On the Meldon Plain (The Fourline Trilogy Book 2) (7 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Droplets of rain pelted the crumbling roof of the abandoned trapper’s hut where Nat had sheltered for the night. She sheathed her dagger and eyed the rusted-out traps clustered in the corner, wondering what had happened to the hut’s former occupant. She flexed her hand, working out a cramp from clutching the dagger hilt while she’d slept. A tingling sensation spread through her fingers.

She pulled her hood over her head and bent down to remove a wire trap near the opening of the hut. She’d placed the trap the night before as a precaution against the Nala. The smooth wire wound into a tight circle in her palm. She slipped it into her pack and glanced around the ramshackle hut before edging through the broken door.

A few paces from the hut, Nat released her orb into the air. It spun as if on an axis and warmed her face with its glow.
At least I have you for company,
she thought, feeling lonely after the long cold night in the hut. The orb dipped and bobbed, exposing a faint game trail with its light. She stepped onto the trail, recognizing it from Barba’s map, and ran into the woods.

After a few hours of steady jogging, the game trail grew more difficult to follow. Nat paused near a stream, trying to remember any helpful details from Barba’s mental map of the forest.
Why would Ethet be here? Maybe Barba’s information was wrong,
she thought as she jumped across the thin, muddy stream swollen with rainwater. The eastern forest led to the upper coastline, the Nala’s main territory. This was the last place she imagined Ethet would come.

Thinking of Ethet brought Soris to her mind. As much as she wanted to see him, she hoped he wasn’t with Ethet. Unless Annin had erased his memory, he knew now how Nat had lied to him and pretended to be a Warrior Sister when all she’d really been was a college kid from another world fumbling her way through Fourline. He had to hate her for it. She’d rather find and behead the Nala on her own and help Soris without him ever knowing. Maybe then she could feel a little less guilty.

Thunder rattled across the sky. Nat paused. Between her hood and the storm, she’d never be able to hear approaching Nala. Dropping to a crouch, she unhooked her cloak, shoved it into her bag, and applied a thick layer of mud to the exterior of the bag.
A little camouflage won’t hurt.
She dug her hand into the bed of decaying leaves and smeared mud across her face, neck, and hands, covering any exposed skin.

The game trail disappeared entirely not far from the stream. She glanced at the daylight above the tips of the pines.
I guess I’ll go with my gut,
she thought and jogged around a fallen tree. Cold rain trickled down her mud-encrusted face as she ran.

Hours passed. The only thing she heard was the beating of her heart and the rain pattering against the pine trees. She stopped to sip from her water flask. Light filtered in front of her where the trees thinned slightly. Nat capped her flask and edged toward the light, trying to focus on the distant rumbling and not the ache in her shoulder.

Nat stepped out of the tree line and found herself on a slab of rock jutting over a river. Raging water rushed through a small canyon. She crouched next to a cluster of boulders set above the river and watched the water flow, looking for a place to ford. Barba had mentioned the river to her, but she’d described it as lazy and placid, not the death trap that coursed below.

A huge tree trunk lay in the water about a hundred yards downriver. White froth formed around its dead branches. She crept toward it. Just as she emerged from behind an outcropping of rock above the trunk, a cry, like that of a small child, echoed across the river. She stumbled back, surprised.

She heard another cry, followed by a sound she knew too well: the commanding hiss of the Nala. She pressed her chest against the rock.
Move,
she ordered her body. Taking a deep breath, she settled her nerves and crawled toward a low thicket of brambles. The branches of the bushes were sparse, offering a good view of the other side of the river and the source of the crying and the hissing Nala.

Dozens of children lined the opposite bank of the river, dipping their water gourds into the fast-flowing water. She edged toward the spiky tips of the bush for a better view. A small boy with dark curly hair slipped on one of the river rocks. He righted himself and brushed mud from his tattered tunic. The way he held his head at an angle and his soft, rounded chin drew Nat to look more closely at his face. She blinked to clear her eyes. When the boy tilted his head in her direction, she saw his Nala eye and the bluish tint of his cheeks. She recognized him immediately as Neas, the duozi boy Benedict had tried to capture back in Yarsburg.

The branches of the slender tree behind Neas quivered. Two blue arms emerged from behind the leaves. The arms disappeared, then reappeared at the tip of the tree. A Nala flung itself from the top of the tree onto the bank next to Neas and landed in a crouch as if ready to spring on the boy. Nat stifled a scream as five more Nala joined the first, scurrying around the bank on all four limbs and forming a half circle around the children.

The Nala rushed forward, some still on all four limbs while others stood and slapped the children with their angular arms, pushing them into the forest. Nat looked closer and her horror turned to puzzlement as none of the children cried out. Most walked in a docile manner as the Nala herded them into the woods. A few resisted and received a sharp slap or hissing bark from the creatures. One child’s head snapped to the side when slapped and the sun shone on his neck, exposing blue skin. A girl dipped beneath a low branch and cast a glance back toward the river. Her silver eye glimmered. Nat sat back in the mud, stunned, realizing she was watching dozens of duozi children disappear into the forest.

“Let go of me!” Neas’ voice brought her attention back to the riverbank. A Nala curled its hand around his skinny arm and lifted him off the ground. Nat eased her crossbow out of her bag, thinking not only of her oath but also how much she’d enjoy sending an arrow into the creature’s head. Neas landed a kick to its abdomen, and the Nala dropped the boy. He hit the pebble-strewn bank and scrambled toward the remaining children. The Nala bowed its back and issued a string of barking hisses from its black mouth. Before Nat could find a decent angle, the remaining Nala scurried up the bank into the woods, kicking pebbles with the quick movements of their limbs.

The cold mud seeped through her clothes as she watched them fade into the forest. How had the Nala gotten ahold of Neas? The Hermit’s face came quickly to her mind.
Benedict.
He hated the duozi enough to entrap Annin. Nat wouldn’t put it past him to have made a side trip to Yarsburg just to snitch on the boy. She untangled her pack from the branches and crawled from underneath the bush, angry with the Hermit. Did he have any idea what happened to the duozi when they were cast out into the forest?

“What is one like you doing so deep in the woods?”

Nat stopped short and looked directly into the face of a Nala. It hung upside down from a branch above her. It swiveled its head and sniffed the air. “You’re not a duozi.”

“You took my brother,” she said, thinking quickly as her heart beat faster. She stepped onto a low boulder, distancing herself from the creature. She tucked her right arm behind her, hiding her markings. With the Nala no longer adhering to the terms of the Rim Accord, the creature might attack if it discovered she was a Sister. She didn’t have time to engage in a fight or risk its following her and discovering her destination.

The Nala curled an arm around a branch and lowered itself to the ground. “Your brother?” the creature said in a breathy hiss. Its tapered limbs disappeared into the mud as it crawled toward her, close to the soft ground. Nat glanced behind her, edging her feet over the boulder.

“My brother Neas from Yarsburg. Where are you taking him?” It took little effort for her to make her voice quiver in fright. She scrambled to the next boulder and again glanced over her shoulder. The river ran directly beneath her.

“He’s not your brother anymore.” The Nala scurried onto the first boulder and crouched low, tensing against the rock. “But if you want to join him . . .” The creature shot into the air just as Nat jumped from the boulder and tumbled toward the river. The Nala’s hissing scream followed her down as she crashed into the cold black water. She pushed against the current with her arms and kicked violently to break through the surface just in time to see the dead tree trunk looming in front of her. The water thrust her toward a sharp limb. She ducked and covered her head with both arms. When she emerged, the tree trunk was far behind her. Blood seeped from a gash in her arm.

She sputtered, clearing water from her mouth before the current pulled her under again. Her leg smashed into a rock and she shot back to the surface. Disoriented, she tried to swim to the bank. A log floated within an inch of her head, and she grasped for its sodden surface. The log flipped. Water filled her nose. Her hands frantically searched for the floating limb. She pulled her head out of the water and clutched the log as close to her head as she could. Water poured out of her mouth as she coughed, struggling for breath.

The river spun the log around, giving Nat a clear view of the approaching rapids. She frantically looked toward the bank. A crystalline patch of water caught her eye, and she kicked toward the eddy. The log caught on a tangle of river grass and spun around, slamming Nat against a narrow spit of land. She flung her arms over it and crawled onto its muddy surface, taking deep, heaving gulps of air.

She sat upright and realized she was on the opposite shore.
At least that problem is solved,
she thought, then noticed the blood flowing from the gash in her arm. Nat tried to stand, but her leg buckled and she fell hard against the bank. She clenched her teeth and moved on hands and knees toward the forest edge. She propped herself against a tree and let her breathing slow while she scanned the treetops. Spotting a broken limb a few feet away, she hopped toward it and twisted it free. Her leg held when she leaned against the tree limb and took a few steps forward. She knew she needed to keep moving.

Her pack felt like a boulder bouncing against her back with each hobbled step she took. The sound of the raging river grew faint as she walked as quickly as she could away from the riverbank. The water could have taken her a mile or more downriver. She’d had an idea what direction to travel before she’d jumped in. Now, she was clueless. If Barba’s map was right, the river flowed east toward the ocean. If she kept moving in her current direction, she should be in the right area. Then it was just a matter of finding the clearing in the forest where Ethet was supposed to be.

The trees creaked and groaned as she walked on. Her clothes stuck to her body and sweat trickled down her back. Her shoulder, arm, and leg throbbed with each step. She unhooked her water flask and took a drink. Light shone through the canopy. She considered climbing one of the trees to get a better look around, but thought better of it when she tried to step forward without the support of the tree limb. Pain shot up her thigh. Clutching the makeshift cane, she readjusted her backpack and started walking again at a slow, steady pace. Her boots made crooked indentations in the muddy forest floor, and her mind wandered to the children she’d seen along the riverbank.
Where were the Nala taking all those children?
she wondered, knowing whatever the destination, it wouldn’t be good.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a treetop sway in the distance. She broke into a limping run. Branches dug into her clothes and skin as she ran. Her vision blurred slightly, and she imagined a gap in the thinning trees. She wiped her eyes and stumbled out of the forest into an expansive meadow of bright-yellow flowers. The meadow dipped, and she tripped on a rock, tumbling down a flower-laden hill. Her head smacked against a rock and her vision clouded to black. A distant hissing scream filled the air.

CHAPTER NINE

“Are you sure she’s sound in her head?” The voice trembled slightly with age. “Only an utter fool would travel through that forest alone.”

“What does the presence of her orb and markings tell you? She’s a Warrior Sister.” The familiar voice held a hint of respect. Nat’s eyes fluttered open.

“Warrior Sister,” the other voice grumbled. “Whatever she is, she risked exposing this House.”

“Hello, Sister Natalie.” Ethet loomed over her. Her glasses magnified her large brown eyes, and she gave Nat a curious smile. Her long fingers curled around Nat’s orb, and she placed it on a table covered with bandage clippings and ointments.

“Sister Ethet, am I glad to see you.” Nat lifted her head. She noticed a tiny wisp of a woman, hardly taller than Marie Claire, standing at the footboard of the wooden bed.

“You’d better be,” said the woman. A puff of white hair surrounded her wrinkled face. She pursed her thin lips. “She saved your life.”

“Sister Natalie, this is my predecessor, Sister Ethes Fairbog. She is the Head Sister of this Healing House.”

“Healing House?” Nat scanned the narrow room. The walls made of smooth chinked logs gave it a warm glow.

“Not just any Healing House,” Head Sister Ethes Fairbog said with a huff. She skirted a spindly chair and peered into Nat’s eyes. “It is the First House. We rebuilt it. Now stick out your tongue,” the tiny woman demanded. Nat immediately complied. Ethes grasped it between thumb and index finger and pulled it up and down. Nat gave Sister Ethet, who stood a good foot and a half taller than Sister Ethes, a questioning look. Ethet pursed her lips but said nothing. When Nat’s tongue was safely back in her mouth, she sat up. A sharp pain shot through her head. She gingerly touched the edge of a bandage taped to her forehead.

“She’ll survive,” Ethes said dismissively. The little woman wrenched open a door set in the wall opposite Nat’s bed and hustled out of the room.

“Don’t mind her, Natalie.” Ethet pulled the chair close. “She’s always had a rough bedside manner. Would you try standing for me?” Nat nodded and slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed. She glanced down and noticed she was wearing a loose green tunic. A bandage covered her lower leg. She grasped Ethet’s strong hand and stood slowly.

“You’ve been unconscious for about two days. Expect dizziness with that bump on your head.”

Nat clutched Ethet’s other hand and fell back abruptly on the bed. “Dizziness, definitely dizziness,” she said, lowering her head. Ethet slid her arm behind Nat’s neck and guided her head to the pillow.

“Barba never said anything about a House when she told me where I might find you. I thought Mudug destroyed all the Houses.” Her head spun.

“So Barba sent you,” Ethet replied. She lifted Nat’s hand and pressed her fingers to her wrist. “No, no,” she said when Nat opened her mouth to speak. “You will have plenty of time to explain your presence. Rest for now.” She gently placed Nat’s hand on the woolen blanket.

“But what about this House?” Nat persisted.

Ethet’s silvery eyebrows arched above her glasses as she gave into Nat’s questioning. “Head Sister Ethes disappeared a few years before Mudug orchestrated his plot to murder Emilia and destroy the Houses. I believe she sensed the precarious nature of those times better than others, including myself. But her disappearance didn’t surprise any of the Sisters given her area of practice.”

“Area of practice?” Nat’s brow furrowed and a stinging pain rippled down her face.

“Sister Ethes is the foremost expert on treatment of those bitten by the Nala,” Ethet said. “She’s devoted her life to helping the duozi. When she vanished, I assumed she’d ventured too far into Nala territory in hopes of finding them. Turns out I was right, but the end I imagined for her was thankfully not what happened.” Ethet gave Nat a smile.

“Before we fled to your world, a duozi, beaten within an inch of her life, arrived at my Healing House. Neighboring villagers had attacked her when she’d passed too close to the boundaries of their town.” A somber look passed over her face. Nat’s muscles tightened and her thoughts strayed to Soris. “Duozi have never been accepted by our culture, and Mudug’s added fuel to the fire by spreading lies about their connections with the Nala,” Ethet explained.

“I didn’t know it was that bad for the duozi,” Nat whispered.

Ethet continued her story. “Before the girl died, she told me of an enormous wooden house in the middle of a field of yellow flowers with an old Sister who took duozi in and cared for them. I knew immediately that she meant Sister Ethes. Unfortunately, the circumstances of the times prevented me from finding Ethes. After we passed into your world, I relied on Annin to search for her during her infrequent excursions into Fourline. She found the House last winter. Once you broke the tracking spell, it made sense for me to come here and help my old colleague.”

A knock sounded and the door opened. Annin walked into the room with a steaming bowl in her hand. A strip of blue-tinted leather held back her curly hair, exposing both her human and Nala eyes.

“The Head Sister said she was finally awake.” Annin handed the bowl to Ethet. “Took you long enough,” she said to Nat.

“Good to see you, too, Annin,” Nat said weakly. She swallowed the spoonful of broth Ethet offered her.

“You’d better have a phenomenal explanation.” Annin crossed her arms and scowled.

“For what?” A throbbing pressure pulsated in Nat’s head. She wasn’t sure if it was the bump or the realization that Soris’ problems as a duozi extended far beyond fighting off the Nala’s venom.

“Why you led a Nala to our boundary.”

“Annin, she just woke up,” Ethet scolded and held another spoonful in front of Nat.

Nat pushed it away and broth dribbled onto her tunic. “I didn’t lead a Nala anywhere. The creature was chasing me, and I jumped into a river to shake it off.” She took a few quick breaths, trying to settle her racing heart. “And what boundary are you talking about?”

“Is that what I think it is?” Annin asked, ignoring Nat’s response. Her eyes locked on Nat’s orb.

“It’s mine,” Nat said, reaching protectively for her orb. Ethet placed another spoonful of broth in her mouth.

Annin let out a low whistle. “If you went to the trouble of making that, you must have a good reason for coming back to Fourline.”

“Annin, leave Sister Natalie to rest.” Ethet rose from the bedside. “We’ll have plenty of time to ask questions later.”

“No, let her stay.” Nat slumped back in her bed. Annin could pepper her with as many questions as she wanted as long as she told her what had happened to Soris.

Annin shrugged and plopped into the chair. She reached for the spoon and shoved broth into Nat’s mouth.

Ethet looked skeptically at her. “Make certain she rests, Annin,” she said, her eyes narrowing.

“Of course,” Annin replied innocently.

“Hmm . . .” Ethet paused once more at the door, looking at the two young women so vastly different from one another, then closed the door behind her.