The Scourge (A.G. Henley)

CHAPTER Eighteen



I sit, waiting for my stomach to settle and my legs to stop shaking. Kadee doesn’t press me to talk or to keep moving. She waits beside me, a witness. I want to be angry at her for giving me up, and for leaving Peree. Mostly for being weak. But at first all I feel is the dazed, empty sensation that my world was again overturned like a bucket of dirty washing water.

When the rage comes, it snakes through my veins, hardening my resolve. Who did they think they were, treating innocent children this way? All of them—Lofties and Groundlings. Who decided babies could be traded like so much meat or grain? Used to serve their purposes? That people could be separated and kept in their place with threats, brute force, and fear, supported by antiquated traditions?

Kadee. Aloe. Shrike. The Three. Every adult in my life, everyone who ever had the responsibility to protect me, failed me instead. I’ve spent my life trying to live up to what my family and my people expected me to be. What they made me. The Water Bearer. Until now, I didn’t allow myself any other choice but to do my duty. Until now.

I stand and wait for the dizziness to pass, then I swing my pack on my back. It’s time to go home. And Kadee’s right. It’s time for the secrets and lies to end.

Clouds wander in front of the sun, dispelling the heat. When the trees thin out, Kadee offers me her arm again. My mother’s arm. I pay more attention to it now. It’s thin, but not so bony as Aloe’s. Her skin is softer, too. I wonder if I look like her at all. No one ever said so, but they wouldn’t have unless the resemblance was striking.

There’s rustling in the woods, and soft moans. I stiffen.

“Don’t worry,” Kadee murmurs, catching my hand. “It’s only the runa.”

I clamp my lips together, pushing down the panic. In my seventeen years, no one ever said, “Don’t worry, it’s only the Scourge.” They were too busy running.

I focus on keeping the same steady pace as the creatures draw near us. The stench threatens to gag me again. My throat tightens and the hair bristles along the back of my neck. As more of the sick ones shuffle up, Kadee pulls food from her pack, offering it to them. These creatures don’t give thanks, but they do eat. Or try to eat. It sounds like the food dribbles out of some of their mouths. I try to summon any feeling more compassionate than disgust. I fail.

I can’t yet forget the horrific stories of the Scourge I grew up hearing, the memories of the many times they pursued us to the caves, or the hordes of them pressing in on me, their tongues worrying the flesh where their lips should be. The foul smell brings the memories back so clearly. I press Peree’s little bird against my chest, wishing he was here.

The creatures follow us, muttering and moaning for help. When one of them stumbles toward me I shrink away, trembling with the desire to run. Run anywhere. It doesn’t matter which direction, as long as it’s away from anything familiar. I want freedom. I want to escape. Like in my dream.

As usual, it’s the thought of Eland that keeps me moving forward. Despite everything I learned today, or maybe because of it, I need to know if he’s all right.

“How much longer?” I ask, my voice stiff and unrecognizable.

“Not long. I recognize the shape of the hills here. We’re close.”

That brings a question to mind. “Why don’t the runa go into the caves? They would at least offer protection from the weather.”

“Because of the cold and the dark. They’re even less prepared to deal with it than we are. I know it’s hard to think of them as people, but that’s what they are. Sick, confused, sometimes dangerous, but people.”

One of the creatures mimics her, repeating the word people several times, like a young child just learning to speak. “Can they ever be brought back? Their minds, I mean?”

“The anuna tried caring for a few of the sick ones, to see if they could reverse the process of the poison. It seemed to depend on how long they had been sick.” She hesitates. “Kaiya was one of the few successes.”

That stuns me. “What?”

“We don’t speak of this often,” Kadee says. “As a young girl, Kai wandered away from her parents, into the forest. The tracking party found her, but she had become runa. In time, Nerang was able to bring her back.”

“Is she . . . normal, now?”

“Yes. For the most part. But I’m sorry to say she was never quite treated the same after that. People feared her, I think. She’s always kept to herself—a loner either by choice or necessity.”

“She liked being with Peree.”

“He was kind to her. He didn’t know about her background. And, well, she’s a young girl, and he’s a handsome boy.”

So I keep hearing. I scowl, feeling the familiar irritation, but it’s followed by guilt that I didn’t try harder to befriend Kai. I know how isolating it can be to feel different.

Kadee squeezes my hand tentatively. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, when it comes to Peree’s feelings about you.” She stops, and I hear her drop her pack on the ground. “Take out any food and water you have. We need to leave it here.”

“Why?”

“For the runa. Otherwise they’ll follow us home. Anyone who sees them will think we’re in danger of being consumed.”

At that, I do what she asked, and we walk away as the sick ones surround the small pile. Lost in my brooding, I start to wonder if we’re close enough to home now for me to recognize anything. I’m accustomed to retracing my steps when I’m away from the community, not approaching it from a completely unknown direction. The truth is, I could stumble right into our clearing and not realize it. So I’m not too surprised when that’s exactly what happens.

The sun is setting, intensifying the darkness, when Kadee slows again. “Welcome home,” she says.

Really? I hurry forward, groping in front of me to find anything that feels familiar. It smells like home, but then again the entire greenheart forest smells like home. There are no voices, or sounds of fires being kindled, or smells of food being prepared. I only hear a few plaintive bird calls from the trees. My heart sinks. Everyone must still be in the caves. But why? The Scourge isn’t here.

“The shelters look like they haven’t been used,” Kadee says. She sounds worried. “Fennel, perhaps we should–”

An arrow slices the air beside my ear. Another divides the narrow space between us.

“Stop right there,” a man says from the trees. “Unless you want to be under the ground by morning.”

We freeze. A moment later, someone snickers.

“Then they’d be Undergroundlings, Petrel,” a boy says.

“Quiet,” the man mutters.

“Petrel? Is that you?” Kadee calls.

The leaves above us tremble as someone moves closer, following a walkway. “Who’s there?”

“It’s your Aunt Blaze,” Kadee says. “And Fennel, the Water Bearer.”

“Try again,” he says bitterly. “Blaze is dead, and so is the Water Bearer."

“No, we’re alive . . . and Peree, too,” I say. "He was injured, but he’s recovering.”

“Peree’s alive? Where is he?” the boy chirps. He sounds younger than Eland. Why is a young boy armed and shooting at Groundlings?

“Thrush, go find Shrike,” Petrel says. The boy runs off, skittering down the walkway like a squirrel. I hear Petrel pull an arrow from his quiver to reload his bow.

“Trusting, isn’t he?” I whisper.

“He used to be,” Kadee says sadly.

“What’s going on?” I whisper. “Where do you think everyone is?”

“I don’t know.” She takes a shaky breath, and I realize how hard this must be for her—coming home, preparing to see the partner and the people she left years ago. I wish I could muster more sympathy.

“It’ll be okay, Kadee,” I say. But they’re just words. Something is very wrong, I can feel it.

“Best to call me Blaze for now. They won’t know my new name.”

Heavier, slower footsteps move through the trees, stopping above us.

“Blaze.”

It’s Shrike. And right then I know Kadee was telling the truth about him. Peree couldn’t have sounded more shocked when he saw his mother for the first time in Koolkuna. Shrike sounds resigned, like he knew this day might come.

“I brought our daughter home,” she says. Shrike’s silent for a long time. Then a rope ladder clatters down a few feet away from us.

“Don’t go down there, Shrike,” Thrush pleads.

“It’s all right. This is my family." His voice is harsh, and I feel Kadee stiffen next to me.

“But one’s a Groundling, and I’ve never seen the other one before,” the boy says.

Petrel shushes him. The ladder squeaks under Shrike’s weight as he climbs. If we’re standing where I think we’re standing, this is the same place the Lofties dropped down to the clearing during the Summer Solstice celebration, and the ladder they used to escape when the Scourge came. When they left us to fend for ourselves. Bitterness pecks at me, opening old wounds.

“I am Shrike’s partner, but I left the trees,” Kadee says to Thrush. “I went to a place called Koolkuna. It's safe there, with plenty of food, water, and no flesh–”

“Stop,” Shrike says. He drops down beside us, the solid thump reminding me of the rock falling from the trees to the ground in Koolkuna. “Don’t fill his head with lies.”

“They aren’t lies,” Kadee says.

“Forgive me if I don't instantly believe you,” Shrike says. “Honesty wasn’t your forte, was it?”

“I’ve been to Koolkuna,” I say, “and what she says is true.”

A heavy hand lies on my shoulder briefly. “Fennel, I’m glad to know you’re safe. But there’s a history here that you don’t understand.”

“I understand enough,” I say. “Like that you and Blaze are my natural parents, and Aloe only fostered me because you asked her to.”

Shrike chuckles. “Aloe wanted you from the second you were placed in her arms at the Exchange. She adored you . . . we all did,” Shrike says. Regret is strong in his voice. When he speaks again, his voice has hardened. “Where’s Peree?”

“In Koolkuna,” Kadee answers. “He’s safe.”

Shrike must have looked less-than-convinced, because she says sharply, “I’m his mother. Do you think I’d lie about that?” In that moment I can understand how she got her Lofty name.

I step between them. “I don’t know if it will help, but Peree told me to show you this.”

I pull the bird carving up from under the front of my dress. Petrel whistles softly from the trees. Shrike plucks it from my fingers and examines it.

“It’s good work,” he grunts.

“He said to tell you he trusts me."

“I guess so,” Petrel says. He laughs, but I don’t get the joke.

“I promise he’s okay. He injured his leg, but it’s getting stronger every day. He’s coming back as soon as he can.”

Shrike just stands there, holding the bird.

“I know this isn’t easy,” I say softly. “It wasn’t easy for Peree and me to trust each other either.”

He lays the bird back down, and I tuck it away.

“Where are Aloe and the others, Shrike? Are they all right?” I ask.

“They’re in the caves.”

“Why?” I listen closely, but I can only hear the gentle sounds of the forest. No creatures.

“There’s been some trouble.”

An uncomfortable prickling starts at my scalp and wriggles down my neck. “What kind?”

“Your people attacked us—they actually came up into the trees.” He sounds like he still can’t believe it. “We drove them back, killing one. And one of our women was also killed in the crossfire.”

“Who?” Kadee and I ask in unison. I don’t think we’re asking about the same person.

“Glow,” he tells Kadee. “She was the lookout that night. I don’t know the Groundling’s name. Since then, we’ve kept them confined to the caves.”

I gasp. “You can’t!”

“No? Why not? We didn’t start this.”

I’m as shocked by his tone as I am by his words. Peree was clearly regretful when he told me about killing Jackal, so different from the contempt suffusing his father’s—my father’s—voice.

“They must have been desperate!” I say. “The people don’t want a war.”

“The Three should have considered that before they made their decision.” Now he sounds resentful. As one of the Three, Aloe had to agree to the plan. Why would she do that? Was she outvoted again?

“How long are you planning to hold them hostage?” I ask.

“Until we receive a formal apology, and word that Adder has been replaced on the Council of Three. We think the order came from him.”

I shake my head. “He’ll never give up being on the Council.”

“Then he’s condemning your people to death,” Shrike says flatly.

I have to find out what’s going on in the caves. And quickly. “Shrike, I need to talk to Aloe. Maybe there’s something I can do. Will you allow me to collect the water in the morning, so I can talk to you again?”

I imagine something unspoken passing between Kadee and Shrike, but after a moment, he agrees.

“Be careful how much you tell Aloe. She's . . . changed,” he warns.

His words chill me. I want to question him, but even more I want to get in the caves and find out what's going on for myself.

“Will you be okay?” I ask Kadee, already turning to leave.

“I’ll be fine. Go to your family.” She sounds wistful.

My family. My natural parents are standing beside me for the first time since I was an infant. But it's not how I imagined it. Not at all.

I pass into the mouth of the cave, leaving behind the last rays of the sun and any hope of warmth for the near future. As I trail my fingers along the familiar rugged walls of the passageway, I’m slapped by the overpowering stench of human waste. It’s not quite as bad as the Scourge, but close.

My chest is tight with anxiety and anticipation. I haven’t begun to process all I learned today, and now I’m faced with yet another crisis. I need rest, and time to think, but I don’t think I’ll get it anytime soon. If Adder won’t step down, and the Lofties won’t back down, I may have to try to lead everyone through the caves to Koolkuna. If I can persuade them to go. One impossible task after another.

I can sense the wavering light from a torch ahead.

“Hello?” I call. The torch moves closer.

“Fennel? That you?” The man sounds astonished. I better get used to people thinking I’ve come back from the grave.

“Believe it or not.”

He laughs. “I don’t.”

I struggle to place the voice. “Moray? What are you doing way out here in the passage?”

“Guard duty, watching out for Lofties.” I hear the clunk of a spear shaft being leaned against the wall. “So where ya been?”

“You definitely wouldn’t believe me if I told you."

“Try me.”

“Later, okay? I’ve been walking all day and I really want to find my family.”

“Come on, I’ll take you. I’m dead bored anyway. I could use the excitement.”

I’d rather go on alone, but I don’t want to be rude. Moray strolls next to me, the torch floating at his side. “How are things?” I ask cautiously.

“Could be better," he answers nonchalantly. His tone confuses me.

“Why? What happened since I left?”

“A lot.”

“Is everything okay . . . in here?”

“Sure, why wouldn’t it be?”

I give up. Clearly I’m not going to get much out of this one.

We’re at the fork. I can hear voices ahead to the left, through the short passage to the main cavern. To the right is the tunnel leading deeper into the caves, where Peree saw me kissing Bear. Bear. What am I going to say to him?

“Ugh, the smell in here . . .” I pinch my nose.

“Yeah, it’s bad. We all stink like a bunch of fleshies. Hang on for a second.”

I’m impatient now that I’m so close, but I wait, listening to him set the torch into a holder on the wall.

“Okay, let’s go,” he says. I turn toward the cavern, hideous smell and all.

My head jerks back as Moray’s hand slams over my mouth. He presses me into his chest.

“Don’t fight, sweetheart. I’ll just make it harder on you,” he whispers, choking me for emphasis.

My heart pounds in my throat as he drags me backward, deeper into the caves. I barely manage to keep my feet under me and breathe.

My nerves are screaming, but I make myself focus on where we’re going. Moray pushes me into a new tunnel. I think it's the one that follows close to the outer edge of the caves, eventually exiting into the forest. It’s hardly ever used. Moray must want privacy.

He releases my mouth. “Can I trust you to keep quiet? No screaming.”

I nod. He moves us down the passage, his arm tight around my neck.

“Why are you doing this? What do you want?” My voice is raspy.

“No questions.”

“But–”

“Shut it, or I’m gagging you. You’ll figure things out soon enough.”

He pushes me along in front of me. I can barely focus through my panic. I’d forgotten how long this passage is, but finally I smell fresh air. We must be near the opening. Moray ties my hands behind me with what feels like a thin but strong piece of rope.

“Please, you don’t need to do this,” I whisper.

“Yeah, I do, actually. Orders. You’re banished for colluding with the enemy, or something like that. Tell you the truth, I wasn’t listening all that close.” He jerks the knot tight.

“Orders? Whose orders?”

“Who gives all the orders around here? The Three. Now, hold still and keep quiet. Fight me, and I promise I won’t be any kind of a gentleman about this.”

He pushes me back on the ground, my hands pinned under me. I’m even more confused—for about a second. He kisses me, his lips covering my mouth like slabs of meat. His tongue thrusts into my mouth and I gag. When his hands rove down from my chest to my abdomen, I do the only thing I can think of. I bite down. Hard.

Moray roars and rears back. I turn my face away, expecting the blow, but his fist lands in my stomach instead. Tears leap to my eyes.

He paces around, cursing me, but he can’t really form the words. I try very hard not to cry. He leans over me, a revolting mixture of blood and spit dribbling across my face. Then he slaps me.

“You blind bith. I don’t want Bear’s theconds anyway.”

I would laugh if I didn’t think he might kill me. He yanks me to my feet and I turn to face him. My next move will be a knee between his legs.

I don’t get the chance. Moray pushes me backward out of the cave. Then he spins me around, and herds me into the trees. Branches whip my face and arms, but I don’t make a sound, and he sure doesn’t stop.

Suddenly the ground drops out from under me. I don’t fall far, but there’s a sickening pop in my ankle when I hit, and blinding pain. The lower part of my leg shakes with it. I grit my teeth and hold in a moan. I don’t want Moray to know how much it hurt. Something falls next to me.

“Thu bad you don’t have any food or wather in there.” It must be my pack. “Poor Bear, he’th worried about where hith intended got to. But maybe ith better thith way conthidering who you were with, looking for the Wathers.” He spits, hitting my bowed back. “Good luck, traither.” His footsteps retreat.

I lie on my side, stunned from the blows to my stomach, face, and ankle—not to mention the sudden change in my circumstances. I take slow, deep breaths, controlling the urge to vomit. I don’t want to be stuck with a pile of stinking sickness.

When the nausea subsides I try to crawl, hoping to figure out where "here" is. My ankle throbs as I creep around. It’s obviously some kind of hole in the ground, roughly circular, and a little more than a man’s height in each direction. The floor beneath me is hard-packed dirt. I know I’m not near our clearing, or the Lofty walkways, given where the tunnel we traveled lets out. This is an uninhabited part of the forest.

I stand with effort, keeping most of my weight on my good ankle, and turn my face up to the surface. It’s pretty much night now; only a weak, watery light trickles in. I run my bound hands around the smooth sides of the pit. I can’t find any rocks, roots, or other signs of vegetation. From what I can tell, the top of the hole is no more than a few feet over my head, but even with two healthy ankles and unbound wrists this probably wouldn’t be an easy climb. The pit seems man-made. Was it dug just for me?

I slump back down, minding my aching ankle. How long can I last in here, without food or water, and with no hope of rescue? I’m already thirsty and hungry from walking all day. A dullness steals through my mind and panic scrabbles in my chest, making it hard to breathe or think. I fill my lungs and scream as loud as I can, hoping someone might hear it. Or that it might chase the smothering fear away. My mind clears a bit with the piercing sound, but the tight feeling in my chest doesn’t lessen.

The earth around me swallows some of the sound, like our blankets when Eland and I used to giggle into them at night. Eland. I was so close to being with him again. Did he think I should be banished? Did everyone? And why would they? I didn’t collude with anyone. I didn’t even invite Peree to come with me to search for the Waters, although it might look that way. Is this what banishment really means? Binding someone’s hands and throwing them in a pit until they die of dehydration? Or was this a special sentence just for me, because I’m protected from the Scourge? Tears run down my cheeks. I can only absorb so many horrible revelations about my community today.

I have no idea why the Three would want to banish me, and I can’t believe Aloe would be part of it. Adder yes, Sable maybe, but not Aloe. Something terrible must be going on in the caves. There’s no other explanation.

I scream again, louder this time, hoping someone might be able to hear. Someone does, but it’s not who I was hoping for. I hear a groan, followed by the scent of death. A large group of the sick ones gather at the edge of the hole. One minute I hear the moans and screams of the Scourge, the next I can make out words—the pleading and pitiful cries. Like there are two different types of creatures above me. I listen, unable to do anything about their misery, or my own.

I lay on my side, the pack beneath my head. It’s hard to get comfortable with my hands bound behind me. The earth is cold, and there’s little room to move around. The darkness is complete. I curl up, shivering.

One time I left a loaf of bread baking too long in the oven. The gooey, fragrant blob of dough that went in came out an ashy, inedible rock. At this moment it feels like the same thing has happened to me. The people, places, and predictable routines—the flour and shortening of my life—have transformed into something strange and foreign. Something unrecognizable.

Lying in the dark with only the moans and entreaties of the sick ones to listen to, my mind plays tricks on me. The trees overhead whisper and mutter to each other. I hear things I don’t think are possible, like soft laughter or singing. I imagine torch light touching the darkness.

A white-hot fury builds in me as I huddle at the bottom of the pit. How did I end up here? I followed Aloe's example, never questioning her commitment to duty. I always assumed being Sightless was the honor people told me it was; an honor that brought certain hardships and specific responsibilities with it. Aloe performed her role as the Water Bearer without complaint, and I accepted that one day it would be my role too. But really I was being used. I was deliberately blinded to provide a service to my community. A service that, it turns out, isn’t even really needed or helpful, since it’s the poisoned water that created the Scourge and kept us prisoners all these years.

I could have stayed in Koolkuna where I was safe. Instead I returned home to my people. Now, thanks to them, I’m banished without even a chance to defend myself. So where does all that commitment to duty leave me?

Alone. Thirsty, hungry, and in pain, in the bottom of a pit. And growing more furious by the minute. The anger seethes through me, making my arms and legs quiver. I’m angry at the Three; angry at Aloe for not treating me like the adult I was becoming and preparing me for my difficult role; angry at the people who must have turned a blind eye to the things being done in the name of our community.

Surrounded by darkness and silence, anger and fear take on physical forms, and a destructive will of their own. They crouch next to me in the pit with toothy grins and clawed hands, waiting to tear into me. When they begin to pace around and around me in circles like predators stalking prey, I start singing. Like I did when I first faced the Scourge, or when I half-carried, half-dragged Peree to the source of the Hidden Waters.

I sing to keep the darkest thoughts away. The ones that make me wonder if my people are even worth trying to save.

I sing every song I can think of, until I’m out of songs, then I sing them again. The sick ones are quiet, as if listening. When I finally finish I feel hollow and empty, my throat and mouth terribly parched. The simmering rage burns through me like a grass fire.

I close my eyes, and water surrounds me. The hole is filling with water, rushing in from above. I lap it up, tasting earth and salt and rust. But no matter how much I drink, I can’t slake my thirst. The water creeps up my chest to my neck. I need to start swimming, but when I try to move my arms and legs in the familiar ways, my limbs don’t respond. Panic prickles along my scalp. I’m not going to starve or die of dehydration in here. I’m going to drown.

In the odd way of my dreams, I can see. The sick ones gaze down at me in uncharacteristic silence. Only it's not the sick ones now, it's the Three—Aloe, Sable, and Adder. Others surround the hole, too. Eland, Bear, Calli, Fox and Acacia, Bream, Pinion, Yew. I call to them for help, but they just stare back at me, their faces impassive. Then, one by one, they turn away. Eland is the last to leave. He smiles at me and a tear falls from his eye, joining the deluge. Then he goes away, too, as the water covers my face. It pours into my mouth and nose and throat. I dissolve, not into dust, but into more and more and more water.