. Mina did not take her eyes off him. He drank a while, eyeing Mina frequently as the the last dregs of daylight disappeared. She was exhausted and felt every pang in her jaw and now her ankles, but she was glad it would at least keep her awake.
 

The moonlight refused to pierce the tree branches, leaving the trail completely dark. Conversations hushed, and soon all the other fires were extinguished. The longer Mina sat on the log, the clearer her mind became. She needed to get away. She may not have another chance.
 

She leaned over and quietly worked at the twine around her ankles, careful not to make any noise. The tiny knots wouldn’t budge. Listening intently for any movement from Reed, Mina struggled to position her fingers between the cord and her skin. The sound of liquid swishing in a bottle ceased. Maybe he’d fallen asleep. Mina strained a little harder to get a fingernail beneath the knot.

Reed grunted and heaved himself from his seat, and Mina sat up quickly. In the dark, she couldn’t tell what he was doing. Then he tripped through the remains of the fire, stirring up glowing red embers, swearing as he almost fell. The coals hissed as he paused to relieve himself on the ashes.
 

When finished, Reed shuffled closer, his stench even more potent than before.
Pass out, stupid. Please pass out.
Balancing precariously on her tailbone, Mina raised her bound legs in the dark. When she sensed him directly in front of her, Mina kicked with every bit of strength she possessed. Her feet connected with his groin. Reed grunted and doubled over, trying to grab her feet. Mina pushed back and he fell, dragging her down with him before letting go.
 

Seizing her opportunity, Mina knelt and fumbled around on Reed’s belt for his knife, not caring that her knees were causing him further discomfort. Reed seemed to realize what she was trying to do and rolled away, knocking her to one side. For a moment, the pain in her jaw almost caused Mina to pass out. Afraid to miss her chance, she stood and clumsily hopped away a few paces, only to trip and fall into the underbrush off the trail. The slim, rough branches scratched her tender face and jabbed her in the ribs. Reed shouted at her from the trail. He would find her easily if she struggled, so she stopped moving and trusted the darkness to hide her.

Reed’s cursed at her in all directions, his drunken rantings stirring the camp. Apparently he didn’t know which way she had gone in the dark. A few of the other men called out to him, trying to discover the trouble. News spread about what had happened, and some of the men laughed, further enraging Reed. He challenged someone in the dark, and a scuffle broke out as Reed tried to reclaim his injured pride.
 

Mina anxiously fumbled again at her bonds, but her cold fingers couldn’t undo the knots. If she stayed put, all Reed had to do was wait until dawn to find her, so she took advantage of the ruckus and tried to stand again. She was halfway up when a man’s voice spoke quietly near her ear.

“Where did you think you were going, tied up like that?”