“And the Glassies?” Wilde asks.
Tristan shifts from one foot to t’other. Is he nervous? “They used to be sun dwellers—at least, most of them. Some of them were moon and star dwellers too.”
“I told you!” Skye says. “They’re the same. They’re the enemy.” The tension is back in her arms. She lifts her sword.
“No!” Adele says, practically shouting, speaking quickly. “None of us knew they’d gone aboveground. None of us even knew it was possible. They—the earth dwellers, er, the Glassies—have cut themselves off from us. We had no idea what they were doing to your people. If you don’t believe us you can try to kill us, but by God you might die trying.”
Things are escalating too fast and I know that look in my sister’s eyes and ’fore I even know what I’m doing, I throw down my bow and jump in front of her, grab her muscly arms, so much stronger’n my own, but she doesn’t fight me, doesn’t try to break through, almost like she knew I’d stop her and was only moving forward ’cause she felt like Adele’s words required an answer of force.
Behind me, Tristan says something I never coulda predicted. “We killed my father because he was evil. If President Lecter is as evil as you say he is, we’ll help you kill him too.”
Chapter Three
Dazz
I don’t mind the deepening cold as we trek up the mountain. It’s familiar, like an old friend, crisp and alive, even as it creeps through my boots to my toes and reddens my nose.
“Do you think much has happened since we left?” Buff asks.
It hasn’t been that long, maybe two weeks. Despite the short length of our excursion away from ice country, there’s only one answer to my friend’s question. “Yes,” I say. The only question we asked Wilde before we parted ways was whether our families were safe. Knowing that was enough. Now I wish I’d asked more. Like “How is the new government coping?” and “Has King Goff received his sentence yet?”
“Dazz?” Buff says, snapping me away from my muddled thoughts.
“Yah?”
His only response is a hard-packed snowball to my gut. We’ve reached the snowfields.
I respond in turn, pelting him with a slushball that’s filled with gravel and twigs. And then we’re both whooping, relishing the powdery snow beneath our boots, our legs churning, suddenly zinging with energy, carrying us up the slope. We reach a rise, laughing, panting, elbows on knees.
This is ice country. This is my home. Wilde’s revelation echoes in my ears:
The Glassies spoke of the risk of the Icers too. How now that King Goff has been overthrown they can’t trust the people of ice country either. They said they want to cleanse the lands from the desert to the mountains to the sea.
If the Glassies want to kill us, let them try. We’ll fight for our lives the same way I fought for my sister, Jolie.
They’re forcing us into a war. The Icers too. We’ll have to stand together.
Wilde’s words grate against my teeth. If it’s a war the Glassies want, we’ll give it to them. We will stand. We will fight. We will win.
“Hey, relax,” Buff says, slapping my shoulder. “Let’s get there first, then we’ll think about what has to be done.” As usual, my friend is able to read me like a book. Hiding emotions has never been my thing.
I flash a false smile and continue on up the mountain.
At some point, the snow starts falling, a handful of lazy flakes meandering on a light breeze, painting everything white. We trudge on, the hours falling under the soles of our thick, bearskin boots. I wonder where Skye is, whether her and Wilde and Siena have met up with their spies yet, whether they’re making their way back toward wherever the Tri-Tribes are camped out.
The Unity Alliance. The Tri-Tribes—the Heaters, the Wilde Ones, the Marked—and us, the Icers, joined together as one. Stronger together than apart. Fighting together is our only hope against the Glassies. Now all I have to do is convince the new government. Shouldn’t be too hard, especially considering my friend Yo is one of the new leaders, a member of the freshly created consortium. He represents the Brown District. Funny how quickly things change. Just a few weeks ago Yo was just a bartender, a businessman, a tavern owner. Now he’s helping to shape the future of my people.
Lost in my thoughts, I barely notice when Buff stops me with an arm. “Wha-what?” I say. Then I see it. The edge of the village, the first houses. The Brown District.
And I can’t stop my feet because they have a mind of their own, and Buff is right behind me, and we’re able to run fast now because the snow is hard-packed and trampled from people’s feet and carts and kids running and playing. Houses blur past on either side, some black and charred, still not repaired from the attack by the Stormer Riders, others being rebuilt by men who are hammering away, clinging to roofs, climbing ladders, bandying together to help one another like people should. A swell of pride fills my chest but I don’t stop—can’t stop—to enjoy it, because I’m so close…so very close.
A familiar shack of a house appears on the right, and I’m not surprised when Buff manages a burst of speed to pass me, barging through the door like a battering ram, his boulder-like frame thudding solidly against the wood. I follow him through.
A half a dozen kids are attacking Buff, leaping on his back, hugging his legs, toppling him to the floor. His brothers and sisters, welcoming him home. Only the eldest, his sister Darcy, stands back from the fray, her hands on her hips. “Buff, if you insist on charging into the house like a Yag, please at least remove your snowy boots.”
But she’s smiling as Buff peels his siblings off him, regaining his feet and kicking off his boots in the process. “Always keeping order in the chaos,” Buff says, embracing her. “What would we do without you?”
“We’d be forced to eat a lot of raw meat,” a voice says to my left. Buff’s father lifts up off the bed he was sitting on, using a wooden crutch to get his balance. His leg is wrapped tightly with thick cloth. “Your sister is every bit as good a cook as your mother was.”
He hobbles over, nods in my direction. “Dazz,” he says.
“Sir,” I say. “Good to see you on your feet.”
“Good to see you home. Both of you.” His voice cracks and I can see the deep lines of worry on his face. And then Buff’s arms are wrapped around his neck and they’re hugging like only a father and a son can hug.
A pang of desire hits me in the chest, causing my heart to speed up. I can’t hug my father, not where he is, but my mother, my sister, are waiting. Worrying. I can’t linger here any longer. “Go,” Buff’s father says over his son’s shoulder. “And thank you for bringing Buff home to me,” he adds, as if I was his sole protector.
As I exit into the snow, I call back, “He brought me home, too,” and then I’m running up the hill to the next row of houses, where through the light snowfall I can just make out a familiar house—and then I freeze because—
—in front of the house—
—playing in the snow—
—like she didn’t spend a week in bed recovering from a knife wound—
—like I never left her—
—is Jolie, building a man out of snow.
And then, as if sensing my presence, she turns, her nose red and her eyes clear and bright. Her face lights up in a smile that’s bigger and wider than all the countries of the earth. Her legs pump as she runs toward me and as I kneel down, and then they wrap around my waist as she slams into me.
I spin her around and around and around as she peppers my face with kisses and says, “I knew it. I knew you’d come back.”
The Earth Dwellers by David Estes, coming September 5th, 2013!