Текст книги "Water & Storm Country"

Автор книги: David Estes

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sadie

With Passion nibbling grass around the trunk below me, I watch the Soakers from a branch high above. Many men come ashore, moving off into the woods a safe distance from me, presumably to gather food and water. A couple men scoop seaweed into bags. The stuff they trade to ice country for the children. Don’t they know what we’ve done to the Icers? That we’ve killed the Icer King?

A few blue-clad men mill about on the ships. Officers, giving orders. Two stand out, because they’re keeping so still, next to each other. From a distance, they are but two blue lines, one somewhat taller than the other. They appear to be watching the seaweed gatherers.

Eventually, however, when the seaweed boat is returning to the ship and the rain has begun to fall, the two blue men split apart. The way the small one walks reminds me so much of the boy I almost killed.

You have to decide…

My father’s words run over and over in my head as I climb down, never touching the ground as I climb onto Passion’s back. Never has a choice been easier, I realize as we gallop back to the camp.

I’ll kill that Soaker boy if it’s the last thing I do.

~~~

Our tent—no, my tent—despite its relatively small size, seems enormous with only me in it. I stretch out onto my back and extend my arms and legs as far as I can in each direction, but there’s still so much empty space. Space usually filled by…

I can’t be here. Not tonight. Or at least not until I’m so exhausted that the moment I slip inside my feet collapse beneath me and I fall asleep before I even hit the ground.

I leave with that goal in mind, wearing my Rider’s robe, pulling the hood over my head against the wind and the rain, which comes in waves.

The night is quiet, save for the rain patter and occasional murmured conversations of the border guards. I consider going to the stables, but I won’t begrudge Passion her rest, not after our long run across storm country.

To my surprise, a ridiculous thought springs to mind. I picture myself sneaking into Remy’s tent, waking him up, forcing him out to keep me company. A girl with less pride might take the thought seriously, but I cast it away before it can so much as dig a single root into my head.

Instead, I make for the edge of camp. I pass by two border guards, who are sitting and smoking pipes. They stand quickly, open their mouths as if to refuse me exit from the camp, but then close them even quicker when they realize I’m a Rider. Privileged to come and go as I please.

I ignore them as I stride away.

With an occasional burst of moonlight through the clouds, and from memory, I guide myself into the forest, relying on outstretched arms and cautious feet to avoid colliding with anything dangerous.

Thankfully, the place I’m looking for isn’t too far in, and I know I’m close when I hear the unceasing gurgle of the creek I drank from earlier that day. When I slide my back down the trunk of the tree, I’m not surprised to find the ground dry beneath me.

My father died here today.

“Father…” I say aloud, because I’m tired of hearing only wind and rain.

Yes, he answers, on the wind. I know it’s not really him, but I can still hear his voice.

And then: I love you, Sadie.

“I love you, Papa. I’m scared without you.”

You are strong. Stronger than even your mother was.

“I’m not.” Am I?

Your choice and your choice alone…

“What does it mean, Papa?”

It will change everything…

“What will? What?”

The voice deepens, darkens, and it’s not Father’s voice anymore, but something that lurks, that tears at flesh and gnaws at bone and enjoys the sound of screaming. You mussst kill the onesss who dessstroyed your family.

“The Soakers?” I ask the night.

Yesss. But not only. Ssstab and ssslice.

“The Icers?” I say, feeling the wood close in around me.

Yesss. Cut and crusssh.

“Who are you?”

I am vengeance and retribution.

“What? No? Papa says—”

I am life and death.

“You’re not…you’re—”

I am you!

And with a final burst of wind the tree shakes, spraying droplets of water from its leaves, marring the previously untouched circle of dry earth. The heaviness lifts from my shoulders, the clouds part, and the moon shines, shines, shines, full and bright, surrounded by twinkling stars on a night that’s as perfect as my father was.

The forest is evil. As usual, Father was right. Are all the stories true then? That there’s something that lives in the forest, some Evil that preys on the weak, the brokenhearted, filling their minds and souls with dark thoughts. And if so, has it entered me?

Screams shatter the night, and they’re as real as the rough bark of the tree behind me. Death has arrived.

~~~

I charge through the forest, tripping on tree roots and slapping away branches that lash at my face like whips. Tonight there’s more evil afoot than what lurks in the forest.

Even from a distance, I’m surprised to find the camp quiet and black. There are no Soakers brandishing torches and swords, burning and killing. No one at all. What evil is this?

As I approach the edge of the camp, voices murmur from within. Tired voices. Surprised voices. The screams woke my people.

Where are the guards, the border watchmen I saw earlier? I freeze when I see them.

Two black lumps block my path between the tents. One of them groans and rolls over, his stomach slick with blood. The other’s not moving.

Gard appears behind the fallen guards, his black robe thrown back from his face. A half-dozen other Riders trail behind him. The war leader pulls up short when he sees me. His eyes travel down to the guards, back to me. “Sadie?”

“They need help,” I say, my voice coming out as croaky as a frog. “Hurry.”

“Healers!” Gard yells. “We need Healers!”

As the Riders spring into action, securing the area, scouring it for intruders, for clues, making room for the Healers, who arrive with bandages and herbs and steel in their eyes, I wonder to myself: Was it the Evil from the forest? Was it me?

A heavy hand on my shoulder startles me away from my thoughts. Gard looks down at me. “Sadie. What did you see?”

“Nothing,” I say. “I saw nothing.”

~~~

“What were you doing out so late?” Gard asks, and despite his forced-light tone there’s a heavy weight behind his question.

“I was…” What? Talking to my dead father? Discussing matters of vengeance and retribution and ssslicing and ssslashing with the Evil in the forest, the Evil who claims to be me? “…uh.”

Thankfully, Gard’s wife hands me a hot cup of some kind of herbal tea. “Thank you,” I say, cupping my hands around the warm pot. She nods and busies herself with pouring tea for Gard.

“Her father died today,” Remy says. “She was probably having trouble sleeping.”

My head jerks around. Under Gard’s scrutiny, I’d almost forgotten his son was still here, sitting silently in the corner. When Gard had brought me in, our eyes had met, and for a moment—just a bare, silent moment—I could tell we both had the same memory: holding hands as they burned my father’s body.

“Yes,” I say nodding my thanks to Remy. “My tent was so…empty.”

“And you saw nothing?” Gard asks. “You were watching them die.” Heavy words, heavy tone.

“What? No! I mean, yes, but I had just arrived, just found them…it’s not like I was standing there doing nothing.”

“Hmm,” Gard says. Does he believe me? He has to believe me! “Tell me everything.”

I only tell him what’s important to what happened. How I passed them in the night, how I went to the forest to think, how I heard the screams and came running, same as him. Nothing more.

“Are they…dead?” I ask. I am life and death.

“One was dead when we arrived. Sword wound through the heart. He was probably the first to be attacked, too surprised to defend himself; his sword was still in his scabbard. The other was luckier, but not by much. He might’ve had time to deflect the kill stroke—his blade was on the ground, spotted with blood—which sent it through his gut. It’s deep and messy, but the Healers still have a chance to save him.”

“They must!” I exclaim. Gard’s eyebrows jump up, surprised at my sudden outburst. “Because he’ll be able to tell us what…I mean, who did this to them.”

“I hope so, Sadie. I hope so. The Healers have instructions to come to me as soon as his condition changes, for better or for worse.”

“You’ll sleep here tonight,” Gard’s wife says, handing me a blanket.

“No, I’m fine back in my—”

“You shouldn’t be alone,” she says. At the edge of my vision I see Remy watching me.

“Just tonight,” I say.

Are they unwittingly inviting Evil into their tent?

“We’ll see,” she says.

A sudden yawn captures the whole of my face as weariness overcomes me. Can I sleep?

I stand and move to an area of empty space furthest from where Remy sits, spreading out my blanket like a mat. When I lie down I face away from him. I remember his hand curled around mine, so warm, so rough, so there.

No sooner than I think of Remy, my thoughts from before return, taking over my restless mind. Am I evil? Did I somehow let something loose in the forest, my anger and lust for revenge unlocking a beast that’s been hidden for years? And if so, how do I stop it?

You don’t, the voice says.

Everything falls away.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Huck

The anchors go up before I can speak to Admiral Jones again.

What did he want to tell me about my mother’s death? Did he want to mock me, berate me, tear down any semblance of foolish pride I’ve managed to muster over the short time I’ve been a lieutenant? Remind me how I failed her, how I failed him?

I have to know. I have to.

I have so many questions I feel like I’m going to burst if I don’t talk to someone about them. But who? Jade’s out of the question, at least until Hobbs goes back to The Merman’s Daughter. I haven’t talked to Cain in what seems like forever—he led the landing party in storm country today, so I didn’t even have a chance to speak to him.

Someone knocks on my cabin door. Barney.

“May I come in, sir?” he says.

“Why not,” I say.

He bumbles in carrying a tray with a steaming pot and several hard biscuits. “I thought you might like something to nibble on before bed.”

Gratefully, I take the tray. It’s exactly what I need. I pick up one of the biscuits, right away noticing something strange. “Barney, why are there bite marks on this one? Wait a minute,” I say, “all of them have bite marks!”

Barney clears his throat. “I had to, ahem, check to make sure they weren’t poisoned.”

I stare at him and he shifts back and forth uncomfortably. “All of them?” I say, laughing.

“I, um, I take my job very seriously.”

“I can see that. You know, you could have broken off a piece from each one, rather than…biting directly into them,” I point out.

“They don’t taste as good that way,” Barney says, looking sheepish.

“Don’t they? You’re eating the same thing.”

“Just the same, I prefer them the other way.”

“Well, I suppose I should say thank you. Are you sure it was necessary?”

“You never know, sir. You can never be too careful these days.”

“These days? Has there been a threat on my life?” I ask, crunching the corner of one of the biscuits, as far away from Barney’s teeth marks as possible.

Barney shifts again, but then rests crookedly on one foot. “Well, no, not directly. But ever since Webb went missing, some of his friends have been stirring the pot, talking about how suspicious it is that he was your biggest critic and then disappeared. Some of them have noticed the time you’re spending with…up on the mast.”

A question I’ve been meaning to ask for a long time slips off my tongue. “Barney, why didn’t you tell the truth about what the…what she did to me? With the scrub brush?”

“You mean how she knocked you flat out, sir?” he says, smirking.

“I wouldn’t say she—”

“Whack! Right to the forehead, and you went down like a sack o’—”

“Thank you, Barney, I get the picture. Why didn’t you tell anyone?” I ask, breaking off another piece of biscuit and popping it in my mouth.

“Because you didn’t, sir. I followed your lead, because—”

“You take your job very seriously,” I finish for him, my mouth full. Barney was right, they do taste better when bitten into rather than broken off. Strange.

“Aye, that and I have nothing against the bilge. They’re good workers, rarely make trouble—well, except for the one who’s caught your eye, that is.”

“She has not caught my eye, Barney.”

“Of course not, sir.”

“Barney?”

“Aye, Lieutenant.”

“Do you know where the bilge…where the workers come from?” There are crumbs stuck in my throat so I take a sip from the mug. The warm drink slides down easily.

“It’s all very secretive, but I assume we trade with foreigners for them. Somewhere beyond storm country.” Barney scratches his head. “Captain Montgomery once told me—he’d been drinking all afternoon, mind you—that they come from a place called fire country.”

My heart speeds up. I knew she was telling the truth! I knew it.

“And what might be traded for them?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea,” Barney says.

“Thank you,” I say.

“You’re most welcome. And sorry again about…the bite marks.” He turns to leave.

“Barney?”

“Aye, sir?” He turns back.

“There are crumbs in your beard,” I say, unable to hold back a chuckle.

~~~

The rain’s been pounding us for days, so strong and endless that all hands are on deck, using buckets to bail it over the sides. The bilge too, only, with no buckets left they have to use their hands.

I don’t look at her, like I’ve done all week. I’m not sure if she knows why I’ve been ignoring her, but I won’t risk so much as a sideways glance in her direction, not when Hobbs continues to lurk. I’m all over you.

Drenched from head to toe, my arms ache as I scoop another half-bucket of water, dumping it over the side just as the ship crashes into a mountainous wave, dumping ten times more water back on top of me. It’s a never ending battle, I realize as I come up spluttering. One of the sailors was knocked clean over by the wave. I help him to his feet as thunder erupts overhead.

Just one more day, I think as I once more fill my bucket. It’s the same thing I’ve thought every day. Only the storm never seems to end.

Although I wouldn’t have thought it possible, the wind strengthens, coming in bursts and blasts that threaten to knock every man and woman off their feet.

Above us, there’s a horrendous riiiip! as if the very sky above us is being torn in two. I look up to find a ragged gash in the main sail, opened up by one of the wind bursts.

And then I see her. Not because I was seeking her out, or because I’ve forgotten to avoid looking at her, but because she’s right where I’m looking, climbing the rain-soaked mast, for once using the ladder, clinging to it like I usually do.

Jade’s headed right for the tear in the sail and it’s clear she’s going to try to repair it.

No, I think. Even with her skill in climbing, attempting to use the rope bridges, which are swinging wildly, is suicide in the middle of a tempest such as this. But what can I do? Hobbs has stopped bailing, too, is watching her climb. He looks at me, right at me—a challenge. Whatcha gonna do, sailor?

Lightning sizzles in jagged streaks above us, so close I can smell burning in the air. I stumble when the ship breaks over a tall wave, plummeting down the steep side, tossed about like a leaf in a whitewater river. Grabbing the railing, I regain my balance and look up. Jade has missed a ladder rung and is hanging by her hands, which are slipping, slipping…

My breath catches as her feet scrabble wildly below her, but then they find purchase, somehow managing to find traction on the slick foothold.

Danger looms from above.

The next wave.

How did it get above the ship? Do waves have wings?

Dozens of shouts rise above the thunder as the wave rains upon us, knocking each and every man and woman and white-skinned and brown-skinned person off their feet.

I’m swimming. I’m on the ship and I’m swimming, gasping for breath, choking on saltwater and pushing seaweed out of my eyes. Still alive, still fighting.

And then the ship lurches over the next wave, tilting so far that the pool of water rushes off over the side and back to whence it came. I slide along the deck, not stopping until I slam into the railing, tangled with another man—the sailor I helped up earlier?—and a hefty woman who works in the kitchens and is known to eat more of what she cooks than those she cooks it for.

But I barely see them, barely feel their arms and legs as we pull apart, because…

Because…

My eyes are glued to the mast, which is swaying, creaking, and finally cracking—with an awful splintering, ear-wrenching CRRRACKKK!—as Jade climbs higher and higher, past the torn sail, all the way to the bird’s nest, where she manages to slip over the side, disappearing from sight.

Still lying on my back and feeling the Big Blue rage beneath the ship, I drop my gaze to the base of the mast, where a thin jagged line of black has formed in the wood. The mast is badly damaged, maybe permanently, but it’s still upright, not broken through completely.

And she’s up there.

I realize someone else is tangled up with me, straining beneath my weight, pushing me away. When I roll to the side and look back, it’s Hobbs, glaring. “Rally the men!” he shouts. “This is too much, we have to make for land, run aground if we have to.”

There’s no time. The mast could collapse at any moment. Another wave, a burst of wind, a lightning strike.

“You do it,” I say. “I have to do something.”

His mouth contorts in anger. “You may be the lieutenant on board, but I’m still your superior officer. You’ll do as I command!”

I shake my head and clamber to my feet, squinting through the blistering rain.

With Hobbs cursing behind me, I run for the mast.

The damage is even worse than I thought. Structurally, the mast is destroyed, splintered both vertically and horizontally, sharp shards of wood sticking out at weird angles. Half of it, however, is still holding strong, as thick as a man’s thigh. I’ll be lucky if I make it to the top before it breaks.

But I have to try. I killed for her. I lied for her. And now I have to save her.

The ladder rungs feel like they’re made of water, not metal. Before I can even get a grip, my fingers slide away. I try again, this time being careful to lock my fingers around them.

My feet slip twice on the way to the top, but each time I manage to regain my footing. Three times I have to stop and just hang on as the ship climbs and topples over waves that seem more like Big Blue’s fists than rolling mounds of water. He punches us, kicks us, but still the ship floats.

There are shouts from below, and I know it’s Hobbs who’s rallying the men, the women, the bilge—saving us, doing my job, or Captain Montgomery’s, or both.

Head down, I climb the last few rungs, hearing a voice from above. “Huck!”

I look up and Jade’s arms are there, stretching to grab me, to pull me into the crow’s nest. I tumble over the side in an exhausted heap. Jade’s hugging me, but not awkwardly or passionately or anything normal. It’s more like clinging to me, and I realize I’m clinging right back.

Water sloshes around us, escaping through cracks in the lookout structure, but refilling faster than it can be emptied.

“We have to get down before it collapses!” I yell amidst a sudden clap of thunder.

Jade’s entire body shakes as she nods, trembling with cold and fear in my arms. Gone is her tough exterior. Was it all an act or has she just reached her limit?

Whatever the case, I must be strong for her now.

I stand, pulling her up with me, peering over the side. The crew, under Hobbs’ command, has managed to turn the ship. The air is so thick with rain and fog that they can’t possibly be sure of the right direction. More likely we’ll be sailing in circles until the storm passes.

The ship lurches sharply one way and then back the other, rolling over the mountains of waves. Each change in direction puts strain on the mast, which, miraculously, is still holding strong.

Maybe, just maybe, we can get down before it’s too late…

CRRREAKKK!

The mast sways when it’s hit by a giant’s breath of wind.

CRRAACKKKK!

It shatters, shuddering and groaning, wavering one way and then the other. The Deep Blue beckons it, calling for wood and blood and destruction and debris.

“Huck!” Jade cries as we fall, clutching at me as I clutch the side of the bird’s nest.

We fall, slowly at first, but then faster and faster.

This can’t be happening. A bad dream. A really bad dream.

I stare into the waiting arms of the waves. There’s nothing to be done. Nothing but fall and beg for mercy, think silent prayers. Deep Blue, please take me instead of her. Let my life be your sacrifice. Take me. Please.

All I see in the face of the Deep Blue is hunger. There will be no trade. Not when He can have us both.

SNAP! SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!

One by one, the rope bridges we so carefully constructed to allow us to repair the sails break off, snapping past us, cracking like whips. One lashes my face, stinging my skin. If we can only grab one, swing away…

It’s too late—far too late for action.

The Deep Blue calls my name. Huuuuuuuck!

The impact of hitting the water is as powerful as the shock. Water surrounds, cold and frantic, trying to force its way into my mouth, my nose, to pull me under. I clutch the splintered shards of wood sticking out from the bird’s nest, cutting my hands. Fighting for my life. That’s when it hits me:

Where’s Jade?