The Orphan Army (35 page)

“Milo! You saw my light!” she said happily. “You gave us a chance to sneak in. That was so smart. That was so brave!”

“Brave? I don't think so.” Milo spat alien egg out of his mouth. He sniffed away the last of his tears, grinned through the muck and the pain. “I guess if I can't be a hero, then being a nuisance is okay.”

He jerked upright and immediately hurried past her to where the Huntsman lay. The monster was dazed and semiconscious, but alive. It amazed Milo that anyone could survive Mook's punch. It frightened him, also.

He fumbled at the pouch on the Huntsman's cross belt. Evangelyne had tried to tear it open but succeeded only in damaging it. Milo undid the snap, dug his fingers inside, and pulled out the stone.

The gleaming, multifaceted black diamond.

He heard Halflight gasp.

The Heart of Darkness.

It pulsed in his hand as if it were a real heart. He could feel its energy. Its power. He closed his eyes and held it to his chest.

He never understood why he did that.

It seemed to matter, though. Way deep down inside.

“Milo,” murmured Evangelyne. He opened his eyes and saw her there, leaning on Oakenayl. Her throat was badly bruised and her legs wobbled. The oak boy, Mook, and Halflight looked at him, at the thing he held.

Milo opened his hand and stared deeply into the stone for a moment.

In that moment, he could understand why the Huntsman wanted it. Looking at it was like staring through a doorway into the entire universe. That kind of power was awesome to behold. To
hold.

“That doesn't belong to you. Give that here,” snapped Oakenayl, holding out his open hand. “Give it here and be quick about it.”

“Mook,” growled Mook, though it seemed to Milo that the stone boy's comment was directed at Oakenayl.

Milo ignored them both. He extended his hand to Evangelyne, fingers open, letting the golden glow from Halflight's fiery hair ignite tiny flames on each facet.

“I know this isn't mine,” he said. “Here. This is yours.”

Evangelyne hesitated as she reached for it, as if she wasn't sure even she should touch it. On the floor, the Huntsman groaned. She closed her fingers around the stone and did the same thing Milo had done—she pressed her fist to her chest over her heart.

The alarm kept blaring, and now there were sounds in the hall. Angry clicks and the scuttle of many feet.

“We're out of time,” said Oakenayl.

“Then we fight our way out,” said Evangelyne. She morphed into the wolf. Milo did not know where the stone went, but this was magic after all. If she had it, then it was safe.

“Mook!” said Mook as he clanked his fists together.

Milo turned to the little sprite. “Halflight, you know we'll never fight our way through the entire Bug army. Can you . . . ? I mean . . . is it possible?”

The sprite looked beyond weary. “A final glamour? Yes. I think I can do it.”

He did not like the way she said “final.”

“We have to try,” he said. “I'm sorry.”

Then he stopped and turned and looked at the fallen Huntsman.

“Wait . . . There's something else I have to do.”

“We don't have time,” insisted Evangelyne.

“You'll get us all killed,” growled Oakenayl.

Milo ignored them as he approached the murderous monster who lay amid the debris of the conquering race.

T
he shocktroopers burst through the door, pulse weapons ready, eyes blazing, pincers clicking, ready to kill.

They saw the overturned birthing chamber that still spewed eggs.

They saw a dead drone lying amid the debris.

They fanned out through the chamber, searching for the cause of this disaster.

They fell back to allow the Huntsman—tall and powerful—­­to brush past them with a small group of armed guards in his wake. Not one drone or 'trooper dared interfere with the Huntsman as he led his troops along the winding corridors, into the loading bay, and up the ramp into his crimson ship. None of this was irregular to their insect brains. The Huntsman went where he wanted to go.

The shocktroopers didn't even care about the destroyed birthing chamber.

Or the broken eggs.

Or even the conveyors that relentlessly dumped more unborn Bugs onto the ground.

No, their entire attention was locked onto a small golden pedestal that lay on its side.

Empty.

Seeing that, understanding what that meant, sent a ripple through them and then outward into the hive mind. Before encountering the man who would become the Huntsman, they had never experienced the emotion of fear.

Now they did.

And in that moment, staring at the empty golden pedestal, that fear blossomed hotter than the hottest flame. It was instantly shared by every drone and 'trooper, every subspecies, every queen—newborn or ancient—who dwelt in that massive hive ship. Forty million minds linked by a shared consciousness knew fear in that moment.

Great fear.

Fear so towering that it caused them all to throw back their heads and scream.

The crystal egg was gone.

Gone.

The heart of their ship.

The hope of their hive.

Gone.

They screamed and screamed and screamed.

Then the 'troopers closest to the birthing chamber saw something impossible happen. The drone who lay amid the debris groaned and sat up, shedding shell fragments and glass. It was a drone for only a moment longer, and then it wasn't.

It was the Huntsman.

The 'troopers turned toward the door where this same Huntsman had fled minutes ago. Then they turned back to this one. Bruised and bleeding, but irrefutably the Huntsman.

It was in that moment that for every Dissosterin, their fear transformed into another emotion. Another one that was new to them. An emotion planted like a seed in their shared consciousness by the evil mind of the Huntsman.

Hate.

A
s the Huntsman's ship lifted off from the landing bay, the door remained open long enough for three small round green globes to come rolling out. They bounced onto the deck and wobbled to a stop in front of a knot of shocktroopers.

The shocktroopers had time to click a single warning to one another.

It was a second too late.

Sound and fury.

T
he crimson ship dropped out of the clouds and kept descending until it was below the tree line, moving fast only a few feet above the rippling surface of Bayou Teche. Alligators watched it with their ancient eyes and seemed to grin with evil mouths.

The ship wobbled as it flew. It clipped a few trees. Twice it dipped too low and bounce-splashed atop the surface of the water. Then it corrected awkwardly, gradually straightened out, and finally came to rest beneath the shadows cast by a great canopy of oak trees. It stood on its eight metal legs, looking alien and ominous.

The engines whined for a moment and then died away into a ghostly silence.

After several long minutes, the hatch opened and the loading ramp stretched down to the marshy ground.

A figure emerged.

Skinny, short, disheveled, with clothes that were stained with blood and green goo. With him was a girl who had hair the color of ash and eyes the color of the moon. She had one hand clutched into a fist, and she kept it pressed against her heart.

Behind them came a fat brown boy who had his arm wrapped around the waist of a tall boy with wild hair that stuck up in all directions and a little blond girl with pale blue eyes. Others came down. Boys and girls. Older teens. And a few old people who leaned on one another.

“Milo!” called Shark, and the skinny boy and the fat boy gave each other a fierce hug. Like best friends do. Like brothers do. Lizabeth squirmed in between them, and then the Cajun joined them, not so much adding to the group hug as leaning on it.

“Dang, Milo . . . You is more dan
motier foux
, you,” he mumbled. More than half crazy. There was a smile on his face and tears in his green eyes.

The last to emerge were two boys who stood at the top of the ramp. One made of wood, the other of stone. The huddled refugees stared up at them with glazed eyes, as if unsure if this was a dream.

A hummingbird stood on the oak boy's shoulder.

The rock boy held one hand out, palm upward, and in it was a tiny form who lay absolutely still. Milo Silk tore himself free from Shark and the others and ran back up the ramp, his heart leaping into his throat. He skidded to a stop and stood looking down at the sprite in the rock boy's hand.

“Oh no!” he cried.

“Mook,” said the rock boy softly.

“Is she . . . ?” Milo's voice trailed off. He didn't want to finish that question.

Evangelyne bent and blew a kiss at the tiny form. “She used all of her magic,” she said.

“All of it?” asked Milo, and there was a hitch in his voice.

Evangelyne looked up at him with eyes that were bright with tears. “Almost all. She's asleep.”

“But . . . she's going to get better, right?”

The wolf girl placed the Heart of Darkness in Mook's palm and nudged it against the sprite. Halflight groaned softly and curled herself around it, hugging it as if it were the only thing that tethered her to life.

“There is still magic in the world,” said Evangelyne. “Thanks to you, there is still magic in the world.”

She kissed him on the cheek.

Milo wiped away his own tears. There was a rumble of thunder in the east. They looked up. There, partially hidden by the storm clouds, was the great bulk of the hive ship. It might be damaged. They might have stolen its crystal heart. They might have left it in confusion. But they had no illusions that it was no longer a threat. Maybe it would be a great threat. Time would tell.

Milo could feel the weight of the crystal egg in his pocket. Warm, alien, repellent.

He wondered if they should have killed the Huntsman while they had the chance. It would probably have been the smartest thing to do.

But Milo had not done it. He hadn't crossed that line.

The egg seemed to throb. Like an unspoken threat. Like a promise.

He looked away, and Shark and Lizabeth and Barnaby stared up at him like he was someone they didn't even know.

Maybe he wasn't.

Not anymore.

He touched Evangelyne's shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “I want you meet my
other
friends.”

She hesitated. “They've seen what I am. What we are. They won't want to—”

Milo turned to her. “They're orphans now too,” he said. “We all are. This isn't about the Nightsiders and the children of the sun. C'mon, that's the old world.” He removed the crystal egg from his pocket. “We just won the first major battle against the Bugs. We, Evangelyne. Not the Earth Alliance. Not the Nightsiders. We. Maybe it's time we stopped being scared of one another. This is our planet.
Ours.
All of ours. If we want it to survive, if we want us to survive, then we have to fight this war together.”