The Scourge (A.G. Henley) - By A.G. Henley Page 0,43

to keep my voice even. “Maybe you should rest.”

“I will soon. Come lie next to me; you’re freezing.” I pull my bedroll over us and lay with my head on his chest. His voice echoes in my ear. “You know about fish, right? They swam in the waters.”

I had heard of fish. A few of the elders ate them when they were children, but the last of the fish died out over a generation ago. No one knew why.

“Long ago there were no fish; every animal lived on the land. There was plenty of food, no danger. The people were happy. Everyone—except one boy. He’d loved one of the girls of a nearby community since childhood, and she loved him, but her father didn’t want them to be together. The boy was different, an outsider. So the boy gave up, and wandered through the forest for a time.

“He returned several years later, determined to ask the girl to be his partner. He found that although she still loved him, she was intended to another, a commitment she had to honor, according to the community’s laws. The boy wanted to fight for her, but the girl told him no. Instead, she would run away with him that night.

“When the sun left the sky, she stole away from her home and met the boy in the forest. They ran and ran, as fast and as far as they could. They ran so far they came to the edge of a vast water hole, where they spent the rest of the night, exhausted, but happy to be together.

“The couple woke at first light and, using driftwood, they made arrows and spears to defend themselves, knowing they would be pursued. Sure enough, men appeared at the top of the rocks overlooking the shore. The girl continued to make weapons while the boy shot the arrows and threw the spears with such accuracy that the men were forced to hide. They held them off this way all day, but by dusk they ran out of wood.

“As the boy held the last arrow to his bow, the girl told him she would go back with the men so he could escape. ‘No,’ he said, ‘we must stay together, whatever happens. If we can’t live together on land, then we must go into the water.’ She agreed, he shot his last arrow, and the boy and girl slipped into the water. The men ran down from the rocks, throwing their spears at them, and the spears stuck, becoming fins. They swam away, the first fish. And they never again left the water, because they knew death awaited them on land.”

Peree shifts his weight, and moans. My hands fly to his face, powerless to do anything else to help. After a minute, he speaks again.

“My mother said there were people who believed underground rivers were the boundaries between our world and the afterworld. They thought people crossed the river when they died. I don’t want to cross this one. I don’t want to stay in the cold and the dark forever.” Silent tears slip down his face. “Will you be sure I don’t? Let the river wash what’s left of me outside, into the sunlight.” I want to say he’s not going to die here, but I can’t lie, so I say nothing. “When you go back, tell Shrike . . . tell him he was a good father. He worried about that, since my mother left. And tell Petrel he won. He’ll know what it means.”

“I will. Is there anyone else you want me to give a message to? Other friends?”

“No other friends.”

“But, there must be others you were close to.” I hesitate. “What about . . . the girl? The one you told me wasn’t old enough to partner with yet.”

“There’s no one. No Lofty girl, at least.” He pauses, and when he speaks again his voice is even more hollow than it was before. “We had the same fever you did, and many died. Our numbers were already dwindling before the fever. Now we don’t have enough people to do everything that needs to be done. Hunt, gather food and wood, be the lookouts, watch the remaining children. That’s why we make decisions together; we don’t need a separate Council.”

I sift through the little information I have about the Lofties. “Not many of you came to the last few Summer Solstices. We thought you didn’t want to celebrate with us, but really there were less