The Far Wild

25 - On Three?

* * *

Suni

“Theo! Where are you?”

I woke to a shout and a flurry of movement. I pried my eyes open as my body complained, stiff and aching from the tree-bark bed.

“Get your ass back up here, Kyriakos!” Elpida, her voice stern and urgent.

“Sergeant! I hear you!” Theo’s voice next.

Theo? Theo! I shot to my feet, then steadied myself on an overhead branch and tried to adjust my eyes to the slightly-less-dark darkness of morning. Had she really found us?

“Anyone? Can you hear me?” Theo called again from far below.

“Where are you?” the sergeant shouted, also from below. But not lower on the tree, no, it was too far down for that. It was coming from the ground.

“Oh no.” I squinted into the dark below but found only more of the same. To my right, however, I could just make out a group of shadowy shapes, waving their arms and yelling.

“It’s a trap, you idiot!”

“Get back up the tree!”

“Talk to me, Theo. Where are you?” The sergeant’s voice, off to the side now, as if he was heading towards the brush.

I grabbed a branch and swung down next to the others, landing beside Gabar. Or, what I thought was Gabar. Wasn’t much more than a slightly larger figure among the gathering.

Leaves tumbled down, brushing against my face as the overhead limbs began to jostle and groan. Oz came down a moment later, landing with a thunk on the branch.

“Give me the word and I’ll drag him back up this tree,” he said, leaning past me, presumably to talk at Elpida.

“He’s going to get himself torn apart,” Gabar cut in, then jumped from the branch.

“No!” Oz yelled, making a grab for him. Bark scraped and his feet went out from under him. He toppled forward, head over heels, then plummeted into the dark. Not a moment later, they both hit the muddy ground with a wet squelch.

“Over here!” Theo called. Or her voice did, at least. Sounded exactly like her.

“To hell with this,” Elpida spat. Her words were followed by the slosh of rum in her flask as she threw back a long swallow. “Hold tight, Oz. I’m coming.” She steadied the sheathed sword on her belt, then stepped off the branch to disappear without a sound.

For a split second, I almost followed her. My front foot lifted up, as if preparing to step forward, until I came to my senses. I reeled backwards, almost overcompensating and falling off the other side of the branch. The thought of following the guidemaster disappeared almost as quick as it’d appeared. Where had that come from?

I squelched the suicidally bold urge to jump out of the tree. At the same time, though, my mind was working furiously. I’d been thinking about these wendiguars. Working on the assumption that they were real, they spent their entire lives in the Thick, right? Never seeing daylight. Or any light at all for that matter, right? That meant their eyes would be adjusted to deep darkness. They’d be larger than human eyes proportionally, with pupils that opened more than ours did in low light. That’s what enabled them to see. It’s also what, if I was correct, would make them painfully susceptible to a burst of bright light. The only question was, how to create that?

Demetrias joined us on the branch in an ungraceful stumble, then held fast and stared down.

“Seems the party’s down there, now.”

“And no one bothered to extend me an invite!” Senesio. I didn’t need to see him to imagine the feigned shock on his face. “Oh well. Not like that’s ever been a problem before.”

I grabbed him by the shoulder. “Wendiguars are nocturnal, right? Means they have big eyes, designed to see in low light environments. It also means they could be stunned and temporarily blinded if we could create light. Using fire, maybe? But I’m no good with a flint and steel. I need you to—”

Senesio slapped me on the back. “That’s brilliant, Suni!”

He laughed, then bent down to rummage through one of the packs salvaged from the Stormcrow.

“I think it could work,” I said. “But sparks don’t create very much light. We need something more.”

Senesio pulled something out and stuffed it into his pocket. Next, one of Elpida’s spare waterskins of gorgam rum. He removed the cork, then stuffed a scrap of cloth down the neck. A moment later there was a shower of sparks as he struck flint to steel, igniting the fabric.

Senesio stood, shadows from the growing flame dancing across his face.

“There’s more to you than people think,” he said. “I’ve known it all along.”

And with that, he leapt from the tree.

A scream broke out from below. Shrill and piercing. It started like a woman in pain, then lowered into a growl. Primal, angry, hungry. There was a rush of movement in the brush and then another scream followed. This one pained, panicked. Human. Sounded like the sergeant.

“Swords and shields on me! Get down here!” Elpida shouted.

“Swords and shields on me! Get down here!” Elpida shouted, but from out in the brush this time.

There was a flurry of footsteps, of movement, half spoken words, curses, and all of it shrouded in darkness. I cursed and shook my head. It was near impossible to tell what was happening below.

“Well,” Demetrias said, shuffling forward. “I never did much care for heights.” He turned to me. “On three?”