Page 155 of War

My eyes move to said city. If there’s still as many people here as there were before the apocalypse, there’s no way all of them will have time to escape. But some of them will, and that’s all that matters.

“If you don’t want trouble,” one of the soldiers says, “I’d suggest you go back the way you came.”

Why does no one ever believe me?

“Listen,” I say. “The rumors about the east are all true. War has already swept through New Palestine. He will sweep through here too. I’ve seen it happen to several cities. It happened to mine.”

I can’t tell in the darkness, but the men seem skeptical.

“Have any of your messengers disappeared recently without a trace?” I ask, trying not to sound exasperated. “Have your aviaries had trouble delivering messages to certain cities to the east?”

I see two of the men exchange a look.

“How about the sky? Have you noticed it’s been hazy recently? Have you seen some ash floating in the wind?”

Again, the men exchange a look.

“The horseman likes to burn his cities and kill anything that comes close to them. Your missing messengers are dead, and the cities north and east of you have all burned. Port Said is gone. So is Arish and most—if not all—of New Palestine”

The soldiers look at each other, then murmur softly amongst themselves. The archer still has his weapon trained on me, but even he is listening in on the quiet discussion.

Eventually they come to some sort of decision.

“And if we believe you?” one says, albeit begrudgingly. “What then?”

For a moment the words don’t process. I guess I hadn’t expected them to come around. Not when they’d seemed so distrustful.

“There isn’t much time,” I tell the soldiers. “War’s men will be waking in an hour, maybe less, and they will begin to mobilize. If the people here hope to escape, they will need to leave immediately.”

“If you’ve lied to us,” the archer says still holding his bow and arrow loosely, “you’ll pay for it.”

Unfortunately—

“I’m telling the truth.”

Fifteen minutes laterI’m galloping down the streets of Mansoura.

“Wake up!” I shout as I go. “You all need to evacuate! War is coming!” I move through the city, shouting various versions of the same thing over and over until my voice grows hoarse.

This was the idea that formed when I sat with Zara and those other women. I might not be able to fight War’s army, but I could still warn the cities the horseman was poised to attack, starting with this one.

Slowly, Mansoura rouses. Lamps are being lit inside homes, and I can see people shuffling about, or peering outside curiously. Eventually, I see families flood into the streets, some with their belongings.

I pause briefly to take it all in.

I managed to warn them. I actually did it.

I touch my bracelet, rubbing my thumb over the Hand of Miriam. A part of me swells with pride. I actuallyhelpedthese people. They might truly survive War, all because I dared to slip away and alert them to what was coming.

Amongst the chaos I hear the clop of hooves, and a horse and its rider sidle up next to me.

“This was bold of you.”

I jolt at that deep, gravelly voice.

“Bold and reckless.”

My head whips to the side, and there’s War, sitting astride someone else’s horse, staring out at the houses with their fleeing residents. He doesn’t look angry, but the sight of his calm, pitiless face chills me to the bone.