The Scourge (7 page)

A creature moans close by. I turn my face away, too tired to move any farther. It moans again, but this time it sounds like . . . more than a moan. I stumble away and fall, skinning the palms of my hands.

“Are you all right?” Peree yells.

I forget I’m not speaking to him. “Do you see the creature that was next to me just then, when I was by the shelter? Does it look any different?”

“They all look the same,” he says. “Repulsive.”

“Please, Peree, look closely! Do any of them seem, I don’t know, newer maybe?” I can’t tell him what I’m thinking. It’s too horrible to say out loud.

“Newer? What are you getting at, Fennel?”

“Do any of them have long, curly brown hair?”

“Not that I see. Some of them have wisps of grayish-looking hair; most don’t have any at all. Why, what’s going on?”

I hold my stinging hands to keep them from shaking. “Nothing, I must be hearing things.”

But I wasn't.

One of the creatures spoke. It said,
Help me.

And it sounded exactly like Rose.

I stagger down to the water, fall on my hands and knees, and drink like an animal. As I clean my filthy face and hands, I can tell my skin will be swollen with sunburn by morning. The creatures hover, shuffling and chewing their tongues. When will they go? I haven’t heard the sounds of a single animal since the Scourge came. What could they be feeding on? I hear Jack’s easy laugh and Rose’s tinkly voice in my mind, and I cringe. I haven’t heard . . . what I thought I heard . . . again. It’s almost a relief to be surrounded by the flesh-eaters’ shrieks and groans.

After drinking my fill, I drag myself back up the hill to the tree I was lying against before. It’s as good a place as any. I push together some leaves and brush to make a pillow, curl up, and almost instantly I’m asleep.

Something hits my head. I push myself up, confused.

“Fennel,” Peree says, “listen!”

I do, and fear crashes through me. A crowd of howling creatures encircles me. I pull my legs up under my chin, making myself smaller. “What are they doing? What’s happening?”

“Ever since you fell asleep they’ve been coming, gathering around you. They seem more aggressive. My arrows weren’t keeping them back, so I’ve been throwing things to wake you up. You need to go back to the caves.”

“Can’t,” I mumble. “Punished. Have to stay out here.” I try to stand, but I sink back down. My eyes sting like I’ve been rubbing dirt into them, and Peree’s voice sounds like it’s percolating from underwater. My cheek drops onto my arms.

“Try,” he pleads. “Try to stay awake. I’ll tell you a story.”

“More animals? Won’t be enough, too tired . . . ”

I’m walking on top of the water. I have an expansive, majestic pair of wings sprouting from the middle of my back. I can always “see” in my dreams, although I don’t know if what I picture is the same as what the sighted see. My wings begin to flap and I take off, low and slow, my feet skimming the surface. I revel in the speed, and the freedom. I’m starting to gain altitude, when I hear a shout from the shore. Something strikes my beautiful wing, and I crash into the water.

My right arm throbs. “Quit throwing things, Peree! Let me be!”

“It wasn’t me. Were you . . . bitten?” Horror strangles his voice.

I touch my arm. It’s not bleeding, but it hurts like hell. My voice shakes as I answer him. “I think I was, maybe.”

I pull myself up against the tree and almost topple over. The flesh-eaters scream at the sudden movement. I start to pace, my hand over the bite, but it’s hard to pace when you’re surrounded.

“How do you feel?” Peree’s voice is hollow now. “Any . . . different?”

Am
I changing? I’m sick and dizzy with exhaustion, but I still feel like me. For now. “My arm hurts. How fast do you think it happens?”

“I’ve never seen someone change, but I’ve heard it’s quick.”

“I’ve heard that too,” I say.

“It’s like your protection faded when you fell asleep. Did Aloe say that could happen?”

“No, but I don’t think she ever slept with the fleshies.” Blood pounds in my ears, distorting the cries of the creatures. I realize I’m about to faint. I lodge myself against the tree and jam my head between my legs. When the fuzziness clears away a little, I straighten up slowly. “I’m scared, Peree.” A sob sticks in my throat.

“It’s all right, it’s going to be all right.” His voice sounds different now, calmer. “You can come up here.”

“What?”

“I’ll pull you up with the rope.”

“But what if I change? What if I come after you?”

“I’ll take care of it.” His voice sounds steady, but like he's struggling to keep it that way. He’s telling me he’ll kill me, and all I feel is relief: I can’t live as one of the Scourge. It’s my worst nightmare.

“Isn’t it against your rules? To allow a Groundling in the trees?” Not to mention someone who’s about to become a flesh-eater.

“It can’t be helped. I can’t let the Water Bearer be taken.”

That distracts me from the terror clawing away at my insides. “What did you call me?”

“Water Bearer. It’s our name for you.”

“Was Aloe called that, too?” I’m saying whatever pops in my head, putting off the decision, waiting to find out if I’ll change. I still don’t feel any different.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know we had a name.”

“Maybe Shrike wasn’t as chatty as I seem to be. What do you want to do? More of them are coming.”

I hear the new ones, moaning and panting as they get closer. That’s it. I can’t think the consequences through. All I know is if I’m going to change, I want Peree to be able to put an arrow in my chest, or some other essential body part. I want him to ensure I’m deader than dead.

“Send down the rope.”

Boards creak under his feet. “I’m making a loop in it, like when you swam. Can you climb into the sled?”

I feel around for it and fall, more than climb, inside. When I stand, I can tell the creatures have moved in around me.

“Here it comes,” he says, “reach up and grab for it. I don’t want to bring one of them up instead.”

I find the loop and pull it over my head, then under my arms. “Okay.”

The flesh-eaters shriek as I start to ascend. I accidentally kick one of them as I go up, and I take a perverse pleasure in hearing it grunt—hopefully in pain. The feeling of hanging in midair is unfamiliar and scary, but despite everything, also strangely exhilarating. I’m flying, like in my dream.

“Swing your legs, I’ll pull you in,” Peree says.

I do what he says, aiming for his voice, and scramble onto the walkway. I end up flush against his body, my face against his warm chest, my arms around his waist. I drop my hands, and he takes a step back, clearing his throat.

Relief surges through me, diluting the fear. I’m in the trees—safe from the Scourge. Then the walkway sways, and abruptly I feel vulnerable again. I’m in the trees—in Lofty territory. I have little fear of moving around on the ground most of the time, but this is different. There’s no map in my head of these walkways, and I know nothing of Lofty ways. I stand very still, afraid a step in any direction will cause me to plunge to the ground, or into some unknown trap.

“What is it?” Peree asks. “Do you feel different?”

“I don’t–”
I don’t like asking for help.
“Is there something to hold on to?”

“Oh, of course.” He steps beside me and takes my hand. “Let me see your arm . . . There’s a bite-shaped mark, but the skin isn’t broken. I’ll wrap it.” He tears some sort of cloth and binds my arm.

“Shouldn’t I be feeling something by now, if I was going to change?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I think so.” He takes a step closer. “You don’t look any different. No, I take that back, you look beat. Let’s sit.”

He guides me down the walkway to a small seat—rough wood planking secured against the trunk of an enormous tree from the feel of it. I hear the rattle of his bow on the walkway as he sits down a few feet from me. The pungent smell of the greenheart trees, always strong on the ground, is even more potent up here. No wonder the Lofties all smell like them—except Peree, with his honeysuckle scent.

“What now?” I ask.

“We wait. Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Here, I have some bread, berries, and squirrel meat.”

He puts a cloth in my hand, with the food wrapped inside. I want to devour it, but I nibble instead. This may be the only food he has. When the weakness and hunger pangs subside a little, I wrap up the rest of his food and hand it back.

His callused thumb slides across my fingers as he takes the packet. “So many scars."

I shrug, embarrassed. “My hands see for me, but they pay a price.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes. Waiting. I’m conscious of his eyes on me, watching me, looking for any signs of the change.

“How do you feel now?” he asks.

“The same. My arm doesn’t hurt as much.”

I hear him exhale. “Maybe we’re in the clear. That flesh-eater just wanted to see how you tasted before it dug in.” There’s the sound of a smile in his voice.

I make a face. “Probably like salt meat. It’s practically all we eat in the caves. Keep your bow close anyway.”

I allow myself to relax a little as time creeps by, and to listen with more interest to the sounds in the trees. Branches creak, the flesh-eaters roam around below us, but I can’t hear the sounds of any Lofties. “I hope no one can see us,” I say.

“Not likely.
I
can barely see you now that the sun’s gone down. And no one sleeps this low to the ground.” From his tone, it sounds like that should somehow be obvious to me.

“How would I know? It’s not like I’ve ever been up here before.” It’s not like
any
Groundling has ever been up here before. “So where
do
you sleep?”

“Much farther up—our homes, the kitchens, the workplaces—everything is high up. This is only a little outpost. No one comes down here, except to access the water hole when the flesh-eaters aren’t around. Hey, are you thirsty?” He changes the subject quickly, like he doesn’t want to leave an opening for me to ask more questions about their community.

Guilt trickles through me, thinking of all the water I lapped up earlier. “I’m okay. You?”

“It’s manageable. We’ve learned to conserve our water rations when the fleshies are here.”

I wonder if that means the Three have punished the Lofties before by withholding their water. I’d never heard that. Then again, when the Scourge came before, I was doing lessons or playing with the other children in the caves, not following every decision of the Council. A cooling wind blows through the branches, lifting the ends of my sweat-and-dirt-matted hair. I face the breeze and breathe deeply, preparing to ask him the questions that I’ve been asking myself all day: “Peree, why did you shoot Jackal? Couldn’t you have put the fire out and let him go back to the caves? Did you have to kill him?”

“Yes, I did have to kill him,” he says, his voice hard.

“Why? Because it was your
duty?
”

“He started it, remember? But no, not because it was my duty. He was being consumed.”

“By the fire?”

“By the Scourge.”

“What? No one said Jackal was in danger from the flesh-eaters. I heard he set the fire and you shot him as punishment,” I say.

“Shrike told your Council exactly what happened.”

“Which of the Three did he tell?”

“The one named for a snake.”

“Adder. That’s not the story he told us.”

“And yet it’s the truth,” Peree says. “Believe me, Fenn, I didn’t want to kill the man, but I couldn’t let the Scourge take him any more than I could let them take you. Shooting him was the only humane thing I could do.”

I’m torn. Everything I’ve been raised to believe urges me not to believe a Lofty. But I want to believe him. Peree’s version of what happened is exactly how I would expect him to act. Look what he did for me. And why am I unsurprised to hear Adder might have lied, especially if the lie placed the Lofties in an even worse light in the eyes of the community? If I told them Peree’s side of the story, it would be his word against Adder’s. No one would even consider taking the word of a Lofty over the word of one of the Three. Except me.

“I believe you,” I whisper.

“Thank you.”

I listen to the moans of the creatures below. There are less of them now. They’ve dispersed since Peree pulled me up, like they have no interest in us as long as we’re in the trees. Lucky Lofties. I push away the burst of resentment I feel, reminding myself that a Lofty probably saved my life. I owe him. Again.

“I don’t think I would’ve survived down there.”

His laugh is sharp. “We may not survive up here if anyone finds out I let you come up.”

“You said no one could see us!”

“It’s not likely, but still possible.”

I frown. “I’m sorry I put you in this position.”

“I invited you up, remember? I put myself in this position.”

“And the Three put us both here.” My resentment flares again. “What happens if your Council finds out?”

“Oh, I’d be punished.”

“What would they do?”

“Probably give me the same punishment as you,” he says. I chuckle, assuming he’s joking. “It happened to my mother.”

My grin disappears. Sending someone without protection to spend the night among the flesh-eaters isn’t a punishment in our community, it’s a death sentence. Permanent banishment—severing a person’s ties to their life and setting them adrift in the forest with the Scourge—is reserved for only truly serious infractions, like intentionally taking a life. What did Peree’s mother
do
?