Pandora's Genes (8 page)

“I underestimated you badly,” said Ermil. “But I think you underestimate us. You’ll never get away.

“That remains to be seen,” said Zach. He was working on a plan but was in no hurry. The more lead time Evvy had the better.

For what seemed a very long time the three men stood, Zach with his forearm all but choking Orin, the knife poised above the big man’s right kidney, while Ermil watched warily from a few feet away. Zach felt sweat dripping down his neck and imagined he could hear the other men’s thoughts, though the only sound was of breathing.

Then there was a rustling in the brush behind him and he saw Ermil’s face change.

“Zach.”

Zach felt his stomach drop. He didn’t turn. “Evvy, you promised to run.”

“I did what you told me,” she said. “But when I saw what happened, I thought I could help you.”

“You didn’t do what you promised!” he shouted. He was so angry that Orin grunted and began to struggle as his breath was cut off. Zach relaxed his hold on Orin, then continued, “You promised you’d go to the Garden and not turn back!”

“But—”

“A promise is a promise! I thought you were grown-up enough to understand that!”

“I only wanted to help!”

“Your childish nonsense is likely to get us both killed!” he said. “Now do what I told you and get out of here!”

He heard her intake of breath, but she didn’t say anything, and a moment later the sound of running footsteps told him she had gone into the woods. He hoped that she would do as she was told this time, but knew that he would not be able to maintain the standoff much longer. He would now have to try to disable the brothers in some way.

“Your ’daughter’ ain’t too obedient, is she?” said Ermil.

Zach didn’t answer. The safest thing would be to kill both men if he could manage it, but like Ermil he had no taste for cold-blooded murder. In any case, he could no longer continue to hold the struggling Orin; the man was nearly as big as he was and Zach’s arms were beginning to quiver from fatigue.

Slowly he backed up to where his sword lay on the ground, and, still covering Orin with the knife, he picked it up, then stepped back. At least this gave him a bit of mobility.

“You can’t stop both of us if we decide to rush you,” said Ermil.

“I can kill at least one, though, and I don’t think you want that.”

Ermil shrugged, and Zach turned to Orin. “Orin, take those thongs and tie your brother to the tree.”

“What if I don’t want to?” said Orin.

“Then I’ll run you through,” said Zach. “And don’t think I won’t.”

With every minute the brothers were gaining confidence, and Zach knew that his time was running out. If Evvy had obeyed him in the first place he would now be able to break for his mount and try to get away.

Orin was moving very slowly. Zach turned to prod him with the sword, then too late saw Ermil move. The man’s aim was deadly. Before he could fend it off a rock struck Zach just behind the ear and he staggered. Orin lunged and knocked him to the ground; the sword fell from his hand. In the other hand he still held the knife, but Orin’s fingers closed on his wrist. The man was strong, and Zach had to relax his grip or have his wrist broken.

Orin reached for the sword and stood, holding its tip against Zach’s throat. “I’ve got him, Ermil,” he said.

“Go after the girl,” said Ermil. “On the mount. I’ll take care of our friend here.”

“That mount don’t like me,” said Orin.

“Take the thongs and beat it, then,” said Ermil. “Stop wasting time.”

Ermil took the sword from Orin. Zach tried to raise himself on one elbow and was hit by a wave of dizziness. Feeling helpless, he watched as the big man cautiously approached the mount. She whistled menacingly, but Zach could see she was tired and confused, and after a brief moment of skittish dancing, she let him climb on. Orin disappeared into the woods.

Zach knew it was over. Even if she had obeyed him this time, Evvy had no chance of outrunning a mounted man.

“Once again things have turned,” said Ermil. “You’re far too dangerous, my friend. You understand I’ll have to kill you now.”

The little man had both sword and knife, and it was quite clear by now that he knew how to use them. Zach’s only hope was to break and run, but he knew that with Ermil’s ability to throw he would not get far.

“There’s nothing personal in this,” Ermil went on. “I have an idea the Principal lost a good man when you decided to take the girl. But your time has run out.” Still the man didn’t move, and Zach sensed he was struggling with his reluctance to kill in cold blood. Perhaps he might yet manage to outwit him. . . .

“If you let me go,” said Zach, “I will reward you. I—”

“No,” said Ermil, almost sadly. “I can’t trust you.” He was standing above Zach, the sword poised. He pulled it up, ready to thrust, and Zach did the only thing he could: he rolled to the side, into the little man’s legs. Ermil’s own hesitation was his undoing; Zach had caught him by surprise and he fell. Zach threw himself onto Ermil, grabbed for the sword arm and twisted it. Ermil struggled, but Zach was much larger and stronger, and he quickly retrieved the sword. Now things had once again turned, and Zach forced himself to do what he must. He pulled his arm back, hesitated only a moment, then thrust the blade deep into Ermil’s belly. Ermil grunted and his hands went to the wound. He looked up at Zach, his eyes startled and slipping out of focus.

“I’m sorry,” said Zach. He pulled the sword out and wiped it on the grass. He felt sick and unclean, and had to breathe deeply several times to clear his head.

He told himself that this had been necessary for Evvy’s sake. Now he must find her before Orin did, and take her to the Garden. That was all that mattered.

He put the sword into his belt and stood, unsteadily. Ermil was breathing in shallow gasps, his eyes staring at nothing. Zach turned and walked across the clearing to where the red dirt road disappeared into the trees. He had nearly reached it when he heard a noise behind him. He turned, and was stunned to see Ermil propped on one elbow, incredibly still alive. He had forgotten about the knife, and by the time he realized what had happened it was too late. Ermil threw before he could move. He felt the knife slip into his chest like a diver into water, and knew that he was a dead man.

He did not fall at once. In slow motion, as if under water, he turned and walked toward the woods. Behind him he thought he heard Ermil laughing. He felt a deep and overpowering anger, not at Ermil, who had killed him, but at himself. Every promise he had made had now been broken, and for nothing. All his life he had considered himself a man of honor, but now he knew that honor was as fragile as the shell of an egg. Whole, it would support a man throughout his life as an egg protects a baby chick. But once a crack appeared, however small, the life inside an egg was doomed; further cracks would radiate from the first as inevitably as one act of dishonor followed another. In both cases the end was the same: contamination and death.

His anger spread from a white-hot point where the knife had gone into him, and moved to his limbs, making them heavy. He could no longer stand and fell to his knees. Even as his legs gave way and he began to cough and spit up blood, he continued to crawl toward the woods where Evvy had gone. He was still trying to follow her when his body stopped moving and he felt his life draining away into the soft, mossy ground.

E
VVY WOKE COLD AND STIFF
, damp leaves pressed into her face and hair. She was huddled in a hollow at the base of an oak tree. The faint light of early dawn showed through pink-and-gray clouds, and a gentle drizzle was falling. She pulled her sodden cloak tightly about herself, then slowly sat up. Automatically she looked around for Zach, then remembered all that had happened yesterday: how she had disobeyed Zach, his anger, and her own headlong flight into the woods.

Long after dark she had fallen, exhausted, at the base of the tree where she now lay. It had been too late to build a fire, and in any case she no longer had Zach’s flint – she had lost it one of the many times she had fallen in her despair and panic. Frantically, she had searched her pocket for the seal ring and had fallen asleep with it clutched tightly in her hand. She opened her palm now and looked at it, wondering what to do.

It was too late to go back and try to help Zach now, and she wouldn’t want to risk disappointing him again. She thought of simply waiting here for him to find her, but she was cold and hungry, and besides, the rain must by now have obscured any signs of her passage.

Above her and around as far as she could see were thick, leafy branches and wildly growing stalks. She would never find her way out of here – she would starve or be eaten by a wild animal. Each wet rustling of the leaves might be a fox-cat preparing to spring. Her teeth began to chatter, and she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, wanting to cry, to call out for her mother or for Zach.

But her mother had sold her and Zach wasn’t here.

“You’re acting like a child!” She opened her eyes wide. Zach’s words of yesterday echoed inside her head, and she realized she had spoken them, aloud, to herself. The menacing leaves were once again just forest, where she had been for weeks. She would do what she must and prove to Zach that her childishness was in the past.

She took a deep breath and stretched, trying to work out the stiffness of sleeping in the damp. She brushed leaves from her hair and straightened it with her fingers. She would follow Zach’s instructions and meet him at the place he had talked about – the Garden. A little flame of fear that he might not have escaped from the highwaymen licked at the edges of her mind. She shook her head. Zach was strong, and good – he could not have been overcome by two such evil men. He was probably at the Garden already, waiting for her.

But where was it? She had become hopelessly turned around yesterday. He had told her to find the lake and follow it to the north, but she had no idea where it was from here, or even which direction she had come from. She felt that she must be east of the bridge where they had met the highwaymen, in which case the lake must lie even further east. But the clouds obscured the sun. She looked through the dark canopy of leaves and finally decided that it was a little lighter in one direction: very well, she would follow the light. She stood and shook out her cloak, preparing for the walk, and then she heard the rhythmic footsteps and faint whistling of a hard-ridden mount.

It was Zach. Somehow, he had tracked her. Her heart began to beat so rapidly that she felt dizzy, and she turned to greet the approaching rider. After a moment Zach’s mount broke past the bushes and she cried out to the hooded figure riding it, “Zach!”

“Halt!” cried the rider. A hand snaked out of the cloak and used a short whip on the rearing mount.

Evvy put her hand to her mouth.

“So there you are,” said the gruff voice. His hood fell back to reveal the black-bearded face of Orin, the highwayman. “Who would have thought a little girl could run so far in the dark? I would have caught you last night but for this deena-cursed mount. She sat right down at dusk and wouldn’t budge no matter how I beat her.”

“Where’s Zach?” Evvy demanded, her voice quavering.

“Your ‘father?’ Gone to where he won’t cause trouble for anyone else,” said Orin.

“What do you mean?”

For an answer the man grinned and slowly pulled a finger across his throat. He began gingerly to dismount while the mount, her shiny tan flanks spotted with dried blood, danced nervously, whistling.

“Hold still, you deena-cursed beast!” cried the highwayman.

Evvy watched in fascination and terror, and only when the man stood on the ground did she think to begin edging into the brush.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said. He dropped the reins and lunged at Evvy, pulling her to the ground.

“No!” she cried, and rolled away. As she did, the seal ring tumbled from her hand, and before she could retrieve it, Orin had picked it up and slipped it on his own finger.

“Give that back!” she cried and grabbed for his hand. Orin deftly grasped her wrist and pulled her toward him.

“It fits me just fine, don’t it?” he said, admiring its gleam in the pale light. “I’m just about your papa’s size . . . most likely all his things would fit me.”

The grip of Orin’s hand on her wrist seemed to freeze her, the pressure spreading up her arm and through her body. What would Zach do if he were here? Somehow he would try to outwit the big man. Through the panicked jumble in her mind, Evvy said the only thing she could think of, her voice shaking slightly.

“You’d better let me go. I’m not what you think. The truth is I belong to the Principal.”

Orin gaped at her, his thick eyebrows meeting quizzically; then suddenly he began to laugh, a loud, full roar from deep within him. “Well, ain’t that just what Ermil and me thought?” he said. “The reward’s going to be more metal than we can count.” Then his face changed. His eyes became narrow and slipped out of focus. “The Principal’s going to be real happy to get you back,” he murmured. With force, though not roughly, he pushed her down onto the leaves at the base of the tree.

Evvy whimpered and tried to roll away, but she was twisted in her cloak. The highwayman looked down at her and licked his lips.

From a last reservoir of strength she spoke again. “The Principal will kill you if you hurt me.”

For a moment Orin looked startled, a hint of fear in his murky eyes, but then he grinned again. His breathing was quick and she could scarcely make out the words as he muttered, “I ain’t going to do nothing different than your ‘father.’ Just relax and pretend I’m him.”

His hands had found the ties on her trousers, and she felt the belt loosening, then his hand on her belly, pulling and probing.

Horror and nausea gave Evvy more strength than she thought she could possess. “No!” she screamed, and she managed for a second to escape the probing hands.

“So you want to play rough?” he asked, almost good-naturedly. He leaned forward and pressed her into the ground. His body lay across her legs, and one arm pinned her hands behind her head while the other continued to pull at her trousers. She felt them rip, and then the soft wetness of earth against her bare buttocks. “No,” she said. “No, please, no.”