Of Dreams and Rust by Sarah Fine Page B

“Your rations,” he says. “You have a long hike ahead of you.”
    â€œHow kind of you,” says Yino, his voice ragged with hate.
    â€œWould you be kind to me, soldier, if I were in your place?” Melik asks softly. He leans down to look into Yino’s eyes, but the soldier stares at the ground. Melik glares at the top of Yino’s bowed head. “Would you like me to answer that question for you?”
    Melik is close enough to touch, but I shrink away from him. I have heard this bright, overfriendly tone before. I have seen that fire in his eyes. This is how he looks when he wants to kill.
    â€œThank you,” I say quietly. “We are all hungry.”
    His gaze snaps to mine, and I am paralyzed by its intensity. “You’re welcome.”
    He stands up, pivots on his heel, and strides back toward the other raiders, pausing only to wave away Bajram when he tries to return Melik’s canteen. Bajram grins and lifts the canteen in Melik’s direction before taking another long drink. I watch Melik, the Red One by default, the warrior by choice, return to his commander and comrades, and then focus my attention on the bag he left us, opening it to see that there are several hard biscuits and sticks of dried beef inside.
    â€œWe can eat after I bandage you,” I say, trying to infuse my voice with a bit of cheerfulness.
    â€œDo you know where we are?” whispers Lidim as I move to Mabian, the one who badly needs his head wound stitched. If I had the right tools, I could sew him up, good as new.
    â€œThe Red One said it was three days of hiking, and we’ve just completed one,” says Senza. “When we derailed, we were about to descend into the Vuda valley, and we’ve been walking on a southwest path as opposed to due west in order to get to this part of the canyon.” He squints as if he’s doing calculations in his head. “I suspect we are perhaps three or four days hiking from the Ring.”
    Lidim leans away from Senza, scowling. “You say it like it is nothing at all.”
    â€œNo, I state it as a fact,” says Senza, still keeping his voice barely above a whisper. “And here is another—these pigs are feeding us and keeping us alive because they want to do two things. One, to drag us in humiliation through the streets of Kegu, to tout their victory over the army. And two, to torture us for information. Once they’ve done that, whether we break or not, they will kill us.”
    â€œThose are not facts,” I say.
    Mabian raises his bound hands. “Here are some for you, sister. These Noor destroyed a railcar full of helpless women and children without a wisp of remorse. They slaughtered all our soldiers. They shot the wounded. They let the survivors believe they would be spared, only to execute them moments later.”
    And Melik was part of all of it, the lie, the betrayal, the slaughter. I sit back, the fire heating my skin as I take in each Itanyai face, dark eyes full of fear, ankles and wrists bound. Mabian and Senza are probably right. These boys will not be allowed to live—and they will not be allowed to die until they have suffered greatly. As Melik pointed out, though, if he were in their place, they would, I have no doubt, be happy to offer him and his comrades the same fate.
    Who deserves my loyalty? The Noor I came here to protect or the Itanyai who are now at their mercy?
    Right now I will let neither rule my heart. Instead I will be led by something deeper and dearer to me than those labels, this war, and my own fear: conscience.
    My hand creeps into my pocket and closes around the cloth-wrapped scalpel. “If you had the chance to escape, however risky and remote,” I whisper, “would you take it?”
    Mabian watches the movement of my hand in my pocket. “We will face death again and again if there is a chance to live.”
    The others nod. No hesitation.
    I look toward