The Scourge (A.G. Henley) - By A.G. Henley Page 0,90

when I half-carried, half-dragged Peree to the source of the Hidden Waters.

I sing to keep the darkest thoughts away. The ones that make me wonder if my people are even worth trying to save.

I sing every song I can think of, until I’m out of songs, then I sing them again. The sick ones are quiet, as if listening. When I finally finish I feel hollow and empty, my throat and mouth terribly parched. The simmering rage burns through me like a grass fire.

I close my eyes, and water surrounds me. The hole is filling with water, rushing in from above. I lap it up, tasting earth and salt and rust. But no matter how much I drink, I can’t slake my thirst. The water creeps up my chest to my neck. I need to start swimming, but when I try to move my arms and legs in the familiar ways, my limbs don’t respond. Panic prickles along my scalp. I’m not going to starve or die of dehydration in here. I’m going to drown.

In the odd way of my dreams, I can see. The sick ones gaze down at me in uncharacteristic silence. Only it's not the sick ones now, it's the Three—Aloe, Sable, and Adder. Others surround the hole, too. Eland, Bear, Calli, Fox and Acacia, Bream, Pinion, Yew. I call to them for help, but they just stare back at me, their faces impassive. Then, one by one, they turn away. Eland is the last to leave. He smiles at me and a tear falls from his eye, joining the deluge. Then he goes away, too, as the water covers my face. It pours into my mouth and nose and throat. I dissolve, not into dust, but into more and more and more water.

Chapter Nineteen

I wake with a start. There's light. Morning. My first feeling is relief that I’m not drowning, but the relief only lasts a moment when I hear a low groan. I realize what woke me—something is in the pit with me. I scramble back until I’m pressed against the wall.

The sick one must have either just jumped in, or fallen. It’s not touching me—yet—but with horror I realize that if it’s hungry enough, it might attack, like the one that bit me. My hands are bound, and it’s only a matter of time before my body shuts down from fatigue, leaving me defenseless. I stay pressed against the dirt wall as the creature paces in the small space in front of me.

I can feel something sharp poking into my leg. Peree’s knife. Why didn’t I remember it was in my pocket when Moray first grabbed me? I manage to ease my dress far enough around to pull it out. Then I press the rope binding my wrists against its sharp edge. I can’t put much pressure on the knife with my hands bound, but I begin to saw as best I can. It’s insanely tricky. The knife keeps slipping and twisting. I nick my wrist, and a trickle of blood joins the sweat on my palms, making them extra slick. The sick one moans again and moves closer. Can it smell my blood, like an animal?

I keep at it, praying the sick one will keep its distance until I get the binding off my hands. Thank the stars Moray used a thin bit of rope. It’s strong, but there’s less of it to cut through. There’s a cold touch on my leg. I kick out, and the creature backs off.

I work furiously, sweat coating my face. I cut myself again, and suck in my breath at the pain. The sick one groans and presses closer. My flailing foot meets flesh this time, but the creature isn’t deterred. It hovers over me, its foul breath in my face, its tongue searching. I make myself as small as possible, still working on the rope.

It finally gives. I grab the handle of the knife and scurry around the creature to the other side of the hole.

“I don’t know if you understand me, but here’s the deal,” I say, panting, “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to. So you stay on your side of the hole, and I’ll stay on mine, and maybe we can both get out of here alive.”

The sick one howls in frustration. The ones above scream and mutter in response. I wasn’t expecting it to answer me, but I was hoping it might be closer to human,