The Far Wild

38 - I'm Just Bait

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Suni

My feet slammed into the ground with a thud that reverberated up through my knees, but I ignored it. Dust and ash kicked into the air from the force of the landing.

The closest of the terror birds turned toward me with surprise in its avian eyes. It cocked its head, as if to ask what in the world I was doing. A question I could have asked myself. Instead, I stood up tall, wiped a spot of dirt from the corner of my eye, and stared back at the bird. At the rest of the flock, too. They were gathered around the spring now, for some reason, pacing along its edge as if watching something in the water. No matter, though.

I clapped my hands together, then cleared my throat. Another bird noticed me, then a third. Together, they let out a low growl, throats vibrating as the deep, reverberating sound echoed out. The rest of the flock perked up at the noise, and then turned toward me as well.

I nodded as I counted to make sure they were all watching me. Five, six, seven, eight. That seemed about right.

“I have your attention,” I said. “Good.”

Looking to the left, I could see the gate I’d let everyone in through earlier was barred. The last person in had locked it.

“Good.”

That left only one open gate, the one at the front of the outpost. The one the Needlethroat’s soldiers were making for. The one I’d told Elpida to lock behind me.

I smiled and turned back to the terror birds.

“Shall we?”

Up until now, it’d been as if I was in a standoff with the flock. Maybe they’d been confused by my brashness, wondering why they didn’t smell my fear on the wind? But the moment I moved, they burst into action. I’d triggered their predator response. Prey ran, predator chased.

They came at me in a screeching charge of open beaks and flying feathers, and I ran. But it wasn’t fear that drove me, wasn’t concern for my life, but determination. Determination and a bit of something else. Adrenaline, maybe, but sweeter. I was proving myself. And not to the others, no. To myself.

I rounded the stern of the Welkin, pulling a hard turn, then darted down a narrow alley between two burned and broken buildings. The flock followed just behind, in a crashing, squawking torrent.

The front gate was just ahead, a bit scorched and standing ajar. I couldn’t outrun the birds forever, though. Their pounding feet drew closer, closer. A shadow loomed in my peripherals, leapt into the air and—

I sidestepped, altering my course for just a moment. The lunging bird, already in the air, wasn’t able to adjust. It flew past, skidded to a stop, and turned to snap me. I jumped to the side again, outside the bird’s reach, then lunged forward to keep sprinting.

I reached the gates, passed through, and leaned into another hard turn. My feet dug into the earth, skidding to a stop in a shower of dirt. I looked up to find the soldiers who’d deployed from the Needlethroat staring at me. Heavily armed with a variety of blades and shields, there were fifteen or more of them and they’d nearly reached the gate.

The foremost of them—the leader, apparently—laughed at the sight in front of him.

“Well, what do we have here?”

One of the other soldiers frowned, then spoke up.

“Her coat, look,” he said with a heavy Bospurian accent. “That’s the sigil of their college, right? Should we take her too?”

Who else had they encountered who’d worn a coat with the sigil of the Imperial College on it?

“Nah, we don’t need this one,” the leader said. “What are you supposed to be, anyway, kid? Some sort of martyr buying time for your friends?”

I let a smirk crawl across my face at that.

The terror birds exploded through the gate in a screeching rush, but slowed to a confused trot as they spotted the soldiers. A moment later and they’d come to a complete stop, heads cocked to the side, assessing the newcomers.

The soldiers tensed, raising their shields.

“Oh,” their leader said. “Hold, hold!”

For a moment, everyone stood still.

“I’m not a martyr,” I said, then shrugged. “I’m just bait.” With that, I sprinted at the soldiers.

Chaos erupted as everyone broke into motion at once. The terror birds charged, the soldiers raised their swords, and I dived into the tall foliage of the Evergrass.

I hit the water and mud with a splash, then sunk in, landing on my belly and half-crawling, half-swimming forward. Water rushed up my nose, sawgrass clawed at my arms, and all the while, from behind, came the sounds of battle.

Terror birds shrieked and hissed, their talons slashing indiscriminately against shield and flesh. The soldiers shouted and bellowed, attacking or dying or trying to retreat all at the same time. They’d come to fight a bedraggled group of survivors. Instead, they’d found one of the Far Wild’s apex predators.

Something came tumbling through the brush on my left and a soldier fell into view, a terror bird locked tight with him, talons dug into his shoulders and beak tearing at his throat. I found myself staring into frenzied, avian eyes as the terror bird ripped at the man’s flesh. Blood splashed up its beak, staining it red. I rolled to the side and a flapping wing clipped my shoulder but I didn’t look back, crawling away all the faster.

The bottom of the Evergrass sank lower and the water rose up to my mouth, then my nose, then I was sucking down a breath before ducking my head under and pushing off into the river. I stroked with my arms, the water still too shallow to use my legs. Then, all at once, something grabbed my ankle, yanking me backward.

“Gah!” I gurgled, then rolled onto my back and reached for my dagger.

“Shh!” A man with a finger to his lips had ahold of my ankle. But not just any man. I would have recognized that smile anywhere.

Senesio.

What was he doing out here?

“Senes—”

“Shh!” he hissed again, then spoke, barely above a whisper. “This way,” he said, then dropped under and swam out toward deeper water.