Sighing, she pulled her rucksack on and trudged upward, rounding a corner. Was it her imagination, or was it getting lighter ahead?
Around the next corner, it was lighter—the exit was near. She drew her sword, and made her way stealthily toward a cavern. The exit was half-obscured by bushes, light filtering through their foliage. A breeze wafted across Marlies’ neck. She turned. Behind, in the left wall, there was a narrow aperture. Marlies stole over and squeezed through, dragging her rucksack in after her. Narrow steps led upward, giving her barely enough space to get through. She ascended, her sword at the ready.
The steps opened into a chamber directly above the exit cavern below, with a few holes in the floor. Sunlight streamed through a narrow slit in the far wall. The chamber was empty. Why go to all the trouble of having a secret cavern if there was nothing in it? Dragon riders had hidey holes all across the realm, but they kept them supplied with food, clothing and a few weapons. This one was no use to anyone.
A voice floated up from outside. Marlies nipped over to the slit in the rock. She was above the tree line, the forest sprawling past the foot of the mountain to the Flatlands, where her father had taken her as a littling. A rock slide slashed a scar across the greenery, and a goat track led to the shrubbery at the cave mouth.
Two tharuks were tromping up the trail, arguing. “What if crows were wrong?”
“Want to lose a hand?”
“No. Long climb. That’s all.”
“We climb because Zens. Want that troop leader report us?”
“Ah … no. I like hands.”
The larger tharuk laughed harshly. “Then hold onto them.” It gestured at the bushes. “Quiet. Nearly there.”
The beasts were making such a racket. Marlies turned, evaluating the room. It wasn’t useless, after all. Someone had designed it with kill holes, some angled toward the entrance and others to the rear of the cavern.
Taking owl-wort leaves from her healer’s pouch, she chewed them, then Marlies laid the dead tracker’s poisoned arrows next to two of the holes and a stone by another. She nocked her bow, careful not to touch the poisoned tip, and waited. Soon the owl-wort took effect, making her view of the dim cavern below much clearer. Her skin crawled with impatience until the tharuks rustled the bushes.
Rasping breaths and footsteps echoed in the tunnel. The large tharuk passed under the first hole. Marlies increased the tension on her bow. She waited. When the tharuk was under the third hole, she nudged the stone with her boot, sending it clattering into the cavern below. The beast whirled in surprise, giving Marlies a perfect shot. Her arrow zipped through the air and struck the tharuk in the temple.
“What was that?” its companion asked, entering the tunnel.
Marlies turned and fired down the front kill hole. Her arrow lodged in the tharuk’s neck. Clutching at the shaft with its claws, it toppled to the stone.
She threw on her rucksack and fled down the stairs into the cavern. She removed the tharuks’ bows from their backs, placing them in their paws. With any luck, someone might think these two had killed each other with their own arrows. Then again, maybe not—the crows and the dead tracker were damning evidence.
She shook her head. Years ago, dragons had kept Zens’ tharuks confined behind the Terramites, the mountains between Death Valley and the Flatlands. Tharuks had only dared to make occasional forays into the Flatlands to plunder and enslave citizens of Dragons’ Realm. Dragons had always driven them back.
Now, these brutes were everywhere.
§
Marlies froze among the foliage of a towering gum tree, glad she’d taken freshweed to stop the tharuks from scenting her. She pulled her camouflage cloak around her tightly, watching two tharuks stomp around the forest floor. In the four days since she’d left the tunnel mouth, it was the third time that they’d gotten this close.
“Always the same,” snarled the hulking tharuk with a broken tusk. “Scent’s gone again. Does that human fly?”
“Maybe,” answered a runty tharuk, gazing up at the sky.
Broken Tusk cuffed Runty, sending it sprawling through the leaves into the trunk of Marlies’ gum tree. “Stay there,” Broken Tusk snapped. “Break time.”
“W-we’re not g-going to sleep, are w-we? If Zens c-catches us—”
“How would Zens know? I’m knackered. Shuddup. Move over.” Broken Tusk kicked Runty, persuading it to shuffle over, then slumped to the ground, against the trunk.
“It killed two of us by that tunnel. M-might be dangerous.”
“Don’t be stupid. They was fighting. That female is gone. Now, sleep.” Broken Tusk clobbered its underling, closed its eyes and was soon snoring.
Runty gibbered for a moment, then dozed off, no doubt lulled to sleep by the melodious cacophony Broken Tusk was conjuring through its piggy snout.
Marlies rolled her eyes. Charming! Trapped by snoring tharuks. There had to be a way out of here. She drummed her fingers lightly on the branch. A thrum answered her. She laid her hand on the smooth bark, inhaling the eucalyptus scent as the leaves around her rustled.
Be daring, be brave. Use my leaves to rid our forest of these vermin.
How?
Sacrifice is worthwhile for a greater cause.
An image of blazing gum trees appeared in her mind.
Oh shards, no. Everyone on the edge of the Flatlands knew that in intense heat, gums could combust due to the oil in their leaves. But to willingly offer? This tree was truly noble.
The tree gave an encouraging rustle.
It just might work. Extracting a fire bean and an arrow from her rucksack, Marlies plucked some gum leaves, crushing them and rubbing them along the wooden shaft of the
