Read Online Chasing the Valley by Skye Melki-Wegner - Free Book Online Page B

to find my voice. ‘What . . .?’
    â€˜He’s going to check for more hunters,’ says Radnor. ‘If you were followed by one, there might be more just behind us.’ He glances around the ruins of the campsite. ‘We’ve got to move. That scream, and the smoke . . .’
    Radnor doesn’t need to finish his sentence. We all know other hunters will be here soon. Even if they didn’t know our location before, they do now. By killing the hunter with his Flame proclivity, Hackel has set off the equivalent of a flare to guide them through the trees.
    â€˜What are we doing with this scruffer?’ Clementine points at me in apparent distaste. ‘We already have five people on our crew. We should leave her here to draw the hunters. She could be a useful distraction, buy us some time.’
    I stare at her. ‘I saved your lives last night.’
    Clementine sniffs. ‘And we’re all grateful, but that doesn’t entitle you to jeopardise them now.’
    â€˜Hey, hang on a second!’ says Teddy. ‘This girl could be useful – she’s got skills. You saw how she climbed that wall. And she’s an illusionist ! Just think, if she trains a bit and gets better at illusions, she could hide us from the hunters.’
    Clementine looks ready to argue, but visibly swallows back her annoyance. She turns to Radnor with a raised eyebrow, as though seeking support from the crew’s leader.
    Radnor frowns at me. ‘What’s your name again?’
    â€˜Danika,’ I say. ‘Danika Glynn.’
    â€˜What other skills have you got?’
    I straighten up, trying to hide any pain from the wound in my leg. This is not the time to show weakness. ‘I can climb, I can run. I can fight a bit.’
    â€˜What else?’
    There’s silence for a moment as I struggle to think of an answer. ‘My family died in a bombing raid.’ I pause. ‘My parents always told me stories of the Valley, like it was some kind of paradise. I’ll do anything to get there.’ I take a deep breath. ‘I’m going to reach that Valley and I’m not going to surrender. I don’t play to lose.’
    Radnor eyes me quietly, as though weighing up a sack of flour at the market. Deciding whether I’m worth the price.
    â€˜All right, Danika Glynn,’ he says eventually. ‘Welcome to the crew.’
    Â 
    We gather up the remains of the campsite. This involves stuffing blankets and supplies into heavy packs, which Teddy buckles onto the foxaries. He murmurs as he strokes their necks and I wonder what he’s telling them. Is he confirming their bond, offering them rewards . . . or threatening to skin them if they don’t behave? With someone like Teddy Nort, it’s hard to tell.
    There are only three foxaries now: the one that Teddy and I rode to the campsite and two others. I don’t know what happened to the other two – perhaps they fled into the wild in the panic last night, or maybe the Rourton guards shot them. Either way, there’s no time to ask for details. No time to tend to wounds, to patch up the bloody mess across my knee. All we can do is bundle onto the creatures’ backs, wrap our arms around each other and flee.
    â€˜What about Hackel?’ I say, squashed between Teddy Nort and a stack of supplies. ‘How will he catch up without a foxary?’
    â€˜Don’t worry,’ says Radnor. ‘Hackel can take care of himself.’
    This much, at least, I don’t doubt. The boy carries a weight of power within his muscles and a tightness to his face that I’ve seen before in Rourton’s darkest alleyways. Hackel’s a basher, I’m sure. A thug for hire, a killer. He’s got that look in his eyes. Back home, crime bosses and paranoid richies would have paid him good cash to carry out their dirty work. I wonder whether he’s a real refugee or just a