mumbles. “The commander is saying Melik is a traitor to his people.”
I barely need to hear the words in Itanyai because I see the tension in the shoulders of the fighters from Dagchocuk, the way their fingers are twitching closer to their triggers. And Melik stands tall right at the front, the only one without a weapon in his hands.
When the rebels open fire, Melik will be the first to fall.
My heart is beating so fast that I am panting with the strain. My mind whirls with what I will do if they start shooting, how I will get to Melik, which supplies I will reach for first, where Sinan and I could drag him to protect him. Nonsense, all of it, because we would be cut down too, but I know that, like Sinan, I could not sit here and watch Melik die.
Melik shouts, angry now, and gestures at the canyon before his tone softens.
“He is begging the commander to listen,” Sinan whispers.
But the commander points at Melik, and all the rebels aim at him, the barrels of their weapons gleaming under the sun. Sinan lets out a childlike noise. Both of us brace to run.
The men around Melik try to step in front of him, but he puts his arms out and holds them back. “Miev zhasivunmokie!” he roars. He looks around at the determined faces on either side of him, and his fingers spread wide, shaking with tension waiting to be unleashed. “Bizev bazesivunmokie.”
“ ‘I will defend my home,’ ” Sinan says in a choked whisper. “ ‘We will defend our home.’ ”
Commander Kudret’s gaze strays along the line of men in front of him. His dark eyes betray his doubt, the conflict inside of him, and his own men are starting to lower their rifles in response to Melik’s pleas. So many of them are probably from other villages on the Line. Any order to fire on these Noor would surely sit sour in their stomachs.
A woman in the square cries out, and heads jerk up. Melik raises his gaze, as do most of the rebels. Their eyes go wide.
“The signal fire!” Sinan yelps. He takes my hand and drags me out of the cottage. We crane our necks and look up at the high ridge about a quarter mile into the canyon. Smoke pours from it, fed by the orange glow of a fire.
The village square becomes a flurry of barely organized commotion. Sinan and I run toward Melik, hand in hand, as he yells something at the commander.
And I don’t need a translation. I know what he’s saying.
The machines are on their way.
Chapter
Fifteen
COMMANDER KUDRET HOLDS his arms up and his rebels lower their rifles. Melik is past caring what his former commander does, though, as he sprints across the square to grab a supply pack, which he swings onto his back. His eyes keep darting to the ridge, where the smoke puffs are floating high above the ground. “There are four machines,” he says to me as I join him.
“How do you know?”
He points at the smoke. “We arranged a system. Knowing they were coming was not enough.”
“When will they arrive?”
“If they are not stopped, they will probably arrive in a day, given how far I sent the scouts and where the first one is positioned. There is no way to determine exactly when they will arrive at our battle position, which is a five-hour walk from here.” He looks at my feet. “For a person accustomed to that kind of climbing, that is.”
I lift my chin and clutch the straps of my satchel. “I will keep up.”
Bajram and a few of Kudret’s men come over and talk to Melik, and Melik issues a few orders before waving them away. “Kudret is staying to determine whether the threat is real. He will remain in the village with a force, and some of his men will come with us.”
“So they are holding the village hostage,” I say quietly.
Melik’s nostrils flare and he nods. Sinan strides by us and picks up a pack, but Melik’s hand clamps over his forearm. “What do you think you’re doing?” he says to his little brother.
“Getting ready to leave.” Sinan tears his arm from Melik’s grip as Bo strides out of a nearby cottage, his head swiveling toward the ridge.
Melik reaches for the pack, but Sinan skips out of his way. Melik’s eyes flare with frustration. “You are not coming.”
“He knows a lot about the machines,” says Bo. He wears no pack, nor is