by P. C. Cast
Sora shook her head in disgust. “And here I was thinking that you were a nice guy who was shackled to a bossy cat. I’m pretty and funny and can cook? You think that’s all I am? Antreas, Companion to Bast, I am a Moon Woman, chosen by the Great Earth Goddess to wield moon magick and to be responsible for the welfare of an entire Clan. We’re not solitary. We don’t let anyone choose our mates for us. Here, in Earth Walker territory, women do the choosing. Always. And let me be clear—I wouldn’t be mated to a solitary den dweller like you if a thousand cats chose me. If you want to make any kind of headway with Danita, or any other Earth Walker your feline takes a fancy to, I suggest you check your ego back at your den and change your attitude.” She scoffed at him as she scooped up the sleepy pup and handed him the ladle to the stew. “Here, stir this. I need some air.”
He took the ladle but also touched her hand gently. “I’m sorry.”
She paused. “For?”
“For being an ass. I offended you. I offended Danita. I even offended my Bast.” He ran his hand through his hair again, looking boyish and miserable. “I can’t seem to do anything right.”
Sora sighed. “Change places with me. You stir the stew and add in those mushrooms. I’ll finish muddling the poppy and honey mixture.”
“Can we keep talking?”
“Yes, we can.”
“Thank you,” Antreas said as he took Sora’s seat by the hearth and began adding mushrooms to the fragrant stew.
Sora sat cross-legged across from him with the sleepy pup tucked against her thigh, choosing fat poppy pods from the basket of herbs and sprinkling them into the honey. She picked up the stone muddler and went back to grinding and mixing. “No need to thank me. If we’re going to make this merging of Tribe and Clan and Chain work, we’re all going to have to learn to be more patient with each other. You just insulted me.” He started to protest, but she cut him off. “I know you didn’t mean to. You had no way of knowing Earth Walker women choose their mates. Just like I didn’t have any idea your Lynx chooses your mate for you. We’re all going to have to listen to one another and not be so quick to take offense.”
“So, along with being beautiful, funny, and a good cook you’re also smart and magickal. Little wonder I wish Bast would choose you.”
Sora bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment and smiled at him. “And now I’ll take that as a compliment. Thank you.”
“At least we’re communicating clearly, because I meant it as a compliment and not as an insult,” he said.
“That’s an improvement. So, tell me, cat man, what are you going to do if Bast chooses Danita for you? Or has she already chosen her and you’re in a rather advanced state of denial?”
He laughed and said, “Bast hasn’t chosen Danita. Yet.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she hasn’t bitten Danita.”
“What! Did you say that she hasn’t bitten Danita?”
“Yep. Oh, don’t worry. It’s not dangerous or malicious. When a Lynx chooses a Companion’s mate, the mate is Marked by the Lynx’s bite. It’s protective. It lets other Lynxes know that this person belongs to a Chain, and is under the protection of all Lynxes, everywhere. We don’t live together as a Tribe or a Clan, but we are fiercely loyal to our Chain—and all Lynx Companions are connected to the same Chain.”
Antreas paused, and Sora could see that he was trying to decide whether or not to tell her more. Finally he shrugged. “Oh, what the hell, I might as well tell you everything. You are a Moon Woman. You’re used to magick.”
“This is getting good. Go ahead; I’m all ears.”
Instead of speaking, Antreas rolled up the sleeve of his right arm to reveal two round, puckered scars that were surrounded by an intricate and beautiful pattern of vines and flowers that had been permanently inked into his skin. The scars and decorations were obviously old and had healed well, but she could see that the bite had been nasty—deep and painful—and she couldn’t imagine that the decorative pattern had been easy to endure, either.
“Great Goddess! Bast did that? And what is that decoration? It looks permanent.”
His smile was wry as he nodded. “Yes, it’s permanent, and yes, Bast bit me. It was the happiest moment of my life.”
“Okay, you need to explain.”
“She bit me when she chose me, after I successfully built our den. The Chain decorations came later.”
“I don’t understand. Rigel chose Mari, but she didn’t have to do anything. Or at least I don’t think she did. I do know for sure he didn’t bite her,” Sora said. “And she sure didn’t get vines and flowers painted into her skin.”
“When a young Lynx chooses her Companion that’s just the first step in their bonding. The Companion has to prove him- or herself worthy of the choosing. A Lynx’s den is her sanctuary—the one place she can rest easily, knowing she is safe. The Lynx’s Companion must build their den. If it’s acceptable to the Lynx, the bonding goes to the next step.”
“What if it’s not acceptable to the Lynx?”
“Then the bite is deadly. The candidate Companion dies.”
Sora blinked in shock. “Wait; you mean the Lynx kills her Companion?”
“Well, yes, but the person isn’t technically the Lynx’s Companion if the den is rejected. And the bite isn’t any different from this bite.” He held up his arm again for Sora to get another look.
“That doesn’t look like it could kill you. Sure, it looks painful, but it’s not a mortal wound. I’m still confused.”
“Have you heard stories of my people?” Antreas surprised her by asking.
“Not many. I know you’re guides and mercenaries, and that’s about it.”
“We’re different after we’ve been chosen by our Lynx. I mean physically,” he said.
She waited, and when he didn’t continue she prodded, “Okay, so, you’re different. How?”
“If I show you, will you not tell Danita? I don’t want her to be any more repulsed by me than she already is,” he said.
“I won’t tell her. That’s your business. But don’t hold out too much hope for changing her mind about you,” Sora said.
“I think I’m going to focus on changing Bast’s mind, not Danita’s,” Antreas said sardonically.
“Sounds like a good idea,” Sora said. “So, show me.”
“Okay, here goes.” Antreas put the ladle down and held his hands out so that Sora had a clear view of them. Then he flicked his wrists and Sora watched, with wide eyes, as his fingers changed instantly—growing long, sharp claws where normal human fingernails had been.
“Goddess! That’s … that’s—well, I’m not sure what that is.” She stared at his claws, not sure whether she wanted to bolt from the burrow or examine them like she would a strange wound.
“Are you disgusted by them?”
She raised her gaze from his claws to his warm golden eyes. “No,” she said, realizing as she spoke that she was telling the truth and not just saying what he so obviously wanted to hear. “No,” she repeated as her mind caught up with her words. “I’m surprised, shocked even, but I’m not disgusted. That happened after Bast bit you?”
“Yes. It’s what happens after a Lynx accepts the den her chosen candidate makes for her. If she hadn’t accepted the den, her bite wouldn’t have changed me. It would have poisoned my body and killed me,” he said.
“Did it change anything else about you?”
He nodded. “Yep, I’m faster. My vision and my hearing aren’t as good as Bast’s, but they’re better than a normal human’s. And I have, um, fur on my body.”
Sora’s brows shot up. “Fur? Where? Oh, Goddess, sorry,” she said immediately. “Was that a rude question? I didn’t mean it to be.”
Antreas’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “No, it’s not rude, just personal, but that’s okay. It’s just you and me talking. It’d be rude if you asked in front of a bunch of outsiders.” He swept his long hair aside and leaned forward so that Sora cou
ld see his neck and a little way down his back. There, growing along with his hair, tracking all the way down his neck and his spine as far as she could see was the same long brownish-gray fur that covered Bast. Sora could also see that his ears were strangely pointed.
“Wow. Just wow,” Sora said.
“Not disgusted?”
She shook her head. “No, not at all. I like your Bast’s fur. And it looks good on you. Soft and nice. Probably keeps you warm.”
He grinned. “That’s the point, I think. Well, that and Marking me as the Companion to a Lynx.” He hesitated and then asked, “How do you think other Earth Walkers would react to all of this?” He raised his claws and the firelight glinted on them before he retracted them and waited for her answer.
Sora took her time answering him. She almost told him she couldn’t speak for other Earth Walkers, but that would have been a lie. Moon Women always spoke for their Clans, and she knew she could shift the attitude of her people to accept—or reject—this strangely likable cat man. So she answered him honestly, even though it might not have been the answer he wanted most to hear.
“How Earth Walkers react to you depends entirely on the kind of man you are. If you’re honest, good, and true, I think they will accept you.”
“And if I’m an ass who ignores Clan traditions and tries to bully my way into a mate?”
Sora snorted. “Good luck with that. You’re going to find Clanswomen can’t be bullied. This is a matriarchy, Antreas. If you can accept and honor that, you might just find your perfect mate is an Earth Walker.” She hesitated and then decided she might as well tell him the rest. “There’s something you should understand about us, though. We aren’t solitary. I’m not sure any Clanswoman would be happy being isolated in a den.”
Antreas blew out a long breath. “That’s what I thought. Stormshaker, that Lynx is always right!”
“Okay, now I’m really confused. How could Bast be right if she brought you here to find a mate from a group of women who don’t like being isolated?”
He met her eyes and she could see the humor that rested there in his honest gaze. “Because the truth is that I hate being isolated. I always have. I’ve always been different from the rest of the Chain.”
“Does that mean you don’t plan to return to the Lynx way of life?”
“I didn’t realize it until now, but I think that’s exactly what I mean and exactly why Bast led me here,” he said.
“To start a new life, and a new kind of Chain?”
“Yes.”
Sora grinned. “Well, then I’d better explain to you about courting a Clanswoman. And, believe me, you’ve come to the right Earth Walker. I’m not a possible mate for you, but I’m definitely the perfect teacher for you.”
“Why do I suddenly feel afraid?”
“Because you’re a wise cat man. Now, pay attention.…”
CHAPTER 21
“Dove, my precious one, you must awaken.”
She woke immediately, feeling more than hearing that it was Dead Eye who woke beside her and not the God. She had been sleeping with her back to him, curled in a tight fetal ball, but upon his call Dove turned eagerly, opening her arms.
“Beloved! It is you!” Joyously she clung to him, trembling with relief.
He smoothed her hair and held her close, cradling her in the crook of his arm as she rested her head on his massive chest.
“We don’t have long, precious one. The God sleeps, but He will return soon.”
Dove couldn’t repress her shudder. “My Champion, my love, can you fight Him? Can you remain yourself?”
Instantly she felt the change in Dead Eye. His body stiffened and his hand, which had been caressing her hair, fell to his side.
“Dove, I do not wish to remain myself. I have accepted the God. It won’t be long before He and I will be fully joined.”
A small gasp escaped her and she pressed herself more closely against him. “No! I cannot bear to lose you.”
“You will never lose me!” His arms went around her. “Precious one, the God and I are one. Though I will eventually only speak with the God’s voice, I will still be here, within this body that grows ever stronger, ever more able to lead our People.”
“But He hurt me,” she said. Dove could not cry—she had no eyes and therefore was not capable of tears—but her body shook with the force of her despair.
“Precious one, you must soften yourself to Him. Remember that He and I are one now.”
“He told me His name is Death,” Dove said.
She felt Dead Eye nod. “Yes, He is the Death God awakened. It seems you and I were wrong. Our God wasn’t dead; He was sleeping.”
“Beloved, I don’t understand what is happening,” Dove said.
“It is really quite simple. Our path has not changed. We are going to lead the People from this poisoned City and claim the City in the Trees for ourselves. Now we don’t have to wait to groom an army. Now the People are being led by the God of Death Himself. Our victory is assured,” Dead Eye said.
Dove said nothing. She felt as if she was losing everything—her lover, her People, her world.
“Precious one?”
“I cannot be the Consort of Death!” Dove heard herself blurt. Immediately she regretted speaking her thoughts aloud and she pressed her lips together, readying herself for Death to return and wreak vengeance upon her.
Instead, she felt Dead Eye hold her closer, stroking her back gently, intimately, lovingly, as he had done so many times before. She had begun to relax into his embrace when he spoke and shattered Dove’s brief illusion of safety.
“I know you cannot, my precious one, and that is why you must merge with the Great Mother, the Goddess of Life. She is the only Consort worthy of Death.”
Dove didn’t want to ask. She wanted to cover her ears and curl back into a ball and pretend her Champion still belonged to her and not to a dark, dangerous God.
But she had to ask. She had to know Death’s plan for her. She had learned one lesson very well in her short, difficult life—knowledge was a weapon sharper than a trident and more dangerous than an army of ignorance.
“And how am I to do that, my Champion?” she asked in a voice deceptively calm.
“As I did.” While he explained it to her, his fingers traced a path over her flawless skin, stopping to caress the delicate places at the creases of her elbows and wrists, knees, and waist. “You must be infected with the skin sloughing sickness. Once you become ill and your skin blisters and cracks, the God and I will sacrifice a doe—a magnificent, beautiful queen of the forest. We will flay her alive and join her flesh with yours, as I joined with the mighty forest stag. As the doe awakens within you, so will the Goddess. Think of it, precious one! You and I will be immortal—Consorts for eternity! Life and Death will reign over the forest, enslaving all who oppose us and living in the clouds as is our divine right.”
At first, Dove could not speak. She pressed her face into her beloved’s chest, struggling to contain the panic that boiled within her. When she was sure she could form words and not screams, she said, “Dead Eye, my Champion, my love, what if I do not want to become a Goddess? May I not remain as I am—your lover? May I not serve in truth the role I have been pretending for years, and be a true Oracle to the God?”
Dead Eye took her face between his hands and spoke clearly and carefully. “Listen well and heed me. Do not ever repeat those words. You are precious to me, and the God acknowledges that. But a human cannot be the Consort of a God, and a living God does not need an Oracle. You must choose. If you want to remain by my side, you must become the vessel for the Great Mother, the Goddess of Life. If you do not, He will replace you with someone who is more willing.”
A terrible shudder of fear skittered through Dove’s body. “You would let Him do that?”
“I would have no choice,” Dead Eye said in a voice as devoid of emotion as death.
“When must I become the vessel for the Goddess?” she whi
spered.
“Oh, precious one!” He laughed, hugging her close. “You sound as if it is a terrible thing that is going to happen to you and not a miracle. But you shall see; you shall see. You will understand when the Goddess begins to stir within you.”
“Forgive me. I am just a girl. I—I cannot imagine being divine.”
“Start imagining it! It is your destiny. There is no one I want by my side for eternity except you.”
“When?” she repeated in a small, frightened voice.
“The God will not awaken His Consort here in this poisoned place, but will wait until after we take the City in the Trees from the Others. Then I will infect you and begin hunting for the queen doe. High above the forest floor you will become a Goddess, Consort for eternity to a God!” he finished joyfully as he bent to claim her lips.
Dove responded to his kiss. She would always respond to Dead Eye’s touch. She knew she would love him for as long as she drew breath. But her Champion was fading away. She had already witnessed the possession of the Death God. No matter what her Dead Eye had been led to believe by the God, when Death was present he was absent. And she knew that one day very soon her Champion would be gone for good and in his place would be only the dreadful God of Death.
Dove loathed Death. She’d spent her short life fighting Him—fighting to survive despite being born sightless, surrounded by danger and disease. To accept Death—to become His Consort—went against the very core of her being.
She would never allow herself to be used as a vessel for anyone—be He God or Goddess, Death or Life. I have already lost my love. I will not lose myself.
“Have you no words of gratitude for what the God offers you?” Dead Eye asked, and though his voice was his own, Dove could hear an edge to it that had not been there before—an annoyance barely concealed just below the surface of his words. She knew she must be very, very careful.
“I’m sorry, beloved. I’m overwhelmed. I—I hardly know what to say.”
His body relaxed against her and his chest rumbled with his deep chuckle. “I forget that you have not yet felt the power and the glory that the touch of a God brings. Do not fear, precious one. Soon enough you will understand.”
