I let go of his arms and wrap myself around his torso instead, pulling as hard as I can. A wave of desperation slams into my chest. Fear. Heartache. Not mine.
The man’s arms drop suddenly, as the fight goes out of him. He falls limp, crashing back on top of me and knocking the wind from my lungs. Jordi pulls him off. I scramble back, chest heaving, and stare at the lifeless man.
“What … was that?” I pant.
Jordi grips his throat, still staring at the body. “I don't know.”
The fog is thickening around us again. I check the man for a pulse I know I won't find and look up in time to see Jordi yank off the next man's amulet.
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
He steps back. The laborer inhales sharply and shoots upright. This one doesn't attack. He looks around wildly, then his shoulders sag and he begins to cry.
“Don't let them take me!” he sobs. “Please. Don't let them take me!”
My throat closes when I notice the three marks on the side of his neck. The only indication of just how young he is. While age isn’t a topic of conversation in Lunaris, new arrivals whose gifts just manifested are marked by three red dots on the side of their necks. The mark remains there for about a year, which means he hasn’t been here very long and he can’t be much older than seventeen.
There’s a lot I disagree with in Lunaris, but I’ve always admired our ability to take pain away from asylum seekers. Yet something about the way these men woke feels wrong. Are they remembering their most painful memories? There's no way to know. But watching him, so young, so frail, the color draining from his face … I move toward him.
“What are you doing? Don’t!” Jordi shouts.
I kneel beside the boy and grab his hand. Tears stream down his face as he looks at me. “Have you seen my mother?”
My throat tightens. I shake my head. I can’t speak. I just squeeze his hand while he cries. Then he goes still. Slumps over. And I feel him vanish completely. My chest squeezes painfully as I let go of his hand and bury my face in my hands to breathe through the lingering grief.
“Temp.” Jordi’s voice is soft. I lower my hands and look up at him. “I’m not sure if there’s a connection between the Reckoning and what I found, but?—”
He inhales sharply. I frown as I stare at his face, which has gone slack, mouth hanging open. Everything slows. Something whizzes beside my ear and I watch in horror as a green-tipped arrow barely misses Jordi’s head.
Then I see it. The arrow in his torso. Blood bubbling through his gray tunic. Another whoosh cuts through the air as a third arrow splits the fog, missing his head as he falls to his knees.
My scream rings through the air as I rush toward him, reaching him just before he slumps over. I cradle my arms underneath his head to cushion the fall before it lands on the cobblestone, and set my hands on either side of where the arrow is sticking out. Through my blurred vision, I see the blood that immediately coats my hands, and scream again, looking around wildly. It’s impossible to see anything through the thick fog. His body jerks underneath me, pulling my focus back to him.
“Jordi!” I shriek as his eyelids begin to close.
Focus, Ada. Focus. Breathe. Stay calm. You can do this. You've done this.
But I haven't. Not really. I've done this to an alatus hit by an arrow. Not a human being. Not my twin brother.
A sob rattles in my chest. I force it down and grab my scissors.
They catch on the fabric once, twice, three times. I hurl them against the cobblestone and rip the material with my hands. Water first. Then alcohol.
He groans and arches off the ground when it hits his skin, but I do it again. I look at his face and nearly stop breathing. His eyes have rolled back.
“No. No!” I slap his face with a bloody hand. “You stay with me, you little bastard!”
He coughs. Good sign. I wipe around the arrow to assess the damage. My stomach drops at the sight of the black lines spiraling from the wound. Poison.Oh gods.I move faster,setting both hands on the arrow and pulling as hard as I can. Blood bubbles out of the wound. I soak a new cloth with water and alcohol and press it there. Jordi shakes again as I search my kit for the only thing I know can reverse the effects of the poison.
Finally, I find the small vial of purple liquid. I uncap it with my teeth and pour it into the wound. I wipe his clammy forehead, leaving a streak of blood, and pry open each eyelid. A sob rattles through me. His eyes are still rolled back.
How? This is the strongest anti-venom I make. Godsdamn it. I'm never making the poison that coats these arrows again. If Jordi dies because of this?—
No.
I squeeze my eyes shut and go over every step. I did everything correctly. I know I did. His pulse flutters weakly beneath my fingers. My hands shake harder. I look around again, trying my damndest to open my senses to anyone nearby.
Shouts in the distance. People running. But nothing close by. No one can see me. I look down at my brother and make a decision.
