The seed from forsaken s.., p.6
The Seed from Forsaken Soil, page 6
Inside, an adult vole was tied to a sconce on the wall. His groans intensified as he struggled against his restraint, yet he glared at Risu. His left eye bored into her. The right eye had glossed over and turned the yellow-green of slime mold, like an old pea which never shriveled.
Any noise could give away a Ghost’s position and fail a mission.
And fail she had.
Frothy saliva bubbled at his mouth, and his moaning grew to a roar. The vole pulled at the rope on his wrist, yanking until he freed himself. He raised both arms, growled, and lunged toward the window.
She recognized this vole; this was an enslaved Llygodener who worked in Marsvin’s town. With a gray-brown stripe on his face, he even resembled Gwrth.
“Husk on a tusk!” Risu scrambled up the roof toward its top ridge. “Go, now!”
The roaring vole stumbled outside, dragging the rope and detached wall sconce with him. He craned his head, angular and wrong, and locked eyes with the failed Ghosts. Before Risu could react, he dug his claws into the wall.
And climbed.
Fighting the bubbling panic, she looked in all directions—the nearest trees were too high.
The growling roar intensified again, accompanied by a pair of heavy pawsteps. Big guy and creepo were coming back, as if this wasn’t going badly enough.
“Hide your tail when you jump,” Risu said. “We can’t get on any branches, so we’re going to jump to the ground. Make sure you roll.”
Running to the roof’s opposite edge, Risu curled her tail around her waist like a belt. She couldn’t risk gliding. The fact she’d been seen was inescapable, but she could at least hide their identities. The two of them and Futoi were the only squirrels on this husked island, and they were already under suspicion. At least this vole couldn’t speak.
Sprinting, Risu dove toward the ground, jumping for the first time in her life without the assistance of her gliding skin. The air rushing against her fur felt sharp. A twinge of guilt over her treatment of Itansha pinched her heart. Without her tail to direct her motion, she twisted in midair until she reached the ground, rolling over rocks which promised fresh bruises. Ignoring the pain, she darted to the nearest tree and climbed to a high branch.
Lungs aflame, her next jump allowed her to rotate her body and land by grabbing the bark with her fingers, sending shooting pain through her paws.
Risu ascended the tree, and a few seconds later, another thunk against the trunk told her Itansha followed.
Breathlessly, she climbed in a corkscrew. Maybe whatever cursed this vole will keep it from a tree. She could defend herself and so could Itansha, but they needed to rely on stealth. Shadows protected them.
The vole returned, snarling and reaching the rooftop’s ridge. He shook his head from side to side, not locking eyes with Risu or Itansha. Their dark jackets camouflaged them against the night.
The vole sniffed between growls.
Risu clenched her teeth. As long as Itansha had followed the diet, they would be undetectable to noses as well.
The pair of heavy pawsteps approaching the cabin intensified.
Below, Blodtorstig bellowed something hateful. Forstor’s rusty voice joined and spoke in a half cackle.
“What are they saying?” Risu whispered as she reached the treetop and looked down at the roof.
Groaning, Itansha hoisted himself to join her on the branch. “Blodtorstig is asking how the vole got on the roof. Forstor’s voice is harder to deduce, but it sounds like he’s saying, ‘it worked,’ I think.”
“What worked?”
“I’m unsure.”
The vole stomped on the roof and turned toward the dreaded guinea pig and hamster below. It howled and clambered down.
Laughing, Blodtorstig withdrew his battleaxe, a massive weapon any normal rodent could only wield with both paws. Blodtorstig waved it around like a stick. Forstor backed away, head bobbing as if laughing.
The vole descended.
Blodtorstig’s battleaxe whooshed—Risu had to avert her eyes.
The howling stopped, replaced by a squelch and snap.
A thud against the grass followed, and Blodtorstig’s laughter resumed.
10
Old fights resurface
Your sister, our enemy
Slash! Old sword replaced
Noka’s Moon Chart: 5 days left to plant
Risu rocked on the branch beside a sleeping Itansha while the sunrise crept over Mausfjord’s mountain—Vucem’s Nostril, or whatever dumb name Marsvin called it. Beneath her, waves lapped the shoreline at the edge of the sparse forest. There might be trouble if Itansha wasn’t back in Blodtorstig’s hall soon.
A straight line in the sand caught Risu’s attention. Following it with her gaze, she found a weathered boat pushed ashore and tied to a rock. Lacking a serpent’s crest, it didn’t resemble the ships docked in Brekkatown. It could’ve been a boat from Llygoden, but any poor vole or dormouse coming here willingly was ridiculous. The only boats coming from there were Serpentboats bringing stolen food.
This whole husked island stank like a fable to scare children—a place where the wicked would be reborn, and here Risu was, doomed to haunt a dying forest built upon dead soil, ringed in by a lifeless ocean, not to mention the barrier reef. This must be the forest spirit’s punishment for Risu failing to save her twin.
Beside her, Itansha snored, which was undignified for a noble, and she hated to admit it was cute. Risu sighed; if they failed here, Itansha’s cuteness wouldn’t stop the death spreading to Kinoumi at the kiss of Blodtorstig’s axe, and any survivors would be forced to supply Mausfjord, just like what happened to Llygoden.
She should’ve woken Itansha, but he looked so peaceful; she hoped he was dreaming about her on some other tropical island with no battleaxes. And he’d earned a reprieve after last night’s run-in. Her gaze lingered on him for a second longer than it should’ve, then she tapped his face with her tail.
“Wake up,” she whispered. “You overslept.”
Itansha rolled to the forked branch’s other side. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I needed time to think.”
Three figures disembarked from the boat on the coastline, but they were mere dots from this distance. Risu watched them, but a bigger question loomed.
Itansha yawned, rubbing his eyes.
Risu bit the inside of her cheek. “How can we tell him?”
“Who?”
She lost sight of the three figures from the boat. They gave her a foul feeling, but that could have been her body’s reaction to the horrors of last night. “Marsvin’s uncle killed that vole.”
“Something was wrong with him.” Itansha stretched.
“Yeah, Mausfjorders kidnapped and chained him. That’s what was wrong.”
Itansha sat upright and shook his head. “I agree, but that wasn’t what I meant. He was sick. You saw his eye, didn’t you?”
“I was more concerned with him trying to kill us than one gooey eye.” That vole was worse than sick. “We still gotta tell Marsvin.”
Shakily, Itansha balanced on the branch. “Are you sure?”
“What else should we do, then?”
Itansha put his arm around her shoulder. She hated the way her heart fluttered. “Was that the first time you saw somerodent die?”
Risu turned away.
“I’m sorry. I assumed you would’ve seen death after you became the Ghost.” He paused. “I wouldn’t have seen death before if it weren’t for my fath—my Ironheart training. We were taught to see death as inevitable and unpredictable. I was desensitized. I thought you would’ve been, too.”
Risu shook her head. “My grandma prepared Futoi and Sora. I didn’t get the full training they did. I was just supposed to be Sora’s backup, his shadow. He saw and did things … and I don’t know if I’ll ever understand the depth of it. I’m a bad Ghost, Itansha. I shouldn’t be teaching you.”
Offering his tail, Itansha’s eyes brightened over his face wraps. “Well, I disagree, and as your only student, I’m the only one able to evaluate that. Besides, I’m learning so much. Let’s return to Brekkatown. We’ll tell Marsvin and the others what we saw. Depending on how Marsvin reacts, we can tell him about his uncle.”
Risu grabbed his tail. “Not your worst idea.”
“Was that a compliment?”
“Out of my way, huskbreath.” From the treetop, she leapt, spreading her patagium and gliding to the next tree. Itansha followed and barely caught the branch.
A seagull cawed as Risu and Itansha landed in an evergreen tree outside Brekkatown to hide some of their Ghost gear. Itansha changed on the ground behind a bush while Risu flipped her garments inside out so she resembled a farmer again.
Rustlings from Brekkatown’s houses signaled early-rising rodents. Another day of preparation, another day closer to the invasion of Risu’s home. Upon reaching Trevlig’s field, trying to ignore her frothing anxiety, she checked the soil, softened by morning dew. Not a speck of green or a single sprout after weeks of labor. Mulching, fertilizing, turning the soil—all for nothing. Risu clenched her fists and trudged toward Marsvin’s house.
Maybe she wasn’t a good farmer, either.
Gwrth loitered outside Trevlig’s house, and Risu’s heart stopped. The frenzied vole from last night was the adult version of Gwrth. The same gray-brown stripe crossed their faces.
Steadying her breath, Risu locked eyes with Gwrth. “Good morning.”
Gwrth moved forward from the doorpost and kicked a loose pebble in the dirt.
Her mouth dried, and her insides tightened. “Gwrth, may I ask about your family?”
He shoved his paws into his pockets. “I’m here with my poppy. Blodtorstig killed my mum, and the rest of my family, and stole me and my poppy to live here. Happy?”
“Thank you,” Risu said, desperate to think of what someone nice would say. “That must’ve been hard.”
Gwrth narrowed his eyes. “Sure.”
“Did… Does your father look like you?”
“Why?” Gwrth asked, sauntering toward the toolshed.
“Did he come home last night?”
Turning on his heel, Gwrth tightened his fists and shook his hair from his eyes. “What did you do?”
“Gwrth—I’m sorry.”
“I haven’t seen him since yesterday.” The young vole stomped toward Risu. “What happened?”
“I didn’t do anything, but I saw—”
Heavy pawsteps from the house diverted their attention. Marsvin’s father’s voice broke through, using a Mausfjord word Risu knew. “Boy!” What followed was a more complicated command.
Gwrth hung his head and responded. Risu could only understand one or two words at a time. Gwrth sighed deeper, his head retreating more into his shoulders and neck. “He wants to know what you’re doing.”
Risu lowered her voice. “Ask him if your father’s home. I need to be sure.”
“My poppy isn’t one of their slaves,” he whispered. “He’s Blodtorstig’s.”
Last night’s thud echoed in Risu’s mind, along with the iron-tinted blood stench and the bellowing timbre of the foul warlord’s laughter. How could Marsvin be from the same line as Blodtorstig?
Risu bit the inside of her cheek. “Can you tell him I’m waiting for Marsvin?”
“You don’t have to!” Marsvin interrupted her, running over from the open door his father never bothered to close. “Sorry if Da gave you a hard time.” Marsvin switched languages and said something to his father, and Risu caught the words for “Ma” and “house.”
His dad muttered something, then sauntered back.
“Um, is there somewhere private we can talk?” Risu whispered. “You both need to hear something.” They approached the boatyard, and Risu curled her tail tight to her waist, dreading the conversation. Gwrth looked like he could scream.
“Why all the secrecy?” Marsvin asked.
Risu checked over her shoulder as they approached Marsvin’s unfinished boat. Marsvin’s father was working on his own boat closer to the shore. “Itansha and I did some recon last light,” Risu whispered.
Gwrth cocked his head. “What’s a ree-kon?”
Marsvin translated, and Gwrth rolled his eyes. “Get to the point. Where’s my dad?”
“Well, we scouted, and we found a cabin in the woods.” Risu stared at her toes. “Blodtorstig was there. And so was this other creepy guy. Fourdoor.”
“Forstor?” Marsvin asked.
“Yeah,” Risu said, “him. Anyway, they left the cabin. Itansha could barely follow what they said, but it wasn’t anything good.”
Gwrth grabbed a hammer and approached the unfinished boat balanced on sawhorses over the grass. “Nothing on this island is.”
“They left, and we heard moaning, like someone was sick or really hurt, so I peeked inside.”
Gwrth glared at her.
Using her tail, she gave Marsvin a chisel from the ground, a peace offering to soften the blow. “A Llygodener. A vole.”
Gwrth’s jaw quivered. “Who?”
“He looked like you. He had a brown-gray stripe running across his face … like yours. I think it was your dad. I’m so sorry.”
Gwrth tapped his diagonal stripe. “P-poppy…”
“Risu, he wasn’t sick,” Marsvin said. “I saw him yesterday with my uncle.” His fists slackened, and his chisel fell to the grass. “What happened?”
“I don’t know how to explain it, but something came over this vole. He saw me, but not how we’re looking at each other now. He was frothing at the mouth. I’ve never seen anyone act like that. And his eyes… Did your poppy have a green eye?”
“No.”
“So it wasn’t him!” Marsvin’s enthusiasm twisted Risu’s stomach.
“Unless they did something to his eye,” Gwrth said. “Which is definitely something your uncle would do. He snapped an old man’s leg for taking extra food yesterday.”
Marsvin deflated. “I … didn’t know he did that. Um, what happened next?”
“They had him tied up, but he broke free and chased us,” Risu said.
Covering his gaping mouth, Marsvin whispered, “Did my uncle see you?”
She inhaled deeply. “Your uncle and Forstor heard and came back. Gwrth, that vole… He wasn’t acting normal. He lunged at them like a wild animal.”
Both boys leaned in closer, breathless.
“Blodtorstig killed him.”
“Impossible,” Marsvin whispered. “He was defending himself.”
Sinking to his knees, Gwrth ran his paws through his hair. “We’re not even property… Rodents take care of their property. We’re… Poppy…”
Kneeling, she put a paw on his shoulder—that’s what she thought Hagane or Marsvin would do. The nice thing. And yet, Marsvin stood slack-jawed.
Marsvin stomped away, and Gwrth swatted at Risu’s paw. She could’ve smacked him for being so obstinate. She could’ve smacked herself for wanting to smack someone who’d just learned his dad died.
Nobody wanted her, so she left, muttering, “Husk it all.”
After she’d worked so long to earn Marsvin’s friendship, he threw it away over a truth he couldn’t handle. Shoulders slumped, she ventured toward Trevlig’s homestead, where the few workers were already waiting for her.
Futoi was nearby, chatting with them. At least rodents liked her brother. Trevlig hobbled out of his house.
Risu and Futoi agreed that today would be the crop rotation lesson, while Itansha worked on his balance, holed up in Blodtorstig’s hall.
Over the next few hours, Risu and Futoi monitored the students’ tilling and drilling techniques, giving correction where needed. They checked the seeds planted last week. Futoi told them he saw the beginnings of something green, but Risu couldn’t get their hopes up; he also couldn’t find it again when Risu challenged him on it. Around noon, they’d done all the soil work the siblings could think of for the day, and they dismissed the other workers to think of tomorrow’s lesson. Trevlig and the other older Mausfjorder needed Futoi’s assistance to stand after the extended period of kneeling.
The climate was too dry for rice, and they’d need decades before new trees could make acorns, but the broccoli and radish seeds might grow fast enough. They’d hidden a cache of seeds in Trevlig’s house, since Blodtorstig seemed more interested in eating the seeds than planting them.
After the old-timers retreated to Trevlig’s home, Risu whispered to Futoi, “Up for a mission?”
Her big brother folded his arms. “No thanks, pipsqueak. Just take Itansha.”
“We had a scouting run last night, jerk. He needs to rest.”
“Would Grandma let us rest? Think she ever let Dad rest?” Futoi plunged his rake into the dirt.
Risu sighed. “No, she never would. And I know she never gave Dad a break, but do you want Itansha to end up like him? With the nightmares?”
Futoi shrugged. “Sorry, Reez. It’s a tough life. I was relieved when I got too big to jump around in trees.”
“You were adopted. That’s why you’re so tall.”
“That joke doesn’t work on older siblings, huskskull.”
Risu stuck out her tongue. “Tall freak.”
“I’ll put you on a shelf.”
“Ugh. Whatever. I’ll get the rich boy.”
Futoi pulled up a gross patch of contaminated dirt. “You mean your boyfriend?”
Risu scowled. “Go chip a tooth.”
The joke was too cruel, but she couldn’t let on how much it dug into her. Grandma forbade her from getting emotionally entangled with Itansha. Ghosts weren’t supposed to fall in love. And even forgetting all of that, he was a noble and she was a poor farmer. They wouldn’t even be friends back home.
