The Wayfinder

by Darcy Pattison

  Her voice boomed in his head, and for a moment, the Finding lost its grip on him. He hesitated.

  “Paz Naamit’s nest and your thrashing about through this brush have made a mess of my coat. Brush these infernal tangles out of my hair. Bring me some water. Find me a place to sleep.”

  Win had promised himself to ignore her in hopes she would go home. But her tail drooped, she was favoring her right hind leg in a slight limp, and her once-elegant coat was tangled and snarled almost beyond recognition. She lay panting on the dusty path, pitiful-looking, yet head still held high.

  Reluctantly Win pulled off his backpack and looked through it for something to brush her. Halfway down he found Prince Reynard’s carved white jade brush. “It seems Hazel expected you to follow me.”

  Lady Kala said, “Mistress Hazel s indeed a wise woman.”

  Win searched for a place to sit and found a flat rock under a giant pine tree. Nervously he seated himself as he’d seen Prince Reynard do. Lady Kala shambled to his side and laid her head in his lap. Win caressed the silky coat with awe; he was actually grooming a royal Tazi! He almost stopped at the thought; he wasn’t going to take care of a royal gazehound. She sighed deeply, though, and stretched her legs. Even exhausted, she moved with grace. How could it hurt if he just groomed her? He started at her front feet, as he’d seen the Prince do, and brushed upward, carefully, gently. But under her front leg, where the leg brushed against her body, there was a huge tangle. Win worked and worked trying to separate it out. He couldn’t budge it. He pulled harder.

  Lady Kala squirmed. “Be more careful!”

  “I can’t get the tangle out. I’ll have to cut it out.”

  “No!”

  “Lady Kala, it will rub a blister if I leave it.”

  “One day in the wilderness with a peasant, and he wants to destroy my coat. Do you know how long I’ve been growing this coat? In Jamila Kennels only Lady Yasmine has a longer coat. The King and my Prince love my long hair. And you want to cut it?”

  “There’s no choice. We need to travel fast, and that leaves no time for grooming. If that bothers you, you should go back. Go on. Go back up to G’il Rim and wait beside the Prince.” He nudged her off his lap.

  “You can’t order me! I will go where I please, and I am going to find the Well of Life.” She put her head back in his lap. “Finish grooming me.”

  Win fingered the knot under her leg. It was hopeless; there was no way for him to untangle it. He took a knife out of his pack and showed it to Lady Kala. “It’s only a small tangle, and it will grow back fast.”

  “Very well!” she snapped. “But think not that I will tolerate this every day. Once more and I’ll be ashamed to be seen.”

  She lay stiff while Win gently cut out the tangle and finished grooming her. The moon was rising when both sighed, glad the job was finally finished.

  Lady Kala said, “Do you have my supper ready?”

  Win’s fingers tightened on the jade brush. “Supper? I didn’t plan on your coming along; you invited yourself. I have no food for you and only a little for myself. We’ll have to hunt for game in the morning.”

  Lady Kala sighed again, but this time in exasperation. “Wait here and build a fire. I’ll hunt for both of us, although you should have mentioned the need for hunting before you brushed me out.”

  Before Win could speak, the Tazi had disappeared into the dark forest. She was going to be difficult to travel with, giving orders, disappearing without a word, blaming him for the hardships of the trail. By moonlight he gathered kindling, twigs, and larger dead branches, an easy task, since no one ever gathered firewood in the Rift. Finding stones for a fire ring was harder. He crashed about in the undergrowth until he found enough to build a crude fire ring. Hazel had packed a flint stone, so Win soon had a fire burning merrily.

  He stood outside the firelight, waiting for Lady Kala.

  Suddenly she called to him. “A rabbit! He’s running—”

  A pause. Then: “I got him! I haven’t lost my touch! Ah, I love to hunt!”

  Win grinned at her enthusiasm.

  “I’ll be back in just a minute,” she called. “Get the fire ready.”

  Win poked at the fire. The coats were glowing bright red. Supper would cook quickly. He sat on the ground, straining his eyes toward the undergrowth and waited for Lady Kala.

  But she didn’t return.

  THE CALL OF THE WILD

  The full moon rose until it was straight overhead and the Rift was awash in silvery light. Would anyone in Finder’s Hall look down and see his fire? Win was overcome with loneliness, wishing for Zanna or Hazel or Kira or even his gruff stepfather, Eli.

  An eerie sound echoed off the cliff walls: “Yip, yip, yiiii!”

  Wild dogs? Or coyotes?

  Where was Lady Kala? Was she in danger? Would she come back? He shouldn’t care, wouldn’t care. But what if coyotes were attacking her?

  Win concentrated on Lady Kala, and a Finding came over him. She wasn’t far away, and she wasn’t moving. He followed the Finding through the deep-shadowed path until he heard the river murmuring. His Finder’s sense warned him to be cautious, that there were more beasts around than just Lady Kala. He crept into the cover of a large tree and stood for long moments listening. The river was a smooth undertone of gurgles and small splashes, and above that was the sound of snarls and growls.

  Win located Lady Kala hidden behind a large boulder. He crept toward her on hands and knees, freezing twice when the animal sounds quieted briefly. Lady Kala stood rigid, a rabbit dangling from her mouth, staring at the dark river that sparkled in the moonlight. On a gravel bar a coyote pack was feeding. They had ambushed a small beast, probably a deer come to drink, and they were ripping it apart, with snarls and fierce competition for the biggest pieced. The coyote chieftain stood guard over an entire hindquarter while beneath his feet two gray cubs tore at the fresh meat. The wiry chieftain was as large as Lady Kala, with dark fur mottled white, a dark face and a light belly. Large red ears were cocked in their direction, and his muzzle was raised as if he could smell them, even though they were downwind.

  “He knows I’m here,” Lady Kala said to Win. She was panting lightly. “I’ve never seen a pack, but—” Her voice held a deep longing.

  Win laid a hand on her shoulder; she bared her teeth and snarled. “Leave me alone!” He backed away, uncertain how to act with this feral side of the Tazi.

  The coyote chieftain howled again. “Yip, yip, yiiii!” The sound echoed off the Rift walls. It was a summons. Lady Kala dropped the rabbit from her mouth.

  Startled, Win called, “Don’t go! Remember Prince Reynard, who lies on his sickbed!”

  Lady Kala darted to a bush several feet closer to the gravel bar.

  Again the summons came: short, staccato barks, ending in a haunting howl that reverberated for long seconds. Lady Kala’s muscles were coiled to spring into the open.

  Win called desperately, “The Well of Life! We must Find it, or Prince Reynard will die.”

  Lady Kala shivered from head to toe, her black-tipped fur ruffling. She shook her head.

  “The Well!” Win said it out loud.

  The last of the howls died off, and the coyote pack turned south, each gray cub dragging a grisly bone. Win and Lady Kala remained frozen until the last coyote disappeared. Win crawled to Lady Kala’s side.

  Her voice came unsteadily: “I was born in the Jamila Kennels of King Andar, a place of great luxury and great joy. But even in the depths of G’il Dan I have heard the wolves. Many nights I have paced my chambers, wondering how it would feel to run wild and free!”

  The telepathic words failed her, and now images came to Win instead: great, bounding leaps as Lady Kala imagined loping in the midst of a pack, unbridled joy in singing howls to the full moon, the warmth and closeness of a pack lying together to sleep. Wild! Such joy!

  Win whispered, “What will you do?”

  Lady Kala’s eyes were even darker and deeper
in the moonlight, and for a moment Win thought there were tears in them. “My duty is clear: the Prince must live. Besides”—she paused—“I am kennel-bred and palace-pampered. What could I offer to a wild pack? I would only slow them down, perhaps bring trouble to them.”

  The Tazi picked up the dead rabbit, turned her back on the river, and led the way back to camp.

  THE TRAIL

  Something tickled Win’s nose. What was that? Sleepily he brushed it away, but its softness made him pause. It was Lady Kala’s topknot. She must have crept close for warmth. Win yawned, and Lady Kala stirred but didn’t wake. Far overhead the bright blue sky showed that dawn had long since come to the land above. Here, deep in the Rift, the sun would not strike for several more hours.

  Blue skies—still no rain.

  Already the Finding was pulling him, and for that he was grateful. It would help mask the memory of the cairn.

  “Lady Kala, we must be off.”

  Her head snapped up, and she growled in his face, “Who calls me?” Then, remembering where she was, she stood and stretched. “Why did you waken me so early?”

  “It’s not early. It’s after breakfast time, and we must be on our way. I hope to cross the Rift today and try to Find the path up the other side.”

  Lady Kala glared at him. “It will be hot today. We should’ve traveled last night and slept during the day.”

  The Tazi was in bad humor today. Again Win was grateful for the Finding that would allow him to travel without thinking. “We’ll make better time traveling during daylight.”

  They finished the rest of the rabbit from the night before and visited the river to wash. Win left his sandals on shore and stepped into the water. He gasped at the frigid temperature. The river must be either spring fed or snow fed to be so cold. Great willows and cottonwood trees grew close to the river, and turtles on partially submerged branches basked in the heat. The water was clear, and the rocky bottom was visible, along with an occasional fish. Fascinated by how endless it seemed, Win waded along the quiet banks. So much water in one place! If only it could heal. Then he wouldn’t have to go any farther. He splashed water on his face and knelt to take great gulps. Then he waded ashore and examined his clothes. Paz Naamit’s talons had torn his robe across his ribs. He pulled on sleeveless shirt and loose trousers that Hazel had packed and hoped he wouldn’t need another change of clothing. He slipped into his sandals and ran a hand through his short black hair.

  Meanwhile Lady Kala had sniffed around the gravel bar, the site of the coyotes’ feast. Nothing was left but a few bones picked clean by scavengers. Win anxiously watched her fidget about. When she finally went down to the river and played at the water’s edge, he was relieved.

  “Do I need to brush you out?” Win asked.

  “No, you will brush me tonight when we stop.”

  “Then let’s go.” Win closed his eyes and saw the granite Well, with its pure water bubbling up, waiting for him. The Finding was just as strong as the day before. It pulled him upright, and surprisingly, along the riverbank, not across it. Win had expected to cross the river and head for the other cliff face.

  “Are you sure this is right?” Lady Kala asked, echoing his thought.

  “The Finding is strong. It pulls, and I obey.” But this time he tried to Find small detours in the Finding, so they went along the easiest paths. He didn’t want to risk her coat becoming matted and tangled. He could easily see where he’d cut out hair the night before and realized he’d cut too much and too unevenly. It would take weeks to grow it back to respectable lengths.

  Lady Kala, for her part, seemed to accept the rigors of the path a bit more easily. She started with a slight limp from sore muscles, but by midmorning the day’s exercise had worked it out. She didn’t cringe or fuss over every branch that touched her coat. Soon she was ranging ahead of Win and coming back to urge him on when he was too slow.

  By late morning Win wondered if she hadn’t been right about traveling at night. The heat was oppressive. The Rift allowed no winds to cool them, and this far below the land above, it felt as if an extra blanket of thick air were trying to smother them. Added to that were the heavy aromas of flowers that enveloped them and seemed impossible to escape.

  Lady Kala was also becoming impatient. “Your Finding is wrong. We will cross the river at the next place that is low enough to ford.”

  Win tried to bring himself out of the Finding enough to answer. “The Finding is strong; we must follow it. Trust me.”

  Finally, at lunch—dry jerky for both of them—she insisted they cross the river. “We must begin to scale the far wall soon, or we’ll spend another night in the Rift. Time is short. Prince Reynard lies dying of the plague while we stroll along this river.”

  “The Finding is never wrong. It goes on this side.”

  “What is that in your hand?”

  Win opened his fist and stared in surprise at the bone-white rock. He hadn’t realized he was rubbing his thumb around a smooth hollow in the rock.

  “That came from the cairn.”

  Win hid the rock in a pocket. “It is a true Finding that I follow.”

  “You don’t know what you’re doing. We must cross the river now. I command it.” Her legs were rigid, and her saber tail was stiff and straight. She wrinkled her muzzle and bared her teeth. She was daring him to disobey.

  Win knew it was folly to try a shortcut, but he saw her mind was made up. He should abandon her, he despaired. He couldn’t leave Lady Kala even though the path she wanted to take was wrong. A Finding always showed the fastest, easiest path, but not the only path. When she finally admitted she was lost, he could take up the Finding at any point.

  Lady Kala forded the river at a shallow place, bounding across, not caring about splashing water. Win removed his sandals and rolled up his pants legs, then waded carefully, checking each step before shifting weight. At the far bank he sat and replaced his sandals. Lady Kala dashed into the undergrowth, ran back to Win, darted away again, then returned.

  “Come,” she said.

  When Win stood, she steered straight for the cliff face. It was disorienting for Win as the Finding kept adjusting itself to the new directions. Several times he protested. “The Finding leads farther down the wall. We will Find nothing by going straight toward the wall.”

  But Lady Kala forged ahead. Win followed.

  The ground sloped, becoming springy and wet. Win stopped at a grove of cypress trees. Before them lay pools of stagnant water, green with scum and swarming with mosquitoes. “Lady Kala, you’re leading us into a swamp!”

  She growled, “I know what I’m doing.”

  When she took another step, the ground gave way, plunging her neck deep into a puddle that was more mud than water. From the distant side of the grove Win heard a splash as if a huge beast had just slipped into the water.

  THE MONSTER

  Win ran to the edge of the pool and grabbed the Tazi’s front paws. He heaved and pulled, but the mud sucked at her, and he couldn’t pull her free. He threw himself flat on the side of the puddle and reached deep into the mud. He caught Lady Kala under the chest behind the front legs and yanked. Her front legs found solid ground, and she dragged her hindquarters up, too. Win and Lady Kala collapsed, covered with slimy, foul-smelling mud. He was up instantly, though, remembering the large splash. “Let’s move!”

  Lady Kala lifted her leg and looked at it with dismay. “I’m absolutely filthy! This is your fault!”

  “Don’t blame me! You took the lead and wouldn’t let me follow the Finding.”

  A bubbling sound made Win turn back to the water. A muddy snout emerged, then opened. He stared into a large, gaping mouth with rows of sharp teeth. Powerful claws pulled a muscular body onto land: an albino crocodile, with pale, pinkish green scales. It rose on its legs, and dragging its tail, sped toward them.

  The only weapon Win carried was a small dagger, and that was buried deep in his backpack. “Run!” he yelled.

&
nbsp; “First eagles. Now crocodiles.” Eagerly Lady Kala whirled to meet the monster. Win had heard stories of Tazi hounds that single-handedly brought down a caracal or a lynx, but he’d never believed it. Now, though, Lady Kala’s mud-slicked hair made her look stream-lined, muscular, and lean, like one of the great cats herself.

  She faced the crocodile without a trace of fear. Win thought she might back up and wait for an attack. Instead she gathered her hindquarters and pounced. Powerful jaws aimed for the crocodile’s jugular. The crocodile twisted its neck just in time. But it couldn’t avoid her altogether; she hit its upper body with a solid whack! They tumbled over, flopping into the muddy water.

  For long moments they rolled underwater, thrashing and twirling, churning the dirty water into a golden froth. The air reeked with swamp gases. Lady Kala surfaced. She gulped air, the froth and foam sitting on her head like a bubbly topknot, then she disappeared again. Moments later she surfaced, weaker and slower this time, but dove again with a fierce determination. She stayed underwater.

  Win waited. The anxious moments stretched.

  The water was still churning but more slowly. Then it was calm.

  Where was she?

  A few bubbles popped silently on the surface, and the foam started to drift away.

  Win took a deep breath. He should try to Find her, try to dive into the murky water and Find her and haul her out.

  Far away, across the swamp, a bird shrieked: a lonely sound.

  Still she didn’t surface.

  Win waited. Frozen. Move, he told himself. Don’t be too late again. He tried to focus on Lady Kala. A Finding overtook him; still, he hesitated. Brown, murky water hid everything from view. The Finding pulled him, and he stepped to the edge of the water and poised on his toes, ready to dive in.

  THE WATERFALL

  Lady Kala’s head broke the surface of the swampy pool. She gasped, then spluttered, “Help!”