The Collectors of Peyka

Chapter 14

We spent most of the morning reenacting the death of a dozen or so villagers. When they were supposed to parry, they lunged. When Alto would tell them to turn, they would jump. I had begun to realize how impossible of a task Phelim gave us when Alto threw himself on the dirt and sprawled out his limbs.

"I give up, V. Just kill me now," Alto said with a snort. His loud guffaw raked across my composure with a rusted blade. "Well, old friends," he said as he summoned both of his daggers. He held them out in front of him like they were listening. "It seems our journey has come to an end."

"Get up," I hissed. A dainty woman carrying a basket of wrapped loaves of bread sneered as she wove around him. "This is no laughing matter. Everyone's life is at stake, here."

"Tell me why it bothers you and I might consider it," he said. He tucked his upper lip underneath his bottom one and batted his eyes at me.

"I told you. I owe these people a debt. Clionna could've left me to die, but she didn't. When you left-"

"I knew it," he interrupted me. He sheathed his daggers and pushed himself to a sitting position. "Why does it bother you so much that I left? You told me to."

"It doesn't bother me. It was the wisest decision you've ever made. I'm only bitter that you came back." I folded my arms and glared at him. "Now if you can't take this seriously, then head east with the others. With your help, at the very least, one group will make it."

We planned to separate the retreat into three pods. Each one had a third of the women, children, and men designated to a different route. They each traced a different path around the lake until they reached a small discrete cave system that fed into the eastern edge of the Featherock Mountains. Should one group be set upon by bandits or Nordfast, the other two wouldn't perish with. Those that could wield a sword or a bow were to stay behind. We were expected to take the brunt of Nordfast's attack. Some had lingering feelings that we might turn them on their heels. After a day's worth of futile training, it felt hopeless to me.

I'd spent hours in the heat awaiting Clionna's return. She'd made such an abrupt departure, and after the events that transpired between Phelim and me, I'd started to feel disconnected. Like the two of them had arranged a way to make me question my existence and I was the gullible victim that fell for it. But there was something about Phelim's eyes and the sound of the voice I'd heard. There were things that I couldn't deny and I needed answers. Answers that felt like I'd been waiting an eternity to receive.

"Get up or I will cut your-" I pivoted on my heels when a cough sounded over my shoulder. Phelim's arms were crossed, and his entire body moved when he shook his head. "Phelim, what are you doing here? Don't you have some inventory to count?"

"Why is he on the ground?" Phelim packed his own daggers in his eyes when he glanced at Alto. "So this is how collectors train?"

"No," I said. I walked across the clearing to meet him. "Collectors don't have to train. We know how to fight."

"My people depend on you, Venus," Phelim hissed under his breath. "Please don't make me regret my decision."

He raked his fingers through his hair, and in my peripherals, I couldn't help noticing Alto was doing the same. In a different world, the two of them would've been allies. Brothers, even. With Phelim's black hair and Alto's yellow, they could've been opposite versions of the same breed. I almost laughed at my observation and how absurd it sounded. They were no more the same then Clionna and me.

"Why are you smirking?" Phelim asked when I drifted from my thoughts. His right eyebrow lowered and I shook my head. "Can you please try? If this retreat isn't successful, then-"