Chapter 46
Throughout my census duties, heavy emotions drag at me: my worry for Jonas, fresh grief over my father’s death, fear of the control Jarek’s accumulated. It’s all I can do to stay inside my own skin until early afternoon.
Everyone makes it to training today, even Oscar, who’s supposed to be working on my dress.
Reatha greets us but seems distracted, returning to the cave almost immediately.
Marie settles in to watch us from the sidelines, her grin so wide it nearly splits her face open when I produce the three potato rolls I snuck from last night’s dinner.
“One for each Chemist!” she exclaims.
“That’s right.” When she runs inside to share them with her mother, I wonder aloud where Albert is.
Oscar shrugs. “He wasn’t here when I showed up. I didn’t see him inside, either, when I went in for a drink of water.”
“You his mom now?” Sal asks me.
“No.” I rub the back of my head. I’ve got a bad feeling, but I can’t explain it, even to myself. “Where does he go when he isn’t here?”
“Where do you go when you’re not here?” Sal shoots back.
“It’s not the same. I have duties. Places I’m allowed to visit, places I’m not. Just like the rest of you. The Chemists aren’t supposed to be anywhere, though. Not within the Wall, at least. I assumed he’d stick close to the caves.”
“I think Albert gets bored,” Meryl says. “I know I would.”
“Pair up,” Gryphon says, putting an end to the conversation.
We begin by reviewing everything we’ve learned the past two days.
Close combat, staffs, basic nerve and wrist locks.
I’m with Eero, and he makes me feel so comfortable that I start telling him Apothecary stories as we practice.
The time my dad misdiagnosed a food allergy as measles, how Gran came to be the one everyone called for childbirth, how excited Jonas was when he discovered a book called Food Is Medicine inside the library.
I get in a good sweep and am helping Eero back to his feet when he tells me he doesn’t like what the Carpenter House is working on.
I’ve been chattering so much that he’s caught me off guard. “What is it?”
He glances over at the others. Gryphon has Oscar in a chokehold and is instructing him on how to break free. Meryl has Sal’s arm twisted up and behind her back, disabling her. She leans in to whisper, and Sal flushes, smiling.
“That’s just it,” he says, worry lines creasing his mouth.
“I’m not sure. I mean, I know what it looks like, just not what it’ll be used for.
Jarek worked with my dad on the blueprint, but neither of them would tell me more.
It’s double-layered wood reinforced with iron bands that crisscross between the layers, like the ribs of a beast. It’s big, Rose.
It looks like some kind of twisted cage, but the walls curve outward at the top, like they’re meant to keep something out, rather than in. ”
I ask the question I fear I already know the answer to. “When does it need to be done by?”
“Friday.” He stares off into the distance. “I hated when we were ordered to build the whipping posts, but what we’re making now feels even worse. We’re almost done with it. All that’s left is to assemble it in the square.”
“Have you told your parents how you feel?”
“Yeah.” He chews on his lip. “They’re scared of the Guardians.”
We’re both still for a moment. The Guardians are meant to protect us, to guard us. Surely the villagers shouldn’t have to fear them. And yet…
“I wanted to tell you something else,” Eero continues. “I had a dream about Jonas.” He talks fast, his brow furrowing. “He was hiding. Cold. Weeping. I could hear him, but I couldn’t find him. You don’t think he could still be alive, do you?”
My eyes burn. “I don’t know, Eero.”
“I miss him.”
I rub my arms. “Me too.”
We resume our sparring, but my heart’s no longer in it, and the Carpenter boy gets in one good hit after another. By the time Gryphon calls an end to our training, my bruises have bruises.
“We’ll each return to the village by different routes,” Gryphon says. “And arrive here separately tomorrow. Stay watchful. The Guardians are on high alert this week. None of us wants to be caught breaking the rules.”
Everyone nods. Sal says she’s going to hang back to let Marie braid her hair, like the child has been begging to do. Eero, Oscar, Meryl, and I take off in different directions. I’m about a hundred meters from the caves, following the creek, when I hear the crack of a branch behind me. I spin.
It’s Gryphon.
“What was wrong with you back there?” he asks. “You let Eero cream you.” His face looks weird in the shadows. Warped.
I shrug to hide the thrill that shivers across my skin. He followed me. “Off day.”
He steps forward, the weirdness I thought I’d seen gone. “Guardians don’t have off days.”
“Good thing I’m not one, then.”
He’s studying me, something like a smile playing across his lips. “Yeah. Good thing. Next time, I recommend you don’t let Eero throw you as much.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling myself. “Fight better.” I tap my head. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Gryphon steps closer, sending a lick of flame down my spine. I’d swear by the Soil beneath my feet that he was about to ask to kiss me again, when the tree behind him rustles and Leonidas drops from its branches, his face twisted with glee.
My throat closes like a fist. Gryphon whips around to angle himself between us.
Had Leo seen us training? But I barely have time to worry about that before a scream of pure agony rips through the forest. Confrontation taking a backseat, the three of us sprint toward the terrible sound.
My lungs burn as I try to keep pace with the Guardians.
I think we’re heading toward the abandoned industrial district where Peter’s body was found.
The closer we get, the louder the sounds of battle grow.
Metal striking metal, shouts of pain, and an eerie cacophony of rustling that makes my skin crawl.
Finally, we burst into the clearing.
I stumble to a halt, unable to process what I’m seeing.
The ancient, enormous vines that have always clung faithfully to our Wall are…moving.
No, I realize, my mouth going dry. They’re not moving.
They’re attacking. They writhe like serpents, the fleshy rustle of their thick cords sounding grotesquely human as they seize Nebula of the Guardian House and lift her off the ground.
Jarek and Misia Tzu are there, too, plus a fourth Guardian whose name I don’t know.
They slash at the vegetation with gleaming blades, their expressions fierce as they try to free Nebula.
A vine whips past my face, leaving a stinging welt.
I duck, watching in horror as the thick, green-purple cord trapping Nebula begins to squeeze.
She makes a terrible choking scream. Her feet kick the air, her struggles growing weaker as the vine pulses and throbs and her skin tightens around her bones, taking on a horrifying grayish tint.
She’s being sucked dry. Just like Peter.
“Behind you!” I shout as a thick vine snakes toward Jarek’s throat. He spins, his blade flashing in a perfect arc that severs it. Deep violet juices spray from the cut, but three more tendrils take its place.
Gryphon launches himself into the fray, his movements fluid.
He fights in perfect synchronicity with his parents, their blades flying in a deadly dance of steel and precision.
Leonidas follows suit, but there are too many vines, too many angles of attack.
Every cut births two more cords and then the vine seizes a Guardian anew, dragging them back as the others rush in vain to save them.
The vines lash out like whips, jagged barbs glinting in the holy Sun.
I watch, horrified, as one wraps around the neck of the second Guardian, lifting him into the air.
He severs the vine strangling him, but another surges forward as soon as he hits the ground, grabbing his leg and dragging him across the clearing.
He claws at the earth, fingers raking the dirt, screaming as the barbs tear into his flesh.
Blood splatters, painting the ground red.
His cry is cut short as the vine rears back and plunges itself into his stomach, his body jerking violently before it goes limp, flesh sagging as the vine drinks him.
His corpse crumples, his eyes wide and empty.
The plant releases him with a wet, sickening hiss, turning its hungry tendrils toward Misia.
It’s all happening so fast.
Misia fights with the grace of a panther, her short, dark hair gleaming with blood as she ducks beneath a swinging vine, slicing through it in one elegant motion.
The severed piece writhes on the ground, twitching.
I feel nauseous. The vines are relentless, surging forward, coming at her from every direction.
Misia spins, her blade cutting through the air, but a vine catches her from behind, wrapping around her waist, dragging her off her feet.
“MOM!” Gryphon yells, his body a blur as he charges.
He leaps, sword flashing, cutting through the vine encircling her in a single stroke.
Misia crashes to the ground, rolling to her feet without a flicker of fear in her eyes.
Her gaze meets mine across the clearing, and for one dizzying moment, I see a flash of something raw, desperate.
A vine snaps toward me, and I stumble back, heart hammering, my mind blank with terror.
I have no weapon. No sword. No way to defend myself.
What good are Gryphon’s lessons against a thing like this?
The rustling, humming creature—if you can call it that—lashes out again, this time aiming for my stomach, barbs glinting.
I throw myself to the ground at the last possible moment, dirt grinding into my palms as the vine whips overhead.
It curls back, ready to strike again. I scramble to my feet, my brain white with panic.
“No!” Gryphon’s eyes are wild as he fights his way toward me, but he’s surrounded, vines coiling around his blade and pulling him back. I see his muscles strain, his body shaking with effort, but he’s unable to reach me.
I can’t breathe. Can’t move. This is a nightmare. It’s not real. It can’t be real.
“Rose!” Misia’s voice, sharp, commanding, cuts through the chaos. I jerk my head toward her, meeting her savage gaze. She’s covered in dirt and blood, her hair matted with gore, eyes blazing. “The can!”
I blink, disoriented. What is she talking about?
But then I see it, lying on its side a few feet away from me: one of the large metal canisters I’d seen in the Guardians’ weapons barn.
It has a trigger, like a greenhouse sprayer.
I lunge for it, fingers closing around the cool metal. It’s heavier than I expected.
When the vine launches its strike, I pull the trigger, a stream of pale mist shooting out, enveloping it. The vine contorts, thrashing against the ground, its flesh bubbling and blistering before it pulls back, retreating like a cornered beast.
It actually worked. Hope flares in my chest.
But before I can release more spray, another tendril lunges, its barb slicing across my side.
I remember the thorns I saw growing near Eden’s Gate—these are much larger.
Pain explodes white-hot behind my eyes, acid spreading through my veins.
I drop to my knees, clutching the wound.
The vine rears back, ready to strike again.
I fumble with the can, vision blurring from the pain.
I squeeze the trigger, a cloud of mist shooting forward to meet the vine.
It halts mid-strike, shuddering, then recoils with a furious snapping noise.
Its barbs curl inward like a fiddlehead fern as it retreats.
The rest of the vines follow then, a purple-tinged green army crawling back up the Wall.
And just like that, we’re no longer under attack.
Two Guardians dead. Jarek, Misia, Gryphon, and Leonidas covered in blood and plant gore, their swords limp in their hands. Me on the ground, bleeding, still holding the sprayer.
Jarek opens his mouth to roar at the sky.
“What. Was. That?” Gryphon demands when his father quiets.
Leo limps over to whisper something to Jarek. Is he reporting us for training? It’s hard to care about that right now.
Jarek brushes Leonidas off. “Yes, yes,” he tells him. His gaze lingers on the two desiccated corpses before he steels himself. “It was a terrible attack by an animal of the Valley,” he tells his son. “We must tighten the curfew further.”
It’s the middle of the day, but I don’t say that.
“What in the Yellow Sun are you talking about?” Gryphon demands incredulously. “That wasn’t an animal! It was a man-eating vine. Why are you lying to our faces?”
Jarek steps forward and strikes his son with such force that it echoes off the trees.
I launch myself at Jarek, ignoring the pain at my side. Gryphon recovers from his father’s blow quickly enough to pluck me from the air.
Jarek is chuckling. “She’s got some fight in her, your betrothed.
She needs to learn control, though. As I was saying, there has been another terrible animal attack, which means we must cordon off more farmland.
Less food requires another Harvest.” His tone brokers no disagreement.
“We’ll add the blessed sacrifice to Friday’s celebrations.
Won’t that be lovely, Rose? Another wedding, another Harvest. All for you. ”
My throat’s burning to scream at him, but I swallow my rage. There’s only one explanation for Jarek’s blasé reaction to the killer vines. He already knew. Misia and Leo, too, by the looks of it. Oh, poor Gryphon. They’ve hidden this from him.
And now he’s trying to get us to deny the proof of our own eyes, already planning to use this attack to get people to agree to another Harvest so soon after Jonas, and won’t Gryphon and I look like fools if we try to convince the villagers that plants are killing us?
How long has Jarek known about it, and why hasn’t he told anyone outside of the Guardian House, or even his own son?
“You’re hurt!” Gryphon cries out, rushing to my side.
I glance down at the blood dripping off the hem of my shirt. Huh, guess I am.
It’s the last thing I think before everything goes dark.