The Scourge (A.G. Henley)

CHAPTER Fifteen



People begin to leave the clearing as I make my way back to Peree’s side. Many touch me as they go, or speak to me with soft words of encouragement. I’m too stunned to respond. The trees sound like they’re being torn to pieces by the whipping wind, and we’re being doused with spray from the waterfall, but I barely notice. I don’t even hear Kadee move over to us, until she speaks.

“Come to my home if you’d like. I’ll make you breakfast, and answer your questions.”

I wait for Peree to respond, but he doesn’t, and after a moment, she walks away. I touch his arm, and realize his bow is still aimed at the line of trees, as if he thinks the runa will turn and charge us at any moment. He releases the arrow. A moment later it strikes a tree.

“I can’t believe it. I wouldn’t have believed it, if I didn’t see them with my own eyes,” he whispers.

I can’t believe it either. I didn’t see them, but I heard, and felt them. And that was enough.

Kora waits on the path, joining us as we walk toward the village in silence. I’m surprised to hear people talking and laughing in normal voices, discussing their day—until I consider that what was earth-shattering to Peree and me is accepted from a very young age by everyone else here. Kora is proof of that.

“Do you want to go to your mother’s?” I ask him. I don’t know where else to go. Nothing feels real to me, like I’m waking from a nightmare, but only just.

“Don’t call her that,” he murmurs, sounding as dazed as I feel. “She doesn’t deserve it.”

“But that is her name,” Kora says.

“What do you mean?” he asks sharply.

“Mother is what Kadee means in our language.”

“Why would she be called that?”

“Mama said it was because her son was all Kadee talked about for so long, when she came to Koolkuna. Mama said she cried for weeks and weeks.”

Arika calls to Kora, and she runs off. Peree doesn’t speak again, but as we wander through the village, I realize he’s leading us to Kadee’s home. She welcomes us in right away. The gentle warmth of the fire is a relief after the penetrating chill of the wind, and the shock of what we learned.

“You have questions,” Kadee says, as she puts a pot of water on the fire to boil. I wait for Peree to say something, but he stays silent.

“The water hole,” I say, “at home. It’s been poisoned for years? So when we drink from it, it plays tricks with our minds? Is the Scourge even dangerous at all?”

“They can be. They aren’t the horrific creatures the poison creates in your imagination, but they are still hungry and desperate, like Wirrim said. They must feed themselves, as we all must. They eat animals—usually raw, which only makes them sicker—and they’ve been known to attack people, too, if they’re starving. It’s probably what led to the first reports that they consume human flesh.”

That explains the bite, the night I fell asleep in the forest. The creature must have been hungry enough to take a bite and see if I fought back, like a scavenger animal. Rose’s plea echoes through my head. Was she still human at that moment, not yet consumed completely by the madness?

“What happens to their minds?” I ask.

“Our knowledge isn’t complete, but they seem to retain their awareness only for a short time. They forget who they were or how to care for themselves. And as far as we can tell, they don’t live long. They become ill, weak from exposure to the elements, and they die. They seem to travel in groups to give them an advantage in hunting, and perhaps as some vestige of how they lived before they became runa. Their name is derived from two words—boolkuruna, which means ‘homesick,’ and birruna, ‘dangerous.’ The sick ones are both.”

She pours us each a cup of tea, and offers fresh bread and berries. I nibble a little, to settle my uneasy stomach. Peree remains mute.

I ask, “What really happens when someone is being consumed, then?”

“It’s difficult to understand, but the closer a vulnerable person—someone under the influence of the poisoned water—comes to one of the sick ones, the more likely they will slip into the madness and join the runa. It’s as if the sight, sound, and smell of the sick ones overwhelms their senses, and completes the illusion.”

An unexpected rage floods through me. “This is unbelievable! All these years, all these generations of people, all the fear and pain and devastation—because of some poison that makes us believe things that aren’t true? Nothing since the Fall has been real?”

“What is reality, Fennel?” Kadee asks gently. “It’s what we, as a group, believe to be true. If a group, aided by the powerful effect of a poison, believes it’s threatened by a mindless pack of monsters, then that is what’s real.

“Ever since I was a little girl,” she continues, “I only saw the sick ones, never the Scourge. The creatures have always looked and sounded to me as they did to you today. I was more frightened by the violent reactions they caused in others than I was of them. When I tried to tell my parents what I saw, they seemed wary, fearful. They told me not to speak of it. So I never did. But it didn’t change what I experienced. It didn’t change my reality.”

Peree grew still beside me as Kadee spoke.

“Why are you different?” I ask.

“Nerang says some people, very few, are unaffected by the poison. He doesn’t know why or how. I only know I never saw them as monsters, and the divide between what I saw, and what others believed to be true, only grew with the years. Peree, when you were young, the Council sentenced me to a night on the ground. Do you remember?”

“It’s hard to forget your mother disappearing,” he says coldly. I touch his arm. When she speaks again, Kadee sounds like she's pleading. Pleading for Peree to understand.

“I wandered for days, frightened and lost, until I found Koolkuna. These people took me in, and showed me for the first time that what I knew in my heart, but never revealed for fear of what others would think, was true. It was very hard to return home, but I couldn’t be away from you any longer. I missed you terribly.”

Peree doesn’t respond.

“I was eager to share my good news with our people, but my hopes were shattered when I told your father. He thought the time I spent on the ground had driven me mad. He said if I told anyone else, he would take you from me. So I tried to forget what I knew, and to carry on with my life, even if it meant living a lie. Eventually, I couldn’t do it any longer. I was miserable . . . ready to harm myself. The night I left, I told Shrike I was returning to Koolkuna, and I wanted to bring you with me. He flew into a rage, and threatened to kill us both. So I came back alone.”

Peree scoffs. “Unbelievable. You blame Father, when you’re the one who abandoned us?”

“No, of course not. Your father is a strong-willed, brave man, fiercely loyal to his family and his people–” I can only imagine the look Peree gave Kadee when she spoke of loyalty. “But he’s human. I didn’t expect him to believe me right away, but I did hope he might trust me enough to come see Koolkuna for himself.”

“He wouldn’t go?” I ask.

“Like Groundlings, there’s little Lofties fear more than exposure to the Scourge. Walking through the forest only on blind faith is a journey not many would be willing to make. Shrike was afraid I would spirit Peree away, take him where he didn’t dare follow—here to Koolkuna. No, he wasn't willing to go.”

Peree was willing. It was through the caves, not the forest, but he came with me. I didn’t consider how daunting it must have been for him to leave the trees.

“Son, to see the man you’ve become is a joy I didn’t think I’d ever have, the answer to my prayers over the last ten years,” Kadee continues. “I’ve been content here, but I wasn’t happy until the day the men carried you into the village from the Myuna—the day I saw you again. And to know you have a caring, faithful friend is an added blessing.” She squeezes my hand, and I smile at her.

“Did you tell anyone else about Koolkuna, before you left?” I ask.

“No, stars forgive me, I didn’t have the courage after Shrike’s reaction.”

“But he knows you’re here now, or at least he knows Koolkuna exists,” Peree says slowly. “He may have told someone.”

I almost choke on my tea. “Do you think he told Aloe? She was more supportive of the idea of me searching for the Hidden Waters than I thought she’d be.”

“Shrike and Aloe have always been close,” Kadee says, a hint of something unexpected in her voice. Envy? Regret? “Or at least as close as a Groundling and Lofty could be. What did the Council say about you accompanying Fennel?”

Peree snorts. “What Council? We don’t have one anymore.”

“What? Why not?” She sounds genuinely shocked.

“Not enough of us left to need one.”

Haltingly, his voice pitched low, he tells her the story of the fever and its aftermath. As Kadee begins to cry, I excuse myself and slip out, giving them privacy. I need air, and time alone to think. My mind is overloaded with information and my body brims with pent-up emotion.

A steady rain finally falls as I wander toward the clearing where I heard the sick one. Was that only yesterday? I’m just now starting to consider the implications of what we learned. Almost everything about my community, where we live, how we live, is based on the belief that the Scourge is monstrous, existing only to consume us. And the framework of my life as well—the combined gift and curse of my Sightlessness, my responsibilities of stocking the caves and collecting the water—was defined by the flesh-eaters. It collapsed in one morning.

I reach the clearing. I can hear the stream bubbling over the soft thrum of rain on leaves. And I hear something else. Voices singing in the first language of the anuna. I stand under the canopy of a tree and listen, strangely soothed by the unfamiliar, discordant tune.

Footsteps approach, followed by the sweet scent of clove blending with the fertile smell of moist earth. I wonder how Nerang keeps his pipe lit in the middle of a rainstorm.

“Come in from the rain, young one.”

I don’t move. “Why are they singing?”

“It’s a song of celebration. The Myuna has not been as plentiful of late. Where is your friend?”

“Talking with Kadee.”

“Good, they have much to discuss.”

I turn on him. “How long? How long have you known who we were?”

“I suspected where you were from the moment I saw you. You were dressed so similarly to Kadee when she first appeared in Koolkuna. But I didn’t know who your friend was until Kadee told me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me what you knew?” And I don’t just mean why didn’t he tell me he knew where I was from, or that Peree was Kadee’s son, but all of it—all the secrets he’d been keeping. I don’t have to say it. He understands exactly what I mean.

“First, because you were close to physical and mental exhaustion when you arrived. You needed time to rest and regain your strength. Second, Kadee needed to be the one to tell you both. How your friend may be related to my friend is not any of our business, despite what Kora’s doll might have to say on the matter.” I crack a small smile at that. “And third, you weren’t ready to hear it. You needed your strength, and you needed your friend to mend first. Those needs coincided with the amount of time required for you to drink from the Myuna before we showed you the nature of Koolkuna’s protection.”

Protection. The word bounces around inside my head.

“Nerang, what is it about being Sightless that protects me?”

I catch another whiff of the sweet smoke before he speaks. “When Kadee told me about the protection provided by your Sightlessness, I was puzzled. Then the answer became clear. The illusion caused by the poison is powerful, but because you are Sightless, you’re less convinced. Your eyes don’t deceive you, if you will, as ours do. And, from the beginning you were told you could not be harmed. You believed you were protected, as much as others believed they were not. And so it was.”

I shake my head, boggled by the idea. “All my life Sightlessness has been celebrated as a gift to myself and my community, something to be grateful for. But it’s meaningless. A weakness after all.”

“Forgive me for making assumptions, but I suspect it has given you much.”

“Like what?” I scoff. “Other than more scars and bruises than I can count.”

“Bravery, strength of character, willingness to sacrifice for others. Even wisdom. You may be Sightless, young one, but you have more vision than most your age.”

I try to resist, but the corner of my mouth lifts again. “I bet Yindi couldn’t stay mad at you either.”

Nerang chuckles. “True.”

I comb my wet, stringy hair back from my face. “I don’t know what to do with all of this. It’s too much.”

“Give yourself time.”

“I don’t have time! I need to go home. I’m afraid to think about what’s happening back there. And now I somehow have to convince my people that pretty much everything they believe isn’t true.”

“Faith has been limited since the Fall,” he agrees. “At first we tried to simply tell lorinyas the truth, but we found we had to prove it to them by having them drink from the Myuna. Yet, you have one advantage we do not.”

“What’s that?”

“Your people know you, and trust you. You can use that.”

I think of Adder and Thistle. “Not all of them.”

“I didn’t say it would be easy, young one.” He puffs on his pipe. “Of course, there is another choice you can make.”

I wait, but he doesn’t say anything. “What is it?”

“You can stay. Create a life here in Koolkuna, as Kadee did. You would be welcome.”

I step back, startled by the powerful yearning his words prompt in me. I can picture it—my life in Koolkuna. Working in the sunny gardens instead of alone in the caves; drying and preparing herbs for Nerang, maybe even learning his healing arts; taking Kora under my wing; getting to know the others who have been so kind to me since I arrived. I want that life badly. The safety and comfort Koolkuna offers is seductive.

And I could have it. I could stay here. I could let people think I died trying to find the Hidden Waters.

Eland, Aloe, Calli, Bear, Fox . . . Like a dead roll, I hear the whispered names of the loved ones I’d never be with again if I take that path. I shake my head, and take another step away.

“No.”

Nerang’s voice is gentle, as if he could hear my thoughts and sympathized with my struggle. “I thought you would say that. Well, then. Before you go we will talk about what might be done to convince your people they need not fear the runa.”

The singing faded away while we spoke, leaving only the steady tattoo of rain in its absence. A shout rises from the village.

“Ah, the hunting party has returned,” Nerang says with relief. “And they’ve had success, from the sound of it.”

The idea of eating freshly cooked game twice in one summer makes my mouth water. “Are there more animals here? Because of the Myuna?”

“The animal populations are returning. It was a good sign that you saw a predator in the Dark Place. The return of the large animals means their food source, the smaller animals, is thriving. They in turn will stay near the Myuna, bolstering our food supply.”

I think about the tiger—or whatever she was—and her babies, and the dark, hopeless hours that followed, and I shiver. “You said the Myuna hasn’t been as plentiful? What happens if it dries up?”

“It won’t, as long as the rains stay,” he says, but worry infuses his voice. “I must go and see Konol. Would you like to meet him?”

“Yes, I would . . . but later.”

“As you wish. I hope you’ll stay at least until the Feast of Deliverance. The moon is full in two days’ time.” He grunts. “And it may take us two days to convince your pigheaded friend he’s not strong enough to make the journey back with you yet.”

I sigh. “I know.”

“I could use my incense to drug him again,” Nerang says thoughtfully, and I laugh. “But hopefully it won’t come to that. Until later, then.”

I turn my face to the sky. The rain is diminishing; the clouds have finally wrung themselves out. Individual drops join together and slip away down my nose and cheeks. I find the boulder I sat on before and curl up next to it, ignoring the chill.



I sprint through the forest. Light leaps through gaps in the trees, warming my head and shoulders, then vanishing the next moment. Birds encourage me from their perches. I’ve never run so freely, so fearlessly. I don’t care where I’m going. I just run. The feeling is unforgettable.

“Fenn.”

Peree’s voice drifts through the trees. I slow my pace, listening for him, unsure if he’s there in my dream, or in the rain-soaked reality I’ve left behind. Could he be in both? I pause, one foot on a firm, sunlit patch, and the other sinking into spongy, wet ground.

“I’ve been looking all over for you. Are you alright?” He leans over me.

“Yes,” I mumble, but I stay still, reluctant to give up the powerful sense of freedom in my dream. Until I realize I can’t feel my fingers or toes. “Actually, I’m freezing.”

“Let’s get you inside.” He pulls me to my feet, and wraps his arm around my hunched shoulders. He leans heavily on his crutch as we walk.

“How are you?” I ask.

“Okay, I guess. We both said things that needed to be said." He sounds less angry than I've heard him sound since he found out Kadee was alive. "My grandparents, her parents, died during the fever outbreak. All I have left is my grandmother Breeze, Shrike’s mother. Did I tell you that?”

“No—I’m sorry.”

“So was Kadee.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I realized something. She left us . . . but she didn’t really leave us behind.”

I consider again how I would feel if I stayed in Koolkuna and never saw Aloe and Eland again. “I can believe that.”

He leads me into his shelter and gets to work on the fire. I sink into the chair.

“I’m having a hard time believing any of it,” he says. “If I hadn’t seen the way the creatures looked . . .”

“They sounded pitiful. I wanted to help them.”

“Yeah,” he grumbles, “I wasn’t too happy when you touched that one.”

I shrink from the memory of its cadaverous skin under my hand. Where are the runa now? How do they survive without shelter, extra clothes, a fire? No wonder they don’t live very long.

“If you want to change," he says, "your pack is there on the bed. I brought it over . . . in case you needed anything. ”

I pull a cloth out to dry myself, and the extra dress Kadee gave me, but I can’t change with Peree three paces away. So I hunch in a chair and listen to him work. He hoots in triumph as flames finally pop and hiss into existence. Then he seems to notice my dilemma.

“Change. I’ll go outside.”

I dry off and pull Kadee’s dress on quickly, then call him back in. “I can turn my back if you want to change,” I tell him.

“That's not necessary.” He sounds amused. His soggy shirt falls to the floor, and I assume his pants are next. The heat from the fire is suddenly stifling. I shuffle things around inside my pack, trying to look unfazed, but who am I kidding? Every sliver of my attention is focused on him.

“What’s that?” he asks.

I realize I’m gripping Peree’s knife, the little bird he carved, and the rabbit’s foot. They were all rolled up in the fabric remnant Bear gave me. I crumple the cloth bear in my hand to hide it, and hold his knife out to him instead.

“Here, I took this out of your pack when we left the caves.”

He takes it from me. “Thanks, I’ve been missing it. And now I can finish your bird. Is that the foot of a rabbit?”

“It’s supposed to be for good luck. A friend gave it to me.”

He plucks the fabric from my hand. “And this? It looks like a fleshie.”

I shrug. “Sewing isn’t exactly a talent of mine. It’s an animal, a bear.”

I wonder if he remembers Bear was the name of the “friend” he saw kissing me. From his silence, I’m fairly sure he does. He hands it back, and I shove it into my pack.

“Our women wear the carved birds on leather ties around their necks,” he says. “I could make a cord for yours, if you want.”

I finger the little carving, then hand it to him, too. “Thank you, I’d like that.”

We warm our dinner, and sit down to eat. There’s a new silence between us that’s uncomfortable, but not awkward. It’s not like we don’t have anything to say, more like we’re bursting to say things we know we shouldn’t. I push the food around my plate. It’s hard to eat with nervous tension like a grasping hand in my gut.

“Your hair’s still wet,” Peree says. “Come over by the fire and let me dry it.”

I scoot closer and turn my back to the flames. He sits to my side, and picks up handfuls of my hair, gently combing his fingers through the damp tangles. He takes his time, working his hands through each section until it dries. I relax slowly, just enjoying the feeling of his hands moving through my hair. After a few minutes, his fingers begin to glide across my shoulders, down my arms, and back up to graze the sensitive skin of my neck, lingering on the bare skin. I tense again. He scoops my hair up and lays it over my shoulder, then traces a looping trail down my back to my waist. The fire feels closer now—like I’m roasting over it.

“I’m going home,” I whisper, “after the Feast.”

His hand pauses at my hip. “What?”

“I'm going back."

"Fenn, I'm not sure my leg is ready for that kind of walking. Can't we wait for awhile?"

"I can't wait. I need to know what’s happening there."

He pulls his hand away. “So I’d just hold you back, is that it?”

“That’s not what I mean–”

“That's exactly what you mean,” he snaps. “I get it. You have a duty to your family and your people. And that’s most important.”

“Peree–”

“Forget it.”

I know what I’m doing. Trying to push him away, afraid of what might happen if I let things go too far. I want to smooth things over, but what can I say? No matter how much I might want to ignore it, I do have a responsibility to my people. I was supposed to try to find the Hidden Waters, and be home within a few days. And I do miss my family. This wasn’t supposed to be some kind of holiday.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, reaching out toward him. “I have to know if Eland and Aloe are okay.”

He exhales slowly, and slides his finger along a particularly deep scar on my hand. “Your commitment to your people and your duty . . . it’s one of those things I admire about you. I don’t expect you to change now.”

My willpower falters. I lean forward and touch my forehead to his, breathing in his sweet scent. “Why did you have to be so great? I’m supposed to hate you.”

He chuckles in a throaty way that does nothing to dispel the fire raging inside me. “I’ll try to be hateful in the future.”

He pulls his bedroll down from the bed and wraps us up in it, curling his body around mine again. I hear his breath quicken, but he doesn’t touch me any further. I’m relieved—and disappointed. A part of me wants to roll over and face him, let things lead where they may. At the same time I want to jump up and run.

I’ve never felt this conflicted about someone before.

My relationships with Aloe, Eland, Calli, even Bear, grew out of the close ties of family and friendship, nurtured since childhood. I’ve never questioned my feelings for them. But with Peree it’s different. We were thrown together. I didn’t expect to have anything with him at all, apart from the distant relationship of Water Bearer and Keeper. The intensity of our bond confounds me.

I can’t deny I have strong feelings for him. But I’m holding back, resisting the growing intimacy. If I let go of my heart, give myself over to him, what will we do when we go back? No Groundling and Lofty ever made a life together. There’s no precedent for it. What would our families say? What would the Three do? Where would we even live? I wish I could say it didn’t matter to me. But it does. I care for him, but I care about my family and my people too.

So I do nothing, snared in a miserable tangle of desire and caution, longing and fear.