The Archer: Arrow's Flight Book # 2 Read online

  “Ian,” I pull away, my fingers circling his wrists still pressed against my cheeks. “Are we safe? Because I am afraid.”

  His thumb brushes my skin. “You are safe,” he promises. “I will make sure of it. Always.”

  I squeeze into him until he envelopes me in the safety of his arms, so solid and strong and yet gentle. And I love how it makes me feel to know that this never has to end.

  “When will we see another village? A real village instead of these deserted ones?” I look up with a smile. “When will we see people again besides just these few roaming wanderers? People like the ones who gave you the map? I will feel safer when we begin to see life again.”

  His jaw clenches, a distinct action, and I lean back slightly. His sudden silence makes me nervous.

  “Ian?”

  A small cringe. “The map? That . . . didn’t actually happen.”

  I pull away from him, my hands dropping to my sides and cock my head, waiting for him to continue. He is completely still, leaning up against the wall, and then he sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

  “There are no villages anywhere near here,” he confesses. “And we won’t see any. Not until we cross the river.”

  He waits for my response, an apology written across his face, but I am not immediately forgiving. I narrow my brows. My fists clench once, release.

  “Why would you lie to me about something that has such a simple answer?” The question is a calm, soft request as I struggle to keep the rising anger out of my voice. “Villages are everywhere. This is what you said to me.”

  He pushes from the wall, tries to take up my hand, but I move out of his reach.

  “Don’t touch me,” I say through clenched teeth. “Just answer.”

  “Kate, I’m sorry.”

  “No. Answer me.”

  The atmosphere Ian hoped to achieve by bringing me in here is severely disrupted by this confession, and I feel the tension welling up between us. Everything in me wants to lash out at him. I fight the urge to storm through the door and leave him here to sort out the lie on his own. But this would solve nothing. So I stand firm and redirect my line of questioning.

  “What did you mean to accomplish by lying? Do you enjoy making a fool of me?”

  “No! That’s not why I did it. Look, when we first met, I had no idea where I was, and that is the honest truth. And there are villages—everywhere—on the other side of the river. I did not lie about that.”

  “You told me the nearest village was a ten days’ walk from my own!”

  He purses his lips into a thin line of guilt, and I am thoroughly exasperated.

  “I contemplated sending Diana away to one of those villages you claimed to exist. And what if I had? Do you know what could have happened to her? Why did you lie to me?”

  “Because Mona was planning to kill you!” He bursts in a passionate rage. “And there is no coming back from that, Kate.”

  His voice rises to a desperate height, and my heart leaps at the shock of it. We both hold our breath in fear that the others will hear our argument. After a moment, he continues in a hushed tone filled with regret.

  “I would’ve said anything to get you out of there. And you know how hard I tried.”

  His hand springs toward me lightning fast, catching my wrist, and I gasp as he tugs me against him. I feel his chest, rising and falling and rising again. But I avoid his eyes. They always leave me vulnerable, and I’m not quite ready to concede to his excuses. I hold myself rigid, and wait.

  “You have been sheltered all your life in that backwards village of yours.” His fingers tighten gently. “I didn’t know how you would react to the lack of life out here. The world was torn apart and never really put back together, and that is the harsh reality. Even on my side of the river you will see this. And I will do anything, say anything, to protect you.”

  “Ian . . .” I close my eyes with a heavy sigh. “You can’t do that. It’s an impossible feat.”

  “I can try,” he whispers. “Because you’re beautiful and brave and everything I have ever looked for in someone. And I can’t breathe if you are not alive in this world. So I will try.”

  My eyes glide up to connect with his, and my anger melts. A sigh of relief rushes from him because he sees me buckle under the weight of his words. He pours his jagged, guilt-ridden heart into the palm of my hand, and I cannot resist him.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I never intended to lie. Not at first, but . . . I had to get you out of that village so that you could see how much you shouldn’t be there.”

  His heartbeat throbs against my cheek, and as much as I try to ignore it, I hear a promise in the rhythm. He wants to keep me safe—a thing no other person has ever been predisposed to do. That he would do this for me? It is greater than all the promises of the world piled together in a never-ending heap.

  I can’t be angry with how he chose to do so. Not today.

  By morning, the rain lessens enough for Ian to wield his bow in search of something to eat. He takes Jesse with him, and I am grateful. Jesse is bigger, more intimidating, and stronger than all of them. Perhaps he will keep danger away by his size alone. But they are all mindful of the added danger now, and the fact that they are choosing to be cautious eases my anxiety slightly. Still, I stand at a window and watch for their return.

  “Do you need anything, Kate?” Justin asks from behind me. I turn.

  “No. I think I’m fine.”

  He nods, a smile tipping the side of his lip, barely detectable. After a moment he hands me a bottle of water.

  “Just let me know if you do. I may not hunt, but I’m good at other things.”

  I smile. “Thank you.”

  The clouds have dispersed somewhat, and the sun is doing its best to revive by the time they reappear, two fat ducks dangling from the end of a string. The boys raise a cheer in unison, to which Ian grins proudly.

  But we are all wary, and they are ever alert, taking turns to keep close watch of the trees.

  Max manages to get a decent fire blazing outside the cabin despite all the wetness, and before long, Justin drops a sizzling piece of brown meat right off the spit onto a plate and hands it to me. I breathe in the aroma of the freshly cooked duck, and my mouth waters. My appetite has returned, and when I sink in my teeth, I understand how hungry I am. I devour the rest of it in minutes, licking the grease off the ends of each finger.

  Justin sits with Diana, and she doesn’t object when he takes Tabitha from her so she can eat her own piece of duck. It’s the first time I’ve seen her trust anyone but me to do so, and it floods me with a small relief. She is beginning to trust.

  Justin bounces the baby playfully on his knee until he finally coaxes a smile out of her. Diana laughs and leans in to kiss her tiny head.

  “She likes you,” Diana admits, running her hand over Tabitha’s baby-fine hair. Justin smiles proudly.

  “Well, I’ve always been pretty good with kids. Spend a lot of time around them at the clinic. I like kids.”

  Diana puts a piece of meat into her mouth, pondering this, and chews slowly. Discreetly, her hand slides down to rest over her swelling abdomen, but I notice. Worry flickers sharply across her face. Our eyes meet briefly.

  Tabitha squeaks out and begins to cry, and instinctively Diana reaches for her. Justin holds her off with a shake his head.

  “Finish eating. I’ve got her.”

  He cradles the baby close, rocking her gently. And before long, she’s sleeping against his chest. Diana smiles and looks at me with eyes full of astonishment. These boys from Eden are a mystery cloaked in rugged strength and equal tenderness. If my village could see such a thing, what would they then think of the men of this world?

  Beside me, Ian munches on a piece of meat, tearing a portion free with his teeth before tossing the naked bone into the fire. I watch him until he catches me. His mouth twitches with a half-smile.

  “We’d better get moving.” He scans the skies. The su
n has disappeared again. “Doesn’t look like we’ll have much of a relief before the next one hits. I don’t want to get stranded here.”

  “I’ve never seen weather like this” Jesse takes another large bite and adds. “It’s brutal.”

  “None of us have,” Justin adds. “We’re from Eden.”

  The others laugh with an understanding that does not touch me. I squint at Ian.

  “What does that matter?”

  Ian looks at me, shakes his head. “Inside joke.”

  This causes the other boys to snicker once more, but Ian only looks at Justin.

  “I’ve been on several hunting expeditions. Not once have I seen rains like this.”

  I trace the clouds, ever searching for the Archer and his anger before I close my heart against it. Stop thinking, Kate.

  Storms happen.

  “We’ll walk until dark, then make camp.” Ian stands and pokes at the fire, separating the half-burnt branches to cause it to die. “But if it looks like things might get rough before then, we need to take off. Try to stay ahead of the storms this time. We’re moving too slow.”

  I raise my head. “You mean—run?”

  He stomps on a half-burnt log until the flame dissipates. “Yeah.”

  I feel the nausea rise within me, and I visibly swallow, fighting back against it. I am truly uncertain whether I can manage another trip clinging to Ian’s neck for my life while the world I’ve only just begun to stomach races past me in a haze. Sensing this, he kneels, a hand on my knee.

  “Only if we have to,” he says gently. “It might be our only option.”

  I grow despondent. Our only option might include running faster than wind? How pleasant.

  “No worries.” Justin spins his remaining water rapidly until it creates a tiny whirlwind in the bottle, while I cast a silent wish that people would stop saying this. There is plenty to worry about. “We’ve never dropped anyone yet.”

  “There is always a first time,” Diana says, but her face shows no concern. In fact, I see a slight smile there.

  And so, with packs readied and the fire staunched, we prepare for the next leg of our journey.

  To my dismay, a loud crack of thunder announces that the next wave of storms will be upon us soon.

  “Can we not go back inside and wait?” I plead. But Ian shakes his head.

  “We don’t know how long this storm will last, and we’ve wasted nearly a whole day already.”

  Another peal of thunder rolls over us. Ian casts one quick glance at the sky.

  “Let’s get moving.”

  We trudge on. I stare at his pack. I watch the quiver bumping against it where it hangs on the side. And I plead with the rain to stay away.

  Chapter 5

  It becomes obvious after a time that my pleading is in vain, and I find myself in Ian’s arms and crushed against his chest as the pelting rains beat the earth. Ian scours the area for adequate shelter as another bolt of lightening hits the top of a nearby tree and splits it in two. He dodges the falling limbs, but skids partially off the path. It takes all of his effort to keep us from tumbling down the slope.

  We’ve lost the others—again. I cannot begin to express my disappointment. I am miserable, hanging like a limp cloth in Ian’s arms, my face buried against his neck. The rain has done its work of turning me into a wet, shivering mess, and even his warmth does nothing to ease my discomfort.

  The downpour hurtles knives at us, piercing my skin painfully until I beg Ian to find covering. He has no choice but to turn deeper into the surrounding forest. My body jerks forward in his arms as he trudges downhill, slightly slowing his speed, but only slightly. I cling to him, desperately longing for some dry place as the trees smudge past me in a blur.

  The abandoned cabin appears out of the landscape—like a wish come true—snuggled in a grove of low-hanging trees. Ian lowers me on the front steps beneath the harsh run-off of water and tries the door. It open on command, as if we’ve been expected all along. I gratefully stumble through the doorway, wiping away the long, loose strands of wet hair from my face.

  The cabin is cold and dark and severely empty but for a couple of cracked wooden chairs against the far wall. It’s a large, single room with a small alcove at one end—a cooking area from the looks of it. A wooden platform holds a built-in washbasin that Ian once told me was a sink. A thick sheen of dust covers every inch of the wooden floor. Ian shuts out the wind and rain and the most of light, wrestles out of his pack, and circles the small space, considering his options. I tremble in the middle of a quickly forming puddle that turns to mud as the water runs off my skin.

  Ian examines the fireplace. One crack over his knee, and a flimsy, wooden chair shatters to pieces. Thunder rumbles in unison as he arranges wood into the square hole. His movements are quick and sure. He completely empties his pack across the floor and sifts through its contents. Soon, a fire eases its way to life. Ian gestures, and with teeth chattering, I force my numb body toward him. He has a blanket around me in an instant. The wood has begun to catch fire more rapidly, and I lean my fingers toward it.

  “I have to go back out there.” He breaks the only other chair in the place and piles the pieces beside me. A panic rises, and I grab for his arm.

  “No! Don’t-don’t-g-go.”

  “I have to, Kate. There is no way they’ll find us here. We’re too far off the highway.” He keeps his voice as soothing as he can in light of our situation, and I sink inside because I know he’s right. “Keep the fire going. Just feed it a little at a time to save the wood.”

  Despairingly, I can only nod through my shaking.

  There are three windows, slabs of wood criss-crossed over their openings which cause the interior of the cabin to linger in constant dimness. Ian checks each window, jabbing them with the heel of his hand to make certain they are secure. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

  I nod again. The warmth of the flames has reached my fingertips, and they react with a tingling ache. I’ve never been so cold. He kneels beside me, sorts through his supplies again, dumping items back into the pack as he does so.

  “It was n-n-not wise to leave the other c-c-cabin. We have to st-st-stop losing them, I-Ian.” I’m trembling uncontrollably, and my thoughts spill out randomly. “You have to s-slow down.”

  “I know. I know. Shhh . . .” He rubs his hands up and down my arms quickly for a few moments. The warmth penetrates through the blanket, and my shivering slows a bit.

  “Here.” He lines three bottles of water next to the wood pile along with a packet of jerky and two oat bars. “Be sure to drink at least one before I get back. And you see this?”

  He rises, walks back to the door, and slides a thick, metal bar attached to the inside of it. It clicks sharply.

  “This is a bolt. You lock the door just like this after I leave. And don’t open it for anyone.”

  I raise my head confused.

  “Who w-w-would come but you?”

  And the eyes of a snake flash red hot across my mind.

  As an answer, Ian drops to the floor beside me, yanks Mona’s knife from the sheath at my belt, and wraps my fingers around its hilt.

  “You’ve seen what can happen. We can never be too careful.” He lifts my chin, makes me focus on him. “This is not a safe world. Most people are not good. So keep the door locked.”

  It’s a sharp command, causing the cold that had just begun to fade to grip me again.

  “You will be safe,” he adds. “It’s a sturdy cabin, and I won’t be gone long.”

  I glance at the door warily, and he tightens his grip on my fingers.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he demands. “Just be ready.”

  He presses a hot kiss to my cheek, slings the straps of his quiver over his shoulder, and hunches against the beating rains as he sloshes out of the cabin.

  “Lock it!”

  He slams the door. I slide the lock into place and return to huddle on the floor next to the fire, clutching the knif
e once again with white-knuckled fingers.

  When the blaze is low enough, I stoke the fire with the arm of the chair and then lay the piece of wood atop the others. The cabin begins to warm somewhat, and I sit back, pulling the blanket more tightly against my body. The flames cast eerie shadows across the walls. Even if there was sun, with all the windows boarded, no outside light would reach the gloomy interior. I shudder as the darkness seems to enclose me. Another crack of thunder, close, sends me to jumping again. I lay my fingers against the knife involuntarily.

  This is not a safe world. I’m not sure which is better: knowing that the world is not safe, or not knowing that it exists at all. I suppose it never crossed my mind that we would encounter other people once we left the Village. I had envisioned our little party trekking across this big world—without incident—and arriving at the place of magic Ian has so wonderfully described. But the journey itself I had not envisioned. And why would I? I have never traveled.

  Not far from the Village, we came to a small town lying in ruins. I was shocked to see another place so close by. Two days walk at most. There was no life in that place, not even animals. It was full of the leftover remnants of existence: Houses full of decay and dead electrical wiring. Cars and trucks lining abandoned streets, rusted with disuse. Ian answered all of our astounded questions about these things that had never touched our imaginings. Fuel was a source of life before the war, he said, and fuel had long been depleted. And if anyone from my Village had dared to wander that far, this is what they would have seen. The secrets of the Council would have remained intact. It appeared no one had survived.

  But . . . even with how desolate this world appears, people are here. Some of those people tried to hurt Ian. And there is nothing that promises we won’t encounter them again.

  I check the bolt to assure myself. The fire crackles. I add another piece of the broken chair to its flames and concentrate on working the braid out of my hair. It falls in tangled, dripping tresses to hang just below my elbows. I use a corner of the blanket to dry it further. Every bit of me is filthy, but I can do nothing about it. My dirty skirt clings to my legs. We’ve had to settle for torrential rains as our only hope of a bath.