by P. C. Cast
Iron Fist hurried past her to the tree, and then sprinted up the winding stairway until he reached the platform that held Death.
“I am pleased you have returned this night, my Blade. I was beginning to think the river had swallowed you whole.” As if He could see behind him, Death spoke without turning.
“No, my Lord. It would not have dared. Even the river knew I had momentous news to bring to my God.”
Death motioned for Iron Fist to join him at the edge of the platform. “Do you see this?” The God ran one massive hand over the intricate carvings that decorated the balustrade.
Confused, Iron Fist glanced at the wooden railing. “I do, my Lord.”
“Its beauty is impressive. I will insist that the Others rebuild our city with this much beauty.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“And I shall also have a canine. One of those huge Shepherds. They fought fiercely today. What do you think of that, Iron Fist?”
“I think you are Death, our beloved Reaper God, and you should have whatever you desire.”
Death clapped him on the shoulder. “Ah, Iron Fist, you give wise and true counsel. Now, tell me the momentous news you bring.”
“I followed the girl. She and her man joined a group on the river. She called it her Pack.”
“What size is this Pack?”
“Under fifty—mostly women.”
“Do they all have canines?”
“No.” Iron Fist shook his head. “I did see some canines, but much fewer than people.”
“The girl who wielded fire—she has a canine Companion, does she not?”
“Yes, I believe she and her man each are bonded to a Shepherd. My Lord, she is a marvel. They cry ‘Moon Woman’ to her. I watched as she drew down the silver power of the moon and healed several people who were with her.”
“Truly?” Death was visibly excited. “She has the ability to heal?”
“She does, my Lord!”
“And her beauty? I could not tell if she was pleasing to the eye—the distance between us was too great.”
“Her skin is smooth. She is young and beautiful.”
“And where is it they are escaping to?” Death asked.
“They travel up the river to a place called the Plains of the Wind Riders. There they plan to make a new home for their Pack.”
“Wind Riders? I do not know of them, but I am quite sure our friends in the Tribe do. You have done well, my Blade.”
“There is more. I did not just see the Moon Woman—I saw those traveling with her. Two of them were very familiar. My Lord, Dove and her servant, Lily, have joined the Pack.”
Death turned slowly to fully face Iron Fist—and the Reaper shivered at the dark look in the God’s eyes. “My Dove? The vessel for my Consort, the Goddess of Life? Are you quite sure it was she?”
“Absolutely sure, my Lord. I clearly saw her face—and Lily’s as well.” Iron Fist held his breath, terrified Death would somehow blame him for bringing the news of His lover’s escape.
But the Reaper need not have worried. Death’s expression shifted, and the God threw back His head and laughed.
“It is perfect! I felt Dove had served her purpose—that she was only a momentary diversion and unfit to be the vessel for my love, my Consort. And now I know it. I do not need a sightless child. I need a sun warrior—a Healer—a mighty Moon Woman.” Death turned to face His reveling People, speaking with the solemnity that was the Oath of a God. “I shall go after this Moon Woman. Only she will make an appropriate vessel for the Goddess.”
* * *
Ralina did her best to make the injured comfortable, though there was little comfort to be had in the section of the forest the Death God had forced them to move to. She sent a silent prayer up to the departed sun asking that the swarm stay away, as there was no way to combat them should the insects attack.
Mari had healed the Tribe of the horrible skin-sloughing sickness—or at least she’d healed those of the Tribe who had wished to be healed—but there were still many people who had been wounded in the fire, and, of course, the short but bloody battle with the Skin Stealers. After Thaddeus, the disgusting traitor, surrendered in the name of the Tribe, the invaders had forced them from the ancient Meditation Platform and the infirmary they’d created around the tree and declared it theirs, herding the weak and wounded away to a roped-off section of the forest where they had only the living canopy to protect them and whatever they could carry with them to use as pallets, medicines, and food. However, as the Tribe were forced out of their own city, the Skin Stealers randomly confiscated anything they wanted—including women.
Ralina had never been so glad that she was covered in blood and gore from tending to the sick. None of the men so much as glanced her way, and when they did her big Shepherd, Bear, showed his teeth, encouraging them to look away from his Companion.
She’d watched Thaddeus and his men join the celebration with the Skin Stealers. The traitor had even shown the invaders where the spring beer was buried, and he was currently drinking and dancing with them.
Good riddance, Ralina thought.
“Ralina, I’m so hungry!” The Tribe’s Storyteller shook herself and refocused on her nearest patient—a young girl named Celeste, whose legs had been burned when she fled the forest fire.
Ralina bent and put a hand on the teenager’s forehead. She could feel that Celeste’s fever had broken—no doubt because of Mari’s healing powers.
“I know, Celeste. You only have to wait a little longer for my soup to be ready.”
“But people are eating stew—with meat—over there.” The girl pointed to a group of weary Tribe members clustered around the main campfire they’d rebuilt inside the roped-off area Death had ordered them to.
Ralina crouched beside Celeste. “I explained to them just like to everyone else—they should not eat that stew. The meat stinks. It’s tainted. You know how sick everyone was before the Moon Woman healed us. I’m sure we’ll get sick again if we eat that stew.”
Celeste sighed. “Okay. I’ll wait.” The girl looked around. “But not very many of us are waiting.”
I know that and it terrifies me, Ralina thought, but she only said, “I can’t force them to believe me. All I can do is let our people know what I’ve observed—that, added to what Mari said, tells me that the Skin Stealers poisoned us. If you do not want to get sick again, do not eat their meat. The choice is not mine to make for others, only myself.”
Ralina turned back to the small campfire she’d built and the old pot she’d managed to grab when the invaders had forced them away from the Meditation Platform. It had been easy to forage edible roots, greens, and mushrooms and then add water to create a thin, but untainted soup. She stirred the soup and glanced around, counting the number of people who had joined her and were waiting like Celeste for food that wouldn’t sicken them. Ralina was almost overcome with a great sinking feeling. Though the majority of the Tribe hadn’t listened to her and were hungrily eating the tainted stew, those who had followed her lead were more than her meager soup could feed. She’d need to add more water and, hopefully, mushrooms.
“Celeste, keep an eye on the soup. I’m going to get more water and see if I can find some more mushrooms as well.”
As she stood and began to move away from her campfire, Bear tried to join her. She knelt and took his face between her hands, speaking quietly to him and projecting an image of him lying beside her campfire. “Stay here and wait for me. I don’t like how the Skin Stealers look at our Shepherds, and I don’t want you to draw any attention from them.”
The big canine growled low in his throat as his gaze went from his beloved Companion to one of the disgusting-smelling guards that had been stationed around their roped-off area.
“I know,” Ralina whispered as she kissed his face. “They’re horrible.”
Bear growled again before padding back to his position beside young Celeste and the campfire. Ralina smiled and nodded at him befor
e hurrying away—her eyes cast down as she searched for anything edible. She spotted a patch of morels and hurried to it, then dropped to her knees to harvest the meaty fungi.
His smell hit her before he spoke.
“Get back inside the rope!”
Ralina glanced up to see an old Skin Stealer, his body riddled with painful-looking pustules, his skin slick with fevered sweat, standing over her. She looked behind her, and realized she’d been too focused on the mushrooms and hadn’t noticed that she’d moved under and outside the rope boundary as she harvested them.
“I’m just collecting these mushrooms for my soup. As soon as I have them all I’ll go back inside the boundary.”
“No, woman. You’ll go back inside the boundary now.” The Skin Stealer nudged her with his foot, throwing her off balance so that she fell back on her butt.
Ralina looked up at him, shaking her head in disgust. “I’m not trying to escape. I’m not trying to do anything except gather these mushrooms and feed my people.”
The Skin Stealer bent and shoved his face closer to hers. “I don’t care whether you and your people starve. Get back inside the rope.”
She shouldn’t have said anything more. She’d been the one to tell Bear that he couldn’t follow her because they shouldn’t be drawing attention, but her exhaustion and hunger spoke before reason could silence them.
In one fluid motion Ralina stood, facing the old Skin Stealer. “Back off, you reeking wretch! I’d call you an animal, but that would be an insult to all woodland creatures. You’re certainly not a man—you’re a walking disease.”
The Skin Stealer was carrying a sharply tipped trident, which he raised, readying it to run through Ralina. She braced herself. Her only regret about dying was that Bear would lose her and that her beloved Companion would not live long after her death.
“Ah, Ralina, here you are. I knew you’d be easy to find—always causing trouble. You’re always causing fucking trouble.” Thaddeus was slurring his words as he stumbled up to Ralina, shoving aside the Skin Stealer. “Don’t kill her, you idiot! She’s a pain in the ass, but she also knows things.”
“She’s outside the ropes!” the Skin Stealer said stubbornly. “I should kill her.”
“Yeah, well, if you do you’ll have to answer to Death.” Thaddeus grabbed Ralina’s arm, pulling her away from the Skin Stealer. “Your God wants to talk to her. So, take it up with Him if you have an issue.” Thaddeus turned his back on the Skin Stealer, forcing Ralina to come with him.
A few yards outside the roped-off area Ralina wrenched her arm from Thaddeus’s grip. “What do you want, Thaddeus?”
“How ’bout a thank-you for saving your life?”
“Traitors don’t deserve thank-yous. What do you want?” she repeated.
“Isn’t what I want, you bitch. It’s what the God demands. Go ahead. Ignore Him and watch what happens.”
Ralina lifted her lip in disgust. “Just take me to Him and then go away. You make me sicker than the Skin Stealer disease.”
Thaddeus backhanded her so that she stumbled and almost fell, but Ralina quickly righted herself. She met Thaddeus’s gaze. “If you hit me again you’re going to have to kill me.”
Thaddeus shrugged. “Whatever. Death might command that anyway. Just shut up and follow me. If you were smarter you’d make a deal with Him like I have.”
Ralina’s laughter bubbled from deep within her, rich in sarcasm. “You think you’re safe? You think Death will actually spare you?”
“We’re allies, stupid bitch!” he yelled so close to Ralina’s face that his saliva rained onto her.
She wiped her dirty sleeve slowly across her face and sneered. “Oh, please. As soon as you’ve served whatever purpose Death has for you, He’ll kill you—or, hopefully, hand you over to those of us who are still faithful to the Tribe.”
“You know what? I don’t have to put up with people like you and your bullshit anymore. I’m leading the Tribe now. And because of me we’re going to finally be truly powerful—truly great again. So, shut the hell up and follow me.” Thaddeus turned his back on her and weaved drunkenly toward the partying Skin Stealers.
Ralina followed him, cramming the mushrooms into the pockets of her tunic. They made their way around the group of dancing, drinking Skin Stealers. Ralina noted the Warriors and Hunters who had joined them. Like Thaddeus, they were the men who had abused their canines, flaying the living flesh from their bellies and packing it into the diseased sores the Skin Stealer poison had caused. She looked for their canines. At first she didn’t see them, then she heard a whine and her gaze was drawn to the base of the ancient tree that held the Meditation Platform. The wounded canines clustered there, close together, Shepherds and Terriers—every one of them obviously in pain, and being ignored by their Companions.
Ralina turned her face away in despair. How could they abuse their Companions?
“Come on. Quit gawking and stay with me. He’s up there.” Thaddeus was heading up the stairs that led to the main Meditation Platform.
Ralina had to dodge a drunken Skin Stealer as he passed out and fell right in front of her—then she reluctantly climbed up the stairs after Thaddeus.
Death stood looking out at His people, His back turned to Thaddeus and Ralina. He held a huge wooden bowl easily in one large hand, drinking from it while He eagerly watched His men celebrating below. As Ralina got closer she smelled the strong scent of liquor, and wondered how He’d managed to find the Tribe’s special stores of whisky.
“I brought you the Storyteller, Ralina,” Thaddeus said.
Death didn’t turn. He simply said, “Next time you come to me you will call me ‘my Lord’ and you will bow to me. Do you understand that, Thaddeus?”
Ralina glanced at Thaddeus. His face had gone red, but he bowed awkwardly and said, “Yes, my Lord.”
“Good. Now leave us.”
Ralina could see that Thaddeus wanted to argue, but reason must have gotten through the alcohol soaking his brain, and he bowed again and then took his leave, shooting her a dark look before he disappeared down the stairs.
“So, you are the Tribe’s Storyteller,” Death said.
“I am. My Lord,” she added. It was stupid to antagonize a God—even one she hated—so she was determined to answer Him with as much truth as she could while not making Him unnecessarily angry.
“I like the idea of a Storyteller. I want my deeds recorded and retold generation after generation. It pleases me that you are here.”
Ralina wasn’t sure what the God expected her to say, so she remained silent.
He turned to look at her, and Ralina got her first good look at Him up close—and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from gasping in shock and bolting from the platform.
The God of Death was animal and man merged to create something terrible. She’d thought the things on His head were horns, maybe fitted to Him by some kind of headdress, similar to a crown. She’d been wrong. They weren’t horns—they were antlers. And they were growing from both sides of His head. His features were coarse—His nose wide and His brows thick. His face was clean shaven, but His hair was more like mane or fur than human tresses. It was the brown of a stag—shaggy and long. She couldn’t tell for sure, but it seemed to be growing down His neck and back. And He was enormous. Easily taller than any Tribesman, or any man Ralina had ever met—and He was so muscular He looked deformed and bloated, more para-human than human. Her eyes traveled down His body, widening when they came to the cloven hooves that should have been feet.
“Have you looked your fill?”
Ralina startled and bowed her head quickly. “Yes, my Lord. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You did not offend. Look, and look closely. I am a God. I know your people have never seen a living God before now, and I would have you know exactly how to answer their questions and satisfy their curiosity.”
“You—you remind me of a stag,” she blurted, then bit her li
p, wishing her mouth had shut up.
But the God appeared pleased. He nodded, His great, shaggy mane swaying around His shoulders. “When this body was mortal, before I’d fully claimed it, it was joined with a mighty stag—a king of the forest. That stag lives on within me.”
“And your men—have they all joined with stags, too?”
“No. The king of the forest was meant only for a God. My men have joined with many different forest animals. Observe them, Storyteller, and you will easily see which ones.
“And now I have a question for you. Where are the Plains of the Wind Riders?”
His question surprised Ralina, but she saw no reason to withhold this information from the God. “They are far to the east.”
“How would you get there from here?” Death asked.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to get there. It’d be a long, dangerous journey, and Wind Riders don’t allow just anyone to settle on the Tallgrass Prairie, so even if I survived the trip there would be no guarantee I would survive the Wind Riders’ scrutiny.”
“Let us say that you believed you would survive the trip and be allowed to settle on the prairie. How would you get there?”
Ralina moved her shoulders, hoping beyond hope that Death was asking because He and His disgusting people were considering leaving—and with luck take Thaddeus and his followers with them. So, she thought carefully about her answer before speaking.
“I’m not an expert, but I do know stories that tell how people made the trip, though there aren’t many of such stories. Few return from the Plains. To reach Wind Rider territory you must travel up the Umbria River to Lost Lake. The lake must be crossed, and from there you must find a way through the Rock Mountains. The Plains of the Wind Riders begin on the east side of the mountains.”
“What are Wind Riders?” Death asked.
“They’re called ‘equestrians’—riders of horses.” When she saw His blank look she continued to explain. “Horses—equines—they’re hooved animals that are bigger than stags and can be ridden. They’re swift and magnificent and dangerous.”
“Have you ever seen one?”
“No. I’ve only seen carvings and drawings,” she said.
