Forsada: Volume II in the New Eden series by Peter J Dudley

his mind. How could I be such a selfish child?
    I hear my own whisper echoed back to me. “No.”
    Shack is looking at the bridge. More mice have gathered on our side to wait for the snake. And the snake is gathering for its strike. Darius has stopped fifty yards from the bridge, his army spreading out behind him as it arrives. Every man that comes around the ridge hammers despair deeper into my heart.
    We don’t wait long. A small group of the mice scurries across the bridge. I count five, but Garrett squints and says, “Four. Turner, two I can’t really see, and…” his voice trails, his mouth closes, and he stares down into the valley but seems not to see.
    “Garrett.”
    “No, I can’t—I can’t see the fourth, either.”
    He’s lying. “Bullshit,” I hiss. It’s sweet that he wants to protect me, but he doesn’t know how far beyond protection I am. All my barriers, all my shields, have been destroyed. I can’t be hurt any more than I’ve already been. And I can only blame myself.
    I squint at the four Tawtrukk men walking toward Darius across the meadow on the other side of the bridge. They walk, Turner in front and the other three side-by-side behind him. My father is the fourth man. When I see his long stride, the little hitch in his left leg from his hip injury, the bald, hatless head shining in the morning sun, I feel… proud.
    I know what’s going to happen, and I can’t watch but can’t look away. Still, as I watch him walk behind Turner, the emotions churn inside me, emotions I don’t fully understand. I hate him for his stupid rules. I hate him for giving in, for following Turner. But my heart also swells with respect, and pride at his courage and his conviction. He’s going to die out there in a few minutes. And then, probably, everyone else will die, too. But he’s facing it straight on, without fear, according to what he thinks is right.
    Darius appears to be facing his army, his back to the four Tawtrukk men. As they arrive, he turns to them, and the five men on horseback slip off their horses and come to his side. The two sides talk for a moment, and a moment turns into a minute. I would expect more gesturing from both sides, but they stand motionless.
    Garrett peers down at them with his hands shielding his eyes from the sun. “Oh god,” he suddenly whispers.
    Quick as rattlers, the five men behind Darius leap forward and bring hatchets down upon the four Tawtrukk men. My father flings his arms up to protect himself, but it’s useless. In two seconds, all four lie on the ground. Three are motionless and one writhes in pain, a red puddle spreading out from his head. As another stroke of the axe stills him, the sound of the sudden attack finally reaches us. It’s a chilling cry of hatred and death.
    I will never, in my whole life, forget that sound. I will also never forget the image of my father flinging his arms up. I try not to imagine that moment for him, how it must have sounded in that instant, how he knew death was upon him and how the axe glinted against the blue sky before it came down on his forehead and crushed his skull.
    I try not to imagine it. I try.
    A roar goes up from the army, and hundreds of men run toward the bridge. The mice on the other side scatter away, but I know they’re doomed. They can’t run fast enough, and even if they could, there’s nowhere to run. Had they left when I told them, some would survive.
    I look south to the tower of smoke, still standing in judgment over me as we watch the battle between us. I can’t stay here  anymore.
    “Let’s go.” I stand. My legs want to wobble, but I won’t give them that satisfaction, or give Garrett and Shack any reason to pity me.
    “Loop,” Garrett starts, but I stop him.
    I stare straight into his eyes. “I’m good. Don’t worry.”
    He grabs my shoulders and stares deep into my eyes, but I know there’s nothing to see there. The only thing I feel right now is a cold, black rage, at the