Feathers

by Rose Mannering

  He crept out into the darkness with Arrow, a smile breaking across his lips at the thought of seeing his auntie after so long. Together, Ode and Arrow wound their way through the sleeping camp under the light of a pale, fading moon. There were creatures on watch patrolling the edges, but they were talking softly to one another in little groups and they did not see Ode and his wolf as they slid into the blackness of the trees.

  Ode did not know where he was going, but he was not afraid. It was a relief to be out of camp and alone again. The constant press of bodies and chatter had been slowly turning him crazy. Too many times these past few days, he had wanted to shift but always he made himself squash the urge. The New People were open about their Magic, but Ode felt eyes upon him at every move, and he did not wish to draw more attention to his gift. He did not feel comfortable around these people and he did not want to make himself vulnerable. Now, finally alone, Ode felt the tension in his body leak out into the night.

  Arrow felt it, too, and he went bounding ahead, dancing across the craggy land and chasing any birds or squirrels he could find.

  Before long, Ode could hear the low crash of the sea and he could feel the fresh wind breathing against his cheeks. He followed a narrow, coastal path that was rocky and steep, the sea appearing on his right over the edge of a cliff face. Ode stepped carefully in the darkness and ignored the bursts of wind that would sometimes gust from nowhere and threaten to push him off the path.

  Ahead, Arrow paused and raised his head. He was almost invisible in the darkness except for the white fur speckled across his chest and Ode nearly walked into the back of him. The wolf sniffed the air, his hackles rising, and then he bounded into the undergrowth with a yelp. Ode followed, ducking under branches and climbing through bushes until he emerged in a clearing. Arrow was sniffing the ground, his tail wagging, and Ode could make out the remnants of a fire nearby. This must have been the place from his dream.

  “Auntie?” he hissed. “Auntie? It’s me.”

  He waited for several long moments, but there was no answer.

  Ode wondered if Cala was sleeping nearby, but Arrow could not seem to pick up a trail and he kept sniffing in circles.

  The desire to shift had been plaguing Ode since he left camp and he decided to give in to it. He told himself that he might be able to see more from the sky and perhaps spot where Cala could be hiding.

  As Ode’s bones cracked and his muscles tore, he was filled with a surge of release. He had not shifted in so long that he felt shoots of pain, but the relief was overwhelming and the pain short-lived. As the white bird, Ode spread his wings and shook, stretching his feathers in a pale fan. He launched himself into the sky with some difficulty, but just as he finally began to ascend, he saw something move in the trees. The shock made him shift back, stumbling onto the ground. He grabbed his clothes to cover his nakedness while a figure stepped out from the shadows. The professor took an object from his pocket and began scribbling on it.

  “What are you doing?” asked Ode, pulling his clothes back on.

  He began frantically trying to think of plausible excuses to explain his midnight wandering.

  “I’m making a note,” replied the professor. “It’s a book full of my observations. Do not tell Asha. She would take it away because we have no paper, but I need it, you see, to make notes.”

  “No, I don’t see.”

  Ode glanced at Arrow who was licking his paws calmly, appearing not to notice the professor.

  “What have you done to him?” Ode asked.

  “Do not fret, he is fine. It is just that he cannot smell me. Or see me. I have not spent a lifetime studying Magic without picking up some tips on how to use my own gifts.”

  Ode wanted to run. He wondered if the professor had heard him calling for Cala. He had been so sure he was alone; it had not occurred to him that the professor might have Magic of his own.

  “Why are you here?” Ode asked.

  “I am studying you for my book. Before the Magical Cleansing I was a great professor at a university dedicated to the understanding of Magic, and before that I traveled across the realm, finding creatures and building archives. I made it to the Wild Lands a few times before, but never found much except the odd moorey.”

  Ode could not understand much of what the professor was saying, but one thing had piqued his interest.

  “You traveled across the realm?” he asked.

  “Yes, I suppose you do not know about the other countries—”

  “I know of them. I have seen maps.”

  “How?”

  Ode knotted his fingers together. “Where did you go in your travels?” he asked instead.

  “Everywhere. I have been as far across the realm as I can manage, but there are still areas that are a mystery to me. There are still species I have yet to record.”

  Ode thought of Cala’s map with all its different lands. He wished that he knew more.

  “Have you ever left the Wild Lands?” asked the professor.

  “No.”

  “That is … peculiar. Your shift reminds me of a creature that is not native to these parts, as far as I know. How many other Wild Landers have Magic?”

  “Just me.”

  “Impossible,” replied the professor, his voice becoming steely. “You are lying.”

  The professor was old, but Ode did not know the power of his Magic. He did not know what he was capable of.

  “It is imperative that you tell me the truth,” added the professor in a low voice. “I must know who taught you your Magic.”

  He came closer and Ode felt a coldness creeping over him. He wanted to run, but he found that he could not. He wanted to tell the professor to release him, but he could not utter a word.

  “I taught him Magic!” said a voice.

  Cala emerged from the darkness, her face set in hard lines.

  “Leave him be,” she said. “And come out of your hiding, woman, I know that you are there,” she added, raising her voice to the trees around them.

  After a moment, another figure glided into the clearing, and Asha approached the bewildered huddle. As if broken from a spell, Arrow jumped up, a snarl rumbling from his jaws.

  “I knew something was strange here,” said Asha, throwing back the hood of her cloak. “I knew that you people were hiding something!”

  “Only I have been hiding,” said Ode quickly. “The rest of the Taone know nothing of this or Magic. They have come to you peacefully, I swear it.”

  “If only what you said were true,” hissed Asha. “Who is this woman who hides from us, and why do you meet at night in secret?”

  Ode glanced at Cala, unsure of what to say, but his auntie was barely listening. Instead, she was staring at Asha with her top lip pulled back in a grimace.

  “Asha, can you not see?” whispered the professor. He had been quiet until now, staring at Cala as if mesmerized.

  “Yes, she is not from the Wild Lands, I see that plainly enough. Woman, do you come from Fasheba or Dagero? How did you get here? Speak.”

  “I come from someplace far away,” spat back Cala.

  “No, Asha!” cried the professor. “Can you not see? Can you not see the resemblance?”

  Asha froze and a little gasp escaped her lips. In the darkness her face became paler, and for a moment, Ode thought she might faint.

  “You know him,” Asha whispered. “You have the look of his people, the—”

  “Yes,” snapped Cala. “I have the high forehead and the wide mouth. Yes, I know him, and yes, he knew you. For a while.”

  “He loved me!”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Who are you?” cried Asha, her eyes large and wild now. “How do you know him? What are you doing here? Where is he? Speak!”

  “No,” said Cala with a smile.

  “And you?” said Asha, turning to Ode. “You know him? How? You must speak to me!”

  Ode shook his head. “I do not know what you are talking about,” he said, edging
away.

  “The boy knows nothing,” confirmed Cala. “Leave him alone.”

  “The others are coming as we speak,” said Asha. “I raised the alarm, and if you do not speak now then they will make you speak! Tell me, how do you know him?” Asha’s words bounced from the trees and screamed across the land, silencing even the distant rumble of the sea.

  Cala’s smile widened. “You said he loved you?” she said. “Well, he loved me most of all.”

  Asha shook her head. “No,” she whispered. Then she cried louder: “No!”

  The crashing sound of footsteps and the heavy plod of many feet could be heard.

  “We are here!” Asha shouted out. “Hurry!”

  Arrow started to bark and snap his jaws at the air. Ode stared at his auntie, realizing that he barely knew her. In that moment she became like a different person.

  “Run,” she said to him.

  The crash of feet and the roar of voices drew closer.

  “We are here!” cried Asha. “Hurry!”

  The professor continued to stare at Cala, his mouth open like a gaping hole.

  “You must run,” said Cala. “Run, little man!”

  Ode turned and disappeared into the trees. He transformed into the white bird and flew away, Arrow following from the ground. As he sailed through the dark sky, Ode heard shouts and cries, but he did not turn back.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The Betrayal

  Ode leaned against the trunk of a tree, his stomach growling for food. He had landed here in the early hours of the morning. After his night flight, he had crashed through the leaves of the trees around them and tumbled to the ground, his head ringing with Asha’s shouts and screams. Shivering, he curled up on his side until Arrow appeared, Ode’s clothes hanging from his mouth. As the morning light started to break through the darkness of the forest, Ode pulled on his leather tunic and tried to understand what he had witnessed.

  He replayed the events of the previous night over and over until his head spun. He did not know his auntie—that much was clear. Who was the man she and Asha spoke of? What was the importance of it all? Cala had kept too many secrets. He could not remember her having mentioned anything like this before; not in all the many seasons they had lived together. Ode felt a bitterness begin to lodge itself in his chest. She had been keeping things from him—she had lied to him. His auntie was not his auntie at all.

  Ode could guess what Cala’s fate at the camp would be now. The New People would present the Taone with Cala and his tribe would condemn her to death. They would call her a traitor—they had always had their suspicions and they did not like what they did not understand. As leader, Blue Moon would have to agree with his people, and Ode knew that his brother felt no kinship with the birther. He would not find it difficult to have her killed.

  Ode was angry with Cala. He was furious and for a moment, he thought that perhaps she deserved what was coming to her. But then he remembered that she had tried to be a mother to him when the rest of the Taone cast him out. They had always been outcasts together. Ode knew that he could not let her die. Much as he hated her in that moment for her secrets, he could not let her suffer.

  As evening descended, Ode climbed to his feet on stiff, aching legs, knowing what he must do. With Arrow trotting beside him, he strode through the forest, guessing which way to turn. Now that he had made his decision, he was eager to get on with it and he did not have trouble finding the rocky coastal path that led to the camp. He followed it cautiously, in case there were any Magic Beasts or Magic Beings around, and it was not long before he grew so close that he could hear the faint shouts of children playing and the distant clang of pots and pans as they were washed after dinner. Ode edged as near as he dared and then stopped. He worried that if he went closer, the Magics would sense him with their special gifts. For a while he waited in the shade of the trees, unsure of what to do. He heard the chatter of some tribeswomen as they spoke to each other in a mixture of their own language and the words of the New People and he wondered when they would forget that they were once Taone.

  Ode did not know how long he had been waiting when he heard a sound behind him. He jumped and turned to see the professor, who held out a wrinkled hand in greeting.

  “Do not fear, I am here to help you,” he said.

  Ode looked at Arrow, but the wolf appeared to see nothing. He wondered if he should run, but something in the professor’s manner made him pause.

  “Why would you help me?” Ode whispered.

  “You need to get to your teacher and I can take you to her. With me, no one will see you pass—that is my gift. I have been waiting for you all day.”

  “Why would you help me?” repeated Ode.

  The professor sighed. “Sometimes I do not trust Asha,” he said. “She is blinded by … incidents from the past. I do not know what will happen to us, but I feel that I must do this. I know that you are important.”

  Ode swallowed a mixture of suspicion and excited fear that burned down his throat.

  “How do you know this?” he asked.

  “I feel it.”

  “There must be a reason.”

  The professor smiled wryly. “You have become distrustful and that is good. You must be questioning those around you always. But your answer is that I have seen the white bird you turn into before. Do you know what it is?”

  Ode shook his head.

  “It is a swan, and it is not indigenous to these parts. I have traveled across the realm studying creatures and I have only seen a swan in one place: the Scarlet Isles.”

  “Where is that?”

  “In the Western Realm. It is where the Magic Cleansing is spreading and this is not a coincidence. Nothing ever is.”

  Ode was silent.

  “Come now, we must go,” said the professor. “I am old and often I grow too tired to use my gift.”

  Ode hesitated, unsure if this was a trap.

  “How will it work?” he asked.

  “Walk behind me and stay close,” said the professor. “Try not to look directly at anyone.”

  Ode stared at the professor’s lined, pale face and decided that he was telling the truth.

  “All right,” Ode said at last and then he pressed his palm to Arrow’s head to guide the wolf beside him, who still seemed to see nothing.

  With his eyes fixed on the ground, Ode followed the scuffed edges of the professor’s robe in front of him. The air had grown quiet and still, but as much as Ode wished to look up, he did not. He felt bodies swish near him and he sensed the warmth of the fires as they passed. He kept his hand on Arrow’s head, willing the wolf to stay calm.

  “You can look up now,” said the professor.

  Ode raised his head to see darkness and pools of shadow. They were at a corner of the camp he had never visited before, far away from the tents and chatter. He glanced over his shoulder and saw two guards standing nearby, one male and one female. He gasped in surprise but both were oblivious to his presence. Turning back, he saw that the ground before them was churned to mud and there was a sharp, sickening smell in the air. Arrow began wagging his tail and, as one of the shadows moved, Ode realized it was Cala.

  “I prayed that you would come, little man.”

  Ode did not know whether to comfort her or shout at her, so he said nothing, his shoulders twitching.

  “What is wrong, little man?” asked Cala. “Speak to me.”

  Ode pressed his lips together.

  “You do not have long,” warned the professor. “I am growing tired.”

  Cala’s eyes shone in the gloom and sought Ode’s. Much as he tried to resist her, he knew that he could not. She was crouching on the ground, her hands and feet tied to a post. Ode could see that the knots had been pulled too tight and her skin was chafing.

  “Have they sentenced you to death?” he finally asked.

  “Yes. At first light,” she replied in rasps. “I brought some of them into this realm but … no matter. Things ar
e changing, and they are afraid. They want to get along with the New People and much as some would try to argue for me …” She glanced at the professor. “That woman would have me dead.”

  “Asha?”

  Cala nodded.

  “She is lost in her own pain and jealousy,” interrupted the professor. “Her decision cannot be excused, but it can be understood. You have not seen the devastation of the Magical Cleansing. You do not know what we are facing.”

  “That may be,” replied Cala through clenched teeth, “but nothing will be helped if I am dead.”

  Ode saw her wince as she tried to move her hands. He took a piece of flint from his boot, which was fashioned into an eating knife, and began to saw through the rope. He could feel her eyes on him as he worked and he could smell her familiar, comforting scent mixed with the rancid odor of their surroundings.

  “We must hurry,” hissed the professor. “I am becoming weak.”

  Ode freed Cala’s hands and began to work at the bonds on her feet, sawing with the knife as best he could.

  “When I am free, I must go from here,” Cala said.

  Ode did not look up, but his hands faltered. “Without me?” he asked.

  “You cannot come with me. It would be too dangerous. I am going to … I am going to search for someone I knew long ago.”

  “The man you spoke of with Asha?”

  The professor looked over with wide eyes. “You must get him to help us,” he said. “You must bring him—”

  “I must do nothing!” snapped Cala. “You do not understand what you are dealing with. You do not understand what he has done and what he will do to get what he wants.”

  “Who is he?” asked Ode.

  The last of Cala’s bonds fell away and she touched the raw skin gingerly. With great effort, she climbed to her feet.

  “He is powerful …” she began.