The Defiance (Brilliant Darkness) (17 page)

Maybe it's time to think only of myself. But then I'd be a lot like . . . Moray. Not exactly tempting.

Bear leaves the caves without saying goodbye. Unfortunately, Moray notices.

"Trouble in paradise?" he asks as we take another load in.

I scoff. "Paradise? Hardly."

"Whatever you say. Hey, there are girls in Koolkuna, right? It's not all men or old people or something?"

I shake my head. "Yes, Moray, there are lots of women. In fact, there's one called Frost who I think would be
perfect
for you."

"Yeah? Is she good looking?"

"How would I know?"

"Does she have big—"

"Moray!"

"Just asking."

I have to change the subject before I do something I might regret. "What are you going to do about your mother when we leave? Will you tell her you're going?"

"Not a chance. She hates your guts. Blames you that Adder's counting worms now. I think they were, y'know . . ."

"What?"

"Getting busy. Doing the deed. Rolling in the grass. Going fishing. Rubbing bellies—"

"Okay, I got it!" My nose wrinkles. "Yuck, are you serious?"

"Completely. Think I'd make that up about my own mother?"

"Yes, actually." I shake my head, trying to shed the thought of Thistle and Adder being
together
like that. "Will you just leave her here without saying anything?"

"Probably." He sounds like he hadn’t thought much about it.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Not care? About other people, I mean?" I may not be able to stand Thistle any more than she can stand me, but she's his
mother
. We dump the supplies we're carrying and start heading back to the entrance.

"Easiest thing in the world. You should try it sometime. Worrying about other people is exhausting.”

I cock my head. "But it's not really true that you don't care about anyone, is it? You care about your brothers. Otherwise you wouldn't have wanted to bring them to Koolkuna."

"Reinforcements. I'm not going someplace with a bunch of crazy people who think the fleshies are safe without someone to watch my back."

"And your baby?”

"That baby's a little piece of me. Of
course
I care about it." He sniggers.

I shake my head again, this time with disbelief. "I don't even know what to think about you."

"You think too much as it is. Give it a rest."

"That's the most caring thing you've ever said to me, Moray," I say sarcastically.

"Caring about you isn't part of the deal. I provide protection. That's it."

"Then how come you're helping me carry all this stuff?" I grab another armful of supplies, this time to bring to the storeroom in case anyone's checking. I have to at least pretend to do what I'm supposed to be doing in here.

"Exercise. Don't want to get flabby. All those women in Koolkuna are counting on me being in top shape."

He really is unbelievable. I locate the huge load of stuff he's already carrying and throw on another sack. "You can carry a little more then can't you, big guy? For the ladies?"

"I like the sound of that. Keep it coming."

We deliver the rest of the supplies, and I spend the remainder of the morning arranging the storeroom. Moray apparently feels his helping role stops at the entrance to the storeroom, because even when I ask him nicely to put a few things up high, he refuses. He sits and whistles that irritating tune, deliberately going off key whenever I plead with him to stop.

My stomach is snapping at me, ready for lunch. Moray and I make our way to the mouth of the cave. We're about to round the last bend in the passage when I hear footsteps and see a light where there shouldn't be one. Moray steps in front of me. I may not be able to believe a thing he says, but he does seem serious about his commitment to protect me.

"Fennel, I’d like to talk to you." It's Vole. After what Bear told me this morning, I'm pretty sure I know what he wants.

"Okay." My voice is wary. And weary. "Moray, will you give us a few minutes?"

"Sure thing, sweetheart." He leans in a little too close to whisper in my ear. He smells like this morning's breakfast of rabbit meat and porridge. Moray always smells like whatever he ate last. "Remember, all that caring could get you killed." He pauses. "Not that I care."

Not that I thought he did. I sigh and wave at Vole to follow me deeper into the caves.

Bear and Vole aren't the only ones who come to find me. People tap on the door of our shelter in the middle of the night. They follow me into the caves. Ivy and Dahlia even ambush me in the heavily wooded toileting area. I
really
didn't appreciate that.

Over the next few days, a handful of Groundling families of varying sizes tell me they want to go to Koolkuna. Their reasons are all different, but they boil down to one thing: hope.

They have hope that their lives, or the lives of their children, will be different—better—than they are here.
My
hope is that I'm telling them the truth when I assure them they will be. I think of our friends in Koolkuna. Will their lives be better when Peree and I bring an assorted group of Groundlings and Lofties—about as close as you can get to bitter enemies—to their peaceful village?

Anxiety builds in me as the days slip and slide by. I was very worried about what the Three would do to punish me. When nothing out of the ordinary happens, I start worrying about Peree instead. I haven't heard from him at all. I don't know if Kadee left for Koolkuna or how Moon and the hatchling might be doing. What if the Three told the Covey that Peree trespassed, and
he
was punished instead? He could be hurt, or worse, and I would never know.

The pile of assorted fears is a rock grinding constantly in my stomach. So I'm not that hungry as I sit down for breakfast with Bear, Cricket, and Calli on the fifth day—the day we're due to leave. We warm ourselves at the fire and wait for our meals to be passed around from the cooking fire.

Birds chirp and chuff in the greenheart trees around us. The ground is damp with dew, and the air smells of smoke and my own unwashed hair. I need to visit the water hole for a bath sometime today. The rock in my gut shifts as I think about what might be in store over the next few days. I might as well be clean for whatever it is.

I'm especially miserable because Bear still isn't really talking to me. We've taken a step back from the camaraderie I thought we'd achieved, especially the day he taught me to use a knife.

I've been practicing with Eland in our shelter at night. It makes me cringe every time to deliver the "killing" blow, but he loves acting like I skewered him, complete with gurgles, burbles, and dramatic drops to the floor. The knife stays in my pocket all the time now.

A small group of people takes their meals nearby, murmuring to each other. Moray's voice is among them. They pass bowls from the cooking pot to Calli and Bear. I have to wait for mine.

"Yum, porridge. Again," Calli complains. We haven't had much variety in our diet since the gardens almost dried up after the long stay in the caves. The hunting parties haven't had luck, either. They need to bag a large boar or two soon, or winter will be especially thin this year. I won't have to worry about it. The thought makes me feel guilty.

I'm finally handed a plate, and I pick at my food. Apart from the awkwardness with Bear, I need to talk to Calli, to ask her if she wants to come with us to Koolkuna. I'm pretty sure she'll say no, given what she told us before, but I would feel terrible leaving without at least asking. I need to pick the right time, though. Tell her too early and the Three might get wind of it. They may have already, but if so, why haven’t they taken any action to stop us?

I force myself to take a few large bites of my porridge, only paying sporadic attention to my friends' conversation. They're talking about swimming later. I chew and swallow half-heartedly as I listen. My hand slides around my stomach. It really is hurting now. I frown and hunch over.

"What is it, Fenn?" Calli asks. "You look like you ate a crampberry or something."

I put my plate down and try to keep my voice quiet. I don't want to insult whoever's cooking. "Something tastes off with my porridge."

"Tastes good to me," Bear says through a mouthful.

My guts are playing a game of catch with the rock, tossing it painfully around my insides. I swallow repeatedly, fighting the urge to vomit.

Dryness spreads through my mouth and throat, a slow burn. I swallow again to tamp down the heat, but that seems to make it worse. My eyes bulge as the feeling grows like a small but deadly wildfire, engulfing the flesh of my tongue down into my chest. I clutch my throat. My pulse pounds, and my heart hops frantically in my chest, raising a silent alarm for the rest of my body.

"Fennel? Are you okay? Are you choking?" Calli's voice seems to come from a long way off, like she's shouting, but I can barely hear her.

I shake my head, trying to clear the gathering haze. I stand, but my legs are weak and rubbery; I collapse. Heat fills me, as if the flames in my throat have the power to raise the temperature throughout my body. No, I've fallen nearer the fire—too near—but I can't push myself away.

That's when I hear them. The Scourge. They're coming through the forest, their terrible howls growing every second. Why didn't the Lofties raise the alarm?

"They're coming!" I croak. "Run! They're . . ." My tongue seems to thicken like rising dough. I choke. "Run to . . . caves!" My body shakes uncontrollably. I bite my tongue and blood seeps in my mouth.

The creatures surround me, their breath rank. Their moans and shrieks pierce my ears, and I wail at them in return. The chill flesh of their hands smothers me. I kick and writhe, fighting, trying to escape, but strong arms imprison me.

 Teeth sink into my skin; I scream in agony. Tears bathe my face. The creatures howl at each other like competing scavengers as they rip my flesh. Biting, tearing, groaning with hunger and longing.

Can't fight them, can't stop them, can't get away.

The pain and the terror consume me as I wait to become one of the Scourge, like so many of my people before me.

But a voice keeps me here. A high, clear voice. The voice of a child.
Kora
. My young friend from Koolkuna slips her tiny hand into mine. I try to warn her about the creatures, to keep her away, but I have neither the words nor the strength. The creatures push and nudge to keep their hold on my body. They strip my flesh.

Cold hands cover my cheeks, forcing my mouth open. I clench my teeth and turn my head, but I can't fight it. A venomous liquid slides down my throat. It's scalding, yet somehow quenches the flames. How can that be? More liquid pours through me, around me, over me; I float in a deep and dark pool of pain, anguish, and fear, waiting to finally drown.

The sun is warm on my face. I lie coiled in on myself, an abandoned snail shell. Deserted, discarded, hollowed out.

Kora still holds my hand.

No, not Kora.

This hand is bigger, rougher. Dirty.
Eland
.

Hazily, I remember the last time I came to and found Eland holding my hand. I flinch away from the memory of hearing about Aloe's death.

The burn in my throat is still there, but much fainter. My tongue feels two sizes too big and there's a horrible aftertaste in my mouth. I form words, but no sound emerges. I wet my lips. This time I manage it.

"Eland?"

"He's asleep." The voice seems to swim to me through shallow, murky water. It belongs to Marj. I only catch every few words. "Rest . . . exhausted . . . frantic."

"Where . . . are we?" I ask.

"Shelter."

"The Scourge?" I listen, but I can't hear any sounds of the creatures nearby. My hands tremble. My dress is soaked with sweat.

"Gone . . . drink." She comes closer, but I turn away. I'm afraid; the repellant liquid that nearly drowned me still poisons my swollen lips.

". . . tea. Only tea. Few sips . . . help. Take the cup. Won't force you."

Tea? I hold my hands out tentatively. The cup is warm and welcome in my cold, shaking fingers. I try a small mouthful. The liquid tastes of the bitter brew from before, but the mundane act of sipping it helps me feel more myself. I take a larger swallow. Marj moves around her shelter as I drink. I feel her watching me.

I finish my cup, spilling a little on myself with the trembling. She pours me more. Halfway through the second cup I finally feel able to ask a few questions. My lips and tongue are still uncomfortably numb and swollen, but my thoughts are a little clearer.

"What happened?"

"Drink, Fennel," Marj says soothingly. "I'll tell you, but don't stop drinking." I take another sip to oblige her.

"Fennel . . .," says Eland sleepily. "Fennel! Are you . . .?”

"I'm okay. I'm . . . here."

He grips my hand like he thinks if he lets go I might slip away again. His hand quivers as bad as mine. "What was wrong? You went mad! You were screaming, and crying, and hearing things we couldn't hear. You kept saying the fleshies were coming, but they weren't, and then you kind of collapsed and were muttering and sweating and yelling out—" He stops to take a breath. "Are you sure you're okay?"

I cover my mouth with my hand. Could it be that none of what I heard and felt was real?
Am
I going mad?

"I heard . . ." I try again. "I
thought
I heard them coming. Through the woods. They surrounded us and . . . and they were shrieking, and people . . . were shouting. One of them grabbed me—"