The Master and The Marionette (The Pawn and The Puppet series Book 2)

It’s been far too long.

I did just as he asked. I found myself running through the tall Red Oaks, jumping into the lagoon. Hiding under the waterfall. I watch a leaf fall from a branch, landing on the surface of the water, and although it reminds me of a sweeter time, with summer warming my skin, picnics, and chirping birds—I can’t shake the painful kneading in my gut. My fingers turn into flesh-colored raisins, and it’s been far too long.

I fight the what-if thoughts that pollute my train of thought over and over again, because what if they were caught? What if I have just lost everything? What if I’m alone? Completely alone? What would I do?

Maybe there’s something I can do to help them. If I draw them out, Dessin and DaiSzek might get the time they need to make it out.

I duck under the curtain of water hammering down on my back. I could lead them to the Evergreen Dark Wood, and if I scream loud enough, maybe the Nightamous Horde will find me, hide me, take me in. But I’ll need to do something that they can’t ignore. I know I promised him I’d wait and hide, but they won’t kill Dessin. They need him. DaiSzek, on the other hand, is a thorn in their side that they would gladly kill. I’m doing this for him. I’m doing this to make sure they all get out safely.

I jog through the shallow side of the lagoon. My knees practically touch my chest as I raise my legs to get out of the water and to the trees faster. I cling to a baby red oak tree as I fish my hiking boots out of my pack, my hands snatching and throwing them on my feet faster than a spring on a mousetrap. I have to find something that would be suitable for a distraction.

The contents of my pack are dumped and scattered in the grass. A few knives I’m careful not to cut my hands on, a thin roll of rope, a blanket, extra clothes, fire starters, and—

Fire starters.

These little packages, wrapped in yellow plastic with a red flame symbol, are something Dessin packed for me. He said if we ever get separated and you’re in trouble, crack these, then put some distance between you and it.

Well, I’m hoping Dessin isn’t the only person’s attention I will get from setting them off. I cram everything back into my bag and haul it back over my shoulders. There are seven fire starters. Seven. I scan the area, mapping out my line of destruction.

I wince at an image of DaiSzek being hunted down and killed by men with machetes, cutting him open, mounting his head on their walls like a prize. Without another thought, my hands are unwrapping and pulling out the brick of chemically soaked wood. There’s a dotted line I trace a finger over, then break it down the middle, like cracking an egg. Smoke seeps out the middle, carrying a scent of gasoline and ammonia. I set it on the crook of a tree trunk and its branch. Run. Run. Run.

It sparks and crackles as I tear off to the second tree, ripping off the next wrapper and splitting it to ignite. The loud sound of a cannon erupts from twenty yards behind me. The sudden impact sends an invisible shock wave, shaking the air around my ears. Even my skin vibrates. But I keep going, tossing the fire packs over my shoulder.

Soon enough, it sounds like a war of good and evil is erupting behind me. Like fireworks and grenades collaborated at the same party. And when I turn around, I am standing upon several Red Oaks engulfed in flames, a page directly from Revelations torn straight from the Bible to play out before me. With the vibrant blood leaves dancing in the chaos, and dark mushroom clouds growing wider and higher to pollute all of the innocent white clouds in the sky.

They’re going to see it. They’re going to hear it. They’re probably already coming after me. I break my trance from admiring my work. But I’m all turned around, in the high of the panic, I can’t remember which way I am to run to seek refuge with the Nightamous Horde.

I suppose my only option is to just run. Get as far as I can, give Dessin enough time for him to escape with my friends, and come get me. I start moving my feet again. Maybe if I’m lucky, an animal like a night dawper will emerge to hunt the men that are hunting me.

I wish Dessin were at my side. He would know what to do. He’d know where to go and how to trick them. I jump over a root climbing out of the ground and duck under a low-hanging branch. I evaluate my options, just in case they do catch up with me. I could climb a tree. I could scream. Other than that, I really don’t have much else.

Normally, I wouldn’t have the endurance to run this long. Before I left on this journey with Kane, I was out of shape, never used this much energy for an activity. But hiking mountains and running away from Demechnef have been the workout of my life.

I think about my sister. About how she never would have lasted this long, about how she hated the outdoors. Hated the smell of rain before a storm. Hated dirt under her nails.

I think about her and pray.

Scarlett, I have a bad feeling about this. I don’t think he’ll be able to save both me and Ruth. Please watch over me. Please don’t leave my side.

My long strides are becoming taxing and the burn in my muscles slows me down. With the stretch of my right leg moving forward, I realize I’ve come up on a hill going downward. A steep slope. I drop my body to the ground to roll down a bumpy slide of dirt and weeds.

As a tide of dust kicks up in a cloud, I wrap my arms around myself to protect vital organs from the rocks and sharp edges. Something unmovable stops my course, slamming into my back, knocking the air out of me.

I’m momentarily paralyzed, unable to turn my head, unwilling to open my eyes. Pain bursts through every cell, every joint, especially my lower back. What’s even worse… there’s a good chance no one is chasing me. How would they ever react that fast? I might be running like a madwoman through an empty forest.

I groan and prop myself up against the back of the tree, patting myself down, getting rid of the dirt and leaves, but also checking for any broken bones. All good, I think.

A gentle vibration and humming skip off the bark of the trees, along with voices. The humming roars louder. Is it—no, it couldn’t be. A buggy?

I lean my head back against the tree. There’s nowhere else to run. And even if there were, I can’t outrun a buggy. I wonder if they have Dessin and Ruth. Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe I’ll reunite with them. Let’s face it, I wouldn’t have survived out here alone. At least now we can plan an escape together, wherever they’re taking me. I release a shaky breath.

“Skylenna!” My name is roared from the far distance.

I sit up straighter. No…

And again. My name. Only one voice sounds like that. My whole body recognizes it. Buzzing with heat and excitement, that tone shoots through my veins.

Men in the same uniforms they were wearing when they fought Dessin in his room. With the man that brought the sickle. Merlot-red blazers with bronze tassel linings. They swarm me, surrounding the tree I’m slumped against like approaching a wounded animal.

I wasn’t going to resist. But now the fear of being taken away from Dessin has set into my bones like a cancer. As the men lift me from my seated position, I jerk my arms, trying to free them from captivity. But there are too many of them. Their hands tighten around my wrists, forearms, back of my neck. And then I hear it again.

“Skylenna!” So far it’s practically a whisper in the wind.

“Dessin! Dessin!” I scream, stiffening in a panic. I start letting my body thrash against the brute force. “No! Please! Dessin!”

But his voice is worlds away, nowhere close to us. If I could just run to him.

Hands cover my mouth now but I still fight to scream against the pressure. I’m lifted into the air and thrown in the back of a buggy that isn’t really a buggy at all. It’s as if they transformed the back seats into a cage. It has metal bars shutting me in. Closing off the fresh air, now stale and reeking of chemicals. I throw myself against the bars, all while continuing to scream for him.

The buggy races away from the flaming trees and smoke signals filling the atmosphere. “Dessin! Dessin!” I bellow. And I don’t stop screaming, not until a sting pricks into my neck.

We move faster. The trees blur as we speed away from them.

Away from Dessin.