by P. C. Cast
“Thaddeus, I would that you come with me and observe.” Death found and met Ralina’s gaze. “You, too, little Storyteller. You will not want to miss this. But bring your young lover. I have come to understand that at times you have rather delicate sensibilities. You may need the bolstering presence of your plaything.” Death turned His back to them and strode toward the opening of the mountain path.
Thinking quickly, Ralina whispered to Daniel, “Hide our boat. Pretend like you’re dragging it over to the group Nik left behind, but use the bushes up there to camouflage it.”
“I will do my best,” said the older man.
Death glanced over His shoulder and frowned at Thaddeus, who was still on the ground, rubbing his throat. “Get up! You aren’t badly wounded. There are times I wish your little canine was still with you—he was a lot stronger. Come! And come now, Storyteller. I am anxious to begin the last leg of our journey.” Death turned and paced away as Ralina nodded to Daniel and then slid her hand within Renard’s. The two of them hastily followed Death, with Bear and Kong pressed against their sides, as her lover’s father, ignored by Reapers and Tribesmen alike, dragged their little boat up the beach.
As she passed Thaddeus, she got a glimpse of the Hunter’s unfiltered expression. He was staring at the God’s back with raw hatred—and Ralina felt a small tickle of hope. Thaddeus would never be her ally, but maybe he could serve as a distraction when she figured out how to defeat the God.
“Come! Hurry! I would begin our trek through the mountains immediately,” Death bellowed back at them.
Thaddeus pushed past Ralina and Renard, bumping Renard purposefully with his shoulder. “Watch out, plaything.”
Renard’s hand tightened within Ralina’s, and his big Shepherd, Kong, bristled, growling low in his throat.
“Ssh, Kong,” Renard whispered to his Companion. “Not today—but someday Thaddeus will get what he deserves.”
“Yes, he will,” Ralina agreed, squeezing Renard’s hand.
The irony was that in a fair fight Thaddeus wouldn’t stand a chance against the younger, stronger Warrior. But Ralina, Renard, and Thaddeus—especially Thaddeus—knew Death would not tolerate an attack on His pet Hunter, not even by Ralina’s lover.
Someday I will take Thaddeus down, and Renard will be there to witness it, Ralina promised herself silently. At her side, Bear looked up at her, whining in eager agreement. Oh, yes, my brave Bear. You will be there to witness it, too.
They climbed and climbed, following the steep rise in the path, and finally caught up to Death after they took a sharp turn to the left and were looking out over the first valley the pass traversed before taking another, sharper, climb up into the mountains.
“Ah, there you are! Thaddeus, do you have a knife with you?” Death asked.
“I do.”
Death extended His hand, and Thaddeus pulled a sharp-edged knife from the sheath at his waist, giving it to him.
“Now, observe well, Storyteller. I would that you create a ballad for this part of my tale. I would like to hear this sung for ages.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Ralina said automatically, though internally she flinched. The Storyteller had realized months before that the God had no understanding that true heroes did not dictate that ballads, poems, and stories be told in their honor. True heroes were celebrated by others more than they celebrated themselves.
Death faced the valley. He cupped His hands around His mouth and bellowed. This call was one Ralina had not heard from Him before. Unlike the bestial roars the God usually sounded, this one seemed gentler, and it rose and fell, reminding Ralina in a strange way of a barking canine. He kept calling and calling, over and over again, until at the very edge of the valley there was movement.
“Ah, she comes!” Death said. He cupped His hands around His mouth again and strode out into the valley.
Thaddeus followed him. Ralina and Renard went to the rise in the path from which Death had made the call, and waited there with a clear view of the valley below.
“It’s a doe,” Ralina said.
Renard nodded. “And it’s coming to Him.”
“I know I can’t, but I want to shout or scream and warn her off,” Ralina said, more to herself than Renard.
“I understand completely. Every night I want to sneak away from this terrible nightmare journey,” he said.
“You should,” Ralina said, though even the thought of not having the comfort of Renard’s arms and the kindness of his father to count on to balance the cruelty of Death and His minions made her feel sick and light-headed with despair. “If I could force Bear to go with you I would send him away to safety.”
Renard turned the Storyteller so that she looked into his eyes. “I would not leave you to face Death alone any more than your Bear would.”
“You should,” Ralina repeated. “Especially now that we’re in the mountains. You, Kong, and your father could slip away at dusk one night. I would cover for you so you could put hours between you and the Hunters that might come after you. I’d tell Death that we quarreled and that I became tired of you. He may not send anyone after you at all. You and Daniel would be free. You could—”
“No,” Renard stopped her words. “We will not leave you. I will not leave you.”
“But we’re heading into a war, and I may never find a way to defeat Death,” Ralina said miserably.
“Then I will stay with you to the end. But I believe in you. You’re closer than anyone to that God. You’ll find His weakness and use it to send Him back to wherever He slept for centuries.”
Ralina stepped into his strong arms, letting Renard comfort her.
“Storyteller!” the God shouted.
Ralina moved out of Renard’s arms instantly.
“You must get closer,” Death commanded from the valley below.
“I hate this. I hate it so much,” said Ralina as they hurried down the path to join Death and Thaddeus in the valley.
“Think of it as information—that’s all,” Renard said. “The more you learn about Death, the more you learn about how to defeat Him. So, whatever new horror He shows you today, do not dwell on the horror itself, but what it teaches you about the God.”
“It’s just information,” Ralina said firmly.
“It’s just information,” Renard repeated like a prayer.
They joined Death and Thaddeus in the middle of the valley as the animal the God had summoned trotted fearlessly up to Him. She was an exquisite doe. Her body was covered with thick, brownish gray fur that lightened as it reached her delicate cloven hooves. Her tail and underbelly were shockingly white. Her eyes were huge and brown, and fixed in a glassy stare as she stretched out her black muzzle to sniff the God, as if He’d cast a spell over her.
“You are quite a beauty,” Death murmured softly to the doe, stroking her forehead gently. “Thank you for coming when I called. I shall not forget your noble sacrifice to your God. When I awaken my Goddess we shall erect a shrine to you and I will command candles to always burn at your feet.”
The doe rubbed her head against the God and He laughed like a child—a sound that had Ralina trembling with fearful anticipation.
Renard held tightly to her hand.
It’s just information … It’s just information … It’s just information …
“Come, sweet one. Give yourself to me,” said the God.
With gentle, guileless eyes fixed and staring at the God, the doe stretched out her neck.
In a movement so swift that Ralina didn’t even have time to startle, Death drew the blade of the knife across the doe’s throat, slicing her from ear to ear. The doe staggered and then fell to her knees. The God dropped to His knees with her, cradling her head in His lap as her blood bathed Him in scarlet. He held her like that until the light began to flicker from her sightless eyes, and as life was extinguished from the doe, the God of Death bent and kissed the doe’s forehead.
“Now, come to me. I command it!”
A white mist immediately swirled from the gaping wound on the doe’s neck. As the river of blood slowed, the mist increased.
Death stood, holding out His arms as if He welcomed a lover.
“I BID YOU COME TO ME!” Death said.
The white mist lifted with the God, and as it coalesced it formed the shape of the doe—only this doe’s eyes weren’t brown and gentle and glassy from the God’s spell. They were empty of any emotion at all, oddly reminding Ralina of the Milks.
“You will guide me through these mountains,” Death commanded the spirit of the sacrificed doe. “You will not let me out of your sight until we reach the plains beyond the mountains and I free you. Then, and only then, shall I allow you to join my Goddess and be reborn.”
Ralina did see an expression in the doe’s eyes then. Just before the doe bowed to Death, her spirit met Ralina’s gaze, and the Storyteller saw despair—utter despair. Then the deer dropped her head and touched her muzzle to the bloody ground at the God’s feet, and Ralina had a jolt of understanding.
Not even Death’s call could keep the doe from showing sadness at being kept from the Goddess. That is something I must remember—something I might be able to use.
Death stretched His arms above His head, sighing dramatically.
“It is so very good to be on dry land again!” He tossed Thaddeus’s bloody knife back to him.
“It is!” Thaddeus said, speaking to Death as if the two of them were equals—friends even. “That was really something you just did. So, this spirit is going to guide us through the mountains?”
Death slowly turned His massive head to stare at Thaddeus. “Did I not just command the doe to do just that?”
“Well, yes.”
“Then do not waste my time with idle questions. Dress the doe. The scent of her blood has made me hungry for venison steaks.” Death glanced around them at the lovely valley. “We will camp here tonight while the Milks repack our supplies. We begin our trek through the mountains tomorrow at first light.”
Ralina turned with Renard to go back to the beach, but Death’s voice stopped her.
“Storyteller, do you realize what day tomorrow is?”
Ralina considered before answering, but each day had bled into another to make weeks that multiplied into months in the unending misery that had become her life, until she had lost all track of time.
“No, my Lord. I’m sorry, but I do not.”
“No matter! I will educate you. Tomorrow the dawn brings the last day of summer. Quite auspicious, don’t you think?”
Only in that this trip has taken too long because of your self-indulgence and your belief that you are indestructible, Ralina thought, but aloud she said, “Yes, my Lord. Very auspicious. I will be sure to note it in your tale.”
“Excellent! And do not leave me, Storyteller. I would that you build a fire while your lover returns to the beach and relays my orders to Iron Fist and then gathers my Attendants. Boy,” he addressed Renard. “Bring my women here quickly. I find that I am ravenous for more than venison.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Renard said. He squeezed Ralina’s hand one more time before jogging back up the trail.
“I hear a stream close by. I will find it and bathe. My Attendants are energetic young women, but they have an odd aversion to blood. Be sure the fire is built by the time I return. I will need to warm myself! And prepare yourself. Tonight while I feast on sweet doe flesh I wish to hear your ‘Tale of Endings and Beginnings’ once more. It has become one of my favorites.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Ralina said, dread filling her. The God had completely ruined that beautiful story with His obsession of hearing her retell it over and over. He particularly liked the parts describing how the world of the ancients destroyed itself.
Death headed across the valley, leaving behind the spirit of the slain doe. She remained motionless by her corpse, her head lowered and her eyes filled with despair as she stared after Death while Thaddeus began dressing her body—spilling guts onto the already blood-soaked ground and then ripping flesh from hide.
Thaddeus ignored the spirit of the doe and Ralina, turning his back on them both. Moving silently, Ralina went to stand in front of the spirit. The ethereal doe lifted her head and looked at the Storyteller.
“I am so sorry,” Ralina whispered to the spirit.
The doe closed her eyes as transparent tears trekked down her misty face, and then, with a jolt, the spirit of the doe staggered after Death before the God left her sight, and Ralina turned and began collecting firewood—all while the Storyteller altered her silent mantra.
It is more than just information and I will use it to stop Him … It is more than just information and I will use it to stop Him … It is more than just information and I will use it to stop Him …
CHAPTER 25
PLAINS OF THE WIND RIDERS—RENDEZVOUS SITE—STALLION RUN
River woke before everyone else the morning of the Stallion Run. Anjo’s eyes began to flutter open, and the mare lifted her head from her spot beside River’s pallet.
“Ssh,” whispered River. “Sleep. I’ll wake you and Ghost when it’s time.”
With a contented sigh, Anjo put her head down. She lay beside Ghost, who was still sleeping soundly. The stallion did not usually spend nights inside River’s tent, but she’d been unwilling to let him out of her sight with the Run looming. Though Anjo assured her he wasn’t nervous at all, Ghost had willingly slept beside Anjo and River.
Not sure what had awakened her, River rearranged her pillows, intending to try to sleep. The lack of any sounds from outside the tent told her that it was before dawn—and the lack of April bursting in and insisting they were going to be late told her it was well before dawn.
“River!”
River sat up in bed, listening intently.
“River!”
Quietly, River tiptoed to the door flap of her tent and peered out into the darkness—and almost accidentally smacked Skye in the face with the flap.
“What are you doing out here?”
“May I come in?” Skye whispered, looking around as if she expected to be followed.
“Well, sure. But keep it down. Anjo and Ghost are sleeping.” River stepped out of the way and Skye followed her quickly inside the tent.
“This will only take a second, and I’m sorry to bother you before the Run, but there’s some things you need to know,” said Skye.
“Then tell me.” River was careful to keep her voice and expression neutral. Since the Mare Test, Skye had stopped the haughty, antagonistic behaviors she’d shown before, but the young woman was still followed around by a cliquish group of girls—most of them April’s age and new Riders. And, of course, she was rarely away from Clayton. River had decided the best way to deal with Skye and Clayton was not to give them the attention they so obviously craved—but the Lead Mare Rider couldn’t help but feel annoyed that Skye, whose life she and Anjo had saved, hadn’t seemed to mature or grow, and was instead still catering to a selfish man and a group of immature girls.
Skye fidgeted nervously. “Do you mind if we sit?”
“I do.” River spoke honestly. “I probably won’t be able to sleep more, but if I’m going to be awake I might as well begin combing out Ghost’s mane and braiding the ribbons into it. So, what is it you need to tell me?”
“I could help you,” Skye said.
River stifled a sigh. Maybe Skye was reaching out to her in friendship—maybe she wanted to change, wanted to be a better mare Rider. River understood it was her responsibility to encourage Skye, even if she’d chosen an inconvenient time.
“Okay, sure. Just wait here while I let Ghost know you’re coming in.”
River went to the far side of the tent, which smelled of horse and the straw bedding that was changed daily. Anjo raised her head, instantly sighting Skye.
Why is she here?
She has to tell me something. Would you wake Ghost and let him know we aren’t alone? Tell him Skye and I are going
to begin dressing his mane. Tell him he doesn’t have to stand—yet.
I will. It will be good for Ghost to rest as long as he can before the race.
I know, silly. Do not worry. Ghost and I will be fine.
Anjo snorted, and then Ghost’s eyes fluttered open. He raised his head and looked from River to Skye, before he rested it along Anjo’s back and closed his eyes again.
“Okay, he knows you’re here. He’s going to keep resting while we braid his mane.” River spoke as she went to her chest and gathered wooden currycombs and purple ribbons, as well as the wide, soft-bristled brush she’d use to groom his golden coat to a lustrous shine. “Here’s an extra comb. Want to start on his tail while I work his mane?”
“Yes. I can do that.” Skye approached the stallion cautiously. “He’s really big this close—bigger even than Bard.”
“Yeah, he’s well over sixteen hands. He’s grown like crazy this past year, and filled out, too.” River sat behind the stallion’s neck while Skye moved to his tail.
“Do you talk to him?” Skye asked.
“Well, yeah. All the time.”
“Does he answer you?”
“You mean with words like Anjo does?” River took a section of Ghost’s silver-white mane and began working the comb gently through the tangles.
“You can hear words from Anjo?”
“Yep. Can’t you hear them from Scout?”
Skye shook her head as she sectioned off part of Ghost’s long, thick tail. “No, she only sends me images.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. That’s the way most horses communicate with their Riders. It’s easier for them to share pictures than it is to share language.”
“Is that what Ghost does with you?” Skye asked.
“No. He listens to me, but we mostly communicate through Anjo. Why do you ask?”
“I wondered if he ever told you why he saved me from that snake last winter,” Skye asked softly.
“He didn’t have to tell me. I know why he saved you. It’s who he is—a stallion made to protect his Herd,” River said.
“Would you thank him for me sometime?”
River met Skye’s gaze. “I think he’d appreciate it if you thanked him yourself.”
