by P. C. Cast
“Well, then, what is it you wait for? Or must you get your canine to tell the tale?” He didn’t wait for Ralina to answer, but as usual, barreled on without a thought for anyone but Himself. “That is a splendid idea! You have my leave to get your canine and then return to—”
Feet scuffing the circular stairs up to the God’s platform interrupted Death, who brushed away the piece of rabbit the girl was trying to feed Him as He turned to glare at whoever was interrupting.
Ralina had to school her face as Thaddeus entered the platform. In just three days, the Hunter had changed drastically. He no longer hid his preternatural abilities, but stalked through the campsite, reminding her of a rabid dog that needed to be put down for his own good. His body had changed. He had always been short, but powerfully built. Now there was a hunch in his back; his increasing muscle mass had apparently bowed his spine as it attempted to accommodate the man’s unnatural strength. His hands were more claw-like than finger-like. It seemed he’d quit bathing completely, and his eyes were perpetually red.
“My Lord!” Thaddeus dropped to one knee before the God of Death.
“Thaddeus, why do you interrupt my storytelling time? You know how important it is to me.”
“Forgive me, my Lord, but I assumed you would want a status report on the tainted meat.”
Death sighed. “Yes, yes, of course.” He pulled his hooves from Feather’s grasp. “Girl, find Iron Fist and bring him to me.” As she scurried away the God added, “You should know this as well as my Blade. Be certain you tell your Warriors and Hunters that the Storyteller is free to come and go as she wishes.”
Thaddeus’s cruel eyes found Ralina. She stared back at him steadily, trying to focus her disgust for him in her gaze.
“Do you think that wise, my Lord? Ralina has long been—”
Death came to His feet, planting his cloven hooves wide so that he towered over the much smaller man. “Did you just question me?”
Ralina watched the exchange eagerly. Kill Thaddeus, she wished silently. Without his traitorous leadership we might be able to form a true resistance.
But as usual when Thaddeus was confronted by someone stronger than him, he backed down. Bowing deeply, Thaddeus said, “I apologize, my Lord. It is just that you do not know the Tribe as well as I do, and I thought it wise to warn you that the Storyteller has been known to—”
“The Storyteller is under my protection. Is that clear enough for you?”
“Yes, my Lord. Of course.” Thaddeus sounded servile, but when his gaze flicked to Ralina she saw raw hatred smoldering there.
“My Lord, I must see that Bear is fed, and I’m sure you and Thaddeus have things of great import you must talk about. Might I have leave to go?”
“Not quite yet.” Death smiled at Ralina. “If Thaddeus does have something of importance to discuss with me, you should hear it. Perhaps you could devote an entire scene to our conversation. Just sit quietly and listen.”
Ralina nodded. She backed to the railing and finally allowed her legs to give way so that she slid to a seat. The God’s smile did not fool her—nor did His proclamation of protection.
His happily ever afters all end in death.
“Now, Thaddeus, go ahead with your status report.”
While the God sat and nibbled more succulent rabbit from the girl’s fingers, Thaddeus paced before Him, speaking in quick, short sentences. Ralina almost expected him to start yapping like his poor, dead Terrier, Odysseus.
“People are being reinfected. Each day more and more. Though my Hunters go deeper into the forest for game, they only find tainted animals.”
The God shrugged His massive shoulders, causing the deer pelt he wore as a cloak to fall from Him so that His naked chest and back were visible. Ralina had to stifle a shudder. His chest is covered with the fur of a stag.
“Why should this interest me?” asked Death.
“The people sicken. Your people. My people. And there are more fights. Daily. My men are stronger and faster, but it is getting difficult to control those infected. There are just too many of them.”
“Then use my Reapers. They can control them.”
Thaddeus ran his fingers through his greasy hair. “It isn’t just that. My Lord, you know my first position was as Hunter to the Tribe, and that now I perform the same service for you.”
“Yes, Thaddeus, I know that.” Death’s tone was of a father talking to an annoying and rather stupid child.
Thaddeus stopped pacing and faced the God. “I believe the animals of the forest have been irrevocably poisoned with the skin-sloughing disease.”
Death cocked His head to the side, His mighty antlers casting bizarre shadows against the trunk of the tree behind Him. “Truly? I assumed the tainted animals would die and the disease would fade. Is that not what is happening?”
Thaddeus was visibly relieved that the God was listening to him. “No, my Lord. The tainted animals go mad. They attack anything in their path before they die, infecting whatever their blood touches. From what I have observed, it is taking longer and longer for the animals to die. Some even appear to be living with the disease.” Thaddeus shuddered.
Ralina’s mouth went dry as she imagined what could be so terrible to make that angry, evil little man shudder.
“Ah, the disease mutates.” Death nodded as if this didn’t surprise Him.
“I do not believe the forest will ever be the same,” Thaddeus said.
Death sat up straight, knocking the girl’s slender hand roughly away from His face. “So, what you’re saying is that this forest is no longer an escape from the poisoned city.”
Thaddeus nodded. “What I am saying is that the forest has become the poisoned city.”
The sadness in Thaddeus’s voice made Ralina want to gag. This is your fault, you traitor! You could have warned us! We could have attacked Port City before they caught us unaware and reeling from the fire. All of this death and disease could have been prevented if you hadn’t been so filled with anger and hatred and the need for power!
Thaddeus’s proclamation had a much different effect on the God. He seemed to swell with excitement.
“Then we must leave this poisoned place for a land untainted, where I can awaken my Goddess and rule far away from the pestilence that is this forest,” Death said.
“Leave the forest?” Thaddeus shook his head. “The Tribe will not do that.”
Death stood abruptly. His voice shook the platform. “Then the Tribe can stay here and die!” The God shook back His long mane, pulled the cloak up around His shoulders, and sat, motioning for the girl, who was cowering on the floor before Him, to continue feeding Him. “But your Warriors and Hunters—those who have taken The Cure—shall come with me. And many canines. Especially the Shepherds. They must come as well.”
“To where, my Lord?” Thaddeus asked.
“To the Plains of the Wind Riders, of course,” Death said. “It is a fortunate coincidence that I have property there that I must reclaim, and it is there that I will awaken my beloved Goddess.” Death smiled as He gazed off into the distance, as if He could already see their future.
“The Plains of the Wind Riders? To get there we must travel up the Umbria River, then cross Lost Lake and the Rock Mountains. We would have to begin almost immediately to make it through the mountains before snow closes the passes.”
Death shrugged. “Then we will leave very soon. Who among your Tribe knows the way?”
“No one! Only the Lynx guides know the way there,” said Thaddeus.
“Then bring a Lynx guide to me and let us begin our next adventure!” Death said.
“I can light the signal fire. If there is a guide available, he will come,” said Thaddeus.
“Do so immediately. As you said—there is no time to wait.”
“I will, my Lord.” Thaddeus hesitated, and then added, “What of the people who are infected?”
“Offer them The Cure if you believe they are worthy. If they have no can
ine Companion, they may substitute the flesh of any living animal—except people.” Death sighed and shook His head. “I do not understand why it does not work with the flesh of people, but no matter. Any animal will do—even an infected one.”
“And the ones who refuse?” Thaddeus asked.
Instead of answering, Death turned to Ralina. “Storyteller, do you know why I call those who follow me ‘the People’?”
Ralina had to clear the bile from her throat before she could answer. “No, mighty God. I do not.”
“It is because those who follow me are the only ‘people’ I acknowledge. All others are inconsequential—fit only to be servants, if that. Be quite sure you mention that in my tale.”
“I will, my Lord,” Ralina said. And I will mention so, so much more, so that future generations will know exactly what a monster you are.
He swiveled His head to look from Ralina to Thaddeus.
“Nothing,” Death said.
“Nothing?” Thaddeus shook his head, confused.
“Yes. Nothing. As I said, do nothing. Those who refuse The Cure will die. Let them. Do not waste time or resources on them. Simply herd them into that fetid penned-off area and let them die. It is the natural way of things, isn’t it?”
Speechless, Thaddeus stared at him.
Ralina thought, This will do it. Children have been infected. Nursing mothers have been infected. Even petty, angry little Thaddeus must understand now just how dangerous this creature is—and just how much we must work together to try to defeat Him.
But as a feral smile began lifting the corners of Thaddeus’s thin lips, Ralina realized how very wrong she was.
“It is, my Lord. Why bother with those too weak to save themselves and too stupid to understand the power that there is in The Cure.” His gaze slid to Ralina and she refused to look away—refused to cower before his appalling callousness.
Death clapped Thaddeus on the back. “Yes! Good man! You understand. Begin separating the sick from those who are uninfected, or who are taking The Cure. Put the sick in the pen. The rest, if they have sworn loyalty to me, may find shelter among the trees, though not for long. Soon we will be on our way.”
“The boats!” Thaddeus said darkly. “That bitch and Nik destroyed what they didn’t steal.”
“Then set the Tribe to repairing them.”
“Yes, they can be repaired, and I believe in time, but it will take too long to build more.” Then before Death could comment, Thaddeus’s slick smile widened. “But we won’t be taking everyone with us—so we won’t need many more boats. And don’t your Reapers know how to build rafts?”
“I have said from the beginning that you are a quick learner, Thaddeus. You understand. Yes, repair the damaged boats. Yes, my Reapers are expert raft builders. I will command Iron Fist to set the People to building. Now, go. You have much to do.”
“My Lord!” Thaddeus bowed, sent Ralina a sneering smile, and then hurried from the platform.
“Storyteller! I am pleased that you were here to witness the beginning of what will be a grand new adventure.”
“I cannot tell you how pleased I am, too,” Ralina said. Because knowledge is power, and I need all the power I can get if I am to rid the world of you. “My Lord, may I be granted leave to go, now?”
“To care for your Companion, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Then you may take your leave. The sun is setting and I find I am hungry for more than rabbit.” Death snagged the wrist of the girl who’d been feeding Him, and pulled Her onto His lap. “But return to me tomorrow at the same time, and when you do—be quite sure you bring your Companion.”
“Yes, my Lord.” Ralina bowed and exited—her stomach tight with fear.
I will not let that monster harm Bear. And I don’t know how, but I’m going to stop Him. I swear it by the Sun and by the memory of what used to be our glorious Tribe.
* * *
The sun was setting when Antreas finally rejoined the Pack. They were camped on the bank of the Umbria, east of the ruins of the dam and a huge bridge that was broken but still semi-intact—so that it looked like the skeletal remains of a long-extinct monster.
Brother Joseph had left immediately after they’d arrived at the campsite. No one had been sorry to see him go.
As the sun sank below the horizon Danita began pacing and staring down the darkening trail while Bast groomed herself close by. About halfway to the campsite Bast had suddenly stopped, yowled as if she’d been in pain, and even limped for a little while, though Danita couldn’t find anything wrong with her paw. Dinner had been made and eaten, and the Pack congregated in small groups as they worked on weaving projects. The boats were docked nearby. All seemed well with them. Only one paddle had been lost, and there were several extra, so it was easy to replace. The Mother Plants had survived the white water well—very well. They, along with the rest of the cuttings, seedlings, and young plants had been thoroughly drenched in the crossing, soaking them all with life-giving water. Relieved and full of fish stew seasoned with the very delicious almond butter Sora had managed to trade for, before Father John had closed the market, the Pack—except for Danita—had settled contentedly for the night.
Bast’s head suddenly went up, and she coughed at Danita several times. The big feline rubbed against the girl’s legs before speeding silently down the path and disappearing.
“Is it Antreas?” Mari asked. She’d been keeping a close eye on Danita since Bast had had her limping spell. Mari had no doubt that Antreas was well, and would catch up with the Pack soon—the fact that Bast had recovered quickly and been so relaxed all evening was testament to the fact that her Companion remained safe. But the phantom soreness of her paw had been worrisome.
“Oh, Goddess, I hope so. I can’t imagine what’s taking him so long! The boats were here when we arrived hours ago.”
“Hey, he must not have joined them on the boats, which means he had to travel overland to catch up with us. He’s fine. Bast would be the first to know if something were wrong.”
“But what happened to her paw earlier? I swear I couldn’t find anything wrong with it.”
“Maybe it was nothing. Maybe she twisted it. Or maybe Antreas smacked his hand against something and Bast felt it. The two of them are awfully close. But she settled down fast, and I don’t believe she would have if he’d been really hurt.”
“I know. I just, well, I don’t want to lose Antreas,” Danita said quietly.
“You won’t. He and that feline love you.”
Danita’s gaze shot to Mari’s. “Did he tell you that?”
Mari laughed. “He didn’t have to. It’s obvious.”
“I keep worrying that something happened to him and that I’ve never told him how I really feel about him—how much I want to be with him and with Bast, forever. I’ve been so worried about him touching me that I’ve kept walls up and tried to make it seem like I—like I wasn’t falling in love with him.” Danita paused and wiped away a tear. “I would hate myself forever if I never saw him again and he didn’t know.”
“Know what? And why are you crying?” Antreas seemed to materialize out of the darkness, with the yellow-eyed feline at his side.
“Antreas!” Danita ran to him and threw herself into his arms.
The Lynx man was laughing as he lifted Danita off her feet, twirled her around, and kissed her—quickly. Mari noted that it wasn’t a demanding, passionate kiss, but a sweet hello, and she was pleased to see Danita didn’t cringe back or step out of his arms.
“Bast and I were so worried about you! What took you so long? I was starting to think—” Her words broke off as she caught sight of the bloody bandage covering his thumb. Danita tried to reach for his injured hand, but he pulled it from her grasp.
“Hey, it’s nothing. Just a torn thumbnail. It’ll grow back,” he said. Antreas nodded hello to Mari.
She returned his nod, but also went to him and, with her usual no-nonsense attitude, lifted his ha
nd and began unwrapping the bandage.
“It really is nothing. Sore, but not lethal,” he said.
“Sore and not lethal can easily turn into infected and deadly, especially if you ignore it.” Mari winced as she unwound the last of the bloody bandage and saw that his thumbnail had been completely ripped off—and that included the talon that rested dormant under his nail. “That looks nasty. How did you do it?”
“Oh, it’s not a big deal. And it’ll grow back—quickly. It’s part of being a Companion to Bast. My, uh, extra attributes, like the claws I can unsheathe and my enhanced sight, regenerate fast if something happens to them.”
Danita was peeking around Mari’s shoulder at Antreas’s hand. “That looks terrible!”
He grinned at her. “A scratch like that can’t get me down,” he said, but sucked in his breath as Mari poked and prodded the wound.
“There’s nothing caught in there, and I don’t think you’ve broken anything. Actually, the wound is very clean—almost like someone pulled your claw off.” Mari watched him carefully as she noted to herself that he hadn’t answered her question about how the injury had happened.
Antreas shrugged. “Guess I’m just lucky that it broke off easily. It’ll be fine. I promise.”
“It definitely needs to be cleaned and freshly bandaged,” Mari said. She paused and then added, “Antreas, did Father John do this to you?”
“No!”
“Then what took you so long to get here?” Danita asked.
“It just took me a while to get out of the village. I’d planned on doing some trading, and by the time the boats were all launched the market had been closed down.” Antreas’s gaze found Mari. “Father John didn’t do this to me, but he was not happy. Apparently, he doesn’t like you very much.”
“Father John does not impress me with his leadership skills,” Mari said.
Antreas barked laughter. “That’s a nice way to put it.”
“Did he tell you what happened today?” Danita asked.
“His version, which was easy to see through. I gather Dove had a vision that the priest didn’t like,” Antreas said.
