Darkthaw (14 page)

I throw my arms over Daniel's head, pressing my body hard onto his. More gunfire. Something tears through the pack on my back. I look under my arm for the others. Kane's trying to grab for Dottie, who's shying and dancing with Nico on her back. He's hollering and grasping at her. Isi's horse
whinnies and rears, dumping Josiah from behind Rebecca. Isi stands, fumbling with the rifle and pouch. He loads it, raises it, and fires—fast, so fast—but it's clear he'll get off one shot to every one of their hundred—

“Run!” I scream as Isi lowers the rifle to cock it again. He drops it in disgust and grabs for his slingshot.

The riders stream from the woods, heading for our horses. One rider breaks from the pack, turning his horse toward Daniel and me.

He's got something in his hand—a rifle? A knife? He's barreling toward us fast. Kane hollers my name from far away. I scramble to my knees and pull at Daniel.

“Get up!” But he's curled into a ball, hands clapped to his ears. He shakes his head. “Daniel!” Hoofbeats coming fast for us, can't be more than ten strides away. We've got no chance—

The rider lets out a yell and doubles over, his horse skittering to a stop. He pulls his beast in an about-face, and I see a knife handle sticking out of his buckskin shirt, a pool of blood spreading fast. He heads for the woods.

The rest have disappeared behind a jumble of horses and riders.

Kane emerges from the chaos and sprints toward us. A rider notices and wheels his horse, breaking away from the throng. Wielding a rifle like a club, the man closes in on Kane, black hair streaming out behind him. I try to warn Kane, but my scream is drowned out by gunshots. Kane trips and stumbles to the side as the rider swings. The blow catches his shoulder, knocking him forward.

The rider doesn't slow. I drop on top of Daniel once more, waiting for the horse's hooves to crush us. I hear a shout.

The rider topples from his horse, hitting the earth hard and rolling faceup next to me. His long dark hair falls away from glassy eyes. Eyes like Matisa's. He's First Peoples.

The shout comes again. “Em!” Isi is towering above me, extending his hand. In his other hand his arm goes round in a smooth circle with his slingshot. He takes his eyes off me for a moment to aim and let another rock loose. A rider barreling toward us drops from his horse. The beast rushes past, mouth frothing, eyes rolling.

Isi grabs my hand, and I scramble up, holding on to Daniel, and now we are running, running as fast as our legs can take us toward the blazing homestead. I turn my head from the heat as Isi pulls us along.

Can't find Kane. The attackers swarm our group. A rider emerges from the bunch, something that writhes wedged under his arm. He puts heels to his horse and heads for the trees. Something drops from his bundle as he goes.

And then I see something that makes my heart stop.

Two horses emerge from the chaos. Rebecca on Isi's horse, Charlie on Dottie, Matisa's unmoving body slung across in front of him.

Is she—?

Heat sears into me, and when I whip my head forward again, we're so close to the burning shack I'm sure it'll singe straight through us.

Isi pulls me hard off to the left.

We plunge down the riverbank, and I pitch forward, losing
hold of Daniel and slamming my chin into the back of Isi's head. The skin splits, and a hot stream of blood streaks down my throat as we splash into the river shallows. I reach back and grab for Daniel's hand. The river bites cold, and my breath is caught, feels like I'm choking. My mind's going to splinter.

We're leaving them all back there. To die.

I want to shout at Isi to circle back, but I can't get words out. He pulls us forward through the rocky shallows and back up onto shore, where the bank is steep. He gestures at the muddy wall of dirt. “We need to get into those trees.”

I'm frozen, looking back toward the glow of the fire and the sound of gunshots.

“If they saw us leave, we are dead down here!” Isi shouts, shaking my shoulder.

But the shouts, the ripped flesh—Matisa, Kane.

Isi shoves me aside, takes Daniel by the arm, and thrusts him ahead, lifting him up until Daniel finds purchase on the shrubs at the top. He pushes at my back, and I watch my hands and legs move of their own accord, scrabbling up the bank, grabbing tufts of grass.

“Quickly!” Isi yells once we get to the top, pushing me again.

I lurch forward, Daniel's hand again in mine, tearing through the brush and into the dark trees.

Gunfire again, coming from somewhere in the woods. I grab Daniel to my side, and Isi hits me from behind, throwing us to the ground. My split chin seeps blood onto the back of Daniel's neck as we wait, facedown. I breathe in dirt and
leaves. Isi's arm is heavy across my back, Daniel's form so tiny beneath me.

The gunfire is louder, closer.

A rush of hoofbeats clamors through the trees. I hold Daniel tight as riders stream through the woods, whirling past.

We wait until it's quiet.

Isi pulls his body off mine and hops up. He dusts off his hands and scans the dark woods.

Daniel cowers under me. I try to slow my heart. “Isi,” I hiss.

He shakes his head and holds up a hand to quiet me. The forest creaks around us.

And now: someone moving quick through the brush, pushing through. Coming straight for us. Isi crouches again.

As the sound gets louder, I can make out a horse and rider in the dusk. The beast nickers. Isi's horse. And . . . Charlie?

I take in air to call out, but Isi snaps his head my way, flinging out a hand again. His motion stills my tongue. I clap a hand over Daniel's mouth, too. It's like smothering a doll; he's limp with shock.

The beast gets close, and I see I'm right: it's Charlie, with Matisa before him. Isi waits until they are on top of us and then jumps up, lunging for Matisa. His horse shies and dances out of reach, and Charlie swings the rifle in his hand in a wide arc, near catching Isi in the face. A scream is stuck in my throat. Isi dodges the blow and reaches for Matisa again, but Charlie puts his heels to the beast's flanks, and the horse leaps ahead into the brush.

I don't see Rebecca until she's right on top of Isi. She rides like she's been doing it all her life. She barrels up behind Isi, swinging a knife. Isi hollers as the knife connects and tears along his back. He crumples forward, and as Rebecca spurs her horse past, she places a solid kick to his forehead. His head snaps back, and he falls like a stone.

I scramble to my feet, find my voice. “Charlie!” I scream. “Rebecca!”

But they're both long gone. Branches snap, and hoofbeats pound the forest floor as they disappear.

A sickly silence coats the woods.

And we're alone.

I GAPE INTO THE DARK OF THE FOREST, HEART
pounding, a wildfire of confusion and fear raging through me. Charlie took Matisa. Why did he take her? Was he trying to get away from those riders, the gunshots?

Andre ripped apart, Sister Violet's pulpy half face; it all swims in my vision. I double over and dry-heave. Going to lose everything in my stomach. The forest floor surges up, and I grasp for the tree before me, trying to stay upright. My head spins. Gunfire, screaming, Kane running toward us with his knife . . . Almighty, what happened back there—

I hear a small cry.

Daniel. He cowers in the brush, staring at me with wide eyes.

Get hold of yourself. Don't let him see you like this
.

I take a deep breath. Another one. I put my hands to my face. My chin is matted with leaves and blood. Right. I cracked my chin on Isi's head—

Isi
.

I find him facedown in the brush, unmoving. My gut churns. I want to turn and run, but I force myself toward him, knowing Daniel's watching it all.

Keep your head
.

I kneel beside Isi. The pack on his back has a large tear on its surface.

I turn his head to the side and clap my hands beside his ears. He doesn't move. I pull at the pack, easing it off his arms, gentle as I can. My fingers come away sticky. Can't see for anything in the dark. The gunfire starts again in my head, the screaming . . .

Just focus on what's in front of you
.

I rummage in the pack and find his lantern, grateful Matisa showed me how to use these things. The woods are quiet; no sound, no sign of anyone around, so I risk lighting it.

“Daniel,” I call, soft. Force my voice steady. “Come here? I need your help.”

He appears in the glow, his face ghost-white and eyes wide as saucers. Did he see his ma—? I push the thought away and force a reassuring smile, handing him the lantern. “Hold it high,” I say cheerful, like I'm about to fix dinner.

He extends his arm, and the light reveals Isi's lifeless body. There's a rip in his shirt soaked with dark blood from his shoulder blade to his waist. I put my ear to his back.

Relief floods me as I hear the soft thud of his heartbeat. The pack probably saved him.

I pull his shirt up as high as I can and find a bloody gouge the length of my hand down his back. The cut doesn't look too deep. I strip off my
ceinture fléchée
, wad it up, and press it into his wound as hard as I dare. I focus on my hands, on
my task. Can't let my thoughts drift back to what happened at the homestead.

Isi's breath stays shallow, but by and by the bleeding slows. He'll need something to keep the wound closed when he wakes.

If
he wakes.

He'll wake.

“Em,” Daniel says. He's a specter in the shadows. The lamp lights his face, pale and scared. “My arm is sore.”

“Course,” I say. “Just set it on the ground over there.”

He puts the lantern at his feet. The light casts shadows under his eyes. He crouches near me, silent.

Isi coughs and starts to move.

“Easy!” I say, relief washing over me. “You've got a bad cut.”

He tries to raise himself on his hands but drops his head again.

“Hurts,” he says.

“I know. Just sit tight a bit.”

In my dream, there is a bloody footprint staining the earth. I turn my head, look away from it, and find the wooden walls of the fortification looming tall above me, dwarfing me in shadow. The river dead sing out to me.

My heart beats fast. I can't go back there.

I look back down. The toe of the footprint begins to bleed a small river. This time I let my eyes follow it. It trickles out, staining the earth, getting denser and faster, until it is a tiny brook. Impossibly, it flows up the grassy hills in front of me to a grove of tall trees. Bright green leaves shimmer in the
sun, but clumps of white snow are gathered in the branches. The river of blood burbles past, rushing to get to the trees, disappearing into the strange grove.

And deep inside those snow-dusted trees—I can feel it—someone waits for me.

The forest is washed in pale light. I sit up quick, alarmed I drifted off. I meant to guard over Isi and Daniel all night.

I look around. Daniel is still asleep on the forest floor, wrapped in my cloak.

On the other side of me, Isi is stirring. We're all damp with dew from the underbrush. I turn to Isi and put a hand on his arm to let him know it's all right.

He lifts his head and groans, trying to push himself upright.

“Go slow,” I say.

“My head—” he mutters.

“You took a kick on your forehead,” I say. “And you have a bad gash on your back—don't move too much.”

He ignores my advice and sits, wincing as he touches my
ceinture
through his shirt.

“I stopped the bleeding, but moving around will get it going again.”

Isi continues like he doesn't hear me. He gets to his knees and searches around in the brush. When he finds his torn backpack, he flips it open and starts to dig through it.

“Isi,” I say.

He turns to me, a small metal box in his hand. “Can you sew it?”

First I think he means the backpack. But he touches my
ceinture
again. I swallow. I'm terrible at mending clothes; never had to sew a wound. I notice the reluctance on his face. He doesn't
want
to ask for my help; he has no choice.

“You'll have to take your shirt off,” I say. I look over at Daniel, relieved he hasn't stirred. Don't need him seeing this.

Isi strips his shirt over his head with a groan.

A shiver cuts through me.

He turns. The
ceinture
is stuck to his flesh with matted blood. I tug gentle, coaxing it off the wound, and hear him take a sharp breath. The gash isn't wide, but the blood starts flowing again. I'll have to do it fast.

I scrub my hands on my tunic best I can. I take the thickest thread in the kit and try to thread the needle. It takes me four tries.

“It'll hurt,” I caution.

“I know,” Isi says. He leans forward and grasps the fallen tree in front of him with both hands. “Do it.”