On the Meldon Plain (The Fourline Trilogy Book 2) (15 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

Questions played over and over in Nat’s mind.
Why did Barba give me those markings? And what predictions? Barba had only said that my markings were from the first Warrior House
. Nat remembered the Nalaide’s disbelief and enraged reaction when the creature had seen her markings.
Why . . .
 
?

“Any closer and I’ll run you through,” Benedict threatened while waving one arm wildly at Annin and clasping his saddle horn with the other. His cape hung askew, revealing his thin leg, useless in controlling the skittish horse. Annin guided her horse in a zigzag pattern behind him, agitating Benedict’s horse with her presence.

“I’d like to see you try,” she mocked.

Benedict shifted from side to side in the saddle. He strained to pull himself upright. Annin urged her horse forward again. Benedict’s horse reared, kicking his hooves in the air, then slamming them into the ground. Benedict rolled from the saddle and landed in the knee-high grass. The horse reared again and streaked away. Annin’s horse pawed the ground a few inches from Benedict’s face.

“Annin! Stop it!” Nat cried out and slid off her saddle, afraid Annin’s horse would trample the Hermit. Dirt streaks covered Benedict’s red face. His fingers dug into the mud as he scrambled away from Annin’s horse.

“Don’t ever threaten me.” Annin pointed at him and her Nala eye seemed to grow in size. He pressed a hand into the mud and pushed himself into a sitting position. Nat ran in front of Benedict and grabbed the reins of Annin’s horse.

“If it wasn’t for Estos”—Benedict lifted his small frame as straight as he could—“I’d have your hide.”

“You missed your chance,” Annin spat back. Nat held firm to the reins, fighting Annin for control of the horse.

“I should have let that Nala rip you to shreds,” Benedict growled.

Nat dropped the reins and spun around to face him. “Don’t ever . . .”

A shadow passed above Nat. Annin landed on top of Benedict and the two rolled onto the ground.

“Get off him!” Andris spurred his horse toward the trio, holding Benedict’s runaway mount by the reins. His legs clamped hard against his horse, controlling the animal in Annin’s presence. Nat grasped Annin’s shoulder and wrenched her away from Benedict.

“I swear on the Rim, if you do that again, Annin, I’ll send you packing.” Andris cursed and tossed the reins to Nat.

“Send her now.” Benedict brushed dirt from his arms. “Vermin duozi will bring the Nala down on all of us. Mark my words, she’ll use her dream manipulation on us like she’s done to Estos. She’ll twist her way into our minds, make us weak, and then lead us to the monsters.” Spittle flew from his mouth as he ranted.

“Are you crazy?” Nat couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“That foul half-breed has no place among humans, no place among any of us.” Benedict made a wide arc with his arm and his hand froze in the air.

Soris was staring at him from atop his horse. A glimmer of anger passed over his face. When he blinked his faceted Nala eye and hazel-green eye, the emotion disappeared.

Oberfisk rode up behind Soris. His thick hands held tightly to the leather reins, easing the gelding’s nerves. “Everything all right here?” He glanced at Andris, whose face was so red he looked like a raspberry.

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear,” Andris said, ignoring Oberfisk. “Each of you will follow my orders.” He pressed his fist to his chest, his knuckles white. “You do what I say, nothing else. Your personal vendettas and prejudices mean nothing to me. But if they disrupt this mission, I promise to tie you to a tree in the middle of the eastern forest and call the Nala in myself. Any questions?” He whipped around, glaring at everyone. The horses stamped their hooves. No one said a word. “No?” His lips tightened as he stared down Annin and then Benedict. Annin tossed her head in the opposite direction and blew a bit of curly hair out of her face.

“Help him up,” Andris ordered Nat.

She clasped her hands to give Benedict a foothold to remount. He dug his heel into her hands as he clambered on top of his horse.

“Sends me with a bunch of misfits,” Andris muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Andris.” Oberfisk interrupted his cursing. “We found a spot about a half a mile from here. Abandoned farmhouse and barn. It’s on an open plain in the foothills, no chance of anyone sneaking up.”

“Soris, take Annin and the good Sister, scout out the farmhouse, and set up defenses. Oberfisk, Benedict, and I will check the foothills for any sign of Mudug’s guard. We’re too far from Nala territory to have any encounters with them. Focus your defenses on guards. That is, unless you have anything to share?” Andris directed his question at Annin.

“Ask your brother, he’s as good at sensing the Nala as I am.” Annin kicked her horse and rode away through the low scrub brush. Soris pulled his reins low and to the side. He ignored his brother and followed Annin’s trail. Nat shoved her boot into the stirrup and grasped the saddle horn. Andris reached out and grabbed her arm as she passed him. His fingers dug into her skin.

“We are here because of you, Natalie. I shouldn’t have to explain the enormity of the risk involved. These squabbles must cease.”

“I know. Do you mind?” She looked at her arm.

Andris loosened his grip and let out a long breath. “Do what you can to keep Annin in line.”

“What about Benedict? He’s not making it easy for either of them.” Nat looked over her shoulder and watched as Oberfisk helped balance Benedict in the saddle with his meaty arms. The Hermit’s lips moved continuously. She could only guess the poison coming from him now that Andris was out of earshot.

“He has too much at stake to sabotage this mission, Natalie.” She raised an eyebrow and Andris gave her an irritated look. “History and oaths serve as mighty constraints.” He turned his horse, leaving her to wonder what oath could constrain Benedict’s hatred.

Jagged holes marred the curved roof of the barn. Weak light from the setting sun created a patchwork of light and dark on the floor. Nat kicked a clump of gray mortar where the bumpy rock wall met the earth. The place smelled of stale manure and moldy hay.

“The house isn’t much better.” Soris stepped through the broken doorframe. “The floor’s rotted and covered with glass.”

Nat walked through the rays of light toward Soris. An owl flew from the wooden rafters, sweeping past his head into the fading day. He looked up at the thick beams covered with owl droppings.

“Birds don’t like me much, but at least it means no bird droppings on us tonight.” He gave her a wry smile. “Think Benedict will thank me?”

“What do you think happened here?” she asked, diverting the subject away from Benedict.

Soris shrugged. “Dreams of impossible things.”

Nat joined him by the door, and the two of them took in the ruined expanse of the barn. Partitions leaned against each other in fragile support. The rungs of the ladder leading to the hayloft were broken in half.

“What do you mean by that?”

Soris stepped into the barn through a beam of light. Dust floated and swirled around him. “Someone believed in a future here.” His voice was caustic. “Why is it some people fail to see the futility of their actions?”

“Maybe they saw an opportunity, a chance to make something better,” Nat said, feeling defensive.

“Natalie.” He drew out her name when he spoke and stepped into the shadows. “Thin soil, scarce water. Why would anyone try to grow anything here?” he challenged.

“Because sometimes you have to take the risk.”

He moved to her side so quickly she let out a little gasp. “But you don’t. You don’t.” His breath fell upon her ear. “You don’t have to take the risk. You don’t have to be here.”

“It’s a risk worth taking.” She turned, steeling her voice.

Soris let out an exasperated breath. “No, it’s not, Natalie. It’s not.” He kicked a pile of rotted leather tack. “Even if we manage to pull off Estos’ plan, make it into Rustbrook, and find Emilia, do you really think the Chemist is going to let us walk out with her? This endeavor is night and day to what you and I had to accomplish.”

“If you think it’s so impossible, why’d you agree to come?”

“I have absolutely nothing to lose.” The shadows turned the blue tint of his skin gray.

“Really? Nothing?”

“You heard Benedict.” He held up his hands, silencing her. “Half-breeds have no place among humans. Trust me, Natalie, the utopian life of the duozi at the Healing House ends the moment you pass through its walls and away from the Meldon Plain. Estos can’t dictate tolerance, even if he regains the regency. I have no chance of a normal life.”

“Yes, you do,” she argued.

“Tell me how? To be a duozi in Fourline is like living with a curse.” He crossed his arms and leaned against a broken post.

“The Sisters may come up with something that purges the venom or cures whatever causes the transformation. There has to be some way to heal you.” She sounded unconvincing even to herself.

“There’ve been duozi since before the Rim Accord. Do you really think they’re going to find a magical cure? You’re dreaming of things that can never happen, Natalie.” He gestured to the decaying barn and looked at her sadly. “Here’s the result.”

She instantly brought her hand to his cheek to soothe the deep lines on his face. He clenched his jaw.

She drew her hand away. “Fine, be a fatalist,” she said, feeling the flush in her cheeks. “But know this: I left you in a lurch once, and it didn’t work out well for either of us. I try to learn from my mistakes. I’m not going back home until this is over and you’re back with the Sisters at the Healing House. There has to be more they can do to help you.”

“I’m not going to live a life behind walls, waiting for an impossible cure.”

“Then get used to me, because I am not going anywhere. Ever hear the expression ‘like flies on—’”

“You’re a stubborn fool, Natalie.” He dropped his arms, his pointed hand dangling at his side.

“Maybe, but a fool with something to lose.”

“What could you possibly have to lose by leaving Fourline?”

“Being your friend,” she said, knowing that might be the only thing he’d ever let her be.

His expression softened. “My friend?” He regarded her a moment, and she met his gaze, refusing to look away. The corner of his human eye turned up. He stepped close to her and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear with his fused fingers. She tilted her head toward his hand as he brushed her jawline. “Did you know being my friend comes with some conditions?” His Nala eye contracted.

“Defenses set?” Oberfisk’s voice boomed through the barn. Nat and Soris jumped apart. Oberfisk appeared, his great bald brow scrunched into half a dozen lines. “Haven’t done a thing, have you?” He tsk-tsked.

“We were just discussing our options.” Nat glanced at Soris. He rolled his human eye, but a small smile appeared on his lips. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Stop discussing and get the defenses up, unless you want to discuss it with Andris,” Oberfisk threatened.

Nat and Soris hastened toward the door. “If we’re going to be friends, then you have to drop the idea of me returning to the Healing House,” he whispered out of Oberfisk’s earshot.

“No, I don’t. Friends can always disagree,” she shot back. He groaned in response. Nat took two steps for every one of his as she followed him up the hill from the barn. “Just like I disagree with you about me leaving Fourline,” she added when she caught up with him. He handed her the blunt end of a spool of thin wire and stretched a length between the thick stems of two spiny bushes.

“You’re making me regret my decision to be your friend, Natalie,” he said as he clipped the wire. He glanced up and handed her a small stake. She shoved the stake into the soil, feeling a little triumphant that he was agreeing to be her friend.

“I never promised being my friend would be easy.”

“Understatement of the year, Natalie,” he muttered and busied himself with setting the snare. She watched him nimbly wind the wire with his good hand. Even though he faced the ground, she could see his smile broaden and matched it with one of her own.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Water fell from the holes in the roof of the barn, expanding the size of the puddles spreading across the floor. Nat shifted her position. She lifted her head from her satchel and listened to Benedict’s snores intermingle with the incessant dripping of the rain. How he could sleep was beyond her. Oberfisk rolled over and his arm flopped against her side like a baseball bat. Grimacing, she carefully scooted from underneath his thick arm, setting it gently against his sleeping form.

She sat up and searched the folds of her cloak for her orb. It emitted a gentle glow at her touch, casting soft shadows around the end of the barn. She pulled her knees to her chest and breathed in a long, deep breath. The smell of fresh horse manure overpowered the smell of the rain. She watched the sleeping horses’ breath puff out of their nostrils like little smoke signals.

The ground felt spongy under her feet as she stepped through the crooked opening of the barn. Water poured off the broken end of a narrow overhang, splashing against the side of a splintered barrel. Her eyes strained in the dark to find the outline of the dilapidated house where Annin slept. Soris and Andris were on second watch somewhere in this soggy weather.

She tucked the orb away and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. The broken house came into focus against the foothills. She shifted carefully, settling onto the worn wooden top of the barrel. It creaked under her weight.

Even his brother is segregating them,
she thought. Andris had given in to Benedict’s grousing and separated the group earlier in the evening. No one believed his pretext that the horses would sleep more soundly away from duozi or that it offered a defensive advantage. Soris had grabbed his satchel and strode off toward the house with Andris’ excuses trailing after him.
At least Andris has the decency to join them in the house.

She closed her eyes for a moment and listened to the rain. As much as she hated to admit it, Soris was right about his options. Even if Estos removed Mudug from power, she wasn’t sure Soris’ life would be much better. Mudug had orchestrated such a successful campaign demonizing the duozi and the Sisters that it would take at least a generation to bring people around to accepting duozi into daily life. Nat remembered the story the old shepherd Greffen had shared with her about the villagers sending a young girl out into the woods after she was turned into a duozi. What would it take to erase such deep-seated prejudice?

Soris had said the duozi had been around since before the Rim Accord. If Benedict’s treatment of Annin as a child was any indication, it wasn’t like people had ever embraced the duozi. Unless a Sister found a cure or a way to reverse the transformation caused by the venom, maybe the Healing Houses were their only places of refuge.

She pushed her fingers against her temples, wishing for the hundredth time that she’d taken Soris straight to the membrane after he’d been bitten instead of waiting at Greffen’s.
Ethet could have stopped the venom quickly, preventing the transformation or at least rendering him more like Annin so he could stay in my world.
She thought of what Barba had said about Soris never being able to push through the membrane now. She wondered if Barba had any idea how deeply her words plagued Nat.

“You’re stuck here because of me,” she whispered to the rain. She straightened her back. She had to convince Soris to return to the Healing House.
If the Nala ever catch up with you . . .
She shivered, remembering his dronelike behavior in the horror of the Nala den.

“You make a lousy guard,” Annin said, stepping from the wet shadows to a narrow strip of dry ground next to Nat.

“You make an excellent sneak.” Nat’s heartbeat settled to its normal pace.

“I’d rather be me. Soris and Andris are back. It’s our watch.”

Nat slid from the barrel and followed Annin into the night. Water dripped from the rim of her hood and landed cold against her chin. They made a wide arc away from the house to the rise above the ruined farm. The wet ground was covered in scraggly clumps of brush.

As they trudged up the rise, a thin ray of moonlight shone over the landscape, revealing miles of foothills leading to the mountains. Annin nodded to Nat and the pair broke apart. Annin snaked up the low branches of a lone twisted tree, her figure hugging the curved limbs. Nat waded through the mucky open space between the tree and an outcropping of eroded granite slabs. She jumped over an almost invisible wire, thankful she remembered the location of the trip wire they’d set earlier. Andris’ wrath would be unmatched if she accidently triggered one of their defenses.

The crossbow bumped against her leg when she placed her foot into a low cleft in the ancient rock. She pulled herself up and propped her back against one side of the rock. Like the slabs of Stonehenge, the formation was out of place in these foothills of low shrub brush and scraggly trees.

She scanned the foothills from the front and back of the rocky opening. The rain slowed and gradually tapered off until the only droplets falling near Nat were from the pools of water shining in the moonlight on top of the slabs. She blinked, keeping her eyes clear of sleep, and listened to the night. Moonlight now flooded the land. In its silver glow, she barely noticed the small white beam cutting across the foothills. A sound mimicking a screech owl, Annin’s warning call, filled the air. Nat tensed. The white light bounced up and down erratically and grew in size.

She dropped to the base of the slab and crept past the edge of the rocks, keeping the beam in sight. A shadowy shape began to form behind the beam, and Nat recognized the brilliant white circle emblazoned on the arm of the person running toward them.
Mudug’s guard,
she thought, remembering the first time she’d seen that emblem. Her gaze swept over the foothills beyond the guard. The moonlight exposed nothing but low hills.
What is he doing out here in the middle of the night on his own?

Just as the guard was about to pass between the boulder and the tree, he tripped over the wire. His small lantern flew into the air and landed with a thud right at Nat’s feet.

“Stay down.” She kicked the lantern to the side. The guard lifted his head to find a crossbow pointed directly at him. His eyes grew wide as he took in Nat and her Sister cloak hanging heavily around her shoulders. Sweat and drops of rain trickled from his matted brown hair down his cheek and into the bristles of his two-pronged beard. He slid his hand toward his side. Nat swiftly planted her heel against his nose. The guard’s head snapped back, and he crumpled with his face to the ground.

“Nice kick,” Annin said from behind her. “I’ll get Andris, if he’s not on his way. You have him?”

“I don’t think he’s going anywhere,” Nat responded. The guard moaned. Annin took two quick steps toward him and pulled his sword from his sheath and a dagger from his boot. With his forehead pressed to the ground, the guard didn’t see her.

“I’ll keep these just in case he’s feeling stupid.” The weapons clanked together in Annin’s hands. She sped off toward the farmhouse, jumping over the snares and traps.

Nat pulled out her orb and steadied the crossbow. Her neck muscles were knotted and a tense ache settled over her shoulders. The guard crawled to his knees, keeping one hand clamped over his nose. Blood covered his chin. She stepped to the side and noticed a black leather bag hanging between the slits of his thick wool tunic.

“You’re a Sidder, doughd they were all gone,” the guard said. His eyes followed the orb as it darted around his face.

Nat tightened her hands around the stock of the crossbow. The guard held out a hand. “Don shood, don shood.”

“Put both hands back over your nose and don’t move.” The ache coursed down her neck into her arms. Where was Andris? The guard obeyed. Dark eyes peered out above his fingers as he examined Nat in the flickering light of the orb.

“Any others with you?” Nat asked, watching him. He shook his head. “What are you doing running through nowhere in the middle of the night?”

His eyes darted down to the leather pouch. “God lod,” he said, too quickly.

“Lost? Isn’t it your lucky day, then, running into us?” Oberfisk strode past Nat and clamped one hand around the guard’s biceps. He lifted him easily into the air. The guard’s knees buckled slightly when Oberfisk dropped him on the ground.

“Take him to the house,” Andris ordered. He stepped into the light of the orb.

“Rebels,” the guard muttered as he passed Andris.

“And a genius to boot! Stop the gawking and move.” Oberfisk pushed the guard, directing him toward the house. “Step to yer right.” His voice trailed behind them. “Don’t want you to lose a foot before we can show you some hospitality.” His low laughter faded away as he led the guard down the muddy hill.

“I sent Soris and Annin to search for any more. Did you see anything?” Andris asked as he scanned the foothills.

“No.” Nat searched the dark hills, then joined Andris as he followed Oberfisk’s tracks in the mud. “What would he be doing out here alone at this time of night?”

“No idea, but I intend to find out.”