by P. C. Cast
Ralina patted his broad head. “I know. I hate being separated from you, too. Okay, come with me. He’s going to have to let us eat sometime.”
Walking swiftly, it took them little time to get to the God’s tree. The atmosphere was like a lightning storm. Attendants milled around—some cooking rancid-smelling meat, and others wringing their hands as if they were unsure of everything. Reapers circled the tree, looking feral as they paced. There were no Hunters or Warriors present. As had become Ralina’s new normal, she ignored Attendants and Reapers—and they parted to allow her access to the entrance to the God’s platform.
As soon as she was in His presence Ralina bowed low, and Bear took his place in the shadows behind her.
“My Lord, you sent for me?” She looked up at Death, expecting to see in Him a reflection of the chaos below, but He was sitting on his driftwood throne, gnawing on what looked like a hunk of deer meat that one of His favorite Attendants, Rabbit, held for Him, looking completely serene.
“Ah, Storyteller, there you are. Have you heard the news?” Death asked as He motioned for Ralina to sit.
“No, my Lord. I just woke. The first person I spoke with was your Blade, and he commanded I attend you.”
“It seems our Lynx guide absconded in the night.”
Ralina’s Storyteller training made it easy for her to appear surprised—after all, a great storyteller must also be a great actress.
“Oh, my Lord! That news is unexpected and hard to understand. It seemed the guide accepted your job.” She knew she shouldn’t antagonize Him, but Ralina couldn’t resist one little jab. “I have never heard of a Lynx team reneging once acceptance has been made.”
The God’s eyes narrowed, but He shrugged nonchalantly. “I sensed last night when I met him that he was inauthentic. Today I seem to be proved right. Again.”
“You are very wise, my Lord.” Ralina had learned over the past weeks that Death demanded flattery—though He pretended not to. She considered it a ridiculous charade—one more fit for a child than a leader, and especially not a God. But Death’s petulance and the small cruelties He liked to mete out like crumbs before birds were always lessened if He was well plied with meaningless compliments.
“And you are very perceptive, which is why I wished you close by me—so that you could observe and record the events of this magnificent day.”
“You don’t seem overly concerned by Dax’s absence,” she said.
And then realized her mistake as soon as the God’s dark eyes skewered her. “You use his name. How well do you know him, Ralina?” He drew out her name, as if it were a secret that had been whispered only to Him.
“Not well at all.” Ralina kept her voice calm, as if she and the God were talking of nothing more important than the color of the sky or whether it might rain the next day. “He was hired by the Tribe several times. I’m not sure how many. Thaddeus would probably know. As a Hunter he probably would have consulted with any Lynx guide being tasked by the Tribe. Hunters often accompanied guides on short journeys to be sure they weren’t slowed down by carrying too many supplies.” She sat up straighter, as if she’d just had a thought. “Have you asked Thaddeus where he believes the Lynx man might have gotten to? I’m sure he’s worked with Dax in the past.”
“Thaddeus is leading our Hunters on his trail. I would not be surprised if he returned any moment with the Lynx man.”
“I will be sure to note Thaddeus’s hunting prowess in this chapter of your tale, my Lord.” Then Ralina waited for the reaction she knew her words would evoke—which came in the space of a single breath.
“If you mention Thaddeus it should be that he followed my command to return the forsworn Lynx man to face his punishment,” Death scoffed. “Thaddeus is not terribly good at thinking for himself, and without his canine he is no longer much of a Hunter.”
Death’s dismissal of Thaddeus had Ralina feeling a rush of hope. Getting rid of Thaddeus wouldn’t restore the Tribe of the Trees, but it would rid them of a constant and malicious voice who was as cruel as Death, and even more petty.
“It will be as you say, my Lord.” Ralina bowed her head.
“Did you not say you came to me directly from your nest?” Death asked.
Not sure where He was taking the conversation, Ralina was instantly on guard. “Yes, my Lord. I seem to have overslept, and would like to thank you for the nest you provided for me.”
He waved away her thanks. “While we wait for Thaddeus and the Hunters to return, join me in breaking your fast.” He pushed away the bloody hunk of fetid meat the Attendant had been feeding Him, and wiped His greasy mouth on the back of His hand. “Little Rabbit, scamper over to Ralina and give her and her magnificent canine some of these choice cuts.”
Ralina’s stomach revolted as Rabbit stood. “No, thank you, my Lord,” she said quickly. “Bear and I will eat after I finish recording this day’s tale.”
“It was not a request, Storyteller. It was a command.”
Ralina put her hand up, palm out, halting Rabbit—who looked frightened and confused. She’d known this day was going to come. Ralina had thought long about what she would say—how she would convince Death to listen to her. She didn’t know if what she’d decided on would work—but she did know she had one shot at it.
If she failed, Ralina had already decided that she would kill herself and her beloved Bear, rather than cut living flesh from her Companion and turn herself into a monster.
“My Lord, I must ask a great favor of you.”
That got the God’s attention—as she knew it would. Death loved to appear magnanimous, often granting favors to those loyal to Him. Of course, He took away those same favors, and much more, the instant He perceived a lack of loyalty.
“Speak, Storyteller. I will consider granting the favor you beseech of me.” He steepled His fingers and leaned forward, His foul breath smelling of rot.
“I ask that you allow me to be free of the sloughing disease until I have finished your tale.”
“And why would I allow that? You will be stronger, better, after joining your flesh with your Shepherd’s.”
“That is true, my Lord. But it is also true that sometimes confusion—even delirium—fill the person who has been infected. I have noted that those symptoms can last even after The Cure has been initiated. I must have a clear head if I am to record your glorious tale. Though I am looking forward to the added strength I will have after joining with Bear,” she lied, “your story is simply too important to risk not being able to tell it well.”
Ralina held her breath and waited.
After a pause that felt endless, Death said, “I can see the logic in what you say. Were you not my only Storyteller I might test your theory—for joining with your Shepherd could also enhance your abilities. And perhaps you need your abilities enhanced. I have not heard any of my tale. All I have heard from you are stories not my own.”
Ralina’s empty stomach threatened to revolt and she was afraid for a moment that she would spew bile all over the God’s platform. She swallowed quickly, willing herself to be calm.
“My Lord, I have told you that I do not like to speak any part of a tale that is incomplete. Often I must revise and change it—especially the beginning—to better reflect the end. I know you wouldn’t want—”
“I am a God! You know nothing of what I want except for what I tell you—and I tell you that I want to hear the beginning of my tale—now. Or, if you’d rather, you may break your fast with me.” His cruel blue eyes glittered maliciously as he stared at her.
From below there were several shouts, and then the Hunters and Warriors who had accepted the change burst into view below.
The God said nothing. He sat staring at Ralina while the men rushed up to His platform. Only when Thaddeus stood before Him, breathing hard and bowing deeply, did Death take his eyes from Ralina.
“I do not see the Lynx or the man with you,” Death said.
“My Lord, we could not track him.�
�� Thaddeus spoke in angry bursts. “The bastard and his cat used the trees as their pathway—not touching the ground, leaping from pine to pine. They reached the Channel. We picked up his trail there, but he stole a canoe and headed into the river. It is impossible to track him on water.”
Death nodded. “It is as I suspected.”
“I should have posted a guard outside his nest. I shouldn’t have counted on him keeping his word—those cat men have no honor, no allegiance but to their own,” Thaddeus said.
Ralina pressed her lips together to keep from shouting at Thaddeus, You just described yourself, you disgusting traitor!
Death seemed unconcerned. “Yes, you should have, but I forgive your lack of care—this one time. Now, I have just asked the Storyteller to recite the very beginning of my tale. I am glad you and the other Tribesmen are here. I would like you to hear it as well.”
“You want a story at a time like this? We should be heading to the northern Cascade Mountains and flushing those Sun-be-damned Lynxes from their cowardly dens!” Thaddeus blurted.
Death was on his feet, with such preternatural quickness that Ralina’s sight blurred. The God backhanded Thaddeus, knocking the little man off his feet and against the balustrade, where He stood over him, teeth bared like an animal’s.
“You do not speak to me thus!” Death roared, causing everyone on the platform, and on the forest floor surrounding it, to cringe back in fear. “I am a GOD, you fool! I only played with the idea of a Lynx guide so that I could see what would happen after I infected him and gave him The Cure. I need no guide but my divinity!” Death stomped one cloven hoof so close to Thaddeus’s head that it caught in the Hunter’s hair. In a lower, but no less frightening voice, the God demanded. “Now beg for my forgiveness.”
Thaddeus tried to get to his knees, but Death kept his hair trapped so that he had no choice but to grovel before Him.
“I beg your forgiveness, my Lord,” Thaddeus said.
“Louder—so those below us can hear.”
“I beg your forgiveness, my Lord!” Thaddeus shouted, his every word filled with raw anger.
Death smiled and moved his massive hoof, freeing Thaddeus. Then He offered the man His hand. Slowly, Thaddeus took it, and the God pulled him to his feet.
“I accept your apology—this one time.” Death’s voice filled the forest. “Cross me again and I will end you.” Still smiling, the God returned to His throne. “Now, have a seat and let us listen to the Storyteller. Then you should get to work. We leave in four days for the Plains of the Wind Riders.” Death’s dark gaze found Ralina. “Now, Storyteller. Speak!”
Ralina stood. She had to hold on to the balustrade to keep from falling, and her head was dizzy with hunger and fear, but she drew a deep breath, then strode, tall and proud, to take center stage in front of the God.
Ralina was not afraid. She trusted her abilities, and she had planned for this moment. She knew what Death wanted—flattery and twisted truth. It sickened her, but Ralina was going to give Him what He wanted. She wished she had her beautiful rabbit cloak, and her shift, which had been lovingly decorated by the women of the Tribe with a rainbow of beads and mirrors and shells. But those things, as well as her Tribe, had been destroyed by fire and disease. So, Ralina used the only thing she had left—her voice. She threw back her hair and began, her voice falling into a melodic rhythm that was almost hypnotic.
“My Lord, I title your tale ‘Death Awakened.’ And it begins …
He came like a spring storm; vanquishing all
Mighty—divine—with power beyond words
The forest answered His immortal call.
Magnificent Death was all that they heard.
The City in the Trees stood ’gainst His will
They battled His People for one day long
But His strength won; enemies He did kill
Reapers, Attendants—sang His victory song.
Death is a stag—magnificent and pure
His mantle like the night; endless and dark
Death is a God—our Leader strong and sure
Antlers are His crown; cloven hooves His mark.
A new era begins with our Death God
World! Watch, listen, wait—prepare to be awed!”
Ralina bowed so low to Him that her hair pooled on the platform around her feet. She stood there, bent and unmoving—waiting—her heart beating like ocean waves crashing against the beach.
His clapping was deafening, and immediately echoed by everyone on the platform, as well as those surrounding the tree.
Ralina knew that He stood over her, but she remained submissively bowed until He did as she’d envisioned so many times. Death gently lifted her. His smile was terrible and filled with dark joy.
“You are, indeed, remarkable,” Death said. “Now, go. Break your fast at your leisure. You are right. I will not chance ruining my tale for the novelty of seeing what you and your Shepherd might become together.” Then He planted a burning kiss on her forehead.
Branded by Death, Ralina and Bear left the God’s tree. She did not vomit bile onto the forest floor until they were well out of His presence.
CHAPTER 18
PRESENT DAY—THE TRIBE OF THE TREES
Though they were supposed to leave the forest and cast off on the Channel at dawn of the fifth day, it wasn’t until mid-morning that the ragtag collection of patched boats and hastily built rafts were loaded and ready to enter the water.
Ralina had watched Death’s Reapers and Attendants loading the boats with meat they’d hastily smoked over the past five days—every bit of it tainted—as she and Bear dug through the mud along the Channel bank, uncovering wapato roots and filling basket after basket. She even crossed the rusted bridge to Farm Island, where she dug through the weed-choked fields and harvested early artichokes, baby carrots, potatoes, and beets. After she filled as many baskets as she could, Ralina began foraging for mushrooms.
She had unexpected help from Renard, a young Warrior she’d hardly known before the forest fire. He’d just passed his twenty-first winter, which meant he was almost a decade younger than the Storyteller. So, it wasn’t unusual that Ralina hadn’t been acquainted with him before the tragedy. Men that age tended to worship the beautiful, charismatic Storyteller from afar, but up close could rarely put a complete sentence together—let alone say anything that Ralina might find interesting.
But Renard had behaved differently than the others that fateful night Mari had healed much of the Tribe and then fled with Nik and Fortina, who was at that time Maeve’s pup. He was one of the few Warriors who had listened to Ralina when she encouraged the Tribe not to eat any tainted meat. Renard and his sole surviving family member, his father, Daniel, immediately cut meat out of their diet, though they did it quietly, as Death’s Reapers liked to report back to their God about Tribe members who didn’t sicken. If they were Warriors, it was likely that their meatless stews were “accidentally” tainted, so that they were forced to either accept The Cure or be sickened, rounded up, and herded into the pen—the place where the Tribe went to die.
Renard did neither. He, his father, and Renard’s big black Shepherd, Kong, kept an extremely low profile. They made themselves useful helping the Reapers scavenge supplies from the rubble that the forest fire left, and basically just stayed out of the way of Thaddeus and the men who had taken The Cure and followed him.
Renard and his little family had become so good at avoiding conflict and blending in with the Reapers that it hadn’t been until the day after Death announced that they were going to leave the forest and head to the Plains of the Wind Riders—without a Lynx guide—that Ralina had realized the young Warrior was free of the skin-sloughing sickness. She had literally run into him as she and Bear were heading to the Channel to begin collecting as many roots and vegetables as possible to take on the journey. Renard and his Kong had been ambling along in the shadows, heading into the blackened ruins of the Tribe of the Trees to continue to forage useful
items from the nests. Ralina had been on her hands and knees, digging for morel mushrooms in the pine needles of the forest floor, when Renard had tripped over her.
One look at him had told Ralina that he was dirty, tired, and too thin, but completely uninfected—and from there they had formed an alliance. She did know his father, an adequate carver who specialized in making arrows for crossbows. After she and Renard talked, Ralina formed a plan.
From that day until the mid-morning launch, Renard had helped her collect roots, vegetables, mushrooms, and berries, which they packed away in any kind of travel basket or container they could scavenge. She told his father to carve arrows—a lot of arrows—and then the two of them were to follow her lead, as she was determined to help them.
And that is exactly what they did on launch day.
“Storyteller! Where are you?” Death bellowed.
Ralina had been standing to the side of the crowd of Reapers and Thaddeus and his followers as the boats and rafts had been loaded. She had already chosen her boat—a small craft that she’d found half submerged just off the Farm Island bank when she’d been harvesting crops. Renard and his father had helped her repair it, added two ballasts—one for Bear and one for Kong—and then the two men had silently paddled it across the Channel the night before the planned launch. That morning the three of them had packed it full with their food, the few bits of clothing and pelts that had survived the fire, and Daniel’s carving tools and arrows.
When Death called Ralina’s name, she turned to Renard and Daniel. “Okay, remember, just follow my lead, but try not to say too much. Death’s moods are unpredictable. He changes His mind constantly, but He needs me. All I must do is be sure He knows I need the two of you.”
Renard reached out as if he wanted to touch her shoulder, but he stopped short—still shy and unsure around her. “Don’t put yourself in danger,” Renard said. “Father and I can stay here.”
“Indeed, Ralina,” Daniel said. “We will go north after everyone launches. We can join another Tribe. All will be well.”