The Scourge (A.G. Henley)

CHAPTER Nineteen



I wake with a start. There's light. Morning. My first feeling is relief that I’m not drowning, but the relief only lasts a moment when I hear a low groan. I realize what woke me—something is in the pit with me. I scramble back until I’m pressed against the wall.

The sick one must have either just jumped in, or fallen. It’s not touching me—yet—but with horror I realize that if it’s hungry enough, it might attack, like the one that bit me. My hands are bound, and it’s only a matter of time before my body shuts down from fatigue, leaving me defenseless. I stay pressed against the dirt wall as the creature paces in the small space in front of me.

I can feel something sharp poking into my leg. Peree’s knife. Why didn’t I remember it was in my pocket when Moray first grabbed me? I manage to ease my dress far enough around to pull it out. Then I press the rope binding my wrists against its sharp edge. I can’t put much pressure on the knife with my hands bound, but I begin to saw as best I can. It’s insanely tricky. The knife keeps slipping and twisting. I nick my wrist, and a trickle of blood joins the sweat on my palms, making them extra slick. The sick one moans again and moves closer. Can it smell my blood, like an animal?

I keep at it, praying the sick one will keep its distance until I get the binding off my hands. Thank the stars Moray used a thin bit of rope. It’s strong, but there’s less of it to cut through. There’s a cold touch on my leg. I kick out, and the creature backs off.

I work furiously, sweat coating my face. I cut myself again, and suck in my breath at the pain. The sick one groans and presses closer. My flailing foot meets flesh this time, but the creature isn’t deterred. It hovers over me, its foul breath in my face, its tongue searching. I make myself as small as possible, still working on the rope.

It finally gives. I grab the handle of the knife and scurry around the creature to the other side of the hole.

“I don’t know if you understand me, but here’s the deal,” I say, panting, “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to. So you stay on your side of the hole, and I’ll stay on mine, and maybe we can both get out of here alive.”

The sick one howls in frustration. The ones above scream and mutter in response. I wasn’t expecting it to answer me, but I was hoping it might be closer to human, like the ones I’d heard speak. No such luck. At least my hands are free, and I have a weapon to defend myself with. Not that it will help if the creature really decides to take me. It sounds big, and sick one or not, it’s probably the stronger of the two of us.

I crouch against my side of the pit, knife in hand. My ankle aches; I have to shift my weight often. The sick one goes back to pacing. Maybe it could understand me. I wait, wary and watchful.

As the sun follows its agonizingly slow path in the sky, my thirst becomes unbearable. Water is all I can think of. As my tongue slowly swells from dehydration, I start to imagine things again. The sick one speaks to me, only it sounds like people I know—my family and friends, even some from Koolkuna. One groan morphs into Nerang’s quiet chuckle. I slap my hands over my ears, almost dropping the knife. It takes all my energy to fight the despair that fills me, drop by drop, like a slow but inevitable trickle of water. As night falls again, I don’t know how much more I can endure.

I drift, half-asleep, through memories of happier days: playing tag in the forest with Calli and Bear, sitting around the fire listening to the elders tell their stories, taking walks in the garden with Aloe as she teaches me to identify plants from their feel and smell.

One memory has remarkable clarity: Aloe and I alone by the water hole. She rarely relaxed when I was a child, always busy with her responsibilities, or helping someone else with theirs. But this day was different. No washing to do or water to gather. Just her and me on the shore. I snuggled against her, the scent of rosemary filling my nose as the sun warmed her skin.

Aloe asked if I was happy. That was unusual, too. She usually didn’t waste time wondering about things that made no difference. Happy or not, life went on and duties had to be done. I said I was, and she asked what made me happy. I don’t remember exactly what I said. I probably chattered about the small things that pleased me at the time—the squirrel Bear captured and caged as a pet for us to share, an evening swim the Three allowed, wildberries we gathered for dessert. Aloe listened, stroking my hair as I spoke.

“Ask me what makes me happy,” she said, and I did. “You and Eland. Without you, there would be no happiness or joy for me. Not even a possibility of it.”

I don’t know why this particular memory comes up, except that there’s water in it. But there’s some comfort in knowing there was a time, however long ago, when I made Aloe happy.

The night wears on, terrible and interminable, and my world shrinks to two needs: water and sleep. I’d give anything for a few dribbles of water on my tongue, poisoned or not. I can feel it now, pooling in my mouth, coating my tongue, sliding down my dry throat . . .

I jerk awake as the sick one moans. Is it closer than it was a few seconds ago? Fear pumps through my body, buying me a few more minutes of wakefulness. I clutch the knife.

A thought comes to me. I could kill the creature.

It would be dangerous—I might fail, and end up enraging it. But if I kill it, I could sleep. And anything is better than this waiting game. Waiting to succumb to sleep or thirst. Waiting to die. I’m sick, starving, frightened, wretched. I’m ready to die or to kill.

Slowly, I exhale through parched lips. This is a human in the pit with me. The word echos in my mind. Human. And I can't do it. With a trembling hand, I place the knife in my lap, lean my head against the wall, and go back to waiting.



Morning light squints into the hole. As the chill dissipates in deference to the sun, the sick ones above mutter in low voices of relief. At least that’s what it sounds like in my delirium. I haven't slept. At least I don't think I have. I can't tell reality from my encroaching nightmares anymore. Nerang speaks to me.

Up, young one. It’s time for you to go.

“Can’t. Too weak.” My tongue’s so swollen, I sound like Moray. I turn my face to the wall.

Yes, you can, he insists.

I shake my head, and dirt dribbles down my nose.

Up now. You’ve found your coat of feathers.

“Feathers?”

They were buried, but you found them. Put them on and fly away.

"Don't know how to fly."

Fennel. Get up. It’s Kai’s voice now. That’s odd.

“Go away,” I whisper to the ghosts in my head.

Gladly, if that’s what you want. Kai sounds impatient.

“So thirsty,” I mumble.

I hear something slide down the side of the pit. It lands next to my head with a sloshing sound. My fingers close over a sack. Water. I fumble with the tie and choke down a few sips. Then I gulp down several long pulls.

You’re going to make yourself sick, the Kai-ghost says.

I ignore her, and drain half the sack. A minute later half of it comes back up.

Told you, the ghost says with no hint of compassion in her voice.

I frown. This doesn’t sound like a hallucination, this sounds like Kai in the ever-unfriendly flesh.

“Kai?” I whisper. “Is that really you?”

“Who did you think?”

I shake my head, trying to clear it as the water works its magic. “How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. I saw the sick ones. Thought I’d see what was so interesting.” But she sounds like she doesn’t find me, or my predicament, interesting at all.

“What are you doing here?” I take a few more cautious sips.

Her voice drops to a mutter. “Peree went crazy after you left. Wouldn’t wait until Nerang told him it was okay to go. I caught him sneaking away, and told him I’d bring him back. Now his leg’s pretty bad again.”

I have to work to hide my relief and excitement that he’s back. I don’t think it will help Kai’s mood, or my chances of getting out of here. A Groundling or Lofty would have run from the Scourge, not have come closer. It was total luck that Kai found me. If she leaves, I’ll die here.

“Can you help me get out?” I ask.

The sick one is pacing and almost growling, clearly more agitated since Kai arrived. At least my head is clearing a little, and my thirst could be described as outrageous instead of atrocious now.

I don’t hear anything from above. “Kai?”

She couldn’t have left.

Could she?

A magpie screeches in the trees. I wait, holding my breath. Finally I hear rustling, followed by a thump in the space next to me. I reach down to find a coil of rope. I exhale gratefully.

“Tie it around you,” she orders.

“What about the runa?” I ask.

“It won’t bother you.” She scoffs as if it’s a ridiculous idea. Next time I'd like to see her stuck in a tiny hole with one.

I don’t know how she’s going to get me out of here. She doesn’t sound very tall or big. She tugs and pulls, and eventually I dangle in the air. The rope bites into my armpits as I rise one excruciating finger-length at a time. The sick one below me moans, and the ones above murmur in response. I hope they don’t pick this moment to attack. I keep the knife poised just in case.

When my head finally clears the top of the hole, I grab onto the lip and scramble out. Kai pants somewhere ahead of me. I stand when I’m able to, pocket the knife, and limp over to her. The sick ones shuffle out of my way.

I find her arm to help her up. “Thank yo–”

She shakes me off. “Untie that rope, I need it back.”

I try to focus on my appreciation for her help instead of more murderous thoughts as I step out of the loop. “What about the sick one down there?”

“What about it?” She gathers the rope and stuffs it in her pack.

“Should we help it out of the hole?”

“It can take care of itself. They aren’t completely helpless—like some people.”

I bristle. “Then why didn’t it before?”

“Probably waiting to see if you were going to die. It looked hungry.”

“Great,” I mutter. I drink a bit more water. It tastes unbelievably good. “So, what now?”

She takes off into the woods.

My mouth drops open. “Hey, wait! Where are you going?"

“Home to Koolkuna.”

"Where’s Peree?” I call, a little frantically.

“In the trees.”

“And which direction is that?” I hiss. I hate having to ask her for directions.

I hear her footsteps stop. “I thought you lived here too.”

That’s it. “Kai," I yell, "I didn’t fall in that hole, I was pushed. So I’m a little disoriented right now. Would you please point out the way?”

She stomps over to me, takes one of my hands, and points it. I fight a short but violent battle to keep from pounding her with it when she lets go. “Tell Peree I helped you. He’ll be happy.”

And with that, she walks away.

I start off in the direction Kai pointed in. Anger keeps my feet moving forward. Not just anger at Kai—now that I’m out of the pit, I have a list of people I want to get my cut-and-bleeding hands on. And they’re almost all Groundlings.

When I left home looking for the Waters, I was thinking about my people’s needs. Now that I’m back, I’m only thinking about mine. What were Sable’s words the morning the Three issued their punishment? I can stand with my people, or I’ll stand alone? Alone sounds perfect right about now. If it weren’t for Eland and Peree, I’d turn around and follow Kai all the way back to Koolkuna, whether she liked it or not.

As I stumble and thrash my way through trees and underbrush, relying solely on my internal sense of direction, I form a plan. I’ll tell Peree and Shrike what happened, then try to get into the caves to check on Eland somehow. The rest of them can rot in there, for all I care, including Aloe.

The forest is unusually quiet this morning. It should be almost midday, but it’s much darker, more like twilight. Clouds must be covering the sun. I do the best I can to keep traveling in the right direction, but it’s not easy with little to orient me. And although the wild thirst has ebbed, I’m weak with hunger.

After some time, I'm relieved to hear voices ahead. I move toward them, careful not to get too close. If they’re Groundlings, I might be caught and thrown in the pit again. If they’re Lofties, they may not wait long enough to find out why a Groundling is outside the caves. I didn’t come this far just to get shot.

I creep more slowly as the voices grow louder. When I literally run into a large greenheart, I stay behind it to listen, trying to get a fix on where I am. Some of the voices echo, convincing me I found my way to the mouth of the cave. There’s movement in the trees nearby. It could be coming from the platform overlooking the caves, where Peree used to meet me in the mornings. I wonder if he's up there now. My limbs tingle with nervous energy.

I hear Fox’s voice. His perpetual exuberance is gone, replaced by a weary determination. “You wanted to see your man, and here he is. What are your terms?”

“We can’t trust them,” I hear Adder say. He doesn’t sound well. His voice is repellent as ever, but there’s a brittleness to it I haven't heard before.

Someone in the cave says something I don’t catch.

“It’s not a trick, it’s a simple trade.” That’s Shrike, speaking from his trees. His gruff voice is threatening. “Give him to us, and you can go back to your homes.”

“Unacceptable,” Adder says. “This Lofty trespassed in the caves, and we know he also killed a Groundling. We demand retribution.”

A Lofty went in the caves, killed someone, and got captured? Why? Who? Then I hear a familiar voice from the caves. Oh, no. It can’t be.

“I killed the Groundling because he was being consumed by the Scourge, not because he set the fire.” Peree sounds as if he’s already explained this repeatedly.

“You’re lying, like all Lofties lie,” Adder hisses. There are sounds of a scuffle. “Moray, restrain the prisoner.”

I scowl. Moray again.

“You attacked our homes, and murdered one of our women. Our losses are even,” Shrike says. “I’ve told you our terms. Reject the offer, and see how long you can hold out without fresh water or supplies. It’s your choice.”

“Do you hear that? They admit it,” Adder says loudly. “The Lofties mean to starve us out, as I’ve been telling you. They want to take our land and the water hole for themselves.”

The Groundlings in the caves mutter. I hear the thumps of spears on the ground. This isn’t good.

“We had no other choice but to contain you after your unprovoked attack,” Shrike says, undisguised frustration in his voice. “We don’t want the deaths of your women and children on our consciences. Then again, we wouldn’t shed tears if you Groundlings left the forest for good.” Lofties in the trees whoop their agreement, causing a few Groundlings to hurl curses from the caves.

“Keep your heads,” Fox orders. Where are Aloe and Sable?

“That’s not all this Lofty has to answer for,” says Bear. I’m relieved to hear his voice, but it’s not like him to sound so somber. He can usually find the humor in any situation, no matter how dire. “He murdered my intended.”

His intended? Bear asked someone to partner with him?

“He was her Keeper,” Bear continues, “but instead of protecting her, he killed her. Probably when he found out she was leaving the caves.”

My mouth drops open. Is he talking about me?

“I . . . didn’t kill her.” Peree sounds like he’s having trouble catching his breath, making me worry about what Moray did to him during their scuffle. “I came in here . . . to find her.”

“We haven’t seen her in weeks. Stop lying and tell me where she is, or I’ll spear you right now,” Bear growls.

“Maybe she juth wanted to get away from you, hero,” Moray says to Bear.

“Shut up,” Bear snaps. A swell of hope fills my chest. If Bear doesn’t know I was banished, maybe the people don’t really think I’m a traitor.

“Stop this, Bear. Fennel wouldn’t want more violence,” Aloe says, her voice strangely soft and anemic. Despite my anger, I can’t help feeling grateful to hear her voice. Now if I could only tell if Eland is there, too.

“Why would we harm the Water Bearer?” Shrike says. “It makes no sense.”

“Nothing you Lofties do makes much sense,” someone shouts from the caves. It sounds like Cuda, one of Moray’s brothers.

“We’re offering you the chance to go home,” a Lofty woman shouts back, “and maybe wash away that ferocious stink. But if you don't want to, then feel free to crawl back inside like the vermin you are!”

There’s laughter and more taunts from the Lofties. A swell of hostile voices rises from the caves. And I’ve spent enough time with Peree to recognize the sound of arrows being pulled from quivers and loaded onto bows.

Things are getting out of hand. I have to do something. I step away from the trunk I’m hiding behind, push through some bushes, and emerge into the clearing. There are shouts of surprise as people recognize me. Then my feet leave the ground as Bear crushes me into his broad chest. He does smell fairly ferocious, but also comfortingly familiar.

“You’re alive. Thank the stars,” he whispers into my hair. “Where have you been?” I can’t answer; I can’t even breathe. He sets me down, but keeps me tucked against his body. He’s radiating relief, and it sparks conflicting feelings of gratitude and guilt in me. “I didn’t think you were coming back. I thought you were–” He chokes on the word.

I haven't heard him sound like he might cry since his father died when we were children. I squeeze him around the waist, which feels considerably leaner than when I left. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

He smoothes my hair away from my face. “You don’t look okay. What happened to you?”

“Long story,” I whisper. "So, Bear . . . did I somehow miss agreeing to partner with you?”

“Oh, that . . . I was so happy when you said you would’ve danced with me at the Solstice, that I kind of let it slip to Cougar, and he told Vole, and Vole told Fox, and Fox told Calli and Acacia—and pretty much everyone knew after that.” He sounds sheepish. “I tried to set the story straight, but people assumed if you said you’d dance with me, that it meant we’d partner when you came back.”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” I grumble, but I smile to let him know I’m not angry.

The startled voices have died down. The air in the clearing seems to throb with tension, like an infected pustule ready to burst. My skin prickles with the physical perception of danger. No one else came out to greet me like Bear.

“Well, well,” Adder says, “where did you come from, girl?”

Rage blows full force through me again at the sound of his grating voice. I move a step away from Bear, trying to keep my hands from clenching into fists.

“I think you know." My voice is surprisingly even. “Groundlings and Lofties, listen to me. You may think of me as a child, and dismiss what I have to say. But I’ve earned the right to speak. I faced the Scourge to collect the water for you, and I found the Hidden Waters. Now I have something to tell you.”

“You did it? You found the Waters?” a voice squeaks from the caves. Eland. My heart dances when I hear him, but the feeling is replaced by fresh anxiety that he might be in danger if a fight breaks out. I grin at him, trying to look reassuring.

“Yes, little brother, I found them . . . and I found out a lot of other things. Things about the Scourge. They aren’t what we think they are.”

“What do you mean, Fennel?” Fox asks.

“Your minds, all of our minds, play tricks on us. The way you see the creatures isn’t real. The creatures aren’t monsters, they’re . . . sick people.” As I expected, it sounds ridiculous.

“Sick people?” Adder scoffs. “I’ve never seen a sick person tear someone’s head off their body.”

“Listen to her. She’s telling the truth,” Kadee says from the trees. I’m glad to have her support, but I doubt her vouching for me will change any Groundling minds.

I try again. “When I found the Hidden Waters, I also found a village that was protected from the Scourge. Just like in the legend.” There are definite sounds of shock at that.

“How?” someone asks.

“Their water—the Hidden Waters—is pure.” Peree says. “Ours is poisoned.”

I hear the word poison repeated through the caves and the trees.

“And how does a Lofty know that?” Cuda asks, his voice accusing.

I steel myself. “Peree and I found the Waters together.”

“You were with him?” Bear growls. “Why?”

“You admit you led a Lofty to the Waters? How interesting,” Adder says. “I didn’t realize you’d become so cozy with our enemy.”

I erupt. “Isn’t that why you had me banished? And the Lofties aren't my enemies! I’m so tired of your agendas and accusations, Adder. I may be Sightless, but you’re blinded by your prejudice against the Lofties." I face the caves. "Groundlings, I came home two days ago, only to be banished—thrown into a pit and left to die.” From the sounds of peoples’ reactions, I can tell it wasn’t widely known. It gives me courage to continue. “Moray told me it was by order of the Three, but I think it was Adder’s doing. He’s no longer capable of governing us responsibly. His hatred has brought us to the brink of war with the Lofties, and the Three don’t seem to have the will to stop him.” I direct those words to the spot where I last heard Aloe.

To my surprise, she acknowledges my challenge in a defeated voice. “You’re right, my daughter, we don’t.”

“I learned other things while I was away, too. I wasn't born Sightless. I was made this way as an infant . . . so I could collect the water one day.” More murmurs at that. “Did you know, Aloe? Did you allow it to happen?”

“Not until after,” Aloe says. “I would never have allowed it if I’d known beforehand.”

“Be careful, woman!” Adder spits at Aloe. “You're on dangerous ground!” Dangerous ground? What does he mean?

“Is this true, Adder?” Fox asks. “We've always thought the Sightless children came from the Lofties.”

“Of course it’s not true,” Adder says. “Can’t you see where the girl’s loyalties lie? Fennel sides with the Lofties, and challenges the authority of the Three. Either the Scourge has weakened her mind, or she’s a traitor.”

“I’m not a traitor!” I yell.

“She’s a Lofty-lover,” Thistle squeals from the caves. “We can’t trust her.” A few voices agree. A Lofty what?

“Fennel’s no traitor,” Bear says, stepping close to me again. I’m grateful for his solidarity.

“These accusations need to be discussed, but for now we should focus on the negotiations. There are hungry children in the caves, waiting to be fed,” Pinion says from the caves. Of all the voices I’ve heard, hers is the least altered. “Fennel, you’ve vouched for the Lofties, but how do we know they won’t kill us all in our beds if we agree to their terms?”

“Or that you won’t burn us out of our homes!” a Lofty yells.

I face the trees. “You Lofties have reason to be angry with us. But since the day you cast out our ancestors and created the Exchange, you’ve had the upper hand. Instead of fostering goodwill by sharing your most precious resource—the safety of the trees—you kept us low, subjecting us instead to fear and intimidation. If we’re going to survive, we have to earn each other’s trust, as Peree and I did.”

“Show them the necklace,” Peree calls.

Confused, but willing to follow his lead, I pull out the carved bird. There are gasps from the greenhearts.

“Peree, you gave yourself to a Groundling?” The Lofty woman’s voice is a mixture of amazement and revulsion.

Is that what the bird is? A Lofty symbol of partnership, like our bonding bands? Part of me wonders what Peree was thinking, giving me something with that kind of significance without telling me what it meant. Another part is thrilled he offered it to me at all, and long before he told me the full extent of his feelings. But I don’t have time to think more about it.

“I’m a Groundling,” I say, “but I’m a Lofty, too. Born in the trees, raised on the ground. You can hate me, banish me, kill me—but whatever you do, you do it to one of your own.” I pause. “Only a few feet of air separates us. Can’t you see that? If Peree and I could find common ground, isn’t there a chance we all could?”

“Fennel is right,” Adder agrees. People quiet down to listen to him. “She’s right that she is only a child, with a child’s idealistic view of the world. She knows nothing of the deception of the Lofties, and the lengths they’ll go to keep us in our place. Children should have no voice in these talks, but I see Fennel has too much of her mother to keep silent. Cuda, guard the Lofty prisoner. Moray, take Fennel into the caves with the other . . . little ones.”

My hand darts to my pocket and Peree’s knife. There’s no way I’m letting Moray touch me again.

I feel Bear tie something around my upper arm. I might still be muddled from fatigue and hunger, but I know what it is. A bonding band.

“I invoke the privilege of the bond,” Bear says. “I’ll do what it takes to protect my partner. If you touch her, Moray, you’ll have a lot more than a bitten tongue to worry about.”

“Think you can thake me, hero?” Moray drawls. He's close to us, in the clearing now.

“Try me,” Bear says.

The sounds of a brawl tumble out of the caves behind Moray.

“Cuda!” Moray sounds like he’s running back the way he came.

“What is it? What’s happening?” I ask Bear.

“Looks like the Lofty thumped Cuda with his own spear. It was a nice move . . . but they’ve got him again.”

“Peree! Be careful!” I yell.

Shrike speaks, his voice like ice. “If my son is hit one more time, these talks are over. We’ll take him back by force.”

Someone shouts from the caves. “As if you could!”

Taunts and threats are hurled back and forth. Fox tries to calm the crowd, but his words are lost in the shouting. Bear draws me closer to the bulk of his body.

An arrow zips overhead, heading for the caves. Death in motion. It finds its mark.

“Get down!” Bear says, pushing me into the dirt.

The next few moments stretch out forever as arrows, spears, shouts, and curses are flung over our heads. There are screams of pain, and I can smell the raw tang of blood. Then I hear a new sound. Shrieks, followed by moans. I catch the odor of death, illness, despair—the unmistakable reek of the Scourge. Groundlings that were surging out of the caves a few moments before, hurling spears and expletives, now run back the way they came. The familiar fear engulfs me.

“Bear,” I shout, “get in the caves!”

He yanks me up. “You’re coming, too!”

He half-drags me toward the mouth of the cave. I’m not sure it’s safe for me in there, but I’m positive it’s not safe out here in the middle of a hailstorm of arrows and spears. Sweat drenches my hands and face.

A creature near me is hit with a sickening thump. It cries out, sounding horribly human. Several others moan in pain, and one begs to die. I hesitate. They don’t deserve to be shot down like helpless animals. Someone grabs my other hand, dragging me away from Bear. It’s Peree. I’d never mistake the feel of his hand in mine.

“Come on,” he yells, yanking me sharply to the right, toward the trees. “We’ll be safer out here.”

But more creatures surround us, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“They’re being consumed!” I hear a Lofty woman shout. “Someone shoot them—show them mercy!”

Peree swears, and barks at me to run, pushing me forward. Arrows strike the ground around us.

We almost make it to the line of trees. Almost.

A creature pitches into me. I try to keep my footing, but it knocks me off balance, tearing my hand out of Peree’s. As I fall, I feel the cold grip of the sick one, grasping my arms.

My temple cracks against something on the ground—something hard and unforgiving—and pain rips through my head. Blood flows into my ear, and the sounds of the clash garble and begin to fade.

I slip from consciousness quickly. But not before I hear Kadee scream Peree’s name, her voice strangled with grief.