Page 27 of Famine
The horseman leans his forehead against the horse’s muzzle. “It’s alright, boy,” he says, rubbing the side of the creature’s face. “You’re safe now,” he says, echoing the same platitudes I murmured to him last night.
I stare at the horse. Where has the creature been this whole time? And why has the steed decided to make an appearance now?
They’re setting a trap for me.
Just as the thought clicks into place, I hear the whiz of an arrow.
Thwump.
The projectile makes a meaty sound as it skewers Famine’s shoulder.
I expect the horseman to scream or to flinch like he did last night, but he does none of those things.
Hesmiles.
An unbidden shiver runs through me.
That is not the look of a man who’s afraid. That is the look of a man bent on burning the world down.
Famine’s eyes meet mine for a long second, and they’re full of wicked glee.Then his gaze flicks to the men trailing behind the black horse—men I didn’t notice until now. They hold bows and swords and cudgels.
“I had hoped to see you all once more,” Famine says.
The horseman’s nostrils flare, and the wind shifts. That’s all the warning any of us get.
In the next instant the earth splits beneath the men, and strong, green shoots sprout from the ground. They grow within seconds, wrapping round and round the men’s ankles, climbing higher by the second.
The men shout, their fear apparent, and several onlookers scream, many of them beginning to flee.
I, however, am still as stone, my eyes pinned to the sight ahead of me. I’ve never seen anything like it. All those horrible bedtime stories I used to hear about the horsemen suddenly make so much more sense.
As the vines grow larger, moving up the men’s legs and torsos, they sprout thorns. Now the men start to cry out in earnest. A few of them stab at their unnatural bindings. One breaks free, but he trips, and the monstrous plant reaches out for him, moving as though it has an awareness of its own, impossible though that might be.
I glance at Famine, who is hyper focused on the men, a small, cruel smile on his lips. He told me he could kill plants; he never mentioned that he couldgrowthem at will, or that he could turn them into weapons of his own making, but it’s obvious that he’s doing both at the moment.
The plants have now grown as tall as the men, and their many branches twine around whatever limbs they can get ahold of. Now … now they begin tosqueeze. First, the weapons fall from the men’s hands. But it doesn’t end there.
I cover my mouth. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.” It doesn’t even occur to me to tell the horseman to stop.
I simply watch in horror as bones break and bodies contort. My stomach churns at the sight. I’ve seen my share of violence, but never like this. Never like this.
And then it’s over. Too many vital things have been broken in those bodies. Maybe Famine could recover from those injuries, but not these men. They sag in their strange cages, their bulging eyes blank, their limbs contorted.
I turn and vomit.
Dead. They’re all dead.
For several seconds there’s a strange stillness to Anitápolis. Even though plenty of people have fled from the gruesome confrontation, more have lingered, drawn out by their curiosity and horror.
The horseman’s gaze sweeps over these people.
“Countless days I have been enslaved. Tortured and killed only to rise again. None of you helped.” The silence stretches out. “Did you think you were truly safe from me?”
Wait. What?
I glance at the horseman with wide eyes as my horror begins to grow.
He shakes his head, and that smile of his is back. “You wereneversafe. Not then andespeciallynot now. Your crops will die, your homes will fall. You and everything you’ve ever loved will perish.”
