Chapter Two
“Rika,” Josiah says, “go find Johnson so he can give us a thorough translation. And get Daniel, too.” He jerks his chin at me. “Can you tend the wound until Daniel comes?”
“Of course.” I follow Josiah inside.
“Eck blethian,” the woman says again. They’re coming.
My blood runs cold, because we’re not supposed to help runaways. We’re not supposed to even speak with runaways.
I hurry down the hall to the room Daniel uses as a clinic. Josiah lays the woman on the bed, and blood seeps onto the white sheets. Crimson. Oozing. Unstoppable. I grab a sanitary cloth and place it over her wound, applying pressure. Johnson enters a moment later, sweat gathering in his thick black beard, and begins asking questions in Tavdorian.
As a past runaway, Johnson is fluent in the Tavdorian language. He taught us younger people to read, write, and speak it, too, in case we ever have a run-in with the dominant species. The best way to keep uprisings at bay is to take all forms of literacy away, or so the Tavdorian saying goes. Once you learn how to read, you can’t unlearn it. Knowledge is one of the few things Tavdorians can’t take from us.
I listen carefully to the runaways while cleaning the wound.
“Eck blethian,” the woman says again.
“Who’s coming?” Johnson asks in Tavdorian.
“Slave traders,” the younger girl says, also speaking in Tavdorian. She couldn’t be any older than me, with scrawny arms and legs. “They’re already here. We managed to cross the river before the guards caught us, but thank the gods they didn’t cross.”
I open the cabinet and grab the medi-kit, then turn back to the mother’s leg and carefully examine her wound. This is unlike any injury I’ve ever seen, like a marble-sized ball of fire went into her leg and out the other side, cauterizing the edges but tearing into the muscle and blood vessels. The woman winces, then immediately relaxes as I pour in the numbing solution.
“How many are with you?” Johnson asks.
“Just us two.”
Josiah switches to English. “We have a pact with the plantation, Johnson. If the parasites are following these runaways, and they find us hiding them…”
Daniel steps into the room just as I finish cleaning, his graying hair matted to his forehead. He checks the wound, then takes over tending it.
“Good job, Lark.” Daniel’s soothing voice always sets me at ease. He takes the gauze and begins binding, the veins mapped across the back of his hands rippling as he works. I continue tending the woman, offering water mixed with herbs to ease the pain and help her sleep.
“The parasites are following them,” Johnson tells Daniel, catching him up to speed. “We should send the runaways back and pray to Elohim the Tavdorians don’t blame us for helping them. Otherwise we’ll all end up as slaves on that plantation, too.”
“Don’t you remember being a runaway, Johnson?” Daniel asks in a placid voice, not looking up from the wound. “We took you in without question.”
“That was from a different plantation,” Johnson mutters. “And it’s because I’ve met the Tavdorians that I know the dangers we put ourselves in by helping these runaways. The parasites will have our hides!” He looks at the girl and switches back to the Tavdorian language. “You must leave.”
“Please.” Her voice breaks. “Feed and hide us today, and we will leave tomorrow. We just need time for my mother to heal. One day, my lords, and we will not ask for an hour more.”
“One day won’t heal her leg,” Daniel says after Johnson’s translation. “It’ll be a good while before she’s able to walk without limping. They won’t get very far before she starts bleeding again.” He shakes his head and glances at Johnson as he ties off the gauze. “We’ll feed them. Give them a warm bed until she’s ready to travel again. I’ve never sent needy people away, and I’m not gonna start now.”
“You’re a fool,” Johnson mutters.
I help Daniel clean up the supplies, then scrub the blood off my trembling hands, wondering why that bullet wound was cauterized, and what will happen to us now that we’re helping the runaways who clearly pissed off our enemies.
The girl looks at her mother’s bandaged wound as though for the first time, then furrows her brows and glances around the room. “What is this place?”
“It’s a camp,” Johnson says. “We haven’t been touched by the Tavdorians.”
She stares at him. “You mean…you’re free?”
Johnson nods.
“Oh,” the girl says. “Well, y-you should move on. The Tavdorians are expanding their territory. They will find you. And they will enslave you.”
Chills. They’re creeping across my skin and down my spine and into my soul. Because she sounds so certain.
“We have a peace treaty with your plantation,” Johnson says. “Or we did, before you came and messed it all up. As long as we send in a portion of our resources, they leave us alone.”
“You think they care about Humans?” The girl gives a hollow laugh. “They’re letting you stay free because natives are worth more than slaves. The moment Master Alno needs more money, you will be the first ones he seeks out.” She shakes her head, stares into space with a haunted look in her eyes. “He already owns you.”
I peek at Johnson. His eyes are wide with obvious fear, his hands balling into fists at his side, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down his throat. He believes every word the girl is saying. Should I?
“People are going to start panicking,” Daniel says. “Johnson, gather everyone for a meeting.”
Johnson and Josiah leave the room, and I help Daniel finish cleaning the supplies.
“Will she be okay?” the girl asks in Tavdorian, her eyes haunted by a terror too deep for me to fathom. I glance at Daniel, but then remember he can’t speak the language like I can. He never bothered learning.
“She’s getting better,” I say.
“I shouldn’t have left. I should have taken my chances on Tavdora. That’s why we ran away, because Master Alno wanted to give me to the slaver, and now look what I’ve done.”
Is that what those airships were this morning? Slave traders? Icy fear makes my muscles stiffen, and I have to shove it down, reassure myself that we’ve been free from the parasites this long and we’ll continue to remain secure.
Releasing a shuddering breath, I place my hand over the mother’s forehead.
“She will get better,” I whisper. “The important thing is you’re together. And you’re safe.”
“We’ll never be safe.” She pulls her knees to her chest, and I notice the scratches on her legs, probably from running through the forest. “We might have slipped by the guards this morning, but they’ll find us. And when they do…we will be killed.” She wipes a drop of sweat off her forehead with her wrist. Her face is pale and her hands tremble.
“May I check your temperature?” I ask. She looks at me like a frightened rabbit, but then nods. I place my hand on her forehead. It’s hot as a steaming kettle. “I’ll fix something up real quick to help your fever.” I turn to leave, then pause, look back at the girl, open my mouth to ask a thousand different questions, and struggle to pick just one.
“What are the Tavdorians like?” is the question that rolls off my tongue. After that discussion with Rika this morning, I desperately need to know. “Can they be reasoned with?”
“No,” she whispers, her eyes wide. “Don’t be fooled by how much they look like us. They’re violent creatures with no compassion, no mercy, no humanity.” She pulls her hair off her shoulder, revealing scabbed welts above the neckline of her shirt. Whip markings. “See? I’ve been sick the past few weeks. Got these for working too slow.” She lets her long hair fall back down over her shoulder. “They enjoy torturing Humans. Why? I have no idea. All I know is, if you haven’t met a Tavdorian yet, you want to keep it that way.”
Her words shake my spirit. They make a disturbing sensation uncoil in the pit of my stomach and wrap around my lungs until it’s too hard to breathe. I don’t like thinking about slavery and how most Humans have absolutely no rights of their own, how they’re oppressed beneath these merciless parasites. So I turn to get her tea. But before walking out, I catch a glimpse of a triangle tattooed on the girl’s upper arm. My breath hitches, and I step out.
There are Tavdorians.
They turn Humans into slaves. Mark them like property.
All this is well-known fact. But somehow, seeing the runaways’ emaciated bodies with my own eyes and hearing the desperation in the girl’s voice makes it all real.
And more terrifying. A living nightmare.
I go to the kitchen, fill the tea kettle with water, and place it over the fire. Then I grab my book on herbal medicines that I took from an abandoned library and flip through the pages for the quickest remedy.
Voices sound from the next room over.
“Did you see them walking outta the barn this morning?”
I freeze at the sound of Mila’s voice, then shrink into the corner of the kitchen. Invisible. Always invisible.
“Yeah.” Ariana, Mila’s cousin, laughs. If Mila is the prettiest girl in the community, Ariana comes in close second. “She has no idea.”
Something hot constricts in my chest, and I lower my book.
“You should tell her,” Mila says. “It’d only be right that she knows.”
“No way. If Josiah wants to tell her, he can. But I’m staying out of it.”
My spine stiffens at the mention of Josiah.
“Do you really want to keep sharing him with her?” Mila asks.
The room begins to spin, and I strain my ears to hear their conversation.
“I won’t be sharing him long.” Ariana sounds so confident, so sure of herself. But she can’t possibly be talking about what I think she’s talking about. “You think Josiah would really stay with a girl like Lark? She’s too homely. She’d rather stay holed up in the clinic, reading, than do anything exciting. She’s not his type.”
This can’t be happening. What I’m hearing—it—it can’t be true.
“I mean,” Ariana continues, “even her own brother left her. Josiah likes adventure. And humor.” Her laugh is soft, seductive. “Let’s face it, I have spark that she doesn’t have.”
Rage. Fear. Uncertainty. They all rise up at once, begging a revolution. Because I thought Josiah and I had a special bond. Being that intimate for a whole year—it has to lead to some kind of permanence. Even though he was taking the contraceptive brew, we spoke of the future often. Dreamed of a life together. But if what I’m hearing is true…my heart cracks. I haven’t asked for much in life. This was the one thing, apart from Mom’s healing, that I ever allowed myself to hope for, and Ariana’s words just snatched that one thing, that one dream, that one hope out of my grasp.
“Well,” Mila says. “I don’t think it’s fair to Lark that Josiah leads her on like this. If neither of you will tell her, I will.”
“Don’t you dare!” Ariana shrieks. “We’ll figure something out soon. I promise.”
A loud whistling pierces the air. The tea kettle. I quickly snatch it off the hook before the girls hear, but the handle is searing hot, and it slips from my fingers into the fire. The flames spark and flare as water splashes into the embers. I grab the fire hook and pull the tea kettle out, then use a cloth to lift it onto the table. Planting my trembling hands on the table surface, I hunch over. Take a deep breath.
And slowly…let…it…out.
The voices have hushed now, but the words still echo in my head. Homely? No spark? Ariana can’t just be one of the prettiest girls in our small community. She also has to be the most talkative, humorous, and adventurous…and have absolutely no shame in taking what isn’t hers.
Fighting back angry tears, I crush some mint leaves and dump them into the clay mug, then pour the hot water in. When I open the door to the clinic, the girl jumps to a sitting position.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
“Thought the guards were after me.”
“This should help your fever go down.” I hand her the mug. “Get some rest. You’re safe now.”
The sky has darkened to deep coral by the time I step outside. The long summer days allow us another hour before sunset, so I select the trail leading to the fields. Pepper, my little black dog, trots up beside me, her tail wagging. I smile down at her, but the action backfires, and a tear slips and splashes down my cheek.
She’d rather stay holed up in the clinic, reading.
There’s more to me than that. Why can’t anyone else see it? You’d think that in a community of two hundred people it would be impossible to remain unnoticed. But that’s exactly what I am. Invisible. Always invisible.
Even her own brother left her.
I step into the cornfields, then break into a sprint, with Pepper at my heels.
You think Josiah would really stay with a girl like Lark?
Sharp leaves smack against my face. But the sting is nothing compared to Ariana’s words. Nothing compared to the aching truth in what she said.
Too quiet. Too homely. No spark.
I won’t be sharing him long.
When I arrive at the edge of the field, I step into the woods and sprint through the forest.
Running. It’s my escape. My heart rate picks up with each step, detoxing the poisonous words from my bloodstream.
Inhale. Exhale. Replenish bad air for good.
After about a mile, I arrive at the river and slow to a stop. Planting my palms on my knees, I suck oxygen into my starving lungs. Pepper trots onto the shore and laps the water. The murky brown river moves slowly on its course, a giant slug weaving through the thick forest.
A little ways down the river stands the bridge, the makeshift border between us and the Tavdorian plantation. Daniel always stresses never to come to this part of the river. Ever. But right now, I don’t give a toad’s warts about rules. Because rules are confining. And I am free.
I straighten and look toward the sunset, the vanishing spark of dusk. Red, orange, violet—the colors merge together like blood and berries. I focus on the wide expanse of the summer sky and wish it would devour me in its beauty. I try to forget everything I heard Ariana say, but the words replay in my mind like the repetitious chirping of crickets.
I have spark that she doesn’t have. I have spark that she doesn’t have. I have spark—
“You there.”
I freeze.
At the words.
Spoken in a foreign language.
Fear wraps around every vertebrae of my spine, yet I somehow manage to turn around. A man is striding along the sandy shore—striding toward me.
At least seven feet tall.
Limber frame.
A Tavdorian.