Darkthaw (25 page)

“You brought what?”

I shake my head. The ice in my chest is heavier than it's ever been. It's going to weigh me down into this forest floor. Never let me up again.

His look is hard, like he's seeing straight through to my thoughts. When he speaks, his voice is soft. “This is a new world, Em,” he says. “It brings things we cannot help.” His voice gets softer still. “Andre, Sister Violet . . .”

I hold my breath. Will him to stop. To stop speaking.

“Your father . . .”

Don't say it
.

“Their deaths were not your fault.”

The ball of ice shatters. Like the frozen river smashing on the rock banks, it bursts, shooting pain through my chest, my core, into my throat. The trees before me blur and dance through my tears. I lean forward, press my face to my hands. Let the tears stream hot down my face. Let myself cry for everything I've lost.

My pa. Andre. Sister Violet.

The life I thought I was starting out here, that foolish dream. Hope.

There's a shrieking in my head, like river currents rushing over me, battering me, drowning me. I want to dig down, down, bury myself here under the rot and the moss. I want to scream down the tall trees, the pink sky, as I drown here on the forest floor. I can feel the forest around me splintering, the trees and sky spinning away as I bury myself in this sorrow that chokes, that blinds—

Isi's hand touches my back.

Warm. Strong.

Not of this dark place.

Not wanted in this dark place.

But.

Familiar. Something like my pa's hands, when I was young.
Something like Matisa's hand in mine when they buried him. Something like Kane's hands that held me at that waterfall a lifetime ago.

Make peace with it
.

I will Isi away, will myself back under, back into the icy blackness, but his warmth won't allow it. It burns through my clothes, pulling at me, dragging me back up from the depths. Sets my feet back on this forest floor. Anchors me to this world.

This new world.

KANE DOESN'T LOOK UP AS I APPROACH THE
camp in the grove. It's little more than a campfire, as he said, but Isi has laid out our supplies, and there's a pot of water bubbling over the fire. I steady my racing heart and kneel beside our provisions, busying my hands with making a thin soup out of the water. Isi hangs back in the trees, checking his horses' hooves for rocks and scrapes.

Nico is huddled close under one of Kane's arms, his face tear-streaked. Even Daniel is quiet, his face grave, tucked on the other side of Kane. And by the look of pain on Kane's face, I can see they've been speaking on their ma.

I will him to meet my eyes, but his eyes are locked on the flames.

There's a heavy silence as I add grains and salt to the water. Finally Nico looks up at Kane and asks, “Where were you all this time?”

Kane's eyes flick up to mine for a heartbeat. His chest
heaves with a deep breath. I secure the pot over the fire and listen to a halting account of his past three days.

He searches for words as he speaks, like he's trying to either remember or forget things, but manages to tell us that during the gun storm, he took cover back behind the first coulee. A man came after him, but he got back between the crevasses and headed northwest, where the man's horse would have trouble with the terrain. The man was persistent, tried to wait Kane out. Took until the next morning for the man to leave, for Kane to get a chance to head back south to the river. He was off course, though, and missed the homestead. By the time he returned, there was no one left. He decided it best to keep heading south to the crossing, where he hoped we'd gone.

I study him as he talks. Here in this grove, the shadows of the trees and the fire cast his face in a new light, and I see the days of worry on his face. Dark smudges of sleepless nights ring his eyes. And all at once, I see what I'm asking of him.

Almighty—what is wrong with me?

Course he'll want to find safety for his brothers straight away. Asking him to help us find Matisa, those little boys in tow, is plain selfish. I listen with a heavy heart as he finishes up.

Nico presses close, and as Kane smiles down at him, my insides twist.

Isi joins the boys around the fire as I ladle out the soup. It's the first hot thing I've eaten since the rabbit that first night out, but somehow, I'm not hungry. The boys are; they eat like they haven't in days.

And they haven't. Not truly. Watching them tuck in, their hands so small on the bowls, their eyes shining with happiness looking on Kane, my heart grows heavier.

I rub at my eyes in frustration and press my fists to my forehead.

They finish eating as the light disappears from the sky.

Isi rises. “I will check the mare,” he says, taking the lead rope of his horse. He'd let Lucky out into the trees to find a spot to foal, but I know what he's truly doing. He's got his pack, and he's headed in the opposite direction; he's leaving to find Matisa and not giving me a choice in the matter.

“Leave it a bit?” I say. My eyes plead with him to take my meaning. “The night?”

“Can we go?” Daniel asks Kane. “Lucky's
my
horse.”

“Stay put,” Kane says, his eyes on me. “You can see her in the morning.”

Isi shakes his head. “I can't.”

My stomach tightens. I throw a desperate look to Kane and push to my feet.

“Em.” Isi's voice snaps my eyes back to his. He shakes his head. He's telling me not to come. But it's not unkindly.

“Stay here,” Isi says, firm. “I will return.” He disappears into the dark trees, and I have to fight the urge to run after him. I press into my bad foot instead and look at the forest floor.

There's a silence. And now Kane's voice, tight and quiet: “You sure you want to stay?” His eyes measure me. He knows where Isi is truly going, knows how twisted up I am watching him go without me.

“Course,” I say, but my voice catches. “Can—” But I stop. I see on his face it's not the right time to convince him to wait with me for Isi and Matisa. And what will I do if he refuses? Will I go with him to the crossing or stay here? What if Isi can't find Matisa? “Can we talk in the morning?”

“I'll find some pine boughs to sleep on,” he mutters, untangling himself from the boys and pushing to his feet.

As he circles past me, I want to reach out for him, want him to take me in his hard, warm arms. But the way he moves—he's further away from me than he's ever been. A cold hand settles around my throat as I watch him cross the grove. The woods around us have gone silent. Or mayhap they always were; mayhap we've stopped making noise.

Kane stops at the edge of the trees and turns back to me. “You're wrong, you know,” he says, his voice tight. “I always believed your dreams.” He shakes his head. “Just not sure they ever included me.”

My heart plummets to my feet. I take a breath to rebuke this, to tell him he's dead wrong, but a movement behind him catches my eye.

And a blur crashes out from the woods.

I have time to scream his name, but Kane has no time to react, no time to turn around—it's a man, club in hand, and the club is whistling through the air, smashing against Kane's temple. Dropping him to the earth like a stone.

The little boys' screams echo around in my head as I scramble to my feet and over to them.

Another man steps out of the woods. The rifle in his hands is trained on us.

I grasp for the little boys, making sure they're behind me. Kane lies facedown, unmoving.

Is he—

The man hisses at us through his teeth. “Don't move now,” he says.

The man with the club nudges Kane with his foot and turns his gaze on us. “What is this?” he demands. He's huge—easily twice my weight and stands shoulders above me. Blond hair, blond eyebrows, high cheekbones—familiar, but I know I've never seen him before.

“He never said anything about young ones,” the big man says.

Why is he familiar? My mind is fuzzy. I try to place him. He looks . . . He looks . . .

The man with the rifle stalks forward. He's scrawny, light skinned, and blue-eyed, with a mat of dirty brown hair sticking out from under a battered hat. “Where are the others?” he demands.

My breath starts again, heaving my chest as I gulp air.

“I asked you a question!”

I force my tongue to work. “Oth-oth-others?” Violet and Andre? Why would he be wondering about them? I crane my neck to look past him, see if Kane has moved. “Is he all ri—”

The man's free hand shoots out. I see bright white sky as pain explodes in my face. Staggering back, I put a hand to my mouth, tasting salt and iron as blood seeps onto my teeth. My hand finds a sticky valley—my mouth is split at the corner.

“Don't talk unless you're answering questions.” He looks
at the big man. “Now she knows, hey, Julian?” He turns to me. “So?”

I try to remember the question, but there's a ringing in my ears, muddying my thoughts. I fight the urge to gag as I swallow my own hot blood.

“Leave it,” the big man, Julian, says. “Let's get this half blood in the cage before he wakes. He looks strong.” It takes me a moment to realize he's talking about Kane. Relief shoots through my hazy fear. Kane's alive.

“Get up,” the scrawny man orders the boys. “Walk.” He waves his rifle at the trees.

My head spins. I stagger over and take the little boys' hands. We push through the trees, back toward the riverbank flats. My body is numb, but my mouth throbs.

My dream feeling deepens when we get out past the trees. The full moon lights the banks, clear as day, washing the whole picture in an unearthly glow.

Standing on the flats is a cart, bigger than any we had back at the settlement, pulled by two enormous horses. They're near twice the size of Lucky, strong necks and huge feet covered in soft feathers. In the back of the cart is something that looks like a box, made from the kind of iron that the gibbets at the Crossroads were.
The cage
. Where they plan to put Kane. Panic courses through my body, but it stops dead as my eyes travel the length of the cart.

Tied to the back, in a heap on the ground, is a bundle of rags.

No, not rags.

Matisa.

I SWALLOW A CRY. THE TEARS IN MY EYES BLUR
the scene, and she becomes two figures for an instant, dancing in my vision. I blink furious and again bite back the urge to call out to her.

Beside me, Daniel is crying. I squeeze his hand, will him to stop. Nico is in shock, I can tell by the way he's stumbling, face blank.

Squinting back at the cart, I see there
are
two figures. They're bound by a chain to the back of the cart. The second one moves, pulling a head up and pushing upright.

It's Charlie.

“Hold up,” the man says. He steps around me and looks between us. “See someone you know?” he asks, peering at me.

The hair on the back of my neck rises.
Lie. Lie to this man
.

“N-n-no,” I stutter, trying to keep my face blank. I will the boys to keep quiet.

“You sure?” The rifle is leveled at my chest. He jerks his
head toward Charlie. “He told us there'd be people coming for her,” he spits. “Never said pales and half bloods, though.”

I stare at him. Charlie told him we'd come for Matisa? Here?

The confusion on my face must convince him because he spits again. “That's a shame,” he says. “Least, for him.”

“Get them tied and come help me, Emmett!” a shout comes from back in the trees. “He's dead weight.”

My thoughts are fuzzy, and my heart is pounding up into my throat.

Keep your head. Don't panic
.

My thoughts fly to Isi. He left moments ago. Please let him be somewhere nearby. He'll know what to do. He's probably planning something right this moment.

But something shifts on the far side of the cart, and the two big beasts lay their ears back, like horses do when they're annoyed. There's another horse, tied near them, and it's shifting about uneasy-like.