The rush captures my body with brutal shivers, and in its wake my skin sears to life with a wave of different sensations. A cold, hot fire ripples over my spine and everything around me seems to become one single black and green muddle of shadows, fog, and forest as we race down the hill. Sounds become so loud, I can hear Willard’s panting over the screaming. We meet up at the cross section in front of the garrison and sprint toward the first pylon. Above me, Pebbles dashes over the branches, her tail a while blitz as she leaps through the trees.
“Stay high!” I tell her.
Willard climbs the tower and rings the first warning bell. It gongs, and then rings throughout the hills and echoes down into the valley and market place below. I stand watch as Willard makes his way down the ladder, his foot slips and his sheath gets caught on the ladder. As he pulls, the buckle comes undone and his sword plummets with a swoosh, swoosh, swoosh and lands with a thud on the muddy ground.
Tatos comes crashing through the forest, his long braids littered with twigs and leaves. “Can you see them?”
“No,” I yell back, handing Willard his sword.
Tatos pulls his bow from his sheath. “Let’s go!” he yells, feeding the bow with one of his ‘special’ arrows.
The thumping of our boots over the cobble path gets louder with each harsh lungful of air I take in. We cross the first bridge and I realize we are taking too long to get to the border.
“Follow me!” I call to them.
We head into the bush, my secret path now revealed to Tatos―our second in command―but to my surprise he doesn’t ask about the path, he is more concerned at stopping the enemy before they enter our village. We reach the river bed behind Maya’s house. The canoe is missing.
“We’re going to have to swim across,” I state the obvious, before heading in.
Perhaps it’s more to prepare myself. The icy water feels like the cold cut of a metal blade as it hits my skin. I gasp as it reaches my chest, threatening to pierce my lungs with cold, clawing fingers.
I look at the cottage as we run through their yard; luckily, both Anaya and Arriana are far away from the village for the day. We scale the fence in a hurry.
From the valley the terrifying screams seem louder. As we reach the market place, total chaos erupts. People are shoving into each other to get away from the unseen threat. Stalls have collapsed as people run over them. Wood and produce are scattered and abandoned in the sand. The smell hangs pungent in the air.
The Magam are here!
As the rush pumps through my veins, I can hardly feel the chill of my wet clothes anymore. Sounds are drowned out, except that of my own racing heart.
Maya is out there.
Around the boulders the bridge comes into view, and all at once the three of us come to a screaming halt. There are four Zulu fighters on the bridge. Now I know what they look like, and they look like any other dark-skinned human except for the painted faces and animal skins they wrap themselves in. Then there’s the look in their eyes―death. One of them holds a blond girl from the city in his arms, a knife to her throat as he backs up toward the other side. She has two red darts in her leg―it must be her―the girl the prophecy foretold. But she seems so fragile, so scared.
Two of the Zulu warriors are circling Maya. She has her blade drawn, moving closer to the railing. The other one spots us and shouts something to them in their native language. As the two attacking Zulu men turn around, Maya jumps up onto the railing.
The three of us rush onto the bridge and from the side, Enoch appears over the railing and strikes down on the one holding the blond girl. She screams as she falls over, plummeting into the river below. Enoch jumps in after her.
Maya runs along the railing and leaps onto the back of another, dagger pinned into his shoulder.