The Forsaken

Gadya’s now playing by her own set of rules. “I’m a warrior!” she calls back wildly. “This is what I do!”
    Before Veidman can stop her, she pulls back the arrow and lets it fly with a twang of the bow. It zooms through the air so fast, I barely see it. Then it slams into the surface of the barrier.
    When it hits, it creates a ripple effect. Circles of shimmering liquid reverberate outward from the point of impact. But it’s a remarkably languorous ripple, like time is slowed down inside the barrier. I see the arrow’s tip sliding through the liquid, decelerating rapidly with every millisecond.
    And then it stops partway through, trapped.
    We all stare at the arrow suspended in the strange substance. It made it only about a foot before getting stuck. A few colorful feathers stick out and mock us, like some kind of exotic flower.
    “You won’t be getting that arrow back,” Sinxen remarks.
    But Gadya’s already got another one ready, and it looks like she’s about to try again.
    This time Veidman won’t let her. “Hold your fire!” he snaps. “That’s an order.”
    She hesitates.
    “We need to conserve our arrows,” he explains. “Besides, they’re not going to work. We need another way.”
    “Can we dig under it?” I ask.
    Everyone looks at me, except Gadya, who’s pretending I no longer exist.
    “Not enough time,” Veidman says. “Plus, we don’t have shovels. And I’m guessing it goes deep enough underground that we couldn’t get through, anyway.”
    “What about going over it?” Markus asks.
    “Won’t work either.” Veidman is staring at the barrier. “We can’t climb up that high. We’d get stuck on top.”
    I wonder to myself, What the hell is this barrier made of? And who would build such a wall?
    Then I think that there must really be something worth hiding behind it—just like David said. But how will I ever find the section where the drones cross over? And the messages on the rocks inside? Will I really have the courage to leave the group if I need to?
    I take a few steps back, trying to survey a larger section of the barrier. How do the drones get through this thing and into the gray zone so easily?
    “Let’s walk around it,” Veidman instructs. “See if we can find a place where it gets thinner.”
    I trudge after Veidman with a heavy heart. Not only is Liam gone, but his death was in vain. We’re not going to be able to get past this barrier.
    I can’t imagine the trek back. I wonder if our village will still be standing, or if it has already been reduced to rubble by drones, and annexed by the Monk.
    “Quick!” a voice suddenly screams out. “Over here!”
    I freeze.
    It’s the surviving builder, whom I don’t know too well. He keeps screaming hysterically. “Oh God, I found someone! It’s a boy! And he’s stuck inside the wall. . . .”

RECKONING
    WE CATCH UP A moment later. The rain has started coming down harder now. Cold drops pound the top of my head, and rivulets run down my cheeks and the back of my neck. I wipe rain from my eyes, struggling to make sense of what I’m seeing.
    A skinny boy in black robes hangs before us, several feet off the ground. He’s partially engulfed by the wall like a bug in an old paperweight.
    “Keep your distance!” Veidman cautions.
    Gadya and the hunters already have their bows out, all aimed at the same spot. I get mine out too.
    The drone looks to be about my age, with long dark hair. He’s short and thin, with a little peach fuzz stubble. His head, one shoulder, and one clawed hand are sticking out of the barrier. So is part of a leg and a foot. The rest of him is fully encased inside the translucent material.
    His eyes are shut and his mouth is closed in a thin, tight line. Crimson blood has crusted around the edges of his nostrils and lips, as though squeezed out of him. He’s not moving.
    “Is he dead?” I whisper.
    Sinxen hears and glances back. “I think so.”
    We stand there in the cold rain, scrutinizing this drone, none of us eager to touch him. His exposed skin is alabaster white.
    “Who do you think did this to him?” Rika finally asks.
    Markus shrugs. “Maybe he did it to himself, trying to get through.”
    “But the pressure . . . ,” I murmur. “Could he really make it that far? And why is he turned around, facing us?”
    I’m still watching the boy’s face, thinking to myself how awful it would be to die this way. To end up a frozen corpse inside the gelatinous