Page 148 of Earthbound

‘I have you,’ she said, and he ran on with surer steps.

The shaman’s whisper network had spread quicker than fire and the army was in turmoil. Shouts of ‘Mutiny’ and ‘Treason’ added to the sounds of the battle. Soldiers were running into the fray, unsure whether to fight the obeah, or Malak’s coup. Some were fleeing the camp entirely, and it was easy for their group to join the chaos undetected.

Or so they thought.

There was a shout behind them and Alder glanced back to see Reena giving chase.

‘This way!” Mortah said, directing them towards a narrow street of tents that was quieter than the others.

Alder glanced back and saw that Reena had been swallowed up in the pandemonium of another regiment joining the fight.

Lettle gasped, and when Alder looked forward again, Reena appeared ahead of them, her hand on her drum.

‘You’re coming with me,’ she lisped. One of the obeah’s horns had pierced her cheek and blood dribbled down to her chin.

Mortah turned to Lettle and Alder.

‘You go, I’ll hold her off,’ she said quickly, the stolen drum ready in her hands.

Alder hesitated, knowing that Mortah was offering a chance at freedom at the cost of her life.

No more blood on my hands.

‘Let me stay,’ Alder said.

‘You don’t know how to use drumfire,’ Mortah said, her gaze fixed on Reena. ‘You’ve done all you can here, now go.’

Then she began to beat the drum, her fingers moving far quicker than he thought they could.

Lettle pulled him away before he could see whether Mortah’s bullet had hit true.

Please survive this, Mortah. He couldn’t cope with any more sacrifice.

They ran as fast as they could away from the fight. Alder was glad Lettle had remembered the route to the Mosima tunnel, and she took the lead.

When they reached the neutral territory, it was thankfully empty, all of Malak’s soldiers having been called to his aid.

‘Nearly there,’ Lettle said. Alder was glad to see determination once again painted across her features.

Alder heard the hoofbeats before Lettle.

‘Move, to the side,’ he said, just in time.

A soldier astride a camel cantered along the path behind them, kicking up dust and debris. When it cleared Alder could see who it was.

Malak.

His blond hair was dirty and streaked with blood and fluids. One of his eyes was swollen, promising a purple bruise for tomorrow–if he lived that long. He had seemed someone who had presented himself well, but now his uniform was torn and in disarray, just like the coup he’d attempted.

The chieftain brought his camel to a stop in front of the tunnel entrance. The poor beast was drenched in sweat, its long lashes fluttering in distress. Malak had ridden it hard to reach them in time. He pulled forward his drum so it rested under his palms, ready to strike.

Lettle stepped forward. ‘Malak, it’s over, let us go—’

‘I’m afraid I can’t. Not until the fae are ready to surrender. I told you far too much to let you go now,’ he said.

‘They will never surrender,’ Lettle said fearlessly.

‘I think they might.’ He trailed a lacquered nail along his drumskin. ‘When were you last in Mosima?’