“My keepers. Those people who were with me weren’t my keepers, Nehri. They are my friends.”
“The friends of the malthropes are few and rare, Ivy. Are you certain they had not fooled you?”
“They rescued me. They gave me a family again. They aren’t my keepers.”
A figure darkened the doorway. Ivy and Nehri turned.
“Ah,” said Nehri. “Thank you for coming so quickly, Reyce. Our new friend has awakened, and she was insistent she be allowed to see you again.”
Ivy stared intently at the malthrope called Reyce. He stood at least her height, perhaps a bit taller. Compared to most of the other malthropes she’d seen, he was practically a giant. His clothes were more travel-worn than the others’ and hung from his wiry frame as though they were handed down from someone with a far stouter build. He looked upon Ivy as he seemed to look upon all things, with intensity and purpose. Everything, from the color of his fur to the way he stood, cut straight to the core of Ivy’s memories.
“Lain…” she whispered.
“My name is Reyce,” he said.
“You look just like Lain. You sound just like Lain.”
“I know no one by that name.” Reyce turned to his sister. “Are we certain her mind has recovered? It took more of the sacred magics to quell her than anyone we’ve faced before.”
“She is recovering. She has her appetite back, at least,” Nehri said.
Ivy tried to gather her thoughts. “My friend, Lain. I thought he was the only other malthrope left, and he thought the same of me. You look so much like him, it can’t be a coincidence.” Her eyes darted about. “The mark…”
She tugged at the neck of her tunic to reveal the dark shape of the mark of the Chosen against the white fur above her heart. Nehri studied the mark.
“Reyce… when Sorrel spoke of Teyn, she claimed he had a mark just over his heart as well. And histories claim he had no true name.”
“Yes!” Ivy said. “Lain said he didn’t have a name! That was just… a title or something. Do you know him?”
“We know of Teyn,” Reyce said. “Father of Reyna and Wren. Mate of Sorrel. He has an honored place in our history. One of our ancestors.”
“He was my friend! He… he had a family?… You’re his family?”
Whorls of yellow aura flicked and flared around Ivy. She struggled to form more words, but when they did not come, she burst from the bed and threw her arms around Reyce in a tight hug. “I’m so happy to get to meet you. I’m so, so happy!”
Reyce returned the embrace, then gently placed a hand on her shoulder and eased her back to the bed.
“We are pleased to have you among us, Ivy, but there is much to be done,” he remarked, shaking his hand as if he’d been stung. “Nehri, outside for a moment.”
“Don’t go,” Ivy said. “I have so much to say to you! To tell you.”
“We shall speak again, Ivy. This evening. And Nehri shall return and remain with you as long as you wish. But the safety of my people is my burden, and one that takes precedent above all else.”
He motioned for Nehri, and the pair stepped outside. Ivy tried to ease her racing emotions and focus on what they were saying. Her mind was awash with the whirlwind of revelations, but she’d learned a great deal in her many adventures. These people were her people. She felt it in her heart. But they had also taken her. They’d used magic that had the stain of darkness about it. And they were almost certainly the creatures responsible for the stories of the Aluall. She couldn’t allow herself to be blind to the threat they may present. She had come to North Crescent with a job to do.
She angled her ears and trained her eyes on Nehri and Reyce, straining to hear them as they spoke beneath their breath. It was no use, though. Whatever language Notta had spoken seemed to be their native tongue. She couldn’t understand a word of it… but their tone and Reyce’s body language spoke volumes. They were as uncertain of her as she was of them.
#
“A new cousin, Reyce! A sister, a new daughter. After so long! And she speaks of Teyn,” Nehri said.
“Nehri, be calm. It is perhaps a gift from our blessed benefactors and patrons. A time of great turmoil awaits us, and we shall require every able body and sharp mind if we are to succeed. But she came from the south. She was among strangers. Warriors with dragons. Outsiders behaving precisely as Boviss said the elves would when they chose to act. The timing is worrisome.” He rubbed his hand and glanced in Ivy’s direction. “And she is no simple malthrope. There is more to her, and more to her keepers.”
“Reyce, there are so few beings in this world we can rely upon. So few beings that do not mean us harm. We cannot afford to look upon our own kind with distrust.”
“I know it, Nehri. And I wish with the core of my heart for it to be true that she is simply a lost sister finally brought home by fate. But we cannot afford to lower our guard now. Our greatest trial is only weeks away. She has power, Nehri. It could mean everything for us if she would fight by our side. But she also comes from the outside. We must be vigilant of the wiles of our foes. See to her. I shall return by nightfall.”
“Where are you going?”
“I must see Boviss. This is a matter that requires his counsel.”
Nehri narrowed her eyes. “If that is your aim, then I shall save you the journey. Boviss knows only blood. And since he’s earned your ear, it seems you share his thirst for it.”
“Nehri, I do not relish war. But the first lesson he taught us, the first lesson Sorrel taught us, was that we cannot always cower in the darkness. Sometimes we must fight if we wish to survive.”
She lowered her head. “Yes, I know. But as the priestess, every wound is mine to bind.”
He smiled. “You have a soft heart, and strong instincts. I cannot imagine better qualities for our priestess. If one of us must be sullied by dark deeds, let it be me. See to Ivy. Learn all you can. And perhaps more importantly, tell her all she needs to know. She is one of us. She deserves to know our history. But until we know she will share our cause, she need not know there is a cause at all.”
He paused, as if the next words stung him even before he spoke them. “And keep crystals at hand… If she turns against us… you may need to forget your mercy.”
#
Ivy finished the food and drink she’d been given while the creatures who were either her hosts or captors completed their spirited discussion. The first malthrope she’d met, Notta, slipped inside to collect the bones and the emptied water skin. Despite the increasing concern and agitation she felt over the circumstances of her arrival here, the wonder of being among creatures like her and the gratitude of their hospitality compelled Ivy to behave herself and show the proper manners.
“Thank you very much,” Ivy said. “I haven’t had a nice raw meal like that in quite some time. I’d forgotten how lovely it can be.”
Notta nodded. “Welcome.”
The word was stilted and accented, delivered with the sort of tone reserved for words one had been told to say rather than words truly understood. Notta ducked out the door quickly, perhaps hoping to avoid having to muddle her way through any conversation with a potentially nonexistent knowledge of the language. She nearly bumped into Nehri, who was on her way back in.
“I apologize. You will have to excuse my brother,” Nehri said. “We have not been having an easy time of it, here in Den. As the chieftain, his task is to provide for us. Between attacks from the beasts of the wild and the poor hunting we’ve had in recent seasons, he’s been stretched quite thin.”
“It sort of reminds me even more of Lain… or Teyn, I guess, to hear harshness in his voice. And probably for the same reasons. Lain had a heavy weight on his shoulders,” Ivy said. “You don’t need to apologize. Not for that…”
Nehri lowered her head. “But you are owed an apology. You were brought here against your will.”
Ivy crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “Yes, I was. And I’m frankly amazed my friends
haven’t already come to rescue me.”
“Those who were with you will not find you here, Ivy.”
“You don’t know my friends.”
“It does not matter. Den would not exist if it had not remained hidden for the generations since it was formed.”
“Then let me go to them.”
Nehri folded her hands and sat beside Ivy. “Den also would not exist if we allowed people, even our people, to leave without being sure they could be trusted.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Then I am a prisoner.”
“No! Please, Ivy, you must understand. You are perfectly free to explore Den and learn about us. And when we can be sure it will not endanger us, you shall be free to leave if you choose. But four hundred lives depend upon me. I will not bend the rules if it means they may come to harm. Are you strong enough to walk?”
“I think so.”
Nehri took her hand. “Then come. Let me show you Den and tell you our story. Perhaps then you will understand.”
The malthrope priestess helped Ivy to her feet and pulled her arm across her shoulders. They walked out into the village. As had happened in so many other places, all eyes turned to her. But here it was different. In these eyes, she saw excitement. The curiosity was genuine, untempered by fear. All kept their distance, but it was out of courtesy to the newcomer and reverence for their priestess.
Nehri gestured to the community around her. “You spoke earlier of believing there were no other malthropes but you and Teyn. It may well be true in the place you call home, as it was nearly true of North Crescent in the years before Den. First, we learned not to travel south of the isthmus. The elves would strike us down on sight. Then we learned we mustn’t travel to the mountains. The dwarfs lurked there, and the dragons. That left only two places we might find sanctuary from those who would see us dead: the desert and the forests.
“There are reasons so few things like elves and dwarfs come to North Crescent. It is a dangerous place. Vicious beasts. Harsh weather. Even with the many gifts of our race, we lacked the strength to thrive. In time, there were but two tribes of us who remained. Those of the desert, like Hana, our best seamstress…”
She gestured to a female of the smaller tan-colored variety of malthropes. Hana offered a bow and a smile before returning to her conversation with one of the taller, red-furred variety.
“… and those of the forest, like myself and Reyce. We live in harmony and fellowship now. But there was a time when each would have counted the other as just as terrible an enemy as the elves or dwarfs. And we owe that enmity to a single terrible foe. A dragon called Boviss. He could have wiped out both tribes with a few breaths, but he saw in us an opportunity. He desired two things above all, the same things that drive all dragons. The first was gold, enough to bury him. The second was meat, enough to fill him to bursting. Our people were clever. We were hard workers, good hunters, and when the circumstances demanded it, skillful thieves. We could go places that even he would find troublesome. So he did not kill us. He came to us and demanded his needs be met. At every full moon we would give him gold and meat. Each of us would offer him some, and those who didn’t have enough would simply be part of his next meal.
“There was a grim genius to his cruel demands, as those of the forest had meat enough to satisfy him, but little gold. The desert had precious little game, but there were rich veins of precious metals. If we were truly wise, we would have worked together from the beginning, but in our fear for our lives and our desperation, we believed the only way we could survive was by taking what we lacked from the rival tribe. And so it continued for ages. The desert tribe poaching from the forest tribe. The forest tribe stealing gold from the desert tribe. We claimed as many of each other’s lives as the land or the dragon did.
“But then came a vixen named Sorrel. She was the mother of twins, Reyna and Wren. Like you, she came from across the sea. She sought only a safe place to raise her young. She feared the land she’d left behind would soon kill off what few of her kind survived, so when she found our tribes, she was overjoyed. The tales of her deeds could fill a hundred nights, but two deeds tower above the others. Through her actions and those of her young, the tribes were united. And through that union, Boviss was defeated. We spared his life, because no creature who had taken so much from us should be allowed to rest until he had repaid it. So we put him to use. We used him to push back the others who would kill us in this land.”
As she spoke, the journey had taken them to the center of the village, where the one stone building stood. Unlike the simple homes dug into the earth, this one stood tall and proud. It was a monument, a round building easily thirty feet high. The door was a pair of massive, ancient gray slabs of wood. The left one bore a carving of a vixen, presumably Sorrel. The right had another fox and vixen, her young. All around the village center, malthropes were working, talking, laughing.
“The tribes sent their strongest and best to build a village—Den.” She placed her hand on the cool stone of the monument and lowered her head, uttering a few arcane-sounding words with the reverence of prayer. “This is not the first Den. Time and the whims of nature have required that we move it from that first site. But always we have moved with it, kept together. Kept united. Until you arrived, we believed every malthrope that remained lived within sight of this tower, protected by its enchantments. And now that you are here… I believe it is true.”
Ivy gazed at the bustling village around her. It was almost too beautiful to be true. Families of creatures like her, working and playing out in the open without the hunted expressions or fear of being found out that had plagued her prior to the Battle of Verril. These precious beings, creatures she’d believed were lost… Ivy fully understood the lengths one would go to in order to maintain this safe haven for them. But some actions, however justifiable they may seem, have consequences.
“Nehri, what happened to the towns near the isthmus?” Ivy said.
Pain and doubt passed briefly across Nehri’s expression, but resolve chased them away.
“To understand, you’ll need to see. There is a hill. This way.”
They paced along a narrow footpath heading toward the edge of the village. Some of the shops in this section had the sharp smell of tanning leather, or the herbal aroma of an apothecary. The nearer they came to the row of stones marking the edge of the village, the starker the change of the mood and appearance of the land. With the last of the homes behind them, the ground took on a progressively grayer, dryer appearance. The air felt stale and dead. What tenacious underbrush still grew was gnarled and brittle, snapping as they brushed past to a disused path leading up the slope of a hill. It looked like the result of a creeping drought, or perhaps the aftermath of a seasons-old wildfire. But there was no smell of char, and the lifeless soil felt as moist as in the city. The land didn’t seem unable to thrive. It seemed unwilling.
Their path wove up the steepening slope, offering a steadily better view of their surroundings. Ivy glanced at the city opening up below her. As lively and welcoming as it was, even at this distance, the more she saw of what surrounded it, the more it seemed like a single point of color in a lifeless landscape. When they reached the crest of the hill, Ivy’s heart dropped.
All around them, reaching halfway to the horizon in each direction, the land suffered the same mysterious blight. A few motes of green marked the struggling fields of farms or pastures of livestock, but they were like stones being eroded by an unrelenting sea of decay.
“The land is failing us. It is the same withering and weakening that chased us from the original Den. We have known since the time of our grandparents that we wouldn’t be able to stay here much longer. Every year it becomes more difficult to meet our needs. The good hunting grounds push farther away. The farms are less bountiful. Those beasts nearest to the village have become more vicious and hostile. Once again we need to find a new place to live. But our roots here are deep. This is the only home any of us has ever known, and it
took us generations to make it what it is. Even with the proper planning, it will be a terribly dangerous enterprise to move all of these villagers to a new home. We must be certain that the new place will be safe, that it will sustain us for generations more. And so Reyce and others have explored. They’ve traveled far to the north, the south, and the west searching for land with the mystic and natural bounty we require, while still remaining far from the eyes of our enemies.
“Then, some months ago, he returned with grave news. The elves had crossed the isthmus. They were coming closer. Even single elves braving the dangers of North Crescent were rare, but whole villages? We’d never seen it before. We didn’t know what to make of it. Reyce spoke to Boviss.”
“Boviss is still alive? Even today?”
“Yes. He is as old as the mountains themselves, and wise. And he has seen this before. The elves came, hundreds of years ago. First there were towns, then cities. Then forts and armies. They tried to take this land. Now they are coming again. And at the worst time. We are at the weakest we have been in years. We couldn’t let them get a foothold. We had to push them back.”
“So you did attack them. You are the Aluall.”
Nehri looked away. “The Aluall… I suppose that is what we have become. That name has been whispered in the stories of the land since long before Den was founded, but the blessings of our race and of those who watch over us have allowed us to assume that role for the elves. So be it. If it was that fear that kept them at bay until now, then I only wish we were the Aluall of legend.”
“Nehri… you attacked them. You attacked them unprovoked.”
Nehri shut her eyes tightly. “They came here, and they would have come farther. Creatures like the elves don’t take one step without taking another. We had to stop them,” she said sharply. “We had no choice…”
The Crescents Page 14
