The Scourge (A.G. Henley) - By A.G. Henley Page 0,96
woman’s voice is a mixture of amazement and revulsion.
Is that what the bird is? A Lofty symbol of partnership, like our bonding bands? Part of me wonders what Peree was thinking, giving me something with that kind of significance without telling me what it meant. Another part is thrilled he offered it to me at all, and long before he told me the full extent of his feelings. But I don’t have time to think more about it.
“I’m a Groundling,” I say, “but I’m a Lofty, too. Born in the trees, raised on the ground. You can hate me, banish me, kill me—but whatever you do, you do it to one of your own.” I pause. “Only a few feet of air separates us. Can’t you see that? If Peree and I could find common ground, isn’t there a chance we all could?”
“Fennel is right,” Adder agrees. People quiet down to listen to him. “She’s right that she is only a child, with a child’s idealistic view of the world. She knows nothing of the deception of the Lofties, and the lengths they’ll go to keep us in our place. Children should have no voice in these talks, but I see Fennel has too much of her mother to keep silent. Cuda, guard the Lofty prisoner. Moray, take Fennel into the caves with the other . . . little ones.”
My hand darts to my pocket and Peree’s knife. There’s no way I’m letting Moray touch me again.
I feel Bear tie something around my upper arm. I might still be muddled from fatigue and hunger, but I know what it is. A bonding band.
“I invoke the privilege of the bond,” Bear says. “I’ll do what it takes to protect my partner. If you touch her, Moray, you’ll have a lot more than a bitten tongue to worry about.”
“Think you can thake me, hero?” Moray drawls. He's close to us, in the clearing now.
“Try me,” Bear says.
The sounds of a brawl tumble out of the caves behind Moray.
“Cuda!” Moray sounds like he’s running back the way he came.
“What is it? What’s happening?” I ask Bear.
“Looks like the Lofty thumped Cuda with his own spear. It was a nice move . . . but they’ve got him again.”
“Peree! Be careful!” I yell.
Shrike speaks, his voice like ice. “If my son is hit one more time, these talks are over. We’ll take him back by force.”
Someone shouts from the caves. “As if you could!”
Taunts and threats are hurled back and forth. Fox tries to calm the crowd, but his words are lost in the shouting. Bear draws me closer to the bulk of his body.
An arrow zips overhead, heading for the caves. Death in motion. It finds its mark.
“Get down!” Bear says, pushing me into the dirt.
The next few moments stretch out forever as arrows, spears, shouts, and curses are flung over our heads. There are screams of pain, and I can smell the raw tang of blood. Then I hear a new sound. Shrieks, followed by moans. I catch the odor of death, illness, despair—the unmistakable reek of the Scourge. Groundlings that were surging out of the caves a few moments before, hurling spears and expletives, now run back the way they came. The familiar fear engulfs me.
“Bear,” I shout, “get in the caves!”
He yanks me up. “You’re coming, too!”
He half-drags me toward the mouth of the cave. I’m not sure it’s safe for me in there, but I’m positive it’s not safe out here in the middle of a hailstorm of arrows and spears. Sweat drenches my hands and face.
A creature near me is hit with a sickening thump. It cries out, sounding horribly human. Several others moan in pain, and one begs to die. I hesitate. They don’t deserve to be shot down like helpless animals. Someone grabs my other hand, dragging me away from Bear. It’s Peree. I’d never mistake the feel of his hand in mine.
“Come on,” he yells, yanking me sharply to the right, toward the trees. “We’ll be safer out here.”
But more creatures surround us, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.
“They’re being consumed!” I hear a Lofty woman shout. “Someone shoot them—show them mercy!”
Peree swears, and barks at me to run, pushing me forward. Arrows strike the ground around us.
We almost make it to the line of trees. Almost.
A creature pitches into me. I try to keep my footing, but it knocks me off balance, tearing my hand out of Peree’s. As I fall, I feel the cold