ORDER OF SEVEN (28 page)

“Paytah’s alive?” Keb whispers, her mouth hanging open.

The figures begin to move, but not toward us. Grunts and cries sing through the air.

What’s happening?

An arrow whirs past me, sticking in the ground at my feet. Survival instincts kick in, and I dive to the dirt, yelling to Baron and Keb to move around. It will make us harder to hit.

We dart and roll for several panicked minutes, but no other arrows come our way. For a second, it seems to quiet down, and then the figures begin to collectively move toward us. I suppress a scream and we back up to the tree’s trunk.

They cross over the fence and under the canopy of branches. Terror is the only thing driving me, the only thing pushing blood through my veins, the only thing I breathe. I consider the possibility that Baron could take energy from me and blast them, but even if I could concentrate enough to channel right now, there’s not enough time, and there’s too many of them.

“Stay away from us,” Baron shouts, shielding me and Keb.

“Wait,” Keb says, squinting.

I squint too, and can see now they are short, Neanderthal-looking men. They have overhanging brows and under bites, and bright yellow paint glows against their coal black faces and chests. It’s the only thing on their bodies, aside from a small string of reeds around their waists.

Keb speaks to them in frightened bursts of Mbala.

One of them answers in a gravelly voice.

Keb turns to me with wide eyes and a half-smile of relief. “These are Bewa. Paytah sent them to protect us. They’re
fighting
the albino hunters.”

A Bewa steps forward and says something to Keb.

“The hunters got to the others,” she translates, eyes wide.

“Nodin,” I scream, and we sprint toward the hill.

I’m so fucking terrified for my brother and the others, the adrenaline enables me to keep up with Keb.

My terror is mixed with fury.
This
is what trusting my purpose got me? What if they hurt Nodin?
What if they kill him?
I can’t consider that possibility one more second or I’ll go insane, so I use the anger and fear to run faster. Dirt kicks up from Keb’s heels, hitting me in my eyes and mouth, but I don’t care. Nothing short of a train can stop me.

The Bewa run with us, crouched low, daunting in their girth and numbers, like a herd of buffalo ready to kill. I feel as though we’re moving in slow motion, like those dreams where a person can’t run fast enough, and their muscles are moving through molasses.

Nodin has to be okay.

We reach the other Bewa who tried to stave off the albino hunters from getting to the hilltop. I run up the hill, sliding and falling, hardly aware my knees bleeding. I scream for Aren because he’s the only one up there I think can help Nodin and then—
BAM
—I bang into something so hard, I’m thrown back on my ass.

It’s Aren. Temporary relief washes over me.

“He’s gone,” he says, answering my unspoken question.

I die inside.
Nodin.

“Gone where?” I demand.

“They dragged him off the mountain. We tried to follow but they were too fast.” His eyes are vacant and look through me, not at me.

I turn and run down the hill toward the Bewa. I run right to the first Bewa I come to, my fists pounding his chest. “How could you let them get to Nodin?” I scream.

“Devi,” Keb’s voice booms. “The hunters found us long before the Bewa arrived. They were hiding, waiting.” She walks closer and lowers her voice. “Some Bewa have already gone on search for them.”

I back away from the wide-eyed Bewa I’d attacked. “Find him.
Find him,
” I demand with authority I didn’t know I was capable of.

Keb shouts Mbala words and the Bewa scatter like ninjas into the trees. Keb crouches, about to take off, and I say, “I’m going with you.”

She looks down at me and shakes her head.

“You’ll have to knock me unconscious to stop me,” I threaten.

For a terrifying second, I think she’s considering it, but then she gestures me to stay near her. We take off running in the dark, the landscape a blur in my peripheral as we hunt the hunters.

We’re crouching low, which burns my thighs like a bitch, but I don’t dare fall behind. The Bewa are camouflaged and silent in the trees, stopping periodically to inspect a footprint or bent twigs.

Ten minutes later, or an hour, or six, the Bewa come across a camp. They hold out their hands, gesturing for us to stay back and be quiet. Through the trees, I see the orange flicker of a small fire. I shadow Keb closer in and we are just on the other side of the trees from the fire when something catches my eye.

I strain harder and it comes into focus: a totem pole. I dare to inch past Keb. The pole is thick, not like ones I’ve seen in books. This one is the width of a door. In the flickering fire, I can make out intricate designs etched on its surface, and I see something else.
Rope.
I move around the trees to get a view of the front and that’s when I see him.

Nodin is suspended by his wrists with rope, his feet barely grazing the ground. The rope coils inside the mouth of a carved lion high on the totem. Nodin’s hands, dripping blood, dangle outside the lion’s mouth like its latest kill. His head droops and his body hangs limp, unconscious. There are four hunters on the other side of the fire.

A primal sound threatens to erupt from my chest and I clamp my hand over my mouth to stop it. I see Keb signal the Bewa and they’re moving in.

Like panthers, they creep between the trees and surround the hunters, arrows loaded. I watch in a daze as Keb confirms their position, then steps closer to the camp, shouting at the hunters in another language. Her voice is authoritative as she points at Nodin, her height a menacing shadow in the darkness.

Chaos ensues as the hunters draw arrows and hatchets, screaming at her. The only hunter wearing an elaborate necklace of bones, presumably the leader, turns a loaded arrow at Nodin. I collapse against a tree trunk.

The Bewa move in closer, making their numbers apparent, but instead of intimidating the hunters, it heightens the screaming and tension. The threat seems to excite the hunters.

I squeeze my eyes shut and pray. I don’t know to what or who, but I’m frantic, desperate, begging for my brother’s life. Keb bellows again and my eyes pop open, instinctively searching for Nodin, to make sure he’s okay. I see my first sign of hope: his eyes open for just a second, peering at the leader, and then close again.

He’s not unconscious.

I force myself up onto shaky legs and touch Keb’s shoulder. She tilts her head down to me and I whisper, “Keep them busy. Nodin’s conscious.”

She nods once, then peers toward the nearest Bewa and pushes her palm down and back, a signal I assume means to hold off.

I cover my mouth with my hands, praying Nodin can use his gift to manipulate the feelings of the leader before he releases his arrow. Keb’s voice is lower, calm, attempting to dial down the tension. Roughly half the Bewa retreat into the trees.

Nodin’s eyes are closed, but his brows are furrowed in concentration.

The hunters are ready to defend, standing with bent knees, nostrils flaring, weapons raised. I watch the leader with bated breath, and almost faint with relief when I see his shoulders relax just a tad. His bow dips an inch, and then another.

Yes, yes, it’s working.

His shoulders sag. The hunter shakes his head, as if foggy. He is confused.

Come on, Nodin, a little more.

The leader turns his arrow on one of his own tribe mates next to him and shouts at his men. They stare at him. He yells again, louder this time, his voice booming through the camp as he inches the tip of his arrow against his comrade’s temple. The rest of the hunters drop their weapons.

Keb shouts to the Bewa on her right and they crouch low and move inside the camp.

Two Bewa approach the totem pole; one acts as a ladder for the other, enabling access to where Nodin’s hands are bound. The Bewa retrieves a sheathed knife from his hip and chops swift and hard. Nodin collapses in a heap with a moan. The Bewa scoop him up and pull him into the cover of the trees.

They hand Nodin to Keb, who helps support his exhausted body as we retreat. Most of the Bewa fall behind, making sure we’re not followed. The rest run ahead, leading the way.

After roughly thirty minutes of our thigh-screaming, lung-burning night dash, the Bewa determine we’re out of danger and stop to rest. Keb hands a leather pouch of water, borrowed from a Bewa, to Nodin, who drips some over his face before drinking. Nodin’s eyes are shallow and red, his face gaunt.

I lean next to him, taking a hand in mine. “You’re okay now. It’s all over,” I say.

•◊
32
ץ

SACRIFICES

T
he sun is breaking on the horizon when we meet the others on the hilltop. We run to each other, whooping and hollering, hugs and high-fives abounding as we celebrate our successful fulfillment of the Order.

But I can’t help feeling uneasy, and almost let down.

What we did was mind-numbingly unbelievable, yet it was over so quickly, without ceremony. No one will ever know the seven of us
sent energy into space and moved an asteroid.

My eyes meet Aadam’s and I ask if he’s sure we succeeded.

“We followed the instructions to a T, but I’ll be able to confirm it when I get back to the university’s radio telescope and do some final measurements.”

I feel someone tugging my sleeve. It’s Baron. I dissolve into him, relief pouring off me in waves. And then I see someone standing sheepishly beyond our group. It’s Ben. I rush to him and jump into his arms.

“You’re here? How are you here?” I squeeze his shoulders to make sure he’s real.

“I followed him.” He points to someone sitting against the other Twin Alter boulder, but it’s too far to make out who it is. He holds out a hand. “Come with me.”

As we get closer, I see it’s Joe, otherwise known as Paytah. He’s holding a bloody hand over his opposite shoulder. I sink to my knees.

“I’m okay,” he says, seeing my worried glance. He squints with that tilt of his head I’ve seen a thousand times before. “Are you okay?”

I nod, too overwhelmed to form words.

“Devi,” Ben says, kneeling next to us. “I have something to tell you.” He gestures to Joe. “He’s my father.”

“
What?
I thought your father died in a plane crash before you were born?”

“So did I. That’s what I’ve always been told,” Ben says. “But I knew this person—” he gestures to Joe, “—as my uncle. You can imagine my surprise when I finally caught up to the person I
thought
was going to South Africa to harm you and saw it was my Uncle Joe. Not to mention he was living in your old house.”

“That’s when I knew I had to tell him the truth,” Joe says. “Not long after Ashon and I moved you and your brother here to the Mahtembo tribe, I met and fell in love with a woman from Bronkhorstspruit, named Natalie. Months later, we found out she was pregnant. The night of your naming ceremony, when the hunters attacked and Bahtmi lost her life, I realized how dire our circumstances were.

“Ben was born a month later. I knew I had to get all of us out of South Africa, away from the hunters and hidden from the Tabari, but I also knew they’d find you again, unless I split us up. I didn’t even want Natalie and Ben near me, for fear they’d meet the same fate as your mother. I arranged the adoption to hide you and Nodin, but I was never far away.” He glances at Ben. “I moved Nat and Ben to Oklahoma. Near enough to be a part of his life, but far enough to keep them safe.”

“But why pretend to be his uncle?”

Joe’s eyes are heavy with sadness as he grasps Ben’s wrist. “I’d rather be an uncle he saw sometimes, than have to explain why I wasn’t around as a father. I had no choice. It was a sacrifice I had to make to keep you safe. The Lyriad resolve doesn’t compromise. It’s in my blood, and in his.” He gestures to Ben.

I look from one to the other. “Ben is a Lyriad, too?”

He and Ben both nod. “The Lyriad DNA is strong,” Joe says. “He was born to protect and guide, although he didn’t understand why he felt compelled to protect you and Nodin until I explained it to him last night.”

The hair stands up on my arms. It makes so much sense, the protectiveness and the connection he’s always had with me. The brotherly friendship he and Nodin share. I smile at Ben with a new depth of affection.

“What about buying our old house?” I ask.

“When your parents put the house up for sale, I knew I had to live there. I had to protect your gift,” he says.

“Why did it burn down?” I ask him.

“Before you got rid of the hematite—”

“I’m sorry,” I say, interrupting. “We had no idea you were using it to help.”

“It’s okay, you had no way of knowing. Before you got rid of it, I was able to learn the Tabari mystic was sensing your whereabouts. I suspected they found you through me, so I burned everything that could connect us to keep them from learning anything else.” He shrugs. “I guess I was too late. They knew you came here, and sparked interest among the albino hunters again to make sure they got you and Nodin this time.”

“How did they find out? I was being blocked by Ben.”

“When you left for Africa, I couldn’t block you as well.” Ben shrugs. “They got in.”

“Where’s A—I mean, your dog?” I say to Joe.

A tired smile widens across his face. “Safe and sound.”

“What happened to you?” I gesture to his shoulder wound. My eyes scan his face and Ben’s and the similarities are astonishing. They have the same face shape. Same smile. Ben didn’t inherit his father’s white hair, which I’d always assumed was grey due to age, but he did get Joe’s half-breed tan skin.

“Eh, just a scrape,” he says with a shrug.

“From a hunter’s arrow,” Ben says. “When he first arrived at Mahtembo, they were already attacking.”

Dread harpoons my spine. “Is Ashon safe?”

Paytah nods. “Everybody is fine, thanks to the Bewa.”

Nodin approaches, his face hollow from exhaustion, bright red cuts circling his wrists from the ropes. “I’m told you are Paytah and I have a lot to thank you for.”