Horde (Razorland #3)(101)

“I thought your kind couldn’t swim,” I managed to say, as fear rushed in.

If these Freaks had found a way across the river, it couldn’t be long before the horde followed. Rosemere would be decimated. Sickness roiled in my stomach, churning the rich food I’d eaten moments before at Stone and Thimble’s table. I had to think of a way out of this mess, and there was nobody here to help, just my inadequate wits against endless weight.

“No,” he replied. “But we can build.”

That is not good news.

“Boats, you mean?”

He inclined his head. “They are not so fine as yours, but they suffice.”

Now I pictured them lashing logs together—as we had for the primitive town we built in the forest—constructing rafts that would carry them across the river. Please don’t let the horde have seen them. They don’t need any help to destroy us. Taking a deep breath, I reined my dread.

“Say your piece quickly.”

I can’t believe I’m not attacking this strange creature.

“I am Szarok. In your tongue this roughly means He Who Dreams.”

Astonishment stilled me for a few seconds. I’d never imagined that Freaks named their brats or that their language could translate with such elegance. Before this moment, I saw them only as monsters to be destroyed at all costs. Cold prickles crept up my spine as I considered how many of Szarok’s brethren I had slain.

“You speak it well,” I whispered.

He acknowledged the compliment with what I’d take for a smile in a human face. “I studied. I learned. This is the way of the young.”

“Why? Killing us is your favorite pastime.”

“No. This is all our forefathers know because they remember too much about the hate and pain of their creation. But the lastborn see farther. We have memories of kindness.”

“Kindness?” I asked.

“Will you take my hand, Huntress?”

I couldn’t credit how peculiar this seemed. If this was a trap, it was too bizarre for me to fathom. Maybe this creature knew it couldn’t defeat me in a fight, and it had some new trick in mind, some new ability I’d never seen, like venomous skin. Yet I heard Tegan whispering in my ear, as if she were standing here. She had become the new voice in my head, replacing Silk.

Trust has to begin somewhere. For peace to take hold, one person must first stop fighting.

I pushed out a shuddering breath. “Go ahead.”

Szarok’s hand was strong and warm. The claws prickled as he wrapped his fingers around my wrist. Impressions flickered through my mind; I had nothing to compare it to, but I saw a young Freak wounded and near death. A child in Otterburn tended it; she was too small to understand they were enemies. She saw only pain, not ugliness, and she healed the creature. And that beast fathered Szarok. I saw the connection in blood and bone, and I realized he could spin these memories in his mind, just as Dr. Wilson had predicted.

When he let me go, I reeled back, not in hurt but wonder. “What’s it like to be able to trace your path back so far?”

“Beautiful. And ugly. The world is always both.”

Those words resonated with me. “It is. Are the memories you carry from your forefathers always that sharp and clear? Can you call them at will?”

“Yes,” he said. “It’s blessing and curse, I think, as you can see in the old ones. They cannot forget or forgive. They cannot move past the pain.”

I imagined the mad jumble of images the Freaks in the horde stored in their heads, marching all the way back to their human origins. No wonder they hated us. People never raged so hard as against the flaws they perceived in themselves. The feral Freaks weren’t smart enough to understand their instinctive antipathy, but I did. And it saddened me.

“You said your name means He Who Dreams. So tell me yours, Szarok.”

“I dream of peace … and a world where neither side judges the other by their skins.”

It sounded like a worthy goal, if an improbable one. “What did you have in mind?”

“An alliance.”

I gaped at him, as that was possibly the most startling statement in a night already fraught with more shocks than I could process. “You can’t be serious.”

“We’ve spent the last year keeping the horde in check, Huntress, arguing with them about the wisdom of their course.” He leaned forward, seeming skilled at reading my reactions. “You didn’t avoid them out of luck; my clan is why they stayed in Appleton so long, sending only a portion of their strength against you. But the old ones will listen no longer. Most have less than three years left, but before they die, they will wipe your kind from the territories. There’s no time for peace to flourish as it will. We must make it so.”

That explains so much. But Company D would never accept this. “I don’t think—”

But Szarok made an impatient gesture, one familiar to me from other angry men. In that instant, I saw him as a person, not a monster. “Do you think this is easy? We must join our hated enemies to slay our mothers and fathers. But this is the only path. They cannot stop killing, so we must make them.”

“Are you so sure I can be trusted?” I had murdered an awful lot of his people, after all.

“You kept to the terms of our agreement before.”