Horde (Razorland #3)(107)

I shook my head quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t understand, whereas you remembered your parents … and how they were together. I wish I hadn’t hurt you while I was figuring things out.”


“I hurt you too.” Fade was referring to his harsh words on my naming day, when he’d told me everything was over between us.

To convince him that was all in the past, I scooted up and brushed my lips against his raspy jaw. I had a fuzzy idea that we might manage some quiet kissing, but oblivion took me before I did more than nuzzle his cheek. We were so weary that neither of us stirred all day. Some point after dark, I woke and Fade nudged me down the ladder, where my brat-mates fed me. Blearily I acknowledged him helping me to the facilities out back, then upstairs again. He stayed close, a warm comfort in my sleep. All told, I was out for almost eighteen hours. Given that I’d been living rough for weeks, had nearly drowned, then hiked to the west side of the island and back, staying up all night, it was no wonder I was too tired to function.

When I roused next, it was time to prepare for battle.

Meld

I spent the day dealing with last-minute details, making sure we were ready for the fight. That included various errands, begging a few items from the vendors, and dealing with the boatmen. Morrow asked his father to smooth our way—and the governor was willing to help, even without knowing why. I liked him more for that; it meant he trusted his son’s judgment. But it was a good thing I’d slept most of the prior day because I wouldn’t rest again before the appointed hour. The villagers didn’t know what was going on, only that the soldiers they housed were saying thanks and farewell.

That night, after I wrapped up my work, I met the officers of Company D at the Cup and Bowl, Rosemere’s only pub. It was nicer than the one in Otterburn; the furniture was finished, and the people were friendly, not frightened. But that came from their safety due to the river more than any natural tendency. As a girl approached our table, I wondered if all islands had fared so well. It comforted me to imagine pockets of joy and security around the world, untouched by chemicals, Freaks, or violence.

“Nothing for me,” I started to say, as I didn’t have any local chits.

Morrow spoke over me. “I’ll pay for the group.”

I shrugged. If the storyteller wanted to buy our drinks, that was fine. In response to his request, she brought us a pitcher of ale, which I privately thought was disgusting. The smell should persuade a person not to drink it, but the others seemed pleased as Tegan poured. They’d just returned from the Uroch camp, their expressions stunned and hopeful. While they drank, Morrow and Tegan talked nonstop about Szarok, their voices pitched so nobody but our table could hear.

“I trust him,” Tegan murmured. “He seems sincere about the alliance. And I was surprised by how many physiological differences I noted between these and the older ones.” She elaborated on that, but I wasn’t interested in the properties of their blood or other distinctions.

When she paused for breath, Morrow added, “I find their culture fascinating. Did you know they share memories with a touch?”

“Szarok showed me … a girl in Otterburn changed everything.”

“What do you mean?” Spence asked.

In answer, I told the story about how one little girl, saving an injured Freak, led us here.

Once I finished, Tegan was teary. At first I didn’t understand why until she said, “If we survive, it’s because of her, and she’ll never know.”

“She might still be alive,” I suggested, hoping to cheer her. “Since I plan to ride around notifying the families of our fallen men, afterward, I’ll look for her too.”

She nodded. “That would mean a lot to me.”

Tully seemed less moved by the story. Her mind was clearly on the battle ahead, not what came after, and that was wise. “I don’t know how this arrangement will work long term, but we need their numbers.”

Spence downed his ale in a gulp. “No question. I still don’t like the odds, but it’s the best chance we’re likely to get, provided those Gulgur do their part.”

“Did you see any when you visited the camp?” I asked.

Morrow broke into a smile. “A group was arriving as we left. I spoke with them for a few moments. Funny little fellows, aren’t they?”

Nodding, I contemplated the coming battle. There were so many variables; the fight might turn into a massacre, but without help, Company D was doomed. I’d carried them as far as I could on our own. There was no way to produce soldiers from thin air, so we had to accept aid from strange sources. Briefly I wished I could say good-bye to Edmund and Momma Oaks in case things went wrong at the river, but at least Rex was here; and I’d do my best to protect him.

Tegan pulled something out of her bag and offered it to me. When I unwrapped it, I held an odd artifact; it had a long, slender red tail, a small cylinder at the top, wrapped in paper, then a string hung down. “What is this?”

“Szarok said they’re useful for sending signals. When we’re ready to attack, plant the stick in the ground, light the wick, and step back.”

I studied the strange item for a few seconds more, then shrugged and stowed it in my pack. “If he says it’ll work, then we’ll try it.”

“He said to wait to a count of two hundred once we light it and then begin the attack. They will do the same from the west.”