“Yes. Thank you, Erek.”
“Welcome, boy. Welcome. These wolves be running away with their tails between their legs with you and your animal on watch tonight.”
Ode hoped he was right and he prayed for it that evening at the ceremony in the Room of the Gods. Again, he searched the packed temple for a pair of large blue eyes in the smoky incense haze. But he saw none. The room overflowed with bodies and it was difficult to decipher the person beside you, let alone anyone else. Ode let the chants and whispers wash over him as he stood in his usual spot at the back and he added his own words to their prayers. He asked that the flock be kept safe tonight, and he asked that he might be given the chance to see Briar again soon. He felt bad for lingering longest on the latter request.
That evening, as night poured into the valley like black water cascading into a well, Ode trudged across the mountainside to the remaining flock. He was joined by three shepherds who were to stand watch with him and all were quiet and solemn. They felt the weight of their responsibility keenly and each was a little afraid of the gory stories they had heard repeated in the eating hall that evening.
After agreeing on a warning signal, the shepherds went their separate ways across the mountainside, carrying weapons they did not know how to use. Ode had offered to watch from the highest point in front of the mountain pass that led into a neighboring valley. He wanted to be far away from the others so he could daydream of Briar in peace. He found a comfortable vantage point from which he could see some of the flock and settled down on a rock, wrapping his furs around him.
He started by imagining bumping into Briar in one of the long hallways of the temple. He invented a gentle summer afternoon after he had spent the morning working in the fields. His shirt would be damp and sticking to his body and she would be impressed by his size and strength. He imagined catching her by surprise when no one else was around and when they collided, her headdress would topple off to reveal her long, glowing curls. He was about to envision stroking the soft curve of her cheek when he heard a growl.
The summer afternoon of his dreams disappeared and Ode found himself surrounded by darkness. Arrow was growling a warning nearby and Ode shrugged off his furs, scanning the shadows for danger. The flock was some distance off and he could not hear anything amiss except for his wolf’s growl. He grabbed the dagger from his boot and climbed off the rock onto the dusty ground. He tried not to think of the bloody carcasses he had seen that morning littering the mountainside.
Ode flexed his shoulders, his heart beating against his chest, and it was then that he saw a pair of glittering eyes watching him.
Before he could cry out a warning, the mountain wolf had burst from the shadows and it was all Ode could do to tumble out of its path. Arrow rushed from the bushes, charging to Ode’s defense, and the two wolves snapped and circled one another, spittle oozing from their sharp teeth.
A distant howl echoed from farther down the mountain, and Ode heard one of the shepherds whistle a warning call. He stumbled to his feet and grabbed for the axe resting beside his things. He had been given it before his shift, but he had never wielded such a weapon in real combat and he had hoped he would never have to. The axe felt awkward and heavy in his hands. He tried to swing it menacingly at the attacking brown wolf, but he narrowly missed clobbering Arrow over the head, so he retreated.
As Ode backed away, movement from above caught his eye and he jumped aside just before another large, white wolf pounced from the overhanging rocks of the mountain pass. Sweat gathering on his brow, Ode whistled the warning call as loudly as he could and prayed there would be a shepherd free to come to his aid. His signal bounced between the rocks, but no one appeared, and in the distance, he could hear snarls and shouts as another attack commenced elsewhere.
The white wolf and the brown wolf backed Arrow and Ode into a corner and began moving in, their bodies crouched low to the ground and their lips pulled back to reveal sharp, glinting teeth. Ode swung his axe and clipped the white wolf’s muzzle, drawing a spurt of blood that made him gasp. The white wolf howled in fury and launched himself at Arrow, knocking both of them to the ground in a writhing, snapping tussle.
Ode watched them frantically, his axe raised, but he did not want to swing it again for fear of hitting Arrow. The brown wolf joined the fight, grabbing hold of Arrow’s neck in his jaws and Ode heard his companion whimper. He dropped his axe and grabbed hold of his dagger again instead, ready to jump into the skirmish, but a cry stopped him.
“Wait!”
Ode turned to see a silver shadow soaring from the rocks above. It landed gracefully with an almighty roar that made the wolves pause. Jet, the snow leopard, launched herself into the fray, scratching and biting at the white wolf until his hold on Arrow’s neck slackened.
Ode watched as a red-cloaked figure came running across the rocks toward them. In the darkness her fair skin shone like moonlight and her red cloak swirled about her ankles like a rosy mist. Ode’s eyes were so transfixed by Briar that he did not see a dark shape leaping at him.
“Watch out!” Briar screamed.
Ode barely had time to turn before the brown wolf attacked him.
Part Four
A silver figure stood on the shore of the Wild Lands. Her white hair rippled in the salty breeze like streams of moonlight and her emerald robe pooled at her feet, damp with sand. She was so young. The cluster of Magic Beasts and Magical Beings that had formed to greet her were unsure if she was a girl or a woman or something else entirely. Ethereal though she was, she did not look like the warrior queen they had been hoping for. She did not look like the commander of a rebel army.
“I suppose I ought not to ask how you knew I was coming,” she said.
The small ship on which she had sailed across the Route Sea bobbed on the distant waves behind her. A rowboat traveled back and forth ferrying her guards and council, but these men and women looked suspiciously like farmers and fishermen. Only the tall, broad man with a scar across his eye who stood at her side seemed as if he might understand battle tactics and warring.
“We foresaw it,” said one of the Magic Beasts, a creature with tusks and horns. “We only just barely saw that you would come … you are difficult for even our best seers to work out sometimes. You are too powerful.”
The silver-skinned woman pursed her lips. She wished that she were astride her warhorse since she felt small and awkward on her feet. She missed the reassuring presence of Champ, her companion, but he would not have liked the journey.
“But there is one who has been anticipating your arrival far longer than all of us,” added a black-haired woman from the group of Magical Beings. “Your mother has been calling for you often, Beauty.”
“Queen,” corrected the man with a scar across his eye.
Beauty flinched and tried not to appear as nervous as she felt. “This is my general,” she said, gesturing to the scarred man. “He will accompany me to your leaders. The rest of my party you will feed and make welcome. This has been a difficult passage for us.”
She spoke clearly, with all of the dignity and strength she could muster, and she hoped it was enough.
The Magic Beasts and Magical Beings exchanged glances.
“As you wish, Queen,” one creature replied at last.
They led the newcomers to their camp in silence. The men, women, and children of all nationalities that they passed paused to watch the procession and stared with undisguised curiosity as a silver-skinned queen wound through their makeshift huts and tents. Finally, the group stopped before a large barn that was so new, its wooden walls still smelled freshly chopped.
“Our leaders are expecting you inside,” said a Magic Beast with fangs. “We will feed your people while you speak.”
Beauty nodded in what she hoped was a queenly manner. Then, with her breath held, she waited as the doors of the barn were pulled open. Without giving herself a moment to turn back, she strode into a room filled with Magic creatures of various sha
pes and sizes. Her general followed, never more than a pace behind her, and his fingers twitched as if he longed to take her hand.
“Greetings, Queen,” said a collection of voices.
The barn doors closed and a nearby fire crackled. Beauty frowned and took a step closer to her general, wishing she did not have to wear the encumbering robe that twisted around her ankles.
“Why is—” she began, but the words fell from her lips when she saw an old woman wrapped in blankets beside the fire, shivering despite the warm spring weather.
“Asha …” Beauty whispered.
“We keep it burning for her,” explained a bare-chested man in halting Pervoroccoian. “She says that she is always cold.”
He had blue patterns tattooed across his dark skin and there was something familiar about his face that Beauty could not quite make out.
“Beauty, my child, is that you?” asked the old woman in a trembling voice.
Beauty swallowed, unable to reply.
“My queen would like some privacy with her mother,” said the general. “Alliances and such can be discussed in a few moments, yes?”
The Magic creatures reluctantly nodded their consent and began filing out of the barn, mumbling as they went. The last to leave was an old man who walked with a stick. He smiled at the silvery woman and chuckled to himself.
“We have met once before,” he said. “Do you remember?”
Beauty shook her head.
“It was at the docks of Sago when I was trying to transport Magics out of the country and bring them to safety. You were just a little girl …”
“Lyan!” said Beauty suddenly, remembering the kind lion-like creature with a bushy tail. “Is he here?” she asked.
“I am afraid I do not know. There were many that did not survive the Magical Cleansing or the passage to the Wild Lands.”
“Oh.”
The old man tapped his stick upon the floor and made to leave.
“Your mother has spoken of nothing but you for as long as I have known her,” he said over his shoulder as he shuffled out. “Be kind, for she has tried to do what is right even if she has not always succeeded.”
Once they were alone, Beauty’s shoulders sagged and her royal mask fell away. She felt a hand reach out and touch her elbow.
“I am still here,” said Beast. “But I will go if you would prefer?”
“No, please stay.”
Beauty knelt before her mother—this woman who was like a stranger. She wanted to accuse Asha of abandonment and cruelty, but the time for such things had passed.
“I thought you were dead when I left you in Sago,” Beauty said, finally. “I almost did not believe it when I dreamed that you were still alive.”
Asha was shriveled and gray. She looked seasons and seasons older than the woman Beauty had met in Sago.
“I feared you would not come,” Asha croaked. “I feared you hated me …”
“No,” said Beauty, but she did not sound convincing.
“It is fine. I know I have not been a mother to you, but I have loved you from afar—please know that. I am so blessed to see you one last time, and I am thankful that there is someone who will look after you …” Asha’s eyes wandered to Beast standing nearby.
Beauty blushed. “I can look after myself!” she snapped.
“I know, I know.” Asha sighed. “But you have found love and that is a powerful kind of Magic that I never had.”
“My father must be a cruel man.”
“I would once have defended him, but I think he deceived me. I was a girl when we met, and I was impressed by his Magic and his skills. I followed him across the realm, and then one day, in the mountains, he disappeared. I have been trying to do what he wished of me since—building an army to fight against the Magical Cleansing just as he did during The Red Wars—but I have not heard from him since. I think he never loved me at all.”
Asha began to cough and her whole body shook with the effort. Tears trickled down her withered cheeks, and Beauty took hold of her hand.
“Mother, you once told me that I must lead an army of Magics and … you are right. I have been gathering rebels in the Hillands and we come here now to join with your people.”
“That is good, my daughter.”
“Together, we will march on Pervorocco, and we will end this Magical Cleansing.”
“Be careful of your father.”
“No matter about my father.”
“Yes, Beauty! Do not think that he is not in this somewhere. He is controlling all of us in some way. Do not let him use you like he used me.”
Beauty glanced over her shoulder at Beast, who was staring at his hands.
“We know he is capable of great evil,” Beauty said. “I will heed your warning.”
“When he created you, you took some of his Magic,” Asha wheezed. “He thinks that he is powerful, and he is right, but he gave away part of himself to you. You must remember that.”
Beauty nodded. “I will not forget,” she said.
“For now, it is just good to see you once more, my child.”
Beauty squeezed her mother’s thin, frail fingers.
“It is good to see you also,” she said. “Truly.”
Asha smiled and took her last breath.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Night Shift
Ode felt sure he was dreaming. A pair of large blue eyes looked down at him from a fair, beautiful face. Briar gently touched his cheek, her fingers like the stroke of a feather against his skin.
“Can you hear me?” she asked again.
He did not want to answer; he just wanted to keep feeling her touch.
“If you can hear me, I need you to speak.”
Ode blinked and gulped away some of the grit at the back of his throat.
“Why aren’t you speaking like the other Kins and Kinesses?” he asked in a croaky voice.
Briar blushed. “At least you are alive,” she said, and Ode dared to believe that she sounded pleased.
He did not want to take his eyes away, but behind her head he could see the night’s sky studded with stars, and all at once he remembered the wolf attack.
“Where’s Arrow?” he asked.
At the sound of his name, Arrow appeared, pushing his snout into Ode’s face and snuffling at his ears.
“It is all right. Your wolf is here, and he is safe,” said Briar. She giggled when Arrow began washing Ode’s forehead with his rough tongue.
“That’s enough,” Ode groaned, pushing him off.
“Can you sit up?” asked Briar.
Ode did not want to sit up; he wanted Briar to stay knelt over him forever.
“That wolf jumped on you and I think you will have some scratches and bruising,” she added. “But there should be no lasting damage.”
Ode imagined her examining him, and he blushed in the darkness. Wishing he did not have to move, he struggled onto his elbows and winced. She was right about his aches and pains.
“How did you find us?” he asked.
“I heard about the killings last night and came out to keep watch, too. It was Jet who heard the wolves attacking you.”
Ode looked over at the snow leopard who sat some distance off, licking her paws, her long tail flicking from side to side. There were two dark, motionless bodies next to her—fur matted with blood.
“We would have been killed without you,” said Ode.
Briar glanced down at her hands. “It was Jet, not me. She fought the wolf off you when it attacked.”
A loud whistle made them both jump. Shouts echoed across the mountainside, and Jet growled.
“The shepherds are looking for you,” said Briar. “We must go.”
“Wait!”
Ode grabbed hold of her small, delicate hand. She gasped in surprise and he could not believe that he was being so bold.
“Come back tomorrow night,” he said.
Briar shook her head.
“I need to …” Ode tri
ed to think of a convincing reason. “I need to speak with you about your companion.”
They both heard heavy footsteps as the shepherds approached. Briar tried to pull her hand away, but Ode held on to it desperately.
“Please!” he said.
She shook her head and this time, he did not try to stop her.
Jet was already leaping between the rocks, ready to vanish through the mountain pass. Ode watched Briar scramble over the rocks, her cloak trailing behind her.
“Ode!” the shepherds were calling, drawing nearer. “Ode, shout to us!”
Briar paused at the mouth of the mountain pass, and suddenly, she turned around to look at him.
“Tomorrow I will be here,” she called in a whisper, and then she disappeared.
Ode was hailed a hero. He was even summoned to see the High-Kin and the High-Kiness, who personally thanked him for his bravery. Word spread quickly that Ode and Arrow had killed two mountain wolves, and for the rest of that day, he was overwhelmed with congratulations from everyone who crossed his path. The temple did not lose a single sheep. There had been another attack down the mountainside that night, but the shepherds had rallied together and fought the wolves away.
Ode knew he should feel guilty for receiving such undue praise, but he could think of nothing but Briar. The day seemed to creep by too slowly and he found himself glancing at the sun every few minutes, longing for it to scurry across the sky. In the eating hall, he searched for her with tired, bleary eyes, but again, he was sure she was not there. When evening finally came, he bounded up to Leai, the head of the shepherds, offering his services for the night shift.
Leai tried to dissuade him, arguing that he needed to rest, but he persisted until she finally agreed. As the sun sank below the mountains and the stars appeared in the sky, Ode found himself striding toward the flock with a grin.
When he was finally alone beside the mountain pass, Ode felt like he could not sit still. He paced up and down, counting the sheep he could see over and over again to keep himself occupied. He ran his fingers through his hair so that it would not appear so messy and practiced standing casually with his chest pushed out. Above him, peering down from a rock, Arrow watched with bemused detachment.
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