Forsada: Volume II in the New Eden series (15 page)

“Of course they are,” says Shack with disgust.

With so many Southshawans, my confidence is slipping. We should have thought this through better. We should have expected this. Why would Darius send only a few? He wants to make an impression on us at least. He probably doesn’t expect us to show up at all, but of course he’d be ready.

Shack says, “Well, let’s get to it then.” But he doesn’t move. None of us does. My feet feel tied to the ground.

Garrett asks, “Even if Dane makes it to the prisoners, will they be able to get away?” Only he’s not really asking. It’s more like he’s putting a voice to all the thoughts the three of us are sharing.

Our plan relies on speed, surprise. In and out. Confusing them. A quick getaway. Each little group doing its part.

Shack looks suddenly tall and solid against the blue sky. He takes a deep breath. “We’d better go.”

Garrett rests his hand on my shoulder. “Loop, it’ll be okay.”

My legs are all wobbly. This isn’t right. It feels all wrong.

Garrett looks me in the eye. “Your friend Dane,” he says. “He’s a good guy. He won’t let us down.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” I say, and all three of us can hear shakiness in my voice. But neither of them shows it. “Besides, he’s not really my friend.”

“Whatever,” says Shack. “You just keep on saying that, okay?” He keeps his gaze on the prisoners below, but the sarcasm in his voice isn’t meant to be funny like usual. Something’s bothering him, too. Something besides the danger below. Before I can respond, he points across to the other side of the river. “Garrett, is that them?”

But I can’t let that go. “Wait. What do you mean?”

Shack looks at me a little surprised, as if I’d only just shown up. “I mean over there. It looks like some people are moving in the trees. Loop, are you okay?”

“No,” I say. “I mean, yes, I’m okay. But no, not that.” Sometimes he can be such a pain. I square myself and try to look menacing. It’s not working. He’s grown even taller in the past four months, and his shoulders are more broad, his muscled arms more defined and… I don’t know, undeniable. He’s only a year older than I am, but suddenly he looks like a man. How did I not notice this before? “I meant what was that smart remark about Dane?”

His expression doesn’t change. No little smirk, no sniff to try to disguise his teasing. No emotion at all. Why would he bring this up now, of all times? And why is it bothering me so much?

It’s like he’s talking to my father when he says, “Just that you say he’s not your friend. But you two spent some pretty intense time together. And he came all this way just to see you again.” Formal and grim.

And it’s driving me nuts. He doesn’t get to do this to me right now. “Dane felt guilty. It’s his fricking uncle down there that started this war. He had to come.”

Shack’s expression goes even more wooden, and he turns to look over the meadow again. But I can see his eyes are focused off on some distant point in his thoughts. “You keep telling yourself that.”

“Stop it! I swear, Chuchi, when this is over I’ll kill you myself.” What is he saying, that he thinks I’m in love with Dane?

“Listen, guys,” Garrett says. “I hate to say it, but we have to go. Now. No good showing up after the prisoners are dead, right? Everyone’s in their places but us.”

I hiss at Shack, “This isn’t over, cabron.” I turn and walk briskly down the trail. If we’re going to do this, we might as well get it over with.

My mind boils over as we march down the trail, quick and silent. What is Shack’s problem? Yeah, the time I spent with Dane was different. Intense. He saved my life. I saved his. We killed together. I’m probably the only Tawtrukker ever to see the inside of a Southshaw house. Maybe friends isn’t far off, but it’s not right either. And as for being more than friends… no. Dane might want that, but… no. Not going to happen.

Shack and Garrett both have always treated me like their sister, but I know they feel more than that. Is Shack jealous? Does he think I could ever pick Dane over him? Over Garrett? Not that I could ever see actual romance between me and my hermanos. We’re too close for me to ever be anything more a sister to them.

Dane may want something more, but that doesn’t make him special to me. It just makes him a boy.

The hike down the hill takes not nearly as long as I want. As we reach the edge of the forest, just before noon, we pause. Our next steps could lead to our deaths. We’ve fought before, but this is different. There are so many of them. So many things have to go just right. I’m sweating here in the cool shade as we stare at each other in silence.

The twins look more different than I’ve ever seen them. Garrett has gone willowy and thoughtful, disappearing by himself into the woods more and more. Shack has thickened, hardened. He’s been the better friend these months, staying closer and talking more. They haven’t argued in weeks, but they’ve been apart more than ever.

After a few seconds, Shack gives me a pointed stare, takes a deep breath, and turns without a word. He steps out of the woods into the meadow, and Garrett and I hurry to catch up. Our feet crunch on the burned husks of meadow grass and scorched dirt. It’s two hundred yards to the prisoners, and another fifty yards to the army. Darius wants to make a big show of their execution, expecting us to watch from the hills.

We walk for ten seconds, then a murmur from the army turns to a loud roar as news of our appearance spreads. My heart skips as I watch them, expecting them to charge at us, but they stay right where they are. Some voices rise above the others with taunts, but I can’t make out words. Instead, I focus on the weight of my whip, coiled and attached to the back of my belt, pressing on my behind. That, along with my knives on my hip, are my only comfort. And the two young men walking beside me.

“Shack, slow down a bit, will you?” Garrett whispers. “Lupay’s having trouble keeping up.”

“Not excited about walking to her death, eh?” Shack replies, but he slows his pace just enough for me to stride beside him without getting out of breath.

Eight men emerge from the mob and walk toward us. Five are big, hulking Southshaw giants. They strut with their huge axes before them or up in the air, showing off for the mob behind. Buffoons. The three others walk calm and steady, their axes by their sides, their gazes locked on us. Those ones, they scare me.

In less than a minute, we’re twenty yards from the line of prisoners. We knew their hands were tied, but we didn’t know they were also blindfolded. We stop and wait for the Southshawans to reach the prisoners. Will they rush us? Will they talk? I try to breathe slow and steady, concentrate to keep from fidgeting.

I allow myself a look at the eight prisoners. My mother is not among them. Disappointment and relief both hit me. I’m not sure what I hoped for. These here, they were selected for execution, so I’m glad Mami isn’t among them. But they’re also selected—by us—for rescue. Which means she will still be a slave at nightfall.

Garrett groans softly. Or maybe it’s a low growl. I can’t tell.

“What is it?” I whisper to him, trying not to move my lips.

“Third from the left,” he whispers back.

I scan the line of Southshaw apes coming our way. The third from the left is one of the scary ones, smaller than the rest but smart and dangerous like a coyote. Maybe he’s in charge. But he doesn’t look like Darius, not like Dane described.

“You think that’s Darius?” I ask.

“No, the prisoners. Third prisoner from the left.”

I shift my gaze from the approaching enemy and look at the blindfolded man Garrett indicated. Tall, graying and balding, a little stooped but strength still in his frame. Ratty pants, stained shirt… my stomach turns over as I realize it’s Shem Shiver. Shack and Garrett’s father.

There’s no time to ask Garrett if he’s okay. The apes have reached the prisoners, and we need to be ready for anything. I fight the urge to look to my right, across the meadow, across the road, to the riverbank where one part of our surprise attack is waiting.

The short one, the third from the left, shouts, “Halt!” The eight don’t halt so much as spread out in a wide line in front of the prisoners. The five buffoons sneer at us with wide, hungry grins through scraggly, messy beards. One licks his lips at me in an exaggerated, nasty way. One tickles the edge of his axe with his fingertips.

The three that frighten me stare in grim silence, their dark eyes unblinking, their faces blank. I stare right back at them and try to think thoughts into their heads.
You shouldn’t be here. This isn’t you’re place. Darius is wrong. You’ll find out soon enough. Then you’ll have to choose. Choose wrong and you’ll die.

The one that yelled the command calls to us. They’re less than twenty yards away, and he shouts louder than he needs to. Probably so the mob behind him can hear, too.

“Are you Lupay?”

Before I can respond, Shack yells back, “No. I thought maybe you were. You look like a teenage girl.”

Garrett stifles a snorted laugh. Shack is such an idiot. But that’s what I love about him.

The apes look insulted, but the leader’s mouth twitches. Anger or amusement? I can’t tell.

In any case, they seem to think there’s some protocol here, some way things should be done. Maybe they hope we’ll demand the release of the prisoners so they can deny us.

I call out, as clearly as I can so the entire valley can hear me, “I’m Lupay.”

This satisfies the leader and excites the apes.

But I don’t want them to feel satisfied or excited. I don’t want them to think they own this meadow. I won’t treat him like an equal. They have power here, but I don’t have to admit that. I didn’t come out here to roll over like a goat about to be slaughtered. I’m Lupay. I turn you to dust just by looking at you. I won’t sit around waiting anymore.

“And,” I shout at him, taking a step forward, “this is my place. These are my hills. My towns. My people. You murderers shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t come here. You should stay in Southshaw.”

None of this was part of the plan, but the twins keep quiet and still. That means they don’t want to stop me.

“Where is Darius? Why isn’t he out here with you?” I yell at them, stare into the eyes of the short one, the leader. “Because he’s a coward. A coward and a liar. How many of you know that Baddock poisoned your Semper? That’s right. Dane’s father. You didn’t know that, did you? Darius had Baddock kill Linkan. And he did. Darius! The liar and coward!”

The short one squints, considering. Good. I’ve shaken him. Maybe this is one of Darius’ inner circle and already knows. Or maybe he’s a nobody and believes it could be true. Maybe not. I pause long enough for him to realize the mob behind him is confused and he needs to respond. When he starts to speak, I interrupt.

“You wonder how I know? I met Dane. After Darius exiled him. He’s still alive. He told me everything.”

“You’re making that up,” the short one yells, and he’s backed up by a roar from the mob. I should be careful. Their hunger for blood is growing with every word I spit at them. But I can see the leader is unsure.

One of the apes shouts out, “You’re that mutant girl! You bewitched Dane!” The others nod and grip their axe handles.

I smile. “So I’m a witch? I’ll turn you to dust just by looking at you.” I stare hard at him, and he takes a step back. “No. Darius lied about that, too. How many of those who claimed I attacked them in Southshaw came here with you?” It’s a guess on my part, a risk I need to take. The mob is inching closer, unable to hold itself back much longer.

I’m glad Freda told me all about that day in Southshaw, when Darius exiled them. I review the details as I watch the mob ready to break loose. Baddock faked an attack and blamed me and Dane. All the men that were in on that deceit stayed behind with Baddock instead of coming to Tawtrukk. Dane and I killed them when we took back Southshaw. All but the two that Tom locked up in the jail. And I hope they’re not here now, somewhere in the swelling mob.

I yell, “None! That’s how many. And why?”

I have the leader’s attention now, and I’ve stuck a worm in his mind, and it’s eating away his confidence. I can see it.

“Because Darius picked them to stay behind in Southshaw with Baddock. Isn’t that right?”

The mutant girl knows more than they thought. It enrages the apes, but the two other ones that scare me glance at the leader. I keep my attention focused on him.

“Darius wanted a war. War! Doesn’t that mean anything to you? No bombs this time, but war anyway. Aren’t your laws, isn’t your truth all about
not
war? Isn’t war against what your god says?”

The mob surges, and I can’t stop myself from taking one defensive step backwards. It’s like watching water gathering against a flimsy stretch of leaves and sticks. The leaves bulge, then break wide open and the water floods forward.

The leader senses it, too, and he tears his gaze from me to look at the others near him. “Stay where you are!” he yells, but it’s no use. The five buffoons are already charging at us, and I hope like hell that Dane is ready.

Behind the line, the mob bursts into a run. I reach behind my back and snatch the whip from my belt, unfurling it with a crack that startles the five rushing us. The leader and the other two smart ones stand where they are, near the prisoners, unsure what to do.