He set a hard pace, trotting, running, slowing when Benjie or Tyende were left gasping for air, then pushing them again when they faltered too long.
As they fled, the ground stirred across the breadth of landscape. It was a reminder that the true bulk of the forest lay beneath their feet, in a vast interconnected network of roots and fungal hyphae, forming an intelligence far older than anything on Earth.
Knowing what was coming, what would be destroyed, Gray gritted his teeth with frustration.
We should never have come here.
What had it gained them?
Kowalski’s empty canteen bounced at his hip. Gray held out a slim hope that perhaps whatever curative powers had been gifted to the big man could be distilled back out of his blood, used to stop the spreading contagion.
They finally reached the edge of the ancient forest. The fringe of darker woods beckoned. Benjie slowed—less due to his gasping breath and more for Tyende’s sake. The flight had left the man wheezing, his face gaunt and running with sweat. He had lost his staff along the way. Kowalski now supported the elder, with Faraji trying to help on the other side.
Gray took the boy’s place. “Keep going.”
They set off again, forging through the dense barricade of dark forest until the main woods opened around them.
Gray checked his watch.
9:38 A.M.
They had only another seven minutes—if even that.
Benjie noted the problem first, slowing down and searching around. “Where are the others?” he huffed out.
Gray looked, too, and realized that Molimbo and the rest of the pygmies had left, taking their bonded aardwolves with them. They were nowhere in sight.
Gray shook his head. “We’ll have to hope they got far enough away.”
“Maybe they sensed what was about to happen,” Benjie offered. “Maybe they’re already sheltering at the city.”
“Maybe,” Gray muttered, but he doubted it, not after the way the hunters had shunned the ancient place, a dead kingdom ringed in bones.
Still, they had no time for debate.
Gray got them all moving. “Keep going.”
As they set off, a lone sentinel appeared on the road, materializing like a ghost out of the woods. The snowy-furred aardwolf stopped ahead of them, his old eyes staring back, welcoming the return of his partner.
“Mbe . . .” Tyende gasped.
The wolf flowed like silver down the cobbles to meet the tribesman. He drew abreast of Tyende and paced alongside him. His presence reinvigorated the elder. Tyende shook free of Gray and Kowalski and ran a hand along the beast’s flank, as if drawing strength from that furry body.
They set a faster pace, rushing down the winding path. Still, by the time they reached the fork in the trail, Tyende needed help again. He hobbled and stumbled, falling behind. Gray dropped back and supported an arm under him. The elder’s limbs trembled. Gray felt the pounding flutter of his heart through his thin ribs.
Though far younger than Molimbo, the Kuba tribesman was still well over a hundred, maybe as old as a hundred and fifty. Gray wondered if it took generations of exposure—millennia of living here—to achieve the pygmies’ extreme longevity. In that respect, Tyende was still a relative newcomer, more susceptible to the ravages of age.
Kowalski came up on the elder’s left side, looking ready to carry Tyende if need be. The big man tried to get the aardwolf out of the way.
Mbe growled, plainly not willing to give up his post. Even still, the old aardwolf panted heavily. His eyes rolled with the stress of the run. A reminder that, like Tyende, the century-old beast could not hold back time forever.
“Almost there!” Benjie called back, pointing ahead.
The city lay dark, shrouded by forest. The flames that had lit the place had guttered out. Gray understood why the pygmies avoided the place. It wasn’t just the bones. A haunted quality hung over it.
Still, the team had no time for superstitions.
He checked the glowing face of his watch.
9:42 A.M.
“Three more minutes,” Gray shouted.
Benjie cringed, running faster toward the dark facade.
Would that be enough time?
Gray rushed everyone faster. “Get as far back as you can in there! As deep as you can go!”
Benjie and Faraji reached a curve in the road. They took a more direct route, abandoning the path and crashing through the underbrush and across fields of mushrooms. A puffball blasted at his heels, startling him. Old skulls and ribs shattered under the pound of his boots, making for treacherous footing.
He prayed that their own bones wouldn’t be added to this ancient mausoleum.
He and Faraji reached the dark threshold. Kowalski ignited a flashlight behind them, casting their shadows deeper inside. Benjie balked at the entrance, but Kowalski bowled into him, shoving him forward.
“Move it!” he bellowed.
Benjie tripped, caught himself, then ran after Faraji. Kowalski crowded behind them. The beam of his flashlight bobbed all around. The shining walls warmed that light into a golden hue. Benjie ran a palm along one surface, feeling how smooth it was. But his reach was more to keep his balance.
Bones were strewn everywhere underfoot. Most of the skeletons were still intact, macabrely so, as if untouched since the bodies dropped. A few still had scraps of clothing adhering to them. A couple wore aged-black chainmail. Steel weapons—pikes, hammers, swords—lay scattered all around, further proof of the invasion into the valley that Tyende had described.
As they continued, Benjie followed Faraji’s example and tried sidestepping and dancing through the skeletons to avoid disturbing their rest.
Kowalski was not so courteous. He crushed and cursed his way down the subterranean alley.
To either side, golden homes spread out in stacks of sharp-edged blocks, climbing higher and higher. Bridges and archways spanned everywhere.
Benjie gawked about him, trying to picture how the place must have once looked. In his mind’s eye, he hung lamps and lanterns across the city. He imagined people chattering and bartering, kids running and laughing, aardwolves loping and playing.
He glanced back, recognizing that the city’s true wealth did not lie around him, but behind, out into the forest—where the kingdom had lived in harmony with the natural world for centuries.
That was their greatest fortune.
Still, Benjie frowned, realizing something else as he looked back.
“Where’s Gray?”
9:44 A.M.
“You have to keep going,” Gray urged, glancing to his watch.
One minute . . .
Tyende had stopped only a few yards into the city. It was hard to say who halted first, the elderly tribesman or his ancient companion. As if responding to the same signal, they had both stopped.
Mbe dropped to his haunches, panting hard, his chest heaving, looking far older, as if he were fading before Gray’s eyes. The large aardwolf settled to the floor, staring off toward the woods. Tyende lowered next to him, down to his knees. He draped an arm over his large companion.
“This is far enough,” Tyende declared.
Gray sensed the tribesman was not referring to a distance measured in miles.
“You can’t give up.” Gray reached to him.
Tyende lifted an arm. Mbe growled, voicing what the tribesman likely felt. “It’s not defeat. Not even surrender.” He offered a small, content smile. “It’s simply time.”
“But—”
“My story is told. It is passed to you. That is enough.”
Gray struggled with how to convince him.
Tyende glanced across the breadth of the dark city and removed his gold circlet. “Now is the time for kingdoms to come to an end.” He returned his attention to the forest, following Mbe’s long gaze. “And for mothers to let their children stand on their own, for better or worse.”
Gray finally accepted that Tyende would not stir from here, but before he set off, he sought a reassurance. “The cure . . . could Kowalski share it with the world?”