Away (13 page)

“Watch your side,” whispered Nandy. She stood between Rachel and Fisher, her knife ready. Fisher reached into his jacket and pulled out a second knife. He held one knife in each hand, slightly out from his body, loose and ready. Rachel tightened her grip on the laser saw and braced herself.

The Roberts burst through the low bushes. There were two of them, and they had evidently expected to encounter backs, not faces. When they saw the three waiting, bristling with weapons, they came to a momentary halt. For a fleeting moment Rachel thought they would turn and run the other way. Instead, one leaped upon Nandy, pushing her to the ground. He had a club, and he raised it high above her. Fisher shot over to him and Rachel saw the flash of a knife blade, heard the man scream. His club fell and he grasped at his side. Rachel saw him rear back but then something hit her, hard, and she hit the ground.

The other man was on top of her, his fingers knotted through her hair. He smelled so strongly that Rachel felt nauseous. He had only one eye—the other was gone, an angry red scar in its place where someone had once done crude surgery.

He yanked her head up, exposing her neck, and when his other hand came into her field of vision she saw he had a knife. The blade glistened, slick with someone's blood. Rachel tried to flick the laser saw's switch, but he had her arm pinned to the ground. She could only watch as he brought the knife down.

There was a scream, and a blur of motion, and the man was swept off of Rachel. She scrambled to her feet, staring at a scene she didn't immediately comprehend. The man was writhing on the ground, something covering his face—something scratching and slicing and biting at his head. The man was screaming, and the sound mingled with the unholy shrieking coming from the thing on his head.

It was Nipper.

The man rose to his feet somehow, hands scrabbling at the Woolly, trying to pry the creature off of his face. Nipper hung on, hissing and spitting and inflicting more and more damage. He screamed shrilly when the man landed a blow.

Rachel was shaking all over. She looked down at her hand and saw that she still held the laser saw, her knuckles white from gripping it so tightly. She flicked the activator switch and watched as the thin beam shot forth from the handle. Another scream from Nipper rang out, and Rachel ran forward, slashing at the man's back with the laser. She saw his shirt split open, and his skin split just as fast. There was no blood, just a strange, red gash edged in white.

He ran then. He ran blind at first, with Nipper still riding his head. When Nipper leaped off into the bush he ran even faster. Rachel watched until she felt sure he wasn't coming back. Then she turned to see what had befallen her friends.

Fisher was helping Nandy up. She looked shaken, but she was uninjured as far as Rachel could tell. Fisher hadn't been so lucky; his right arm hung at his side and he winced as he pulled Nandy up with his left hand. Rachel saw some blood on his forearm.

“How bad is it?” Rachel reached for his sleeve.

“No time right now.” Fisher scanned the night. “We need to go—they'll be gathering forces.”

“Indigo is with us!” Nandy stood with her back to them, facing the dark forest. “Indigo is here!” she shouted again. She listened hard for a moment. Then she turned back to Rachel and Fisher.

Fisher looked at Nandy as though she had just burst into gibberish. “Shhhhhhhhhhhh,” he said, holding his index finger in front of his lips in an exaggerated manner.

Nandy ignored him. “We need to stop the bleeding, Fisher.” Nandy produced a long strip of cloth. “Field dressings almost always come in handy.” She nodded to Rachel. “Roll up his sleeve, Rachel.”

“Are you crazy?” Fisher started to say more, but Nandy shushed him.

Rachel rolled back his sleeve, revealing a deep stab wound in Fisher's arm. Blood was oozing from it.

“At least he didn't hit any arteries.” Nandy wrapped the wound tightly. “It's deep, though. And likely already infected. We'll need to see Saidon when we get back.”

“If we get back.” Fisher didn't sound afraid. He did sound worried. He kept looking in the direction the Roberts had run while Nandy finished wrapping his arm.

“They're gone,” Rachel said as she rolled down his sleeve.

Fisher looked at her. “You were fierce. I think you may have saved Nipper's life.”

“I think he saved mine.” Rachel was suddenly aware of the pieces of bark in her hair, and the dirt she could feel on her face, and the fact that Fisher was staring at her.

Nipper materialized silently, limping. He stood, holding one of his front feet off the ground. Nandy started toward him but he moved away, in the direction of their temporary camp.

“He's right,” said Fisher. “We need to keep moving.”

“Let's go. I'll take a look at his foot once we're back home.” Nandy strode after the Woolly. Fisher gestured for Rachel to go ahead of him, and they both followed Nandy's lead.

CHAPTER 11

T
HE CAMP WAS not packed up. The bedrolls were out and there was even a small fire. Fisher looked as confused as Rachel felt; they had been expecting to find the rest of the group ready to run for it as soon as they arrived.

“They'll be bringing more with them when they come back—shouldn't we be getting out of here?” Fisher took in the sight of grain mush warming over the fire with an incredulous look.

“Daniel needs rest before he tries to move.” Indigo spoke quietly, though not quietly enough for Rachel's liking. She felt like the darkness was listening.

“Looks like you've been hurt too, Fisher.” Indigo inspected the field dressing on Fisher's arm. “So we'll rest tonight, and head back home in the morning.”

“They'll be coming, though.” Fisher couldn't help repeating himself.

“They won't come until first light, I think. They might not come at all.”

“What? Why would they wait until light to attack? They know we're here, they know they wounded one of us, they . . . they'll know we're having a nice meal soon enough, from the smell of the grain and the smoke from the fire.” Fisher sounded flabbergasted.

“They also know Indigo is here. They won't come in the dark.” Nandy exchanged a look with Indigo.

“Are you sure they heard?” Indigo sounded a bit worried.

“They heard. They were licking their wounds in the dark beyond the bushes until they heard me say your name. Then they ran away. I heard them go.”

Indigo nodded. He took Fisher's arm in his hands and began to unwrap the field dressing. “Leave it for now,” he said, when Fisher began to protest again. “I'll explain later.” He turned to Rachel. “You should go to your father.”

Her father. Rachel saw him, lying near the fire, with his head propped up by a bedroll. Pathik was cleaning his face, gently wiping away blood and dirt. Peter was cutting away Daniel's pant leg, in order to get a better look at a wound. Daniel was oblivious to all the activity—he was either asleep or unconscious.

“He's exhausted,” said Pathik as she sat down next to him. “No killing wounds, so that's good. Saidon can help him heal when we get home.” He shook his head. “They wanted him alive.”

“He's just sleeping, right?” Rachel stared at Daniel's face, trying to find the smiling man from the digims her mother used to show her. She couldn't.

“Yes.” Pathik brushed some dirt off of Rachel's sleeve. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I'm all right. A few scratches, but nothing else.” The image of the Roberts man raising his knife above her flickered in her mind.

“They were going to trade him.” Peter spoke, directing his words to Rachel. “He told us before he passed out, Rachel. They were going to trade him to the government.”

Rachel looked at Pathik for confirmation.

“Yes.” He nodded. “According to Daniel they have big plans. And he's not the first they've taken. But we'll talk about it later.” Pathik tilted his head, eyes soft upon her. “You're sure you're all right?”

“I am.”

“He knows you're his daughter.” Peter spoke again. “He asked me before he passed . . . before he fell asleep.
It's Rachel, isn't it?
he said. I told him you and Vivian were fine.”

Rachel shot Peter a look. She didn't feel fine. And for some reason she didn't like the idea that he had told her father anything about herself or her mother. She was about to say something to that effect when Indigo walked up to them. He held two wooden bowls of the grain mush, warm and fragrant. He handed one of them to Rachel. Nandy, Malgam, and Fisher followed with more bowls. Fisher still looked unhappy at the idea that they were staying. When those with extra bowls had passed them on, they settled down around Daniel to eat. He slept on, breathing steadily, obviously exhausted.

“Fisher.” Indigo spoke quietly. “You asked why the Roberts won't come attack us in the dark. They won't come in the dark because it's a part of their superstition. They think everything evil is stronger in the dark. And they believe that I am evil.”

“You? How would they even know of you? They haven't been near our camp in generations.” Fisher looked skeptical.

“Three generations.” Indigo's gaze took in his son, Malgam, and his grandson, Pathik, before he bowed his head. “They know of me because of something that happened many years ago, when I was just a boy. It was something I did—an accident.” His next words were barely audible. “It was a horrible thing. It's the reason they haven't bothered our camp in so long.”

Fisher looked at Nandy. “Is that why you shouted his name to the woods?”

Nandy was watching Indigo, her eyes shining with empathy for him. She nodded. “We knew it might be necessary to use their fear to keep them away from us. Especially if Daniel was hurt, as he is, and unable to travel quickly.”

Fisher looked at the others, one at a time, before he spoke again. “It seems some of us here know more than others about the Roberts. Or at least about why the Roberts never bother our camp.” He allowed his words to hang in the air.

“Some things aren't for your ears.” Malgam sounded impatient, as usual.

“Ahh.” Indigo raised a hand. “He should know. As should all of our people. Maybe they would understand the purpose of Usage better. Maybe they would understand why the council has always been so strict about our gifts, why
I've
always been so strict.” He considered Fisher. “Your gift is to . . . well, I've always thought of your gift as a talent for asking the right question, or making the right observation, in just the right way.” Indigo smiled. “As you just did when you said some of us knew more than others; you didn't press, or act outraged. You only observed, in a way that might inspire confidence sharing, as opposed to guilt or shame. You opened up an opportunity for me to tell you what you want to know, instead of making me feel like I should hide it from you.”

Rachel frowned. “I thought you were good at catching fish.”

The rest of them laughed, even Fisher.

“I am good at fishing. For information.” He gave a modest shrug.

“I call it being nosy.” Malgam was only half joking.

“It's a useful skill, regardless of what you call it, Malgam.” Indigo chided gently with his tone. “But that's a discussion for another night. Tonight we need to talk about the Roberts, and about why they never bother our camp.” He looked at the fire for a moment.

“Many years ago, when I was just a child, I discovered I had a gift.” Indigo shook his head slowly, almost imperceptibly. “If you can call my talent a gift.”

Rachel and Fisher were the only two who seemed surprised.

“You were never named,” said Fisher.

“No, I kept my birth name, Indigo. Given to me for the color of my eyes.” Indigo smiled, but the smile faded quickly. “I never told anyone about my gift. So there was no naming ceremony for me, because nobody knew. And when a few did find out, they kept my gift from the rest of our people. For many reasons, all of them good. In the years that followed, I shared the nature of my gift with my family. But I have never told the rest of our people.

“I was about seven.” Indigo returned his gaze to the fire, as though the flames held flickering images from that long-ago time. “I was sent for fire-starters—twigs and pinecones and the like. I wandered too far.” He took a deep breath.

“There were three of them. Men from the Roberts camp. One of them grabbed me from behind, clamped his hand over my mouth. Another grabbed my legs and they carried me away from camp. When we were far enough away to risk stopping for a bit, they gagged me, so I couldn't make any noise, and tied my hands and feet. Then they dropped me on the ground as though I were already a corpse, tied me to a stump, and proceeded to have a snack. They talked about how they might use me to bargain for food stores from our camp, or whether it would be better to take me back to the Roberts camp as a slave.”