Horde (Razorland #3)(55)

I wished the flames could drive away the monsters forever, but it didn’t work like that, and according to Edmund, wishing was only a thing you did when you looked up at the stars. From here, I couldn’t see them—and for a few seconds I yearned for the relative innocence of when I’d imagined the lights came from a city set high above us. Things had been much simpler then, my quest smaller. We’d found safety in Salvation, but it didn’t last. There could be peace only if we forced it down their throats and choked them with it.

I stopped, bowing my head. “It’s insidious.”

Fade put down his jug; he was carrying instead of hauling it, as he was stronger than I was. Though he was better, I didn’t expect him to reach for me. I had grown accustomed to standing alone, no strong arms or warm body to lean on, so for a few seconds, I froze, like I was the one with a problem being touched. Then I melted against him, eyes closing.

“It is,” he agreed.

“Right now, I feel so small.”

His lips grazed the top of my head. “I believe you can do this. I’ve lived through all of your impossible stories and I know them to be true. So if anyone can change the world, it’s you.”

Questions

In the days that followed, I clung to those words.

The battles came fast and fierce, so that our bonfire on the edge of the forest burned all the time. Eventually we piled stones to keep it from spreading to the grass and then the trees. While we meant to warn our enemies, there was no value in burning down the woods.

In between the fighting, we built more. A roof went up across the branches, as we’d planned, and we widened the platforms so we could sleep up there too. At first it felt precarious and I hardly got any rest at all. But I’d had problems when we first came Topside, too. In time, I adapted. Everyone did.

Tully and Spence worked with Thornton in digging pits, then lining them with sharpened stakes. For obvious reasons, we all memorized the danger zones and avoided them. Farther out, Stalker and his scouts added snares and trip lines. Most often, we caught our dinner in the snares, but occasionally they trapped a lone Freak. The snarls gave away the location, so each time, one of us ran to kill the thing before it chewed through the line.

We had been in the forest for about a month, as far as I could tell, when Tegan approached. Her steps were light if uneven on the wooden perch. She had gotten nimble at climbing, and it was improving her confidence. She no longer skittered away from any of the men or failed to meet their eyes. Sometimes she even joined in the roughhousing with Spence and Morrow. I noticed Stalker studying her, but it wasn’t the look he used to give me, more like he was considering the terrible things he’d done and wishing he could change them.

She sat down beside me and let her legs dangle. Others were on watch. Morrow and Stalker were facing off in the clearing below. The Winterville scouts had taken off a few minutes before to check the perimeter traps and see if any of our severed heads had been removed. Sometimes the Freaks crept up and took them away, but they were cautious about attacking the camp now. We’d taught them wariness, at least. In time, it might become more.

I lived with the daily fear that some Freak would carry word to the horde, which had to be on the eastern coast by now. There was no way for me to confirm, however, without parting with one of my scouts, and I was unwilling to do so. It seemed like too big a risk for too little gain. So we fought on, poised on the razor’s edge. One day these trees might fill up with far more Freaks than even our skilled band could hope to defeat.

We’d fight until that time.

By this point, my black eyes had gone and my broken nose had healed, though it was a bit crooked. Fade said it gave my face character. I didn’t know about that, but other minor injuries distracted me from such concerns.

“Remember what we talked about, just after we left Soldier’s Pond?” Tegan asked.

“Your self-defense training?”

“Yes. When do you plan to teach me?” Her approach was direct and brusque, her expression daring me to object.

Her bravado made me smile. “I was waiting for you to ask.”

“Are you kidding? I already did!”

Just to annoy her, I modulated my voice to Silk’s lecturing tone. “If you want something bad enough, you chase after it. You don’t wait for people to bring it to you.”


Sure enough, Tegan’s dark brows spiked, but she swallowed her protest, probably thinking I wouldn’t teach her anything if she sassed me. First, however, I had to figure out what style would suit her. She had a small handicap in her weak leg; firearms might be best … yet that came with the worry about ammunition, and Spence was already running low.

So I decided to ask some questions. “Whose style do you admire most? Forget what you can do for a minute, just consider our fights.”

“Morrow,” she said eventually.

There was a lot to like with his limber grace and his elegant form; he also employed agility in his spins and feints, leaps and flourishes I wasn’t sure she had the reach to match—and her balance was probably off—but it was possible we could adapt the style to fit her. So I swung to my feet and clambered down, beckoning for her to follow.

Stalker had just leveled both his blades at Morrow’s throat when the other man brought his arm up in a lightning maneuver. It was so fast that Stalker lost one of his curved daggers, something I’d never seen before. But instead of reacting with anger or outrage, his pale eyes narrowed.