Deception (16 page)
“Unless you want me to make you cry in front of everyone, you’d better calm down,” she says.
“I hit you because you deserved it,” Ian says, and every ounce of the charm he wears like a second skin is submerged beneath the cold brutality in his voice. “And if I ever hear you say something like that again, I’ll take my sword to you.”
“No one is going to take a sword to anyone unless we’re facing Carrington or highwaymen,” I say. “Both of you take a step back and calm down.”
“Not before he apologizes,” Ian says without once breaking eye contact with Adam.
“You owe
me
an apology,” Adam says, and shoves against Rachel’s restraining hand.
She braces herself. “Adam, I’m warning you—”
“No, you owe Logan an apology. You and that silent little creep.” A vein in Ian’s forehead throbs as he points behind me. I turn to see Elias standing a few yards away. When he meets my gaze, his blue eyes widen like he’s just been caught pickpocketing a guard in Lower Market.
“I owe Logan nothing.” Adam spits the words at Ian as if I’m not standing right beside him.
“You owe him your life,” Rachel says, removing her hand from his chest and glaring at him like she’s about to team up with Ian and take Adam down for the sake of my honor.
“Let’s all just take a moment and calm down,” I say, waving discreetly to Drake as he heads our way. He understands my request and changes course, gathering up those who hover near us with eager ears and shepherding all of them toward the canteen wagon parked at the edge of the field.
“He said you weren’t worth following. That we should wait for the Commander to catch up to us and rejoin our true leader,” Ian says, his fist still wrapped around the hilt of his sword, though he’s made no move to pull it from its sheath.
“I said I didn’t sign on to wander endlessly through the Wasteland at the whim of someone the Commander declared unfit for society.”
“I declare
you
unfit for society.” Ian raises his fists. “Every time I turn around, you’re huddled with Elias discussing the good old days when the Commander used to tell you how to wipe your nose and how to use a fork and how to—”
“He’s a great man!” Adam’s voice rings out across the field, and I push a hand against his shoulder when he moves toward Ian again.
“He was a monster who deserved to lose his city and everyone in it.”
“My family
died
that day.” Adam lunges forward, shoving past my restraining arm, and slams into Ian.
They hit the grass in a tangle of fists, feet, and limbs. Adam grabs the silver chain Ian wears around his neck and jerks it free, leaving a long red welt on the side of Ian’s neck. Ian howls with fury and pounds his fists into Adam’s face, shoulders, and back. I bend down, grab Adam’s shoulders, and pull him off of Ian. Rachel crouches beside Ian as he rolls over and slaps the thick tufts of grass with his hand.
“I’ve got it,” Rachel says as she hands Ian the chain, its little copper charm undamaged.
He takes it from her and rubs his thumb across the charm’s surface.
“Nice piece of jewelry,” Adam sneers, and I give his arms a sharp little shake.
Ian looks up, the sun gleaming off a thin trail of blood that leaks from a split in the corner of his lip. “My father made it. It’s all I have left of him. The Commander saw to that.”
The fight slowly drains from Adam, and I release his shoulders as I feel them slump. Rachel meets my gaze, and I nod as I read her expression. I can’t let this situation with Adam go unaddressed any longer.
“I understand that you don’t want me as your leader,” I say quietly as a faint rumbling echoes out of the Wasteland to the south of us.
“You’re nineteen! The same age as me. What qualifies you to tell me what to do?” Adam glares at me through eyes already starting to swell, courtesy of Ian’s fists.
“The fact that I have a plan, I know how to put it into action, and the majority of those who survived Baalboden voted to put me in charge,” I say, and Adam looks at the ground. “Why didn’t you leave with the others who headed east to find the Commander? Why stay with me if you despise me so much?”
“Because I couldn’t bear to leave my family behind.” His voice is raw with grief and the kind of unspent rage that sometimes lashes out of Rachel. “How was I supposed to know you weren’t planning to stay in Baalboden?”
I don’t know what to say to that, and the rumbling is growing louder. It no longer sounds like it’s coming from the south of us. Instead, it feels like it’s in the ground beneath us. The dirt shakes, sending mild tremors through my legs. My muscles tense as Ian looks at Elias, who still waits a few yards away. We need to get off of this field. Now.
“What about you, Elias?” Ian asks as the people behind us begin clutching each other and backing away from the center of the field. “What’s your problem with Logan’s leadership?”
He shrugs. “I guess I just need proof that he can really protect us the way the Commander could.”
The field shudders and sways, and the rumbling begins to sound like thunder beneath us.
“I think you’re about to get a firsthand demonstration,” Ian says as he lunges to his feet.
The rumbling becomes a muted roar, and a ripple shudders across the field, sending the metal Ferris wheel swaying in its berth.
“Get to the trees!” I yell as a crack begins to widen in the soil, and the Cursed One surges toward the surface.
RACHEL
P
eople scream and run toward the edges of the field as the guttural roar of the Cursed One thunders toward us from beneath our feet. I whirl around and yell, “Quiet!”
When most of them ignore me, Ian steps forward and bellows, “Silence or you die!”
People moan and whimper, clutching each other or falling to their knees as the ground heaves beneath our feet.
“Get them away from the epicenter,” Logan says as he whips his tunic off and pulls at the rope that holds the Rowansmark device to his chest. The third button, the one that should send the Cursed One away from us, is still tied down, which means the device is malfunctioning again. If Logan’s booster pack doesn’t work, we’re dead.
A glance at the ground shows the beginnings of a long, jagged crack right beside me.
“Listen to me!” I have to yell to be heard above the rumbling beneath us. “Run at least fifteen yards into the forest and climb a tree as high as you safely can. Once you get up there, stay silent at all costs. If there are children near you, help them into a tree as well.
Go!
”
People scatter, hurtling over bushes and scrambling to find trees to climb. To his credit, Elias races for the stragglers and helps them off the grass. In seconds, all that’s left on the field are the four wagons. The sheep, goats, and donkeys tied to the wagons bellow their distress. The people in charge of driving the wagons are yanking at the reins and screaming at the donkeys to move, but panic has the beasts kicking at the traces and jerking forward in sharp movements that do nothing to help the wagons get rolling.
“Let’s go!” I say. Logan and Ian ignore me, but Adam grabs my arm.
“The medical wagon still has people inside. The wagon behind it has the pregnant woman and at least five more who are too old to travel well. They can’t run, much less climb.”
The roar beneath us becomes a ferocious howl of rage as the crack widens beside me.
“Rachel, get out of here!” Logan yells as he braces his legs for balance. The device is clutched in his hand.
“Not without you,” I say.
He leaps over the jagged gap that is steadily tearing the field asunder, and we all race for the wagons.
Before we’re even halfway there, Frankie and Thom, still mounted on the horses they ride at the far end of our line of travelers each day, reach the wagons. Frankie leaps from his horse and thrusts the reins into Thom’s hands. Then he rushes for the lead wagon, the one filled with the survivors who are still recovering from the injuries they sustained during Baalboden’s destruction. The wagon’s donkey struggles against the traces, desperate to be free. Frankie grabs its bridle and tries to quiet it before it attracts the Cursed One with its noise.
“Look out!” Thom cries as the ground heaves, throwing all of us to our knees.
I skid forward on my palms and roll into a crouch just in time to see the Cursed One explode out of the ground six yards from the edge of the field. The trees closest to the monster snap at their bases and tumble to the ground with a
crack-swoosh
that echoes across the forest. Just beyond the carnage, people huddle on the ground or cling to branches, their eyes wide with terror.
Behind us, the donkey yanks free of Frankie’s hands and flees, dragging the medical wagon violently across the field. I glance back to see Thom spur his horse in pursuit, his hand still firmly wrapped around the reins of Frankie’s horse.
The Cursed One looks like a giant, wingless dragon with a serpent’s tail. It coils its huge body like a snake, muscles gleaming beneath black interlocking scales. Dirt, vines, and clumps of grass slide off the ridge of webbed spikes running down its back. Digging thick yellow claws into the ground, it pulls itself forward, puffs of smoke already leaking from its snout.
Ian crouches beside me. Adam shoves himself to his knees on my other side and says, “Holy—”
I slap my hand across his mouth, but it’s too late. The beast swings its head toward us, milky yellow eyes staring at nothing while it sniffs the air. I hold my breath as sharp bits of rock dig into my knees.
Ten yards to our right, Logan steps forward with Rowansmark’s device in his hands. The flutelike gray metal object gleams dully, but bright copper wires coil around the gears and lead to a small box in his other hand.
I hope his modification is enough to give him control over the beast before it incinerates us where we stand.
Logan steps to the side, distancing himself from us as he circles the Cursed One.
A low rumble shudders through the creature as it pins us with its sightless eyes and creeps closer. Only fifteen yards separate it from Ian, Adam, Frankie, and me. The puffs of smoke coming from its snout turn into steady streams of gray-black as the terrible fire that burns in its belly rises up its throat.
Logan had better
hurry
.
We can’t run without triggering an attack, but if we stay here much longer, it won’t matter. We’ll be dead either way.
Deep inside of me, the silence chills me to the core, and I wonder what it would be like to let the Cursed One burn it all away. All the memories. The nightmares. The yawning pit of loss that lurks within me, waiting for one tiny misstep to drag me under forever.
Maybe I would be free. Maybe in death, I would find the peace that eludes me here.
Or maybe the unfinished business between the Commander and me would haunt me beyond the grave.
The Cursed One claws its way toward us, snapping thick kudzu vines like twigs. Whatever Logan’s doing with the device, it’s not working.
“We have to move,” Ian breathes softly. “It will most likely shoot a stream of fire straight in front of it. On the count of three, scatter to the sides and don’t stop running.”
It’s as good a plan as any. I gather myself and get ready to leap to the left. Beside me Adam trembles, his breath grating harshly against the morning air. Behind us, Frankie says in a voice I can barely hear, “You three stay put. When it turns its head,
run
.”
Before I can question him, he leaps past us and yells, “Over here, you misbegotten creature from hell!”
Frankie runs toward the monster, angling to the right as if determined to drive his sword into the beast’s belly. The Cursed One snorts, jerks its head toward Frankie, and bellows.
A thick stream of red-gold fire spews out of its snout. Frankie dives beneath it, but flames grab hold of his tunic and his clothing ignites. He rolls across the grass, extinguishing the flames, while the beast gathers itself for another blast.
“Come on.” Ian wraps his arms around my waist and scoops me up off the ground. As he pulls me toward the trees, I realize Adam is already there, waiting for us, his dark eyes full of horror as he stares at Frankie.
Frankie lies on his back, his clothes still smoking, staring up at the Cursed One with defiance written in every line of his body. The creature is ten yards away, but the sinuous coils of its body close the distance between them quickly. A guttural choking sound issues from the beast’s throat, and the smoke in its nostrils turns gray-black again.
Frankie digs his fingers into the dirt and braces himself. I close my eyes, praying that Frankie dies quickly and that the pain is over in seconds. Praying that the monster leaves once he’s satisfied his prey is dead. Praying that everyone else has the good sense to honor Frankie’s sacrifice by remaining silent.
“No!” Logan’s voice cracks through the air like a whip, and my eyes fly open. The Cursed One swings its face toward him instead of Frankie. Logan stands alone in the field with the ruined Ferris wheel thirty yards behind him. No trees for protection. No place to run.
