“Keep throwing?” I asked. “Have there been others, besides Janan’s warriors and the scouts?”
Orrin nodded. “At least two other groups that haven’t come back yet.”
When everyone finished dinner, Fayden brought an old plastic box from the other room, and placed it in front of me. It was an instrument case, with two rusty metal clasps, and a handle that hung at an unfortunate angle.
“What is this?” But I knew what it was. I knew all the instruments kept in the concert hall.
“I know it’s not the piano, but we can’t fit a piano in the wagon. This was the smallest instrument we could find.” He flipped open the lid, revealing a disassembled flute, and nodded at Stef. “He cleaned it up and fixed the cracked pads on the keys. This way you can entertain us on the long journey.”
“With a flute?” I couldn’t stop my smile. “You know I barely know how to play this, right?”
“Better get practicing.”
“I—” I wanted to thank him, but he
“It’s not a big deal, so don’t start gushing. Just make it worth all the trouble we went through to find it and clean it. We need
I spent the rest of the night trapped in a sort of awe. My brother knew how hard it was for me to leave behind music, so he’d found a way for music to come with me.
Dawn broke over the valley, illuminating the immense road paved centuries ago, now cracked with age and weather and the forest reclaiming what land was stolen from it. The road was a black river, flowing north to lands unknown.
Fayden, Stef, and I watched from the rooftops as scouts spurred their horses ahead, just ten or twelve riders vanishing against the brightening horizon. They followed the wagons, departing district by district. People, livestock, and trailers loaded with building supplies rolled down the black river, while guards and warriors lined up along the road, herding everyone north.
Since Stef lived in the last district to be evacuated, we had a perfect view from the roof of his house. We could see the crumbling towers of the old city peeking just above the conifer trees of the forest, and the mountains rising like a wall in the west. The road cut alongside those mountains, giving the impression it was safe and protected. But trolls and other creatures lived in those mountains. Everyone in the Community had been armed with bows and arrows, knives, or spears.
Not that I knew how to use the weapons I’d been given.
With the steady stream of people moving along the black, the road seemed truly a river. Over the course of the day, we saw a few disruptions to the line, and some people fled to the old city as though it could save them, but most—when it was their district’s turn—just snapped the horses’ reins and began walking.
The evacuations took all day, and paused when dusk fell. After another long morning of watching groups heave their wagons onto the road, it was finally our turn. Whit and Orrin sat on the front seat of the wagon, big hats shading their faces while they drove. Meanwhile, Fayden took a horse and rode alongside our wagon, and Stef and I stood on the roof, scanning the landscape for danger of any kind.
We weren’t the only ones with that idea. All along the caravan, boys and girls balanced on wagon rooftops, tasked with lookout duty. They were messengers, too, shouting information over the clatter of hooves and wheels.
“Here.” Stef tossed a torn strip of cloth at me. “Tie this over your nose and mouth so you don’t breathe in the dust.” He was already tying a faded blue piece of cloth over his face.
Sure enough, dust from the wagons and herds of livestock ahead of us filled the air. As soon as my cloth was in place, my nose and mouth felt less gritty.
“Being at the end of the line is the worst,” he said, leaning on the spear he’d been assigned.
“Not necessarily. If the front of the line runs into something terrible, we’ll be able to flee quickly.” I’d been given a sling with which to defend our wagon from creatures prowling this wide-open land. Since I didn’t know how to use the sling, Fayden had agreed to teach me. Sometime.
As we headed away from home, I glanced back at the remnants of the Community one last time, at the people who hadn’t left.
Hundreds—maybe thousands—of people were still there. What would happen to them? Would they survive their first winter alone?
The sky dimmed with night. In our first half day of travel, we hadn’t even left sight of the Community. In the not-so-distance, the Center curved into the sky, a single egglike dome. I was lying on the roof of the wagon with the other boys, both of them already snoring, when orange light flickered near the Center, and smoke obscured the stars.
“What’s that?” I whispered. But the others were asleep. I nudged Stef with my elbow. “Look there.”
He gave a huge yawn and started to roll over, but I elbowed him again until he sat up. “What?”
“Look.” I could smell it now, the faint odor of acrid smoke. “It’s on fire.”
“What’s burning?” Stef rubbed his face and scanned the horizon until he saw what I did. His eyes grew wide and he swatted at the motionless body next to him. “Fay, wake up.”
“That’s
But a minute later, we were all standing on the wagon—careful to make as little noise as possible so we didn’t wake the sisters sleeping below—and staring south down the dark road. “Is it the Center?”
“I think it’s the houses,” Stef said. “It’s the Community around the Center.”
“Was it a lightning strike? More riots?” Even as the words left my lips, I knew they were pathetic hopefulness. We hadn’t left the Community just in time to avoid some sort of natural disaster. It wasn’t anything like that.
Even now, I could hear the
“Get down,” I hissed, and the three of us scrambled to press our bellies to the wagon roof.
Minutes stretched longer as the ring of iron on pavement increased in volume, and silhouettes appeared against the lit horizon. As they grew nearer and their forms clearer, I recognized Li, one of Janan and Meuric’s warriors who policed the streets of the Community sometimes; everyone, even Father, was afraid of him, and of the permanent frown he wore like armor.
I recognized the others by sight only: one balding man, and one with the most impressive mustache I’d seen in my whole life.
Stef, Fayden, and I stayed low as the men rode up on their horses, coming into the glow cast by torches and lamps hanging off wagons. Dark spots colored their sleeves and the hems of their trousers.
Blood.
Chills snaked through me. Li and his men hadn’t just set fire to the Community—they’d slaughtered everyone who’d chosen to stay, including Father.
Months ago, a troll had killed Mother. Now, my own people had killed Father. The world was full of monsters, Stef had said before. I hadn’t realized sometimes those monsters could look like people.
“Father is dead.” Saying it out loud didn’t make the turmoil of my emotions any clearer, though. No matter what he’d done to me, he’d still been my father.
“He died bitter and angry,” Fayden muttered. “Just like he lived.”
“He died alone, believing the worst of us.”
Stef swore under his breath. “Everything is going to burn. Everything we ever knew will be gone.”
Fayden had thought they’d die without the Community.
In a way, they had.
“You know what this means?” I whispered, watching the blaze rise higher.
“What’s that?” asked my brother.
“We’re never going back. Wherever Meuric is taking us, that’s where we’re staying for the rest of our lives.”
We’d been traveling for a week before I finally had a chance to try the flute. Since it wasn’t an instrument Mother or Grandmother had played, I knew very little about it, but Stef’s aunts—collectors of every book they could find—had discovered some beginner practice books in their possession. They’d given the books to me only after Stef had promised them I’d learn how to play something incredible for them.
