by P. C. Cast
Ralina remembered the odd, pungent scent of rendered fat that had suddenly permeated the air around the circumference of the Tribe of the Trees, as well as the mounds of dry pine boughs that Death had ordered His Reapers to pile along the Channel edge of the Tribal territory. Death wouldn’t speak of what He was doing, which was alarming. The God liked to tell Ralina every tiny thing He was thinking and doing because He’d said He wanted her tale to be true.
So, what was He hiding? Whatever it was couldn’t be good for those being left behind. Ralina’s intuition was telling her to get Renard and Daniel out of the forest—and she was determined to listen to her intuition.
“Storyteller!” Death shouted again.
“Follow me. Quickly.” Ralina hurried to the center of the beach, where Death was directing His Reapers to launch the flotilla of hastily made rafts. She jogged to the God and bowed deeply. “My Lord, I am here.”
“It’s about time. My raft is loading and I would that you join me.” He turned His back to her and began striding toward the largest, and most well made of the rafts, where several of His favorite Attendants already waited aboard.
“My Lord, I have a favor to ask of you.”
Death stopped and turned neatly on His cloven hooves. Ralina saw a sly curiosity in his gaze. His lips tilted up. “I do enjoy granting favors to those who serve me well, and you serve me well, little Storyteller. What favor may I grant you—but keep in mind that a favor granted is a debt acquired.”
Ralina swallowed her fear—met the God’s eyes—and spoke calmly. “I understand that, my Lord. The favor that I ask is that you allow me to travel in my own boat.”
“But you cannot possibly be strong enough to keep up with the rest of us, so that is impossible. Ask me another favor, Storyteller, and I will try to grant it to you.”
“My Lord, I will not be paddling at all. I will be working on your tale, and to do so I need more solitude than I would find on your raft. You understand this, as you already granted me my own nest so that I might create in peace. I asked one of the Warriors, Renard, and his father, Daniel—who is an excellent carver—to repair a small boat and ready it for the trip. They have done so, and agreed to do all of the paddling so that I can be left in peace to write your tale.” Ralina motioned for Renard and his father to step forward, which they did, bowing low.
Death studied them carefully, His eyes quickly finding Kong and Bear where they lay silently behind the three people.
“You may rise,” Death commanded. He cocked His massive head to the side, in a posture Ralina recognized as the God contemplating whether there was any gain to Him in what she proposed. “I do not recognize either of these men.” Death paused and shouted over His shoulder toward the side of the beach, where Thaddeus was loading his men and their Companions into the patched boats. “Thaddeus! Come to me!”
Ralina watched the Hunter sigh and frown, but she knew he would dare not disobey one of Death’s commands—though his expression was sour as he jogged up to the God.
“Yes, my Lord. We are almost all launched.”
Death waved away the Hunter’s words. “Of course you are—it is what I commanded.” Then He pointed at Renard and Daniel. “Do you know these men?”
Thaddeus glanced at them. “Yeah. Renard is a Warrior. And that old man is his father.”
“And are they of use to you?” Death asked, and Ralina’s stomach tightened.
Thaddeus shrugged. “Renard followed me when Wilkes betrayed his Warriors and fled the Tribe. His father is a carver.” Thaddeus spoke as if the two men weren’t standing right there. “Sure, we can always use another carver, but I don’t remember Daniel being particularly good at making crossbows.”
Ralina stepped forward. “Daniel doesn’t make crossbows, my Lord,” she explained. “He makes the arrows they shoot. Show him.”
Daniel stepped before the God, bowed again, and opened the woven mat he’d been carrying, letting a large cache of arrows spill out.
Death’s thick brows lifted as He bent to pick up and inspect an arrow. “This is well done.”
Daniel bowed low again. “Thank you, my Lord.”
“Yeah, that’s great, but he can’t carve a crossbow,” Thaddeus said dismissively.
Death frowned at Thaddeus. “It matters not if we have bows if we do not have arrows to shoot from them.”
“My Lord, forgive me if I speak out of turn, but I can carve crossbows. They will be simple and free of ornament, but they will be serviceable.” Daniel said.
“Then why didn’t you carve them before now?” Thaddeus asked, narrowing his hard gaze at Daniel and Renard, who stood perfectly still, heads bowed.
“Because the Tribe had several Master Carvers and we preferred bows made with beauty as well as function.” Daniel’s voice took on the tone of a teacher schooling a child. “But you know that already, Thaddeus. I do not understand why you would want to disparage my work. I am doing my best for our new Lord, just as you are.”
Thaddeus opened his mouth to spew something vile, but Death cut him off with one raised hand.
“Silence! The carver makes an excellent point. He may join our army.” Death’s attention shifted to Renard. “Warrior, come closer.”
Renard lifted his head and did as the God commanded, stepping up to stand beside his father. Death studied him for a long time before speaking.
“It appears you are not ill. Yet I do not sense that you have accepted The Cure.” Death’s gaze went from Renard to Ralina and his eyes widened with understanding. “Storyteller, have you been sharing your meatless stews with this young Warrior?”
Ralina tossed back her hair and lifted her chin. She called on the best of her acting skills and added a coquettish smile to her façade. “Yes, my Lord, I have.”
“You’re doing what?” Thaddeus sputtered. “You’re interfering with the food my Warriors eat?”
Ralina rounded on Thaddeus. “I wasn’t aware the Warriors were yours. I thought they, like all of us, belong to our God.”
“Well put, Storyteller,” Death said.
“I apologize for my poor choice of words,” Thaddeus said as he scowled at Ralina. “But the Storyteller obviously did interfere with this Warrior’s food.”
“Can you explain that interference, Storyteller?” the God asked.
“Yes, my Lord, easily.” Ralina moved up to stand beside Renard. Seductively, she snaked her arm around his waist. She could feel his body jolt with shock, but when she smiled up into his surprised eyes he relaxed enough to put his arm around her in return. “I have taken Renard as a lover. I find he helps my creativity.” She smiled flirtatiously and then met Death’s gaze. “And I do not want a sick lover.”
“And you didn’t think you needed to ask Death’s permission before you kept a Warrior from choosing The Cure?” Thaddeus said spitefully.
Instead of answering Thaddeus, Ralina ignored him and spoke directly to the God. “No, I did not. Because I knew our God would want me to be at my very best when creating His tale—and this young lover keeps me at my very best.”
Death threw back His head and laughed. “Storyteller, the more I get to know you—the more I find I have in common with you. I, too, am at my best surrounded by young, healthy lovers. I understand your need, though you are only mortal and therefore can only handle one lover at a time.” The God’s gaze slid to Daniel and He lifted one brow questioningly.
It was Ralina’s turn to laugh. “Oh, my Lord, I prefer my lovers much younger. Daniel has remained free of the sickness so that he can keep carving arrows for your army. He and Renard share the same stew, and as they forage for the roots and vegetables together I have found that leaves much more time for me to concentrate on you and your tale.”
Death nodded, His massive antlers throwing bizarre shadows along the beach. “All of this makes sense to me, Storyteller. I grant your favor. Thaddeus, free one of the smaller boats and gift it to Ralina.”
Thaddeus’s face was turning red with a
nger, and Ralina hesitated just long enough before speaking that his anger became obvious to the God.
“Oh, my Lord, that won’t be necessary. Remember that I said I asked Daniel to repair a small boat I found? It is loaded and ready to launch. I wouldn’t want to take anything from one of your Warriors,” Ralina said with syrupy sweetness.
Death laughed again. “You do amuse me, Storyteller.” Then His look darkened. “See that I do not regret granting you this favor.”
“I will not disappoint you, my Lord,” Ralina said.
“Renard, Daniel, you will keep Ralina’s craft near mine at all times. My Storyteller must always have access to her muse.”
The two men bowed deeply as they said, “Yes, my Lord.”
“Thaddeus, you may return to launching my Warriors and Hunters. And you should smile more. Your expression is always so dour,” the God said.
The comment almost made Ralina snort with laughter, which she covered in a cough while Thaddeus bared his teeth in a strange semblance of a smile before he bowed and returned to the men waiting for him down the beach.
Ralina and her small group bowed, too, before hurrying to their boat.
“That was well done.” Daniel spoke softly to Ralina.
“You both played along well,” Ralina responded in kind, glancing at the shy young Warrior she was just getting to know. He met her eyes and smiled—and Ralina was attracted to the kindness in that smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about, well, claiming you as my lover, but I didn’t realize that was what I was going to have to say until the moment it happened.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Renard said. “And I certainly do not mind people believing we’re lovers.”
While Ralina was trying to come up with a reasonable response, Death bellowed from His raft, which was already launched and floating just off the beach in the Channel.
“Hurry, we need to get out there next to his raft before he changes his mind,” Ralina said.
Bear and Kong took their places on the ballasts as Ralina settled in the middle part of the little kayak and Renard and his father launched them into the Channel.
As they paddled to Death’s raft, Ralina looked back at her forest. Standing at the tree line were the Tribe members Death was leaving behind. He’d announced five days earlier that only those who took The Cure, and who had something to add to his army, could join Him—effectively deserting any of His People who were ill, as well as the Tribe’s old people and children, who had survived so much. They stood there, silently, watching friends and family leave them. Ralina could see that many of them were weeping, sick with disease and fear and loss. It broke her heart, but she’d spoken to as many as would listen to her, for even a moment, and told them to get north—go to another Tribe—leave the poisoned forest.
Few listened to her. And even fewer refrained from eating meat and were still healthy, but if only a dozen or so made their way out of the diseased forest, the Tribe lived and perhaps someday Ralina could find her way back to them.
She wiped tears from her eyes and bit her lip to keep from sobbing aloud.
“My People! My army! Today we begin an adventure that will give us the world!” Death shouted. He stood in the middle of His raft, surrounded by the youngest, most attractive of His Attendants. At the oars were a dozen Reapers. Their bodies boarlike, they hunched over the oars, massive muscles preparing to follow their God’s command. Death raised His arm, which held a strange-looking spear. The end of it wasn’t tipped in flint, ready to kill, but wrapped in a rag that looked wet. “But to properly begin anew, we must rid ourselves of the old.” Death dipped the cloth into a brazier that stood on metal legs in the center of the raft. When He raised it again it was on fire.
Ralina opened her mouth to shout a warning, but her voice wouldn’t work. Later she realized that even had she been able to speak it would have been too late. Death had planned too well.
He threw the spear. It sailed above their heads and over the beach to embed itself in a pile of dry pine boughs that formed a semicircular pile of rubbish at the tree line. With an ominous whoosh, it lit and spread.
And Ralina realized why the forest had smelled like rancid lard. Death’s Reapers had poured rendered animal fat all around the Tribe so that everything—blackened trees, half-destroyed nests, piles of dried pine boughs and forest debris they’d gathered and arranged carefully to circle the people—everything caught fire.
Death’s voice carried over the sounds of the screaming Tribe.
“Ah, but every happy tale ends in death—it is natural. And where there is death, there is also a new beginning. Let us be off!”
Renard and Daniel paddled with their backs to the Tribe. Their expressions were mirror images—blank with shock as silent tears cascaded down their faces, making them appear as if they were past and future versions of the same person. Bear and Kong whimpered and dropped their heads, turning away from the horrors behind them.
Ralina wouldn’t let herself turn away. She stared. She watched it all. Everything. Every unspeakable horror. Until they were far enough down the Channel that she could see no more, and even then the Storyteller kept staring at the cloud of black smoke that lifted from the pyre of the Tribe of the Trees. She had to. She was recording everything.
I will survive. I will tell this story—the true story—so that everyone will know what happened here.
Finally, when the smoke cloud was no longer in view, Ralina bowed her head and sobbed.
THE PACK—LOST LAKE
It wasn’t until mid-morning on the fifth day that they reached anything resembling land. Antreas had said that the first set of islands they would encounter were called the Payettes, and that they—like the rest of the “islands” they’d pass as they crossed Lost Lake—weren’t really islands at all. Before the huge lake had been formed they’d been a mountain range.
Mari found that easy to believe. What jutted out of the seemingly endless lake looked nothing like an island, but instead it appeared that shards of earth had pushed up out of the lake—almost like teeth.
“I was looking forward to getting a chance to walk on dry land again—even if it was just for a little while,” Mari told Nik as she eyed the Payettes in the distance. “But how do we even beach the boats? Maybe we’re too far away still, but those islands don’t look very hospitable.”
“They aren’t,” Antreas said as he and Danita expertly paddled close to Nik and Mari’s little boat. “Everyone circle up!”
Maneuvering their boats with much more skill than when they’d begun their journey, the Pack quickly circled around Antreas.
“I’d still rather be going to the island,” Antreas began by saying.
“But you understand why we outvoted you,” Mari said.
Antreas sighed. “I do. And you’re right. If something happens to me you have no guide. It is that dangerous, though. You know, we have enough supplies. We could pass by these islands. There will be another grouping in a few more days.”
“You said there are wild potatoes and blackberries growing there right now, correct?” Sora asked from the boat she shared with Sheena, Rose, and O’Bryan.
“There are,” Antreas admitted.
“You also said as long as we’re careful everything should be fine,” Mari said.
“I did say that.”
“Which is why Wilkes and I are going to accompany Jenna, Spencer, and Mason,” Nik said. “We’re not going to let the Mouths get any of our people.”
“Or yourselves,” Mari added.
Nik touched her cheek. “Or ourselves.”
“Okay, I don’t like that you’re going into danger, but I do agree with Sora—fresh food that is not fish will be excellent for morale and our stomachs. So let’s go over this once more, and then let’s all be careful,” Mari said.
Nik began. “Wilkes and I are going to temporarily trade boats with Antreas and Danita. They don’t have any ballasts as Bast stays in the boat with them—and our
canines are going to wait with the Pack.” Laru grumbled low in his chest, voicing his displeasure. “Hey, big guy, it’s going to be fine—but it won’t be if I have to worry about a monster fish snagging you with its tentacles and pulling you under.” Laru sneezed in disgust and grumbled some more, causing the Pack to smile.
“And because Spencer and I are the fastest berry pickers, we’ll go straight to the area Antreas described as holding the blackberry brambles,” Jenna said as she and Spencer held up several big baskets.
“And I’m going to dig potatoes,” Mason said. “I’m good at it, and fast.”
“The potatoes are up and to the left of the blackberries,” Antreas reminded him.
Mason nodded. “Don’t worry. I’m a big fan of new potatoes. I could spot them with my eyes closed—well, almost.”
“While you’re harvesting, Nik and Wilkes will wait in the boat—that will be the quickest and easiest way to get out of there when you’re done,” Antreas said. “Lynx guides built something resembling a dock many years ago, for that purpose.”
“But Monkeys like to use the dock to sun themselves,” Sora said.
“And Mouths like to hang around under it,” Mari added.
“Exactly,” Antreas said.
Almost as if Antreas had invoked them by saying their names, a scream split the morning air, causing the whole Pack to startle.
“That’s one of them, isn’t it?” Mari said.
“It is. Monkeys have excellent eyesight—almost as good as Bast’s.” From her place in the boat, Bast hissed.
Danita ruffled the big feline’s fur and laughed. “He said almost.”
“They’ll be on the dock as you approach, and they’re smart, which is why I want you to shoot an arrow over their heads as you paddle up,” Antreas said. “They’ve had enough run-ins with humans to know that arrows can kill them.”
“And we’ll take our slingshots with us,” Spencer said, holding up hers while Mason and Jenna nodded.
“As I said before, Monkeys don’t usually attack humans on land. They’re small, and out of the water they’re slow. Plus, they’re cowards. And the reason there will still be blackberries and potatoes for you to harvest is because Monkeys move awkwardly on land—so awkwardly that they’re easy prey to one of the main predators on the island.”
