The Defiance (Brilliant Darkness) (23 page)

"I don't know
what
to do," Ivy says. She sounds panicked. It's understandable; she's not a healer, and she's not much older than I am. I put my arm around her.

"It’s okay, Ivy. Just . . . keep doing the best you can.”

I'm sweating, and my stomach twists.
Not another death,
I plead to whoever might be listening.
Please, not another. Another will break me.

I grasp at straws. “Any idea what Marj would do in this situation?”

Ivy straightens up. “There is something.”

“Try it, whatever it is,” I urge her.

“I need something to put under her hips,” Ivy says, her voice high and strained.

“Like what?” I ask.

“A pack maybe? It needs to be firm enough not to flatten.”

“Here’s mine,” Petrel says.

Ivy takes it and places it under Moon. “You’ll have to do kind of a back bend. It . . . it won’t be comfortable.” Moon grunts her understanding.

“What will this do?” I ask.

“It helps the baby get unstuck.” She pauses. “I only saw Marj do it once. I hope I have the pack in the right place,” she mutters to herself.

Moon screams as the next pain hits her.

“What do we do now?” Petrel asks frantically.

“We wait,” Ivy says. “Through three pains. I remember that. Three.”

The waiting is agony. Moon shakes with the suspended pain of the awkward position she has to lie in now. I hold her hand, and I start to sing. Aloe sang to Eland and me when we were hurt or scared, and I can’t think of anything else to do that might help.

I sing a lullaby, imagining myself calling to the baby. I sing as the second pain wracks Moon. She lies still, exhausted. I keep singing while the third pain hits her, although I want to hold my breath, waiting to find out if Ivy’s idea worked.

“What now?” I ask her in an undertone after the third pain comes and goes.

“I don’t know. It should have happened by now.” She speaks quietly, defeated.

“Moon, you can do this,” Petrel says. His voice cracks; tears spring to my eyes. “Don’t leave me. Please . . . find the strength.”

A grim hush falls over us. Time stretches and pulls as we wait.

Finally Moon cries out. Her scream is longer and louder than any so far.

She gives a lusty, satisfied grunt. A wet, sloshing sound follows, and an angry wail echoes against the walls of the caves. The baby has surprisingly powerful lungs. I grip Petrel’s shoulder; he’s shaking with sobs of relief.

"I need something to wrap the hatchling up," Ivy tells us. "She'll freeze in these forsaken caves. And a knife to cut the cord."

At least I can help there. While Petrel scrambles to locate a clean blanket, I yank Peree's knife out of my pocket and present it to Ivy. I'd much rather it be used for this purpose than for any new acts of violence. I need to remember that the next time rage threatens to take me somewhere so dark and dangerous.

"Do we have anything to tie the cord with?" Ivy asks.

We all fumble around, until I remember my necklace. I untie it and hand the leather strip to her, slipping the wooden bird into my pocket. Ivy hands me my knife back and holds the mewling baby, cooing to her.

"A girl," Petrel says, emotion suffusing his voice. "Told you, Moonbeam." I wonder what bizarre Lofty girl name they'll give her.

Moon asks for her child. Her voice is weak and watery, but around the tears I hear a blazing happiness so intense and intimate, I have to stand up and move away. It feels intrusive to be so close. I fight back my own tears of gratitude, or sadness—maybe a few of both—as I hear the new parents cuddle and murmur to their baby, and the first sounds of suckling.

Ivy joins me. I squeeze her hand. “Well done. You could have a career as an herbalist before you.” She seems pleased by my praise.

Then I kneel to congratulate Moon.

"Would you like to hold her?" She sounds terribly tired, but triumphant, too.

I take the baby in my arms. She's as light as a bread loaf. My fingers skim her damp curls, tiny, squashed nose, and squeezed-shut eyes. I wonder if she bears any family resemblance to Peree. I hold her closer, breathing in her scent. She smells like . . . possibility.

As soon as Moon is able to get to her feet, we light a torch, douse the fire, and make our way slowly through the passageway, on to the exit from the caves. I help Petrel support Moon; Ivy carries the baby. I can’t believe Moon got to her feet so quickly after her ordeal, but she’s determined to get the hatchling someplace warmer.

It seems to take forever. Eventually Petrel spots firelight ahead of us. Then we hear the arguing.

“What now?” I mutter. I’m so very tired; I can’t imagine how Moon must be feeling.

Petrel curses and Moon stiffens. I’m about to ask what they see, when the smell hits me. The sick ones are outside. I hear their savage cries now. The sound brings back my hallucinations with terrifying clarity. I shudder.

We approach the cave mouth cautiously. Our group is huddled together, based on the sound of their troubled voices. It's the textured sound of a thunderstorm: the rumbling thunder of fear from our people is punctuated by the lightning shrieks of the sick ones. There's no light from outside the cave; it's nighttime. An entire day or more has slipped away since my brother was killed.

There’s a momentary silence as we enter the space. Dahlia bursts into tears and calls for her mother. She must be frightened. Peree reaches us first; his fingers dig into my arm.

“The hatchling?” he asks.

“Is fine,” I tell him, smiling. “A baby girl. See for yourself.” I gesture behind me at Ivy.

Thrush is right on Peree’s heels. "A
girl
?" He makes a gagging sound.

"She's your niece," Peree reminds him.

"Yeah. A
girl
niece," he reiterates. “She
promised
to have a boy.”

Peree speaks quietly to Petrel and Moon, congratulating them and admiring the baby. As he does, the arguing starts up again.

“What are we going to do now?” a man is saying. I think it’s a Lofty. “How can we get to Koolkuna with
them
out there?”

“What’s going on?” I ask Peree when he returns to my side.

“Kadee’s not here yet. Everyone’s jumpy, especially my people. They aren’t used to being on the ground, much less this close to the sick ones.”

“What can we do?” I ask him.

“I’ve been trying to keep them calm, but—”

Sure enough, I hear the sounds of a scuffle. Peree darts away to break it up.

I move to stand in front of the cave mouth and wave my arms. “Listen to me, please. If you can be patient, Kadee will be here soon.”
I hope.

“What then?” Vole asks. “How can we get to Koolkuna with the fleshies out there?”

I flounder. I have no answer for that.

“Was this some kind of plot, Peree?” the Lofty man who’d been arguing with Moray asks. “Bring us here so the fleshies can get rid of us?”

“Of course not. Why would we do that?” I raise my hands, palms up. “We’ve come so far.”
And lost so much.
“Please stick together for a little longer.”

“I can’t do this.” The man sounds like he’s scrambling to his feet. “I can’t stand this anymore.”

“Shut
up
, bird man,” Cuda says.

A fist connects with a jaw or some other body part. And then it’s like the storm I imagined earlier breaks open. Shouts, screams, and more sickening crunches, amplified by the rock around us. The sick ones shriek mournfully.

Peree and Bear yell at the fighters to stop. I yell, too, but it’s impossible to be heard. I thrust my hands into my hair. Did we come all this way only to have our thrown together group tear each other apart a mere stroll away from Koolkuna?

One voice thunders above the rest. Unbelievably, Moray orders his brother to back off. The fighting comes to an abrupt halt.

“I’m going to knock flat the next person—that goes for you, too, Cuda—that raises their voice above a whisper,” Moray says. He's as calm as dawn, but no one seems to doubt that he means what he said. Silence. “That’s better. Now, fleshies or no fleshies, I’m sure as hell not going back. So listen to Fennel. Continue, sweetheart,” he says to me.

I’m more than shocked that he intervened. Now everyone seems to be waiting for me to speak.

I want to say something profound that allays their fears. But all I have is the truth.

“I don’t know how we’re going to get to Koolkuna.”

There are a few murmurs; a grunt from Moray shuts them up. Peree comes to my side and takes my hand.

“This is what I do know," I say. "Kadee will be here. I know, because she said she would be, and I trust her. And I know that even if we have to wait out the fleshies, we’ll get to Koolkuna. And I know that life there is better than the life we left.” I pause. “Isn’t that what's
really
worth fighting for?”

A few moments later a voice breaks the silence. Only it comes from the cloud of sick ones at my back.

I whirl. “Nerang! You came!”

He embraces me.

“You got here in the nick of time,” I mutter near his ear. He smells strongly of clove from the pipe he favors.

“So it would seem. And how are you, Myall?” he asks Peree, using the nickname he was given while we stayed in Koolkuna. It means “Wild Boy” and was by no means an insult, at least not to the smitten girls of the village.

“A hell of a lot better now,” Peree says as he greets Nerang.

Kadee joins us. I throw my arms around them both.

Her voice is warm as she says hello. “But where’s Eland?”

My chest spasms with sadness. Peree explains what happened in a low voice. She squeezes my hands.

“I’m so sorry, Fennel.” She sounds genuinely sad, which I appreciate. She barely knew him.

“I am sorry for your loss as well, young one,” Nerang says.

I rub away the moisture that seeped into my eyes. “I wanted so badly for Eland to meet you.”

Nerang pats my cheek. “One day I will, perhaps. As I hope to meet Yindi again.”

Hearing him speak of his partner who died of an illness years ago offers me some hope. If Nerang can talk about her so easily, maybe I’ll be able to say Eland’s name someday without despair. For now, I have to stay focused on the tasks before us. If I give in to the grief that fills me, I won’t make it.

“How are we going to get to Koolkuna?” someone shouts. Moray snarls at them.

“I will tell you,” Nerang answers. “But first we will have tea. May we borrow your fire to boil the water?”

He asks the question like we’re sitting around after a cozy dinner on a quiet evening in Koolkuna. As if there aren’t a bunch of bleating sick ones outside the caves and explosive, terrified humans inside them.

I’m confused but willing to go along with it. “Sure, help yourself.”

“Ah, I see there is already hot water ready for brewing. Excellent. Kadee, if you will?”

“Tea?” the older Lofty man says. “We don’t need tea. We need a way out of here!” He yelps as Moray thumps him. At least, I think that’s what happened.

“Yes,” Nerang says placidly.

“How long have the sick ones been here?” I whisper to him. “Do they look like they’ll leave soon?”

His laugh echoes around the cave mouth. It’s the easy, gentle peal—like song—that I remembered. How can he stay so calm in the midst of a crisis? And why can’t I?

“I have spent a great deal of time studying the
runa
,”—what the
anuna
call the sick ones—“but I cannot yet predict their comings and goings. They come when they must and leave when they will.”

I shake my head. “You don’t know our people, Nerang. Patience isn’t one of their virtues.”

“Kadee said you and Myall did your best to persuade all of your people to come to Koolkuna, but they would not discuss it.”

“We did. We tried. They . . . were afraid, I think.” I can’t find the words to describe the depth and breadth of my failure, especially when it came to Eland.

“Yet some listened. Remarkable. Those who are here took two young people at their word and followed them into the Dark Places. Most astonishing. You should be proud of yourselves.”

I don’t feel proud, not after all that’s happened. But his words salve my raw emotions a bit. He’s so generous with his compliments, unlike Aloe. Somehow he makes me want to try harder right when I’m ready to give up.

“A lesser person would have stayed in Koolkuna when given the chance. You didn’t. You went back for your people. You offered them an opportunity for a better life. Sometimes that is all we can do.”

I think of Eland.
And sometimes we can’t even do that
.

Kadee begins to pour out the tea. I help her pass it around.

“There are more fleshies out there than birds in the trees,” I hear Petrel mutter as I go by, “and their solution is
tea
?”

Nerang touches my shoulder. He says in a low voice, “Do not drink it.”

I turn to him. “What? Why?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Let us enjoy a warm drink together,” he says to the group. “Then I will tell you how we will make the last part of your journey to Koolkuna.”

I hand a mug to Bear, my thoughts spinning. “Tea?” he mutters. “What’s going on, Fenn?” I shrug. I have absolutely no idea. “But you trust him?”

Despite Nerang’s strange warning, I don’t hesitate. “Yes, absolutely.”

I can trust Nerang. Of course I can. Like I could trust Fox after all. My instincts aren’t that badly off, are they?

“I don’t like tea,” Dahlia proclaims in a voice that’s half whine, half warning. If I had to guess, I’d say a tantrum is imminent.

“If you drink it,” Nerang says, “you may have a treat. A special sweet. I make them myself.”

“They’re good,” I tell her, thinking of the snack of pressed fruit he gave me when I left Koolkuna.

“Can I have one, too?” Thrush asks.

“Of course,” Nerang answers. “If you drink your tea.”

A few people continue to grumble, the Lofty man and Cuda in particular, but it’s surprisingly easy to persuade them to drink. Maybe it’s the tea itself, which smells rich and inviting. The heat is welcome. We’re all chilled to the bone.