The Tressians

Chapter 4

I turn around. At the bottom of the slope leading into the cave, a woman smooths her green tunic. Her face and clothes are filthy with mud but her dark curls are oddly immaculate. When she notices us, she jerks backward, ready to run. But then her gaze zooms in on me and she takes a few steps closer.

'Selma?'

Hearing my mother's name sends an electric shock through me.

I shake my head and close the gap between us. 'No. My mother's name is Selma. Do you know her?'

Her eyes widen. 'You shouldn't be here.' She looks at Nayt. 'Both of you.'

Before I know it, she's grabbing my shoulder and thrusting me towards the entrance of the cave. I'm too taken aback to resist.

Nayt breaks her grip and shoves her back. 'What the hell you doing bird shit?'

We hear a rustling at the surface.

The woman fixes her eyes at the entrance. 'There's no time', she whispers. Her chestnut eyes are wild and bloodshot. 'Hide.'

We don't move. My gaze meets Nayt's for a moment. His eyes speak my thoughts.

Don't provoke the crazy lady.

'Move!' she hisses. We let her yank us behind a pileup of rocks.

'Do you want to die?'

We shake our heads.

'Then keep your mouths shut and stay hidden.'

We do as we're told.

'Let's leave,' Nayt whispers. 'We don't need to listen to her.'

'She looks unstable.' I murmur back. 'Best to wait a bit before sneaking off.' I steal a furtive glance at the woman then pull back. 'She's blocking the exit. Is there another way out of the cave?'

'The rivulets have to go somewhere. But I've never explored that far.'

We hear a shuffle. I peek past the edge of the pileup when a bearded Elriyan man slips into the cave. The woman squares her shoulders.

The man saunters to her side in a smart shirt, tie and black suspenders, like he'd just walked out of a gala. He lights a cigarette.

'Where is it?'

'Safe.' The woman replies. 'Until you follow through with your promises.'

The man exhales a plume of smoke.

'We have.'

'Don't mock me. There were twelve crucifixions last month.'

'Yes. Half of the number initially intended.'

'You said you'd make life easier in the ghettos, increase rations, improve housing and work conditions.'

He taps his cigarette. 'Those will be dealt with in time.'

'How? How can I trust that? You've done nothing but talk so far.'

The man takes a final drag and crushes the cigarette under his boot.

Then he speaks- only not in Tressian.

I cock my ear, barely believing what I'm hearing. The words rolling off his tongue are light and foreign.

The words are Othersidian.

Nayt watches beside me. Deep lines crease his forehead as he struggles to understand. I tune my hearing and my mind unpacks the sentences. They're made of the same familiar words I've been memorizing endlessly over the last few weeks.