Wordless (14 page)

“Gods,” I panted alongside Khaya, barely able to talk and breathe at the same time. “That was close!”

“I almost couldn’t do it in time,” Khaya said, gasping. “It’s difficult … to direct the Word of Life to do something … so unnatural.”

We trekked in silence after that, both of us weighed down not only by our tiredness, but the truth about our escape: those cops, bound and gagged with brambles, would be found sooner or later, and the Athenaeum would know we’d been through there.

They would find us all the easier now.

I was more exhausted than ever after the surge of adrenaline dissipated. And with our nocturnal schedule, dawn felt like dusk, triggering an intense urge to hide away and sleep. Part of me knew we should get as far away as possible from the highway and hide. But another part of me almost didn’t care if we were caught. Even surrendering—just getting it over with—almost seemed like it would be a relief.

I was about to ask if we could stop right as Khaya started humming again. It was as if the highway had only been an intermission in her performance, and now that she’d resumed, her voice was gentler and yet somehow stronger than a pair of hands, dragging my tired, aching body after her.

Not yet
, her song seemed to tell me.

“Okay,” I mumbled, so exhausted I was responding to what hadn’t even been said.

And I followed her. I could follow that voice to the ends of the earth, even if my legs were worn down to stumps. Maybe even off a cliff. I’d as good as done that already, throwing my life into a tumbling dive at her request, without knowing when or where or how I would land.

Okay
, I’d said in response to her written message—
HELP ME
—before I’d ever even spoken to her.
Okay.

And I was still saying that.

Hours later … I wasn’t entirely sure how long … Khaya stumbled up against a tree, sagging into it with a sigh of relief. It took me a second, after blinking away the seeming enchantment of her song, to notice that we were in a tight cluster of trees. They looked like they’d been competing for space. There wasn’t even much underbrush between them, where they’d crowded out the sun. The ground in the center was dry, but not exactly hidden.

“Finally,” Khaya said. “I’ve been looking for something like this.”

“What do you mean?” My voice rasped like a rusty hinge in need of greasing. Khaya sounded nearly as bad.

She crouched between two trees, her hands feeling along the bark of each. “We’ll be safe inside.”

I still wasn’t sure what she meant until she said a few words in Hebrew—forgetting, probably in her tiredness, that she said she would speak in English—and the trunks merged between her hands, not violently, but as if they had grown together naturally over a period of years and years. Then all the trunks from maybe six trees swirled around each other, becoming one in a matter of seconds, save for a crack big enough for Khaya to stick her head through.

“It’s hollow,” I said. The perfect hideout. A tree in a forest of trees.

“Come inside.” She slipped through the crack, vanishing within.

Like the culvert, the narrow gap in the tree squeezed me more than Khaya, but I made it through by shoving the backpack in first. It was cramped inside, with a low ceiling tapering at the top like a conical hat. But there would be enough room for us to curl next each other, if not stretch out, on a carpet of soft, rotten leaves and fragrant earth. Khaya was already digging the emergency blanket out of the pack.

The tree grew warmer inside, especially after Khaya sealed the crack from the bottom up, closing the wood like a zipper and leaving only a small hole for air at the top. Our clothes had dried enough for us to keep them on, but lying next to her somehow felt more intimate this time. Our closeness was less the result of a need for survival and more a human desire to be near someone.

Or at least that was how I felt as I wrapped my injured arm around her and buried my face in her hair. I wouldn’t have been brave enough to touch her if I hadn’t been too tired to think about it. It just happened. And Khaya didn’t push me away.

“I’m sorry,” she said, halting my slow drift into oblivion.

“For what?” I murmured.

“Ruining your life,” she said, as if she’d heard my thoughts in the forest. At least, I was pretty sure I hadn’t said them out loud in my exhaustion. “I haven’t apologized yet, and you probably think I take you for granted, but—”

“Shh,” I hushed her. “It was my decision to help you. It’s not your fault.”

It
had
been my decision, and I’d been making it again and again since I’d met her. And every time, it got easier and easier to make.

“I’m sorry you had to use the Words to … you know,” I said. I’d seen the look on her face after she’d gagged the cops—she hadn’t wanted to, but she’d done it to keep me from using the gun.

“I’ve never used the Word of Life like that before,” Khaya said softly.

“Why not? You have the power.” It definitely would have helped during the dog attack.

“Because then the Word just becomes a weapon—a tool for threatening others. A gun is a threat. The police are a threat. Even muscles can be a threat.” She brushed my arm. “If all being powerful means is that you can threaten other people with violence to get what you want, I don’t want that power. I want no part of it.”

I didn’t have the energy to argue … assuming there was anything I could argue. “Then, if it’s no trouble, could I get some of the non-violent Words?”

I fell asleep to her murmuring Words of healing that didn’t have a chance to take effect before I was out.

It seemed as if I had only been asleep for seconds when I felt Khaya shaking my shoulder, wrenching me out of a deep, dreamless slumber.

“Tavin,
wake up
!” she shouted, as if she’d been at it for a while. “There’s a fire!”

I realized I was coughing. I had no idea how long I’d been asleep. Hardly anything was visible in the dark interior of the tree, but all around, there was the smell of burning wood.

fourteen

The air hole only provided a pinpoint of light, so Khaya turned on the flashlight and shined it around the inside of the tree. Smoke was seeping through the bark and curling up to drift against the conical ceiling. She ran her hands along the wall of the trunk while I stuffed the emergency blanket in the pack and threw it over my shoulders. My arm no longer hurt. The swelling had gone down and the teeth marks were only ridges of pink flesh, but there wasn’t time to appreciate it.

“This side is hot!” Khaya said, leaping to the opposite side. She shouted some Words and the tree trunk parted before her like a curtain. Both of us went tumbling out.

Instead of the fresh air I’d been hoping for outside, smoke surrounded us, sunlight filtering through the sooty haze. And a bright red-orange glow. My first thought had been that someone had managed to track us to this exact spot and was burning us out of our tree. But instead of a small fire at the base of our trunk, a solid wall of flame blocked the way we’d come, stretching as far as I could see, bending in a ring that must have nearly encircled the forest. Even as we both watched in horror, the fire gained a few feet of ground, almost reaching the backside of our tree, which was already sizzling and smoking.

I backed away, but Khaya only stood, coughing and staring through red, watery eyes.

“They’re flushing us out,” she said. “And burning down a forest to do it.” Her eyes weren’t just watering, like mine. She was crying. “All these trees … how could you, Agonya?”

The Word of Fire.

“Khaya, come on!” I shouted, seizing her arm. The burning forest wasn’t something to callously ignore—it was actually hard to ignore—but now wasn’t the time to weep over dying trees when we were about to die ourselves. “We’ve got to run!”

I hauled her away without waiting. Soon, she no longer resisted and ran as fast as me. And we had to run fast. The fire spread like a tidal wave, spilling heat and flame behind us. If we tried to cut too far to either side, the wall closed in on us, forcing us back the other way.

“They’re herding us,” Khaya said.

A particularly wracking bout of coughing slowed me for a few seconds, but I picked up the pace again, leaping over fallen logs that wavered in the heat. “Where?”

“Probably to water, so Pavati—the Word of Water—can help protect their group. A fire this size would be difficult for Agonya to control. Fire is one of the hardest Words to manage.”

So it wasn’t only the Athenaeum’s police squad hunting us, but the Words themselves. At least two, by the sound of it: Pavati and Agonya, Water and Fire. And probably Luft, the Word of Air, since he’d been modifying the weather, and why not Herio, too? We were being herded into a trap more deadly than the blaze.

But we had no choice. Obviously, neither of us wanted to burn to death just to avoid greater danger, and so we kept running.

Khaya was right—we did meet water. We stumbled out of the trees and down a hill into a small valley, where we found ourselves facing a stream. But no one was there and the fire was burning on the other side, so we were forced to turn and run along the bank, upstream. At least the bank was smooth and firm, making the going much easier than it had been those first couple of nights. We couldn’t afford to trip, not just to keep ahead of the flames, but also the smoke, which burned my throat and lungs with each gasping breath. There wasn’t even time to think.

Several times, another stream joined ours, but we could never follow them—the fire was burning so close on either side of each new creek that it nearly bridged the gap. So we passed them, running, until the walls of our valley rose steeply on either side, leaving us in a ravine with only one way to go: forward. At least the smoke was better down beneath the blaze, even if the terrain was tightening around us like a noose.

For once my legs were holding up to the strain, but my lungs were tight and burning like lumps of hot coal in my chest. I wasn’t fit for marathons, as I’d told Khaya earlier. From my best estimation, we’d been running for over five miles, and I was carrying the backpack. Never mind the smoke. But I didn’t need to say anything to Khaya. She probably heard it in my raspy breathing. Her hand found my shoulder, and then a lightning surge of energy, like a shot of adrenalin, crackled along my limbs and expanded my lungs. She wasn’t taking it easy this time. Being depleted later on obviously wasn’t an issue anymore.

Because later on I would probably be dead.

With my newfound vigor, I flipped the pack around, slowing my stride just enough to fall behind Khaya. My fingers dug through emergency supplies, down into the depths of the bag, until they felt what they were seeking: cold metal through plastic.

I had just re-zipped the backpack when Khaya glanced back, motioning breathlessly for me to keep up. She hadn’t seen what I had stuffed into the back of my pants.

The stream eventually shrank into its source: a chain of ponds that we skirted, finding another stream spilling out the opposite end. And now we were running downstream through the gully, downhill and picking up speed.

As we burst out of the ravine to find a lake spreading out in front of us, I wondered if they’d planned it this way, forcing us to gain momentum to our inevitable end.

A group of people stood on the shore of the lake, the water like a gray slate under the hazy sky. Khaya and I staggered to a halt, both of us bending over to lean on our knees, gasping uncontrollably. I kept one hand on my lower back as if it hurt. But really, I was keeping ahold of something through my shirt.

None of the people stepped forward, as if they had all the time in the world. We had nowhere else to go, after all, with the raging inferno burning nearly up to the lakeside, the trees like kindling. They could wait for us to catch our breath.

I took quick stock of the gathering through squinting, itchy eyes. It wasn’t what I had been expecting. It was worse. Herio was definitely there, along with four other Words, not three. The guys were shirtless except for Herio, who was fully clothed in black, and the girls wore halter tops that left the Words exposed on their backs, able to be read. I recognized the Word of Earth, Tu, with his black hair and East Asian features, standing next to Pavati, the Word of Water, long braids sweeping over her smooth, dark-skinned shoulders. Luft and Agonya, the Words of Air and Fire, stood stiffly beyond them, as pale as ever. Luft’s blond hair stirred in the breeze.

All of them were so good-looking it was creepy. I would have thought they were vain idiots showing off their bodies if I didn’t know better.

Dr. Swanson and four other suits—two men and two women—stood behind the Words. Men with guns stood on either side of them, making over a dozen in all. The guns were trained on us.

Dr. Swanson raised his hand in greeting while Khaya and I stumbled closer, the smoke-filtered sunlight glinting feebly off of a gold ring on his finger. His gray-streaked hair and gray suit looked as neat as before. I wondered if he ever wore anything but gray, or if Herio wore anything but black.

My thoughts were running loose. But the rest of my body was tense and focused, my hand held ready behind my back.

“Khaya,” Dr. Swanson said. “Tavin.” He spoke my name as if I were a longtime acquaintance he was meeting for lunch.

Neither Khaya nor I responded. She wasn’t even looking at Swanson. She was staring in icy fury at Agonya, who looked stunning with her high cheekbones and light brown hair drawn back in a tight bun. Now that we were closer, I noticed that both Agonya’s hair and the exposed skin around her halter-top were shining, as if she had been greased.

“A Godspeaker didn’t even force you to make this fire,” Khaya said. “You don’t have anyone but yourself to blame.”

Agonya didn’t look at her, only stared in concentration over our heads at the fire swallowing the world, though her eyes narrowed. It was probably my imagination, but the heat at our backs seemed to rage hotter. My skin felt like it was about to crack it was so dry, and I realized what Agonya’s grease was: a heat-resistant moisturizer for someone who played with fire all the time.

“Agonya is a patriot,” Dr. Swanson said. “She doesn’t need to be forced to aid her country.” He didn’t acknowledge the middle-aged woman standing right behind Agonya, who was obviously a Godspeaker ready to step in and take control at a moment’s notice.

Herio was standing at Dr. Swanson’s elbow like a trained attack dog. He seemed to have no problems killing without a Godspeaker to force him. I kept my sight locked on him for the most part, as though he were a poisonous snake among the group, ready to strike—a snake nearly as tall as me, with dark brown hair falling in his eyes. The eyes were what gave him away as a killer.

“A patriot,” Khaya said, raw emotion shaking her voice. “And yet you’ll replace her with an automaton as soon as you get the chance!” She turned from Agonya and Luft, whose perfectly square jaw was clenched as he, too, focused on the fire, to the other pair of Words. Pavati and Tu glanced at each other but didn’t say anything. “That’s why I ran—that’s what they’re doing! Cruithear made bodies, and they’re going to replace us—”

“Hush, Khaya,” Dr. Swanson said, signaling two of the men with guns on his right. Their focus sharpened and they took closer aim at Khaya. It didn’t make sense that they’d just kill her, destroy one of the Words they’d been so desperately trying to recover, but it wasn’t the time to ask questions.

“Let’s not be uncivilized about this,” Swanson continued. “But if you insist on spreading lies, then I’ll be forced to—”

He broke off as I whipped the hidden object out from behind my back and pointed it between his eyes.

“No. If you hurt her,” I said, keeping his head within the sight of the black handgun, “I’ll be forced to blow your brains out.”

Silence fell over the group. Most of them only stared, tense and unmoving. Khaya looked at me as if she’d never seen me before, but I’d expected that. Herio had a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. Dr. Swanson folded his arms as if he was merely disappointed.

“Obviously Khaya’s lies have gotten to you, Tavin, if you’re pointing that at me,” he said. “But it’s not entirely her fault if she didn’t tell you the truth, because she doesn’t know all of it herself. Drop the gun and perhaps we can talk.”

“You don’t want to talk; you want to kill us,” I said, my arm unwavering. I had never shot a gun before, but it didn’t seem so difficult. “And you pointed guns at us first, so how about you dropping yours first?”

“Tavin, I don’t want to kill either of you. Nothing could be further from my thoughts.” A vague smile touched Dr. Swanson’s face just as it vanished from Herio’s—Herio definitely wanted to kill us. “The guns aren’t loaded with bullets, but tranquilizer darts. I will put you both under if I have to, but it would do well for you to come back voluntarily rather than subdued. It will be a more convincing argument against those calling for your blood … proof that this is all just a big misunderstanding.”

“A
misunderstanding
?” I spat. “After what you did to Drey?”

“Drey?” Swanson blinked. “Ah, yes, Andre. He must have given you that gun and other supplies, though not possibly enough to sustain you for long.” He looked us both over, almost with consideration. “I’m sure you’re hungry. Come home, both of you. We can resolve this peacefully if you just—”

“Peacefully, my ass!” His use of the name
Andre
and even the word
home
threw me, especially since he was talking to both me and Khaya—as if he knew where I belonged, too. I forced myself to refocus. “If you don’t want to hurt us, then why is Herio here?”

“Merely to encourage cooperation—” Swanson began.

I nodded at the gun I held. “Do I look encouraged?”

“—from the French,” he finished, giving me a slight frown, as if he found my interruptions rude. Or maybe it was because of the gun I was pointing at him, though he hadn’t seemed to mind much so far. “Herio is quite useful when it comes to intimidation, and he’s France’s representative among the Words. They didn’t like the idea of us using fire in their forest to retrieve you, but with his presence, they came around.”

“I’ll kill him before he can kill me,” I said, turning the gun on Herio. “I’ll kill him like he killed my dad. I’ve already put down one of your dogs, so this shouldn’t be much different.”

Herio took a step forward—silent, swift, and smooth, like I’d always imagined Death would move. My finger twitched on the trigger but Dr. Swanson put a hand on Herio’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

When I realized I’d very nearly shot someone, tingles erupted across my scalp and raced down my spine, raising bumps on my scarred, dirt-smudged arm. My heart was pounding as if Khaya had given me another jolt of energy.

“Tavin, Tavin,” Swanson said in a soothing tone, giving Herio a hard look. “No one wants to kill you. I wish we could talk more privately, but if you insist upon now … Luft?”

The Word of Air glanced away from the fire long enough to nod at Swanson, then started muttering in what sounded like German. Swanson walked toward us, ignoring the gun now aimed at his heart, until he was only five feet away. The tingles had spread into my throat, giving me a funny taste in the back of my mouth, and everything was bright and loud, from the sunlight glinting in his hair to the dry lakeshore grass rustling around his shiny leather shoes. My hand was shaking.

Luft’s Words fell silent even though his lips were still moving. My ears popped, like I’d undergone a rapid change in elevation. I glanced around in alarm, but my smoke-streaked surroundings hadn’t changed. Khaya put a hand on my shoulder, making me jump a second time. It was the same calming gesture Swanson had given Herio, his attack dog, but at least she was no longer looking at me like I was a monster. She stood close, her dark eyes intent on him.

“Relax, Tavin,” she murmured. “It’s only the air pressure.”

“One of Luft’s little tricks,” Swanson said, removing an earpiece and dropping it into the breast pocket of his gray jacket. “Now no one can hear us. Not even Luft.”