Erris calls. Then softer, “Wait?”
Yaz nearly turns but the blackness before her is diminishing, burning away in the day’s heat. Now or never. She has to leave.
She is walking into the dark’s margins now. It rises to greet her. A cold mist promising nothing good. The chill sinks into her bones in nothing flat. Already she’s shivering. The sky above her is a cold whiteness now and a dark stain spreads across it like the claws of a reaching hand. Seus has come bringing another war, a greater one that lies beyond her understanding. But one thing she does know is that she wants no part of it, any more than she wants any part of the Broken’s war.
“Run, Yaz!” Erris’s voice, distant and panicked. “Run and don’t look b—”
But Erris is gone. There is only darkness and freezing air and hard stone biting through the thin furs beneath her cheek.
21
YAZ! WAKE UP!”
Someone was shaking her. “Thurin?”
“You have to get up now.” Thurin gripped her arm and hauled her to a sitting position. “Pome’s coming.”
“Pome?” Sleep cluttered her mind, fragments of her fading dream still fluttered through. Was this it: the final battle? The cave was small, crowded, lit by a few small stars on high ledges. Everyone else was on their feet, some readying weapons. Others were already leaving, filing out onto the narrow path leading up the side of the ravine. “Pome?” she repeated, still searching for focus.
“Yes, Pome. Mean little man with an uncanny ability to get gerants to do what he wants them to.”
“All except Jerrig.” Yaz shook the image of the fallen harvester from her mind. What would he have made of trees and grass and all that tangle of living things? “Why? Why is Pome coming?” She knew what Pome wanted: power, all of it. He was more than ready to kill for it. But those around her lacked the urgency that an attack would bring.
The cave was emptying quickly. Maya and Quina were there too now, standing beside Thurin.
“They’re saying he’s come to talk. Arka is meeting him in the Icicle Cavern.”
Yaz got to her feet. She still felt tired, bruised from the floor, and cold. “Where’s Quell?” It should have been her first question. He had come by himself to save her.
“He’s in Arka’s council of war,” Thurin said.
“War? I thought you said Pome had come to talk.”
“No, I said that’s what he said he’s come to do.”
“And why aren’t you at this council?”
Thurin gave a wry smile. “They don’t trust me yet.”
Yaz frowned. “Come to think of it if Quell is there why aren’t all of the drop-group? He came here after we did!”
Thurin shook his head. “He’s an adult. You’re all children. And besides, he knocked one of our handful of grown gerants on his arse, and that counts for something . . . apparently.”
Thurin made to leave but Yaz reached for his arm, holding him back.
“This is madness, this fighting. Arka said the Broken were already losing ground to the Tainted and now you’re killing each other.” She hunted his eyes. “You can’t not see that?”
“So we should let Pome have his way? Let him rule us like a king from the stories? That will be his reward for killing a good man? And make no mistake, Tarko was a good man.”
“Yes,” Yaz said simply. “If that’s what it takes, then yes. What else is there? Do you think Pome has come to talk so Arka can convince him of the error of his ways? He’s here to negotiate your surrender.”
Maya and Quina looked to Thurin for his answer. He had known these people all his life.
“Gods damn it!” Thurin pulled free of her grasp, fists balled. “That can’t be the only choice.”
“It’s the only sane one,” Yaz said. “Unless . . .” She waited until all three of them had their eyes on her. “Unless you come with me and Quell to rescue my brother.”
“How will that help?” Thurin let out a frustrated breath.