The Archer: Arrow's Flight Book # 2 Page 4

  “You shouldn’t do it ever,” I correct.

  Remorse crawls into his eyes. “We shouldn’t,” he agrees.

  The door flies open, and Max enters, averting all of our attention. The rainwater glistens in this dark, tight curls, and a wide, wet grin plasters his face.

  “Guess who I found wandering the wilderness.”

  To my relief, Diana steps through the door, soaked to the bone with Tabitha strapped to her chest. The long blanket, dripping on the ends, wraps around her waist twice to make a hammock for the baby to hang against her body. Her blonde locks hang limp with moisture about her shoulders, and weariness defines everything in her demeanor. But she is alive and safe. With a huge sigh, I bounce from the bed and go to her.

  Justin enters behind her, the height of his own pack looming like an overgrown shadow above his black head of hair. I have never been more grateful to see someone in my life.

  I embrace Diana with Tabitha squeezed between us. She’s awake, and when I pull the blanket away, her blue eyes smile up at me from her hiding place, oblivious to how her life has changed virtually overnight.

  Justin slinks out of his pack and greets his friends. They discuss the ferocity of the storms while I settle Diana onto one of the bunks in the farthest and most private corner and help her out of the blanket. She shivers uncontrollably as I pull her own borrowed rain jacket off and wrap her in my blanket.

  “I was worried,” I say. I sit down, and Diana readjusts herself on the bed, shivering still. In her condition, it’s difficult to be comfortable, and I cannot fathom how this strenuous journey affects her. It’s been overwhelming enough for me, and I have no young children to consider, including the unborn one in her belly. And she looks simply miserable.

  “You had no need.” She shrugs, half-smiling. She gathers the blanket up around her, Tabitha tucked inside. “I was safe enough.”

  “What did you do—in the storm?”

  “We found an abandoned house several miles from here in a village torn to bits and rubble.” She pauses, searching me out. “Are you sure there is a surviving village out here? All these days of travel, and we’ve seen nothing but ruin. We aren’t taking this treacherous journey in vain, are we?”

  It’s the first time Diana has questioned leaving the Village, and I don’t answer immediately. I’m not entirely sure what I should say. I have no proof but Ian’s word, and he tells me villages are everywhere; that the closest village is a ten days’ walk from our own. And if there is no other village, where did he and his friends come from?

  I shake these misgivings away. No. Eden is real. Even Mona confirmed it. And John.

  “I believe we will see a thriving village soon.” I nod definitively.

  “But . . . who are these boys, truly?” she whispers, glancing at Justin, who rummages through his pack on the other side of the long room. “The house we stayed in last night? The door was locked. But this didn’t stop Justin from gaining entrance.” She pauses, eyes focused. “He pushed the door open with one shove of his hand, breaking the lock! And how he runs? It’s not humanly possible for anyone to move so fast, not to mention with me in his arms. It’s—not natural.”

  My eyes flit toward Jesse. My first taste of their “unnatural” abilities came through him. But there is no sign of the trauma he endured—the trauma I witnessed by Mona’s hand. A severe beating and multiple electric shocks with a cattle prod that would have killed the average person. And then, of course, there’s the recent knife wound that by now is merely a disappearing scratch. He chomps on an oat bar, grinning as he talks with Ian.

  The boys have remained fairly discreet until last night when Diana experienced a firsthand taste of the unexplainable side of Ian and his friends. A side that even I haven’t quite wrapped my wits around. And other than his enormous size, it’s quite easy at times for me to forget what Ian is capable of.

  Until someone throws a knife at him, and his extraordinariness forges itself to life.

  “I’m not certain,” I finally manage. “Ian says this is normal for his people. They’re . . . strong. I suppose I should have told you this before now.”

  “And you trust them?”

  Diana’s whisper is an urgent rushing of words. I know her meaning. Trust a male? Especially one who appears dangerous and formidable? Is this wise? I don’t know whether it is, and even after the time she’s spent alone with Justin, Diana has the sense to be cautious. John’s desperate pleading invades my thoughts again, and I know I should be careful as well, but I push this away as I have done this entire journey. I am not so cautious.

  “I trust Ian,” I reply, quickly before my thoughts get the better of me. “And he trusts them.”

  She watches Justin. He raises his head, as if he feels her blatant curiosity searching him out, looking for the ingredient that will explain him in every way.

  “I suppose then,” she says quietly. “I will have to trust you.”

  She lifts Tabitha from the folds of the blanket, and the baby gurgles happily and smiles up at her mother. I brush a hand across her soft, blonde curls.

  “And what do you think of Justin?” I ask. “I’m sure you’ve had some time to assess his character.”

  “Justin has kept us safe,” she answers. “He’s kind and clever. But it never hurts to be wary.” She straightens, the angle of her frame echoing her determined caution. “We don’t know them, Kate. It was desperation that caused me to leave with these strangers. I don’t regret it, but I won’t go blindly, either.”

  I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat at Diana’s undeniable wisdom. And I wish I were so inclined to be as cautious. But one glance at Ian shatters any promise of this.

  “There were human bones in that house where we stayed,” Diana adds, and I swing around to stare at her. “Or at least what was left of them. Mostly the skull.” She steadies her gaze. “Someone died all alone in there. I think we must be cautious.”

  I swallow, nodding.

  A body so decayed must have been there for years, decades even. Still, it is another thing to ponder. Death on the outside.

  I chose to leave the Village of my own free will, not fully aware of dangers. To leave was the most frightening decision I ever made—even more so than refusing to breed. And now that I am out from under the restrictions of the Council, my freedom means more to me than all the wisdom in the world. It is a joyous tugging deep within that pulls me out into the unknown and floods me with its song. And so I gladly risk my life for it.

  But Diana’s description of the dead body jolts me, and John’s scribbled words skitter across my thoughts once again: You will die if you go to Eden.

  Perhaps. The threat of death is nothing new to me.

  Justin has moved to a bunkbed, and he rummages through his pack. His dark hair falls in his face, hiding his eyes. I leave Diana and make my way to him.

  “Hi.”

  He straightens, smiling. “Hi.”

  “Thank you. For getting Diana here safely.”

  “Sure.” His eyes sparkle once. “Thank you for marking a trail.”

  “Oh. That wasn’t me.”

  He laughs and tears open a package of jerky, offering me a piece. I shake my head. He bites off a large piece, chomping as he pulls a dry shirt from his pack. I study him. His calm demeanor shines through his casual motions. I see no signs of worry or agitation in him.

  “Do you not regret coming to my village?” I ask.

  He raises stunned brows, but I hold his gaze. I’ve wanted to ask him for some time.

  “I do, and I don’t,” he shrugs. “Ian says you’re worth it. So for now, I have to default to his opinion.”

  I swallow. “I’m not sure that I am.”

  His eyes soften, and he smiles as he takes another bite of jerky.

  “Time will tell.”

  Chapter 4

  T he rains fail to slow for most of the day, pouring out of the skies by the bucketsful. When we’ve emptied the last of our water bottles fo
r the day, Jesse slides a pot out the door to catch the rainwater. We settle on feeding ourselves what is left of oat bars and jerky, and I am once again miserable. There is no place to build a fire. I am so cold wrapped in a damp blanket until Ian unfurls a sleeping bag and wraps it around me and Diana.

  Ian relates again our experience with the knife while I nestle up next to him to gain even an ounce of his warmth. He hands the knife to Max.

  “It hit you right below your right shoulder blade?” Max asks, flicking the knife open to examine the marking.

  “Yeah,” Ian nods.

  “Precision,” Max says. “They weren’t aiming to kill you. These people are experts.”

  When the knife is passed his way, Justin’s expression transforms into a tense wall of seriousness.

  “I’ve seen this before.” His surprised whisper is barely audible.

  “The knife?” Ian asks incredulously.

  “No.” Justin runs a thumb over the flat side of the blade. “The symbol.”

  Ian takes the knife. “What is it?”

  Justin visibly swallows. He straightens. “It belongs to the Set-Typhon.”

  I catch a glimpse of the snakelike image. It is chilling, and for a moment I think the snake writhes, determined to lift its coiled body from the cold metal and come to life right before us. I shudder, and edge closer to Ian, who sits beside me perfectly healed. The memory of this instrument jutting from his back and how it felt to pull it free, however, stamps my mind. I wish they would put it away, throw it away, do anything with it but continue giving it such attention.

  “What is the Set-Typhon?” Ian’s level of concern has jumped a notch, and it’s reflected in his question.

  Justin screws his face into a hard mask. “You can’t repeat this,” he insists, pinning all of them with a threatening glance. “My dad swore me to secrecy. And I’ve never said a word to anyone.”

  “Of course,” Ian agrees. Jesse nods. Max simply shrugs.

  “You know me,” he says. “I’m not much of a talker.”

  Justin fidgets a moment longer, clearly uncomfortable with what he’s going to share. I watch him. He picks at his thumbnail and looks at no one.

  “The Set-Typhon come from way up north. Way up,” he says again with an emphasis. “Farther than we’ve ever been. This is their insignia.” He points at the symbol.

  “Who are they?”

  “A tribe living in one of the northern villages beyond what’s left of the lakes. Dad says everyone in the north gathered together after the Fall. They worship the Great Dragon.” Justin takes the knife and scrutinizes it again. “Some people say they don’t even exist. They’re sly and stealthy. It’s hard to catch a glimpse of them if they don’t want to be seen.”

  The boys listen, a hesitant fascination emitting from each one of them in unison. I merely shudder.

  “My dad took me on a medical expedition up to Shiloh about a year ago,” Justin continues. “Farthest north I’ve ever been. A whole group of them had come down to trade, and this insignia was everywhere: on their packs, their boots—even tattooed on their skin.” He looks straight at Ian. “They definitely exist.”

  “What do they look like?” Ian asks.

  “Rough. Really white skin. Long hair, mostly black. That’s all they wore, too. Black.”

  “Did you talk to them?” Jesse asks taking the knife from Justin. He leans forward over his knees, turns the knife over, examines the other side, closes then reopens it.

  “I didn’t. But my dad did. One of their leaders pulled him aside, but I couldn’t hear what they said. His voice was angry, and he shoved my dad once, but when I tried to go help him, the other members of our expedition held me back. Said my dad had dealt with them before, and he could handle it on his own.”

  He pauses, licks his lips.

  “Dad talked him down some, and then they left the trade post. Dad told me later the Set-Typhon have some dangerous ideas about the way this world should work.”

  “What sort of ideas?” Max interjects. His quiet, observant side is overthrown by a timid but sudden curiosity.

  Justin’s eyes noticeably graze over me and Diana, and he merely shrugs. “He didn’t say.”

  “I was just sitting there, eating fish,” Ian says quietly, shaking his head. “I have no fight with anyone.”

  “And why would they be this far southwest of the river?” Jesse exclaims, and his ever present skepticism traces his words. “It makes no sense. Maybe this knife belongs to someone else. A straggler who picked it up somewhere.”

  “Which still doesn’t explain what it’s doing on this side of the river,” Justin counters, and Jesse nods in agreement. “It had to get here somehow. And why would a straggler throw a knife at Ian? Look, we can’t hide the fact that we’re from Eden. We’re intimidating, and maybe we pose a threat to people like the Set-Typhon. But stragglers know nothing of Eden.” He looks at Ian squarely. “My bet is whoever threw this knife at you was from the Set-Typhon clan.”

  “But why?”Ian asks.

  Justin’s puzzled look darkens his expression. “I don’t know.”

  We are silent.

  “Look, we’ve been running,” Justin adds. “There’s no way anyone from the Set-Typhon could keep up with us even at their fastest. Maybe it was sheer coincidence that they came upon you and Kate. Or maybe they’ve been waiting and hoping to run into one of us. I could tell from just one encounter with them they don’t like us. They’re the kind that would cross the river if they wanted to, and nothing would stop them.”

  “What does Set-Typhon mean anyway?” Jesse asks running his thumb along the flat edge again. He seems to be intrigued with this knife. “It’s a strange name.”

  “It’s another name for Leviathan—the serpent.” Justin says while we all gawk. “They’ve named themselves for their belief in the Great Dragon, I guess. A dragon is a serpent, right?”

  Jesse shrugs. “Except dragons don’t exist. Unless your a hopper.”

  He smirks after this. I don’t understand his meaning, but his usual skepticism rings clear.

  My insides rumble with a new kind of uneasiness as I listen to their banter. It scares me to think that someone—a whole group of someones represented by such a dangerous mark—might be deliberately pursuing Ian and the others. For what purpose? This is the ultimate question that seems to hang by a breath in the air around us—still unanswered. My fingers clutch at my throat, as if this action may aid in helping me swallow the lump of fear that ever grows. John tells me Eden is dangerous—that I may not survive it if I ever get there. Ian tells me not to worry, and then he’s stabbed in the back before my very eyes.

  “I’ve never seen one of them again,” Justin concludes, and a worried frown affixes itself to his face. “This is strange.”

  Amidst all the unanswered questions, we become a bit fidgety, and gratefully our huddle breaks apart after this. Not one of us cares for any more talk of frightening stalkers in the shadows. Diana takes Tabitha to the corner bunk for a nap. Out of boredom, Jesse and Max decide to stomp out into the rain to find whatever mischief they can muster, despite the assurance that they will be severely pummelled by the storm. Justin settles on a bunk of his own with his knife and a piece of wood.

  “I found something earlier,” Ian says once we are alone. He tugs me to my feet and takes me to a door at the end of the cabin. On the other side is a small adjoining room, completely empty. “Privacy,” he whispers, a flirtatious lilt to his voice. He pushes the door wide, with an overly dramatic raise of his brows.

  “Privacy,” I repeat. I step past him into the room and turn. “Did you think we were in need of some?”

  In answer, he tips the door shut with his foot and weaves his arms around me. “Yes,” he whispers. “Because the whole time we’ve been sitting out there, I’ve wanted to do this.”

  And he kisses me, soft at first, and a fluttering fills my abdomen like a myriad of heartbeats. I cling to him, savoring the taste of him, the
fresh, wet smell of rainwater in his hair, the warmth of his body, so warm, against my skin—and growing warmer. And our kiss deepens hungrily until I feel the power of it clean to my toes, and it washes away all the ugliness and fear of this day for a fleeting moment.

  “Are you afraid of those people—the Set-Typhon . . . and their Great Dragon?” I force the question despite my desire to forget. “That they might come back?” I whisper, and he’s kissing me.

  “No.” His breath is heavy when he answers, full of a dangerous desire.

  “And why not?” I lean back, make him pause in his frenzied kisses to look at me. “I think being stabbed in your back when you aren’t looking is cause for much concern. And I believe you should be more concerned than you are.”

  “What good would that do? Anywhere you go you might find trouble. Worrying won’t change this. I’m fine. We’ve got it under control.”

  “Do you?” I earnestly beseech him. “Because it appeared that you were more than crippled this morning. What would have happened if I hadn’t been with you today? If I hadn’t been there to pull that knife from your back?”

  It is a crux, and Ian must acquiesce to it. His head droops.

  “You’re right,” he says, with a sharp nod. “And things like that remind me of my mortality. I was reminded when Mona’s guards threw that net over me, and I was reminded the second I fell over the side of the Pit. Constantly these days, I’m reminded that in the end, I am only human. As human as you are.” He brushes his fingertips across my cheek. “And as indestructible as I may seem now, my humanity makes me just as vulnerable.” He loosens his grip on me and leans back against the wall opposite us. “It makes me need people,” he whispers, a humility lining his voice. “It makes me need you. And this is a good thing, don’t you see?”

  His tenderness invades me. It’s in times such as these that I do see. I see his heart in gentle moments. I see that boy in the cave with all of his raw emotions laid bare for me to sort through. And I am starkly and abruptly reminded of why I love him.

  I graze his arm with my fingers. He doesn’t waste a minute before pulling me into another trembling kiss, his hands warm against my jaw line, his fingers curling around to the back of my neck.