by Meg Caddy
‘Good enough,’ Lycaea said. ‘Lead. Derry, move.’
‘Lass?’
We all turned. Dodge and Moth met, almost knocked one another to the ground. They fused closer than a soul-bond, neither of them able to speak. Moth buried her face in his shoulder, hands clenched about his shirt. Dodge shuddered and managed to whisper something in her ear. She nodded.
My heart stuttered. Wild hope. If Dodge was alive, my family might be. Kemp. I wanted to wrap him in my arms, rough with him, listen to his constant questions. ‘Dodge?’
He looked at me. He closed his eyes and lowered his head.
‘I was out at the well,’ he said in a hoarse whisper. ‘I’m sorry. I didna see anyone get out. The soldiers barred the door. I tried. I tried, lad.’
My body folded in on itself.
‘We need to go.’
Lycaea. Unshaken. Driven. I managed to lift my head. Her eyes were fixed on me. I almost hated her.
‘Wake up, Sencha,’ she said. ‘We. Need. To. Go. Show us the way.’
‘Give the lad a chance to breathe, Lycaea,’ Dodge said.
‘Why? Leldh’s men won’t.’
‘Give him a moment!’ Moth held Dodge’s hand tight.
‘No.’ I straightened. Breathed. Acrid smoke stung my eyes, and tears streaked my cheeks. ‘No. She is right. We need to go.’ Pain knotted my chest and made speech painful. I managed. ‘The caves.’
Moth reached out for my arm, but I moved away from her. Comfort would have shattered me.
We stole through the Valley. When the Valley was first settled, before the houses and barns were built, our people had sheltered in the caves. Now, so many years later, they were obscured by trees and vines. They were a perfect place to hide. I had loved them as a boy, all the children did. Kemp loved them. Had loved them.
We heard screams as we went through the forest. From the incline leading to the caves I could see amber lights springing up through the Valley. Other houses destroyed. Other people murdered.
We were slow, painfully slow. Every few paces, we found ourselves ducking into shadows and behind trees. Sometimes waer passed us by, white-eyed with fright or agony. No one stopped. I stumbled over a body. A body. I did not stop to identify the corpse. I felt nothing.
Finally, we pushed through trees to the entrance of the caves. I cleared the vines and squeezed through the narrow mouth of a cave. I moved away from the others, as far as I could, and sat. Grief ran along my spine and forced my head into my hands. Sorrow was a tide, and I was just a stone in its path.
Lycaea
My stupidity had killed the family that sheltered me. I should have left as soon as I could walk. Fool. Complacent fool. A child, a little boy. And the Sencha parents, killed because of my cowardice.
I tried not to look at Lowell Sencha. His world was gone. He sat hunched at the edge of the cave, still and silent. His face was grey. He had stopped crying, but only for the moment. The grief would hit him in waves, seemingly endless, until he was smoothed by them and could be worn no more.
I sat. My head spun and nausea held me fast. The sickness was better than the fear, though. I had been this sick before, but I had never been this afraid. Leldh would follow. He would destroy everything between us, until I was back in Caerwyn.
I had to go back to Caerwyn. To Leldh. And Kaebha.
But not alone. Not this time. This time, I would go back armed. And with an army.
First, I had to go to Luthan.
We were safe for now, while the soldiers went on their rampage. They were always undisciplined on the first night of a hunt. They just went through destroying, and burning, and enjoying it, until the grey hours of day. Then, they would search properly. Round up survivors and bring them back to Leldh. Interrogate people. Someone would let loose about the caves, if they were well-known to the Valley people. I had to leave before then. I knew they needed time to grieve, but if they did not come with me now, I would go on my own.
I leaned my aching head back against the cool stone wall. Luthan. At least it was a direction.
While Moth and Dodge talked, I crouched by Lowell. I had caused the death of his family, indirectly. I had to face it, and him. I waited until he met my gaze. His eyes were hollow. I would not let myself look away.
‘They did not deserve to die,’ I said. ‘You all deserved better. I’m sorry we were too late. I’m sorry the soldiers followed me here. I should have left sooner.’
‘Why?’ He was not asking me why I should have left, or why I was sorry, or why he deserved better. It was the ‘why’ of a child, struggling to comprehend, for the first time, the unfairness of things. I had no answer for him. It was the nature of life to devour the living. Time eats all bones.
Lowell dropped his head again, weighed down by grief.
‘What now?’ Moth and Dodge sat close. They had not released hands since finding one another again.
‘Luthan,’ I said. ‘We’ll need to leave soon. Before the soldiers can learn of these caves.’
Lowell’s head jerked. Bewildered eyes. Swallowing confusion. I forced myself not to see.
‘That’s a long way to go, lass.’
‘Yes. We will need to get supplies from the soldiers.’
Moth dragged a hand through her hair. ‘A flawed plan to say the least.’ She spoke softly. ‘Lowell needs…he needs rest. You are still not recovered from your injuries.’
‘We can hunt in the mountains.’ Lowell cut into our conversation, surprising me. ‘Hares, mountain-goats. The elements would be our real enemy.’
‘The chipre-folk will have moved on by now,’ Moth added. ‘Otherwise they would help us.’
‘So we need clothes and rope.’
Moth hesitated, then nodded. ‘And tinder and flint.’
‘Good. What else?’
‘Weapons.’ Dodge grimaced when we stared at him. ‘Aye, sure, most of us can scarce use them. But you can, Lycaea, and we can learn. If you can get weapons, do so.’
‘When?’ Moth asked.
‘Before dawn. They’ll be drunk and glutted of their killing, and they’ll be lazy for a few hours.’
‘Are you certain?’
‘I’ve seen it before.’ Flat, tired sentences from all of us. The terror was gone. Replaced, for the moment, by resignation. The worst had happened, but we had survived. We had to keep surviving.
‘Just before dawn, then,’ Moth agreed. She touched Dodge’s shoulder. ‘We should sleep in shifts. Lycaea, you should sleep first. And you two, Dodge, Lowell, you need to rest. I can take the first watch.’
As soon as she spoke the words, my limbs and eyes became heavy. Lowell’s shoulders slumped. He lay on his side and closed his eyes. I knew what Moth was doing; so did Dodge, but he did not fight it. He kissed her cheek and leaned against the wall to sleep. I glared at Moth, accusing, barely able to focus on her as my eyelids threatened to close.
‘I know,’ Moth whispered. ‘But you do need to rest, dear. I’ll wake you when the time comes.’
I fell into the arms of sleep. At least I did not dream.
Moth touched my shoulder to rouse me. She was gentle, but I jerked awake and almost struck her. She was prepared for it; her arms were around her face before I even moved.
‘It’s just me,’ she whispered when no blow fell. ‘It’s time to go, Lycaea.’
I breathed out. My body was stiff and sore. I climbed to my feet, having to stoop for the roof of the cave.
‘I’ll be back,’ I said. ‘Probably. If not, take Sencha and Dodge to Luthan. Tell Hemanlok he owes me Leldh’s death.’ Always a risky move, to tell Hemanlok he owed you something. But if I died, at least I could stir him after my last breath was drawn. And if they captured me and I did not die, at least there was a chance someone would come for me this time.
This time.
Rage warmed my belly. It was the greatest weapon I had. It smothered fear.
I pushed aside a curtain of leaves. It was dark outside, but my sight was better
than a human’s. There were small benefits to being a waer. Heightened sense of smell. Better night-vision. Better instincts. I knew, also, that with the Shift came regeneration of the body, and healing of certain wounds. I could not bring myself to do it, though. I did not know what I dreaded more: Shifting, or being apprehended by Leldh’s men. Both brought insurmountable pain, and a loss of control.
Lowell, in his wolf shape again, trotted towards me. He regarded me with steady, sad eyes.
‘No,’ I whispered. ‘Go back, Sencha. You’ll hinder me.’
He shook his head and slunk past. I could understand it, in a way. The need to do something, to not sit around and wait for pain. At least his colouring was dark; I almost lost him in the shadows. I considered arguing with him further, but there was no time. I left the mouth of the cave, followed him through the trees. I could smell blood now, and burnt flesh. Soldiers nearby. More fires. Metal. Lowell and I went with soft movements. His head was low, but there was control and focus in his walk.
‘Stay with me,’ I muttered to him. ‘No running off on half-sung death-bids.’
His tail swayed in acknowledgement, but it was hard to know how much he registered. I rolled my shoulders back and closed my eyes as we came to a stop in the shadow of a tree. I could hear soldiers now, and when I glanced around the tree I could see three of them ahead in a clearing. Three lounged on the ground, sleeping. Two on guard. Manageable.
When I looked closely, I could see other figures there as well; bound and huddled on the ground. Waer prisoners. I lowered into a crouch and put a hand on Lowell’s shoulder. I hated the touch of the rough fur, but I needed his attention on me.
‘Do you see the prisoners?’ I breathed. I felt his muscles tense under my hand. His hackles lifted. Anger. Good. ‘I want you to get them loose. Any way you can. We kill the guards, we free the prisoners, and then we run for the caves.’
A quiet growl of assent. I stood. I did not give myself time to think it through. I walked forwards, stayed away from the light of the fire. I saw the prisoners move, scenting one of their own. One of the soldiers kicked at them.
Lowell surged forwards. He was silent, but impossibly fast. I jerked into movement. A soldier jumped to his feet and I slammed my elbow into his belly. He bent double and I grabbed his head, smashed it against my knee. His face was broken. He did not have time to hit the ground before I drew the sword from his belt. A thrust, and he bled. I turned in time to catch another soldier as he swung his blade at me. Metal clashed. I darted to the side and swung down, releasing his weapon. He stepped in and I reached around. The blade gleamed red in the light of the fire. The stench of blood. I sliced the back of his knees. He screamed as I cut him down.
Howls. Dark shapes darted through the clearing. One of the three remaining soldiers stuck a wolf with a sword and Lowell fell upon him before he could draw his blade from the corpse. Snarls and rips. The man screamed, gurgled.
Two more. One went for Lowell. Blood beat honour down. I stabbed the man in the back. The last soldier ran. Lowell started after him, but I held my blade in front of the wolf and would not let him pass. No time for a hunt. Survivors first.
‘Done,’ I snapped. ‘Free the waer, then head for the caves.’ Lowell went to the remaining waer, used his strong teeth to loose their bonds. They gave him no thanks. They pelted into the shadows. I looted the bodies. Warm clothes, tinder and flint, swords and a knife. A water-skin. A lucky afterthought; we would have struggled without one. I sheathed the sword I had taken. I would clean it later.
‘Move,’ I said to Lowell. He stank of blood and sweat. His first kill. His tail was between his legs, ears pressed flat against his head. His eyes were whited with panic. Nausea rose in my gut, but I choked it back. My head ached. My body wanted to fall into another shape. Growls bit the inside of my throat. I straightened, gritted my teeth. Lowell was immobile. ‘Move,’ I urged. When he stared at me, bewildered and unhappy, I shoved him forwards. One paw set in front of the other, and finally he broke into a run. I struggled to keep up. My head swam. As we skidded to a stop in front of the cave, I bent and retched. Not because of the violence. I had not baulked at a fight since I was a child. It was the movement. My head.
Lowell skulked past me. I let him go in. He had much to absorb. It would probably take our whole journey to Luthan for him to understand what had happened that night. If we survived.
When I was composed, I joined him, Moth, and Dodge in the cave. Lowell was pulling on his shirt. When he was done, Moth wrapped her arms about him. He dropped his head onto her shoulder.
‘Bundle up,’ I said, handing some of the clothes to Dodge. ‘Time to go.’ All I wanted to do was lie down and sleep, but one soldier had escaped, and he would tell others. ‘There was a witness. Couldn’t be helped.’
A hiss from Lowell. I looked at him, realised he felt horror at the takings.
‘You looted the bodies.’ His voice was hollow.
‘That was the point,’ I reminded him. I tried to gentle my voice. ‘You and I both killed tonight, Wolf. But so did they. Let’s not get sentimental.’ I drew the sword and cleaned it.
‘Did you get the tinder and flint?’
I tossed them to Moth. She tucked them into the pocket of her yellow frock. Yellow, of all colours. I tossed her the black cloak I had retrieved from the man Lowell killed.
‘Put that on,’ I told her. As she did, I turned to Lowell. There was bruised flesh around his eyes. He seemed old, and impossibly young.
I crossed the distance between us and held a hand out to him. ‘Stand,’ I said. ‘Dawn will be on us soon, and we need to be well into the mountains before they start searching.’
He recoiled from my hand and stood on his own. He walked past, and the hot sting of humiliation crawled over my skin. I set my teeth. He could blame me if he wanted. I was not concerned with his approval.
Kaebha
The soldiers lined the yard, their spears held in salute. They were clad in crimson and black, their faces shadowed by helmets. The soldiers were straight-backed. Their chins were lifted and although their eyes stung from the dust picked up by the late autumn, they kept their gazes ahead.
Daeman moved past them. He stopped in front of Cooper. The man hailed from Pelladan, the grey island off the eastern coast. He was handsome, with fine blond hair and blue eyes. Like all Pellish men, he had been drafted into the navy at the age of fourteen and he had climbed his way through the ranks with brutal ambition. When he could climb no higher he came to the Mainland, and Leldh had found him.
Then Leldh had found Kaebha, the newest addition to his coterie.
The door to the chamber at the end of the yard swung open and the prisoners were brought out one by one. Soldiers bent to shackle each prisoner to the iron bar that ran across the stretch of land. The prisoners were cowed and silent, cringing away from each contact. Daeman halted a soldier before the prisoner could be chained. He took the prisoner by the arm and hauled him over to Kaebha, tossing him at her feet. Kaebha’s eyes flicked downwards and then ahead once more. Daeman chuckled.
‘You obey my every order, do you not, Kaebha?’ he asked.
‘I live to serve.’ She was built like an acrobat, but she stood like a soldier, and Daeman knew she would obey like one.
‘And this waer?’
‘My will is yours.’
‘And if I order you to beat the wretch to death?’
Kaebha paid the man’s sobs no heed, her attention now focused on Daeman. She gave a tiny bow and Daeman’s eyes, the same golden sheen as his hair, lit.
‘Proceed,’ he said and stood back. Kaebha stepped forwards and lowered her spear, her eyes on her victim. She paced around him. He braced his hands on the ground, trying to push himself up, and Kaebha swung her spear in a swift arc over his head, bringing it down upon his back. The man cried out and collapsed to the ground, huddling into a ball. Kaebha struck him again, her movements precise. The other soldiers gave way to muttering, and then to jeers. Kae
bha grabbed the front of the man’s shirt and jerked him to his feet.
‘This is a better death than you deserve.’
The man gibbered in fear. Kaebha felt mild disgust, but little else. She proceeded to hit the man with precise, brutal strokes until he fell once more. His cries became whimpers, and his whimpers became silence.
Kaebha stepped back. It was her first kill. She turned her eyes to Leldh. His golden eyes flashed, and he inclined his head. She had pleased him.
Lowell
You and I both killed tonight, Wolf. Let’s not get sentimental. Lycaea’s words condemned me. In the night, I had lost my family and my honour. When she offered her hand, I could not bring myself to accept it. I could not look at her.
Moth found rosemary just outside the caves and returned with bundles of it. I burned a sprig, cupped the ashes in my calms. Moth poured the water into my hands and I drank. It was a poor excuse for the Dawn Worship, but it was all I had. The rest of the rosemary I gathered into the bag Lycaea had snatched. My movements were sluggish. I had run out of tears, and grief lodged in my belly, cool and hard. The rituals of the Dawn Worship brought no comfort. They made me think of my parents, and Kemp, and all the mornings I had dreaded going with them to the worship-house. Thankless fool.
Shame followed me through the mountain-pass and, as we ascended, along the precarious mountain ledges. To distract myself, I watched Lycaea step up rocks and crags. She used the small trees and bushes to hoist herself up, grabbing them low so they would take her weight. I could smell sweat and blood on her. Her eyes were set ahead. I tried to follow her course, but it was not long before I held a branch too long and it snapped. I stumbled, sending rocks skittering downwards. I choked down a shout as I fought to find another grip. When none came to hand I closed my eyes.
Long fingers wrapped about my arm and hauled me onto a safe ledge. I wavered a moment before finding my balance.
‘Keep your eyes open,’ Lycaea said. ‘We are all tired, but if you do not focus you will fall.’ I leaned against the cliff face, shaking my head.
