Falling Skyward

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Night Scavengers

The words in Lana's waking life were just as harsh as those from her dream. Lana's eyes flitted open, feeling the aloof light from the stars prickling into her skin. She was wide awake, a deeper, preternatural sense within her telling her something was wrong.

"Stop struggling or I'll slit your throat." Gruff voices cut across the night. Lana turned toward the fire, now mostly embers, watching as Taren was thrown into the sand, next to Dawson.

The light from the flickering embers illuminated five strange faces with an unnerving, grey cast that made them look more like nightstalkers than humans.

Two men held the tips of their swords to Taren and Dawson's chests while the others rummaged through their saddlebags. Lana didn't know what compelled her to move—there was no deliberation, weighing, or wondering—just action.

Her feet sank silently into the cool, deep sand as she slid off the rock outcropping. The canyon was swathed in shadow, making everything dark, save a small orange glow surrounding the fire. The two men guarding Taren and Dawson were facing their charges, their backs turned to Lana. The others moved among the horses and bags, scattering belonging, throwing useful or potentially profitable items near the fire, the rest they dumped in careless heaps.

Lana's sword still lay under her mat, mere feet from Taren and Dawson. There was no way she could retrieve it without being seen, and she was still unfamiliar and awkward with the weapon. Lana scanned the clearing, smiling as Taren's bow was tossed in the pile near the horses.

"Hogard, there are three horses here," the man guarding Taren said.

"And . . ." one of the scavengers asked, turning back to the fire with impatience.

"And we have only two men here."

"Yes, I can count. What's your point?"

"Where's the other rider?"

"We took an extra packhorse for our supplies," Taren quickly cut in. "There is no other rider."

"There, you dote. Happy?" the leader, Hogard, said, turning back to his business.

"But then, why are there three sleeping mats?"

Hogard paused, making his way back into the light of the dying fire. A large scar cut across his cheek to his jaw, puckering his skin.

"Where's your companion," he said as he approached Dawson and Taren, his voice suddenly menacing. The other scavengers paused their work, registering the change in their leader's voice.

"Where is the other rider," the man screamed with unhinged anger, spittle flying from his mouth.

Lana crouched behind Turnip's flank. She registered the other men's movements and the mounting tension in her periphery, her sight locked on the bow and quiver.

"There is no other rider," Taren repeated, his face impassive.

A heavy boot studded with medal hit the side of his head.

"Don't you dare lie to me," Hogard said, his voice now a manic whisper as he bent near Taren. Lana was on her stomach now, slithering between the horse's hooves. She felt smooth wood against her palm and closed her fingers.

"Or I swear to you, when we find him, both you and he won't live to see another morning." Hogard stood again, walking toward the coals, grabbing some between his hands. Lana scrambled away from the light, away from Hogard's line of sight. Once in the smooth, utter embrace of darkness, she sprinted toward the ledge.

Hogard held up the pulsating embers. "You want to know what we'll do to you if you don't tell us? We'll slice open your friend here, see, until he's open like a fish. Then we'll take some of this coal and ash and fill his insides while you watch him cook alive from the inside out." Hogard pulled out a curved, black machete. "So I ask you one more time," he said, bringing the weapon to Taren's throat. "Where is the other rider?"

A soft swish ripped the night, ended by a dull thud and a scream as an arrow sunk deep into a scavenger's thigh. Hogard jumped, alert.

Lana released another arrow, this one flying past her target, but the third embedded itself in one of the men's shoulders, lodging between the muscle and bone.

Two men were on their knees now, screaming in pain, but Hogard's eyes seemed to separate and search through the darkness, staring directly at Lana.

"Over there," he screamed to his men, pulling one of the injured scavengers to his feet. "Over there on that ledge." With shaking hands, Lana strung another arrow, but before she could release it, the end of a sword appeared from Hogard's stomach. He looked down at the steel tip, stunned. Taren slid Lana's sword from the man's back, and Hogard toppled to the ground with a disbelieving laugh, blood gurgling at his lips.

Lana released another arrow that danced off the stone harmlessly, but Dawson had already picked up Hogard's machete. Taren sliced another scavenger through the chest while the others scattered in confusion.

Lana released another arrow, this one nicking flesh, but Taren held up his arm. "Leave," he growled at them. "Leave, and don't you dare come back."

The men obeyed immediately, scurrying over the rock and into the darkness.