Thunder: The Shadows Are Stirring (Thunder Stories Book 1) (11 page)

“We left my brothers behind.”

Okay. We’re not as good as we could be. Her voice just about guts me; it’s hollow and empty.

“I couldn’t stop myself, Ethan. There was no warning. I didn’t even feel the mist.” She pulls herself into a tighter ball, hugging her arms around herself. I twist around to a sitting position, where I can reach her. I don’t know how to help; I don’t know what her brothers will do now, if they’ll come through on their own, or what. But Olivia’s hurting. Sliding next to her, I tentatively brush my hand over her hair, how I saw Sam soothe her after she’d hurled all over him. Talking doesn’t seem right, so after a minute I stand and survey our surroundings.

We’ve landed in the middle of a huge open wheat field, or some similar grain. Hidden insects create a backdrop of noise with their incessant droning and chirping. I can almost feel the vibrations. The sun, with a magnified brightness, sears my back through my clothes. I’m guessing it’s midsummer? Late summer, maybe?

We’re very exposed, which I don’t like. The grass stalks, a little taller than knee-high, are stiff and prickly and make a swishing sound in the breeze. The faded yellow-green color runs for miles until it hits a bank of small sloping hills way off in the distance. The tops of the hills are crested with a dark green smudge: a tree line. There’s not so much as a twig where we are, though. The cartoon blue of the sky is exaggerated by the cotton-ball puffs of clouds, which drift above us. I imagine that if I could reach up and grab onto one, I’d simply float away with it. My skin tingles, like ants are crawling all over me.

Irrationally, I’m hit with an intense desire to be connected to firm ground. I drop next to Olivia. She shifts closer, sitting up so her shoulder presses against my arm. She keeps her own arms wrapped around her knees. I nudge her. “You didn’t just ditch them, Olivia. I was there. It was like you dissolved and were vacuum-sucked away. I barely had time to grab at your hand. Oh, crap.”

Olivia gives me a fairly good reproduction of the Ol’ Man’s hairy eye.

“Sorry.
Cripes
.” I glare down at my chest searching for the nonexistent straps of my nonexistent bag. I don’t have my gear. Olivia is still watching me, so I shrug nonchalantly. “No big; we’re just down my extra stuff.”

“What?! How do we not have your stuff? You need it!”

“I’ve got my sword and my knife. We’ll be fine.” I gesture to the scabbard loosely tied around my hips and wave my knife in the air. Guess I can reposition the sword across my back now; I like it better there anyway. Quicker to grab.

“Um, Ethan. Spare clothes? Extra food? First aid stuff? Replacement weapons?”

“You won’t share yours?” I try to tease but can feel myself scowl. I do need my things.

“Aw, bugger it!”

“What?”

Olivia flushes. “I don’t have my bow.” She thinks for a moment, looking past me. “I guess that helps us though, in a way.”

I’m confused. “Helps?”

“I’ve still got my arrows,” she says lifting her shoulder and making the quiver on her back jiggle. “All trees in sight are over there.” She jabs a finger in the direction of the hills. “Maybe they’d be the right kind of wood to make a bow. We need something for long range.

“We can get by with my food; I’m sure we can find more somewhere if we need it. And I have a spare knife, too, if you need an extra; it’s balanced for me, but you’re good enough to compensate. I draw the line at sharing my clothes with you, though; you’ll have to deal with that one on your own.” With a half grin, she jumps to her feet. “Let’s move it. I bet Sam and Jamie came through. They’ve got to be here somewhere; they wouldn’t have stayed behind or anything. It’s just with time and space being such loose terms here …. Well, Sam’ll have to figure out how to track us down; we’ve got to concentrate on finding the rift.”

I know she’s putting on a brave face because she’s fiddling with the necklace and chewing on the corner of her lip. She continues to gaze around, probably hoping to catch sight of her brothers coming through the grass. I don’t think we’ll have it that easy here. I do understand her urge to get moving, though. It has to do with our training. Sitting still makes us potential targets. Also, keeping a body busy can distract the brain from thinking too hard, and sometimes the brain needs its breathing space. I stand and shrug. I’m here to follow her lead, and heading for the trees at least gets us under some sort of cover. Olivia tosses me an apple from her sack and we both eat as we walk. But something is wrong.

“You realize what’s missing?” I ask.

“Um, my brothers and our gear, Ethan; we just went over all that. You suck at this cheering me up stuff, if that’s what you’re trying to do. Sheesh!” She kicks at a tuft of grass and her boot cuts through with a whispery swish.

I make a choking noise. “No, Olivia. That’s not what I meant at all.” I watch her closely and give an exaggerated tap to my ear. “But
listen
. What do you
hear
?”

“Oh. Sorry.” She has the grace to look sheepish. “I don’t hear any—oh!” Her voice drops. “That’s what you’re getting at: It’s too quiet. That’s weird.”

The hair on my arms prickle.
Dumb invisible ants
. The grass is still; the breeze no longer stirs the air. The bugs have gone silent. We continue forward.

As we slip our bodies through the grass, I wish the stalks were taller; then we could try to conceal ourselves. It’s hard to move unnoticed in these conditions. After a while, we both stop and tilt our heads. Scanning the field around us, I try to track a dry rustling that hadn’t meshed with our footfalls. I see nothing. Silently considering our options, I nod to indicate moving forward.

In an imitation of casual, we begin a conversation that means nothing but gives us words to toss back and forth. Someone’s following us—it’s not like we’re being very stealthy, walking through an open field. Whoever it is, though, is good at hiding. They’re either scouting us out or planning to attack us. Since they’re wasting time, I’m hoping they just want to see where we’re headed. More likely, it’s some sadistic game and they’re hunting us. In which case, all we can do is be prepared.

Within moments, I whirl around again, purposely placing my body between Olivia and whatever’s heading our way. Electricity laces through my limbs and I brace myself, balancing my dagger in my hand. This time I’ve spun fast enough to catch the bending of the grasses; the field is parting like a boat’s wake. But the long trail, a couple feet wide, isn’t coming at us in a straight line. It’s sinuous, and makes me think of a snake. If snakes were the width of a mini bus.

Involuntarily, I take a step back as a serpent, thicker than Olivia and I together, raises its triangular head above the tall grasses. Swaying gently, it stares us down with glassy amber eyes. And it keeps on coming. Olivia’s hands grip onto my shoulders; her sharp intake of breath registers in my head like an echo of my own fear.

Now, the problem I have being somewhere new and with unknown rules is I can’t be sure who’s on our side and who’s not. I rack my brain for any snake stories I’ve heard or read. In pretty much every case I can think of, serpents are bad news. Death, destruction, loss, evil. The Garden of Eden, right? And Voldemort’s pet. And that green snake in C.S. Lewis’s book. But I still hesitate to throw my knife.

The snake is no more than ten feet from us before I’m aware I’m staring into my own reflection. I force myself to blink. The jewel-like eyes glow with an intelligent wariness. Not the look of a wild creature intent on killing us. I inhale deeply through my mouth and wait. It dips its head and flicks a forked tongue, its blue-green scales reflecting the sunlight like water droplets.

The cavernous jaws gape open enough to highlight an immense length of curved fangs. They glisten in the sun. My hand twitches, letting my brain know it thinks I’ve stalled too long. But before I can do anything, the creature speaks in a raspy voice. Yes, speaks. I swear under my breath and Olivia pokes me from behind.

Life has just become more interesting.

“Humans,” the snake wheezes, “Lower your guard; I mean you no harm. We haven’t time to talk, not out here at least. You must follow me.” He hacks and gags and clears his throat. I have no intention of dropping my weapon, wimpy as it may seem.

After regurgitating what looks like a particularly vile wad of phlegm and bones, he adds in a much deeper tone, “I apologize; I seem to have eaten something that did not agree with me.”

Of course. Why shouldn’t a twenty-foot-long snake have a weak stomach?

Being somewhat used to weird animal moments, thinking back to the whole Gunther/Thunder and Owen/Storm situations, I shake my head and respond with confidence. I’m pretty sure my voice cracks. “Um, yeah, but who are you and why should we trust you?” I narrow my eyes and do not lower my knife. Olivia, however, moves around me and presses down my arm.

“Hello,” she says with a faint smile.
Smile
. The girl is crazy. “Meet Ethan Stone. I’m Olivia—”

“Williams. Yes, I’ve been sent to find you. My name is Xaiben Dells. You are headed in the right direction already; we shall travel together.”

“But—” I splutter.

“Child,” he regards me frankly, “if I’d wanted to eat you, you’d already be digesting in my belly.” Bobbing his head towards Olivia, he adds, “And if my goal were to hinder your quest, I could do much greater damage than idly chatting in the Fieldings.”

And he slithers past us, obviously assuming we’ll follow. Which we do. He’s more than triple my height from what I can tell, and I’ve seen enough nature shows to know what lesser varieties of reptiles are capable of. There’s no point in refusing anyway; I can tell by Olivia’s face this is the new plan.

We jog at the creature’s side, making our way to the tree line. Xaiben is chatty for someone who appears grim, and before long, we have learned his story. Apparently, he and his wife, Marrah, are the new chiefs of their ‘knot.’ Their home is located under Orchard’s Spinney, a small township here in the Fieldings. He and his wife killed the prior leaders over an allegiance dispute: The dead leaders had welcomed the influx of Sliders and had hoped to use it to their advantage. Xaiben and others had disagreed with the merits of this thinking, and a civil war of sorts between the Snakes and some other reptiles had ensued.

Since rumors of a Seeker had also been circulating for some time, both sides had posted lookouts, either to assist or to obstruct. Xaiben happened to be the first to come across us. He assures us that others with darker intentions are around, and our pace picks up with this knowledge.

We’re feeling fairly lucky until we crest the first roll of hills, which is when the sky darkens and a steady keening drone surrounds us. Mosquitos. Hundreds. Huge. Like the size of a nickel, not counting their spindly legs and wings. I have no words, but Olivia manages a breathy “Holy Hey-Zeus!”

They’re on us in nanoseconds, going for our exposed flesh with a vampiristic glee. Unlike normal mosquitos, I can tell when these suckers get me. With each jab, burning needle-points of pain slice through my skin. Xaiben rears up and starts twirling his upper body like a helicopter blade, trying to keep the scourge from eating us entirely. His jaw snaps and I figure he won’t be too hungry later on. I open my mouth to yell
Run!
, but choke instead on some fresh protein. Olivia gets my point and we take off faster than adrenaline-snorting jackrabbits, hoping to make it to the snake den before we’re bled to death.

Chapter Ten: The Journey of Two

(SAMUEL)

T
HERE ARE EIGHT OF THEM IN ALL
. Eight wolves, two boys, a slingshot, and some arrows. I don’t like those odds. Time to turn them in our favor.

I run through what I know about wolves. Prey that stands its ground is less likely to be attacked; wolves are incited by the chase, and usually strike from the rear. Okay, then. I hold my ground and stare right at the biggest animal. Challenging and posing a threat. I shrug off my bag and aim my slingshot ammo right through his malicious yellow eye. He drops instantaneously. This weapon is an extension of my body; as long as I aim true, I can kill with one clean shot. It’s how I used to hunt. Now, it’s how I plan to save Jamie’s life.

Quicker than I can blink, another wolf is in its place—a smaller female who crouches across the clearing. She just as quickly meets her mate’s fate; Jamie, to my left, takes another down with an arrow to its neck. But I notice something odd; after a few moments of lying prone, the bodies puff into black smoke and disappear. Not your average wolf.

 Jamie’s next shot misses its mark, but still manages to pierce the gray wolf’s foreleg. Trying to spur us into a run, they push their advantage, getting too close for our initial weapons. We both grab knifes from our sheaths, Jamie slinging his bow over his shoulder. Wolves are pack hunters. Once they sense our vulnerability, they will try to surround us, and since we’re outnumbered, we need to think smarter. Or not.

My main goal is to get them away from Jamie, protecting him while giving him room to use his bow again. Play to his strengths. While I draw my knife, I’m already running headfirst into fur and claws and teeth. My banshee whoop trails behind me as Jamie backs to a tree.