Allies, is it? That is not what the black one says. Subjects, that is what he wants. Slaves, bound to do his bidding. Are you his slave, Gialyn of the Divinian?
I am nobody’s slave, Gialyn Sent. I am a warrior for the white and the grey and call no man king who would not lay down his life for the good of all.
And where did that come from? he added for himself. The white and the grey?
Just so, Setuni said, apparently content with the answer.
At least she seemed to like it.
With that, a large shadow approached the temple square. A skulking shadow, low, prowling. The shape reminded Gialyn of a wolf, but what emerged into the light of Mersius’s torches was no creature Gialyn had ever seen – or imagined.
Setuni was horse-sized. To say she looked like a cat was to say a sparrow looked like a hawk. There was a similarity, yes, but only in so far as saying a beak is a beak or one feather is the same as any other – close, and yet a mile away. To begin with – except for her neck, which was course fur, more like porcupine quills than hair – Setuni was covered in deep red scales. Her head was shaped like that of a cat: flat nose, slit pupils in her yellow eyes, high cheeks and pointy ears, but where a cat’s features were delicate, Setuni was all hard lines and solid shapes. Her teeth were not the daggers of a dragon, nor the fangs of a wolf, but something in between – sharp and thin. Of it all, her paws were most catlike. No protruding talons here, her claws were hidden away, just like that of a cat.
Fe’lio, Gialyn remembered – the Hidden Claw.
Setuni came to stand by him. Without effort, she raised her head to look straight into his eyes. Gialyn shuddered. This close, he could feel her breath push at the fabric of his shirt.
“Err, this is Setuni, everyone.” He gestured toward the beast while glancing around, first at his friends, then over at the dragons. Looking at Toban, he added, “She is one of the Ti’fei, the Wingless Ones. They call themselves Fe’roc.”
“Is it a dragon then?” Toban said.
“Why don’t you ask?” Gialyn said. “They are like the wildlings, they prefer to use the Voice. In fact, I don’t think they can talk at all. I mean, talk out loud.”
Toban stepped forward. Then stopped abruptly, growling.
“She blocked me!” the wolf said.
Setuni was still looking at Gialyn. He could feel her stare, as if she were probing his mind.
“Come away,” Toban said. “She isn’t safe.”
But Gialyn ignored the warning.
“She has to do this,” he said without looking over at the wolf. “I think this is how they bond.”
He remembered Cuthbert, and how Olivia’s cat only really paid attention when Gialyn ignored him. The opposite of a dog – the more fuss you gave them, the more they wanted. He should not be surprised if this creature approached humans differently to other dragons.
Suddenly, Pyta landed on Gialyn’s shoulder. She wants you to hunt.
It was Summer’s voice, but it came from the raven.
Hunt? Gialyn sent. You mean, in the forest?
Setuni turned to the side and, still looking at him, lowered her shoulders.
Go on, Summer Sent. If you refuse, they will leave.
Are you sure? Why didn’t she ask me?
Because their word for hunt is nothing you would comprehend, Gialyn. Now, quickly, she has offered. Climb up before you offend her honour.
Gialyn glanced over at Toban. The wolf was shaking his head. Shiroku was staring at Setuni with a measure of awe in her eyes, the same she seemed to show at seeing any dragon. Mersius was toying with one of his lanterns, seemingly oblivious to all that was happening not ten feet away.
Gialyn turned back to Setuni. Go hunt, he thought. I hope she doesn’t expect me to catch anything; I left my bow in the drying shed.
He climbed up onto Setuni’s back.
“Where are you going?” Sek bellowed.
“I won’t be long,” Gialyn said. “She wants me—”
He was going to say, She wants me to go hunting, but Setuni leapt toward the forest. Gialyn had to close his mouth to stop his teeth clanging together, as she landed barely a pace from the tree line. Another leap, and they were in among the trees. Gialyn tried to call out to the others, tell them not to worry, but it was all he could do to hold on. The cat was running fast, faster than any horse. It was a wonder she could see where she was going. Gialyn leaned forward, his head tucked low, and let the Fe’roc take him away.
* * *
They ran for what seemed like hours. Or rather, Setuni ran, Gialyn held on to her mane. The porcupine quills around her neck and shoulders were not sharp, but they were thick and hard and difficult to grip with any strength. Gialyn held a few in each hand a tried to pretend they were reins. The scales along her back were small and thick and not very comfortable. Gialyn decided, if they went hunting again, he would bring a blanket.
But were they hunting? Thus far, dark or not, all they had done was run through the trees, barely slowly but for the occasional detour around a particularly thick clump of thicket. In the dim light from the three-quarter moon, it was a wonder the Fe’roc could tell one thicket from another. Gialyn was beginning to wonder if Setuni had a destination in mind, but Sek had said they had been waiting on the new arrivals for some weeks now – which meant they were not local, and would not know the Wet Wood.
Suddenly, Gialyn felt something in his chest. A thumping, like a second heartbeat, only closer to his throat. Setuni abruptly stopped, almost throwing Gialyn over her head. She looked to the left, and when Gialyn followed her gaze, he could feel it – there was a deer down there, likely the only one left within twenty miles of the temple.
Is that what you have been looking for?
Prey, Setuni sent, and Gialyn’s mind was bombarded with a hundred images: a forest, small animals, a rain-swept grassland, a lake, more small animals, a mouth full of sharp teeth, blood; it went on, a hundred images in the blinking of an eye.
Gialyn thought he was going to fall off her back. Those images? Was that what Summer had meant when she said the Fe’roc had no single word for hunt?
Gialyn tried to piece the images together as Setuni slowly turned toward where the deer was grazing. The images were hard to put together in any order: blood, claws, an eye, a bright light, yet more small animals…
“It is a ritual,” he whispered.
Setuni stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. It had been the first time he had spoken out loud since leaving the pyramid.
A ritual, he sent. A ceremony; like a man leaving gifts to Ein’laig for a good harvest.
He was not sure Setuni had understood that, but she turned back to the trail and continued stalking the deer.
The thumping in his throat was getting louder, and yet, Gialyn still could not see the deer. He thought he could smell it, though. Or was that something from Setuni, a different kind of Sending? He could hear the deer’s soft footfalls, too. By his reckoning, he should be able to see it by now.
Setuni stopped her stalking and crouched down. Wrong wind, she Sent. You go.
Somehow, Gialyn knew exactly what she wanted him to do. They were downwind of the deer, and she wanted him to run around and chase the animal toward her.
He climbed off Setuni’s back.
Go wide, she Sent. Use the stream.
What stream?
Setuni said no more, just glanced to her right.
Aware of his part in the ritual, Gialyn crept off into the trees, using every ounce of woodsman knowledge he had learned from his father and Cal to remain as quiet as he could. No more than twenty paces to the south, he found the stream. He grinned in wonder over how Setuni could possibly know it was there.
Use the stream, Setuni sent. Quiet. Wait for good wind.
Gialyn stepped into the shallow stream and crouched, so his knees were almost in the water. In that way, he could scurry quietly under the low canopy without fear of cracking twigs or snapping branches. The win
d was blowing in from the west. He waited for it to die down, then crept east along the stream bed until he felt the thumping in his throat – the deer’s heartbeat – quicken.
Had he made a noise? Could the deer smell him?
He squatted down, and waited.
The branches overhanging the stream made it look like he was crouching in a tunnel. Silver light from the moon reflected off the water and made a shimmering pattern on the wide leaves. Gialyn had seen moonlight do that before, but this time, be it something Setuni had done, or just the effect of his own thumping heart, those dancing lights seemed alive. That, along with the smells and sounds of the forest, Gialyn thought he might laugh – he had never felt such belonging; it was as if the Wet Wood had been his home for decades.
The wind faded. Gialyn took another ten steps, then paused.
Have I gone far enough?
A little more. Five of your legs.
Five of your legs? Did that mean five paces?
Gialyn took seven paces, then slowly climbed up the bank. The thumping in his throat had slowed, but the smell was almost overwhelming – the deer was close.
Should have done this during the day, he Sent. Would be easier if I could see where I was going.
We have other tools but eyes, Setuni sent. And dragons like the dark.
So, you are a dragon?
Of course. Did you think us… cats?
She Sent the last as if not knowing what a cat was.
No. It’s just… Well, other than the scales, you don’t look much like a dragon.
We are old.
Gialyn waiting for more, but that was all she Sent.
Old? What does that mean?
Enough talk – Prey.
Gialyn ignored the fact he could not see his hand in front of his face, and, feeling his way forward, he followed his nose.
Finding the deer was surprisingly easy. It was as if what he could hear and what he could smell had drawn a map in his mind. In less than five slow steps, he knew the deer was right in front of him, Setuni another thirty paces beyond. If he spooked the dear now, it would run straight to her.
The thudding just below his throat felt like someone was tapping his chest with a balled fist. He remembered the images Setuni had Sent, and could almost taste the blood in his mouth. The smell assaulting his nose was deep and layered, like he could tell where the deer had been just by her scent, and he could hear her chewing as if the leaves in her mouth were made of iron and her jaws a hammer. He could not help but smile – No wonder the Fe’roc have no single word for this.
Are you ready? he Sent.
No. Setuni Sent back. She is your prey. I am here to cut off her escape.
Mine? Gialyn Sent. He almost said the words out loud. But I have no knife.
Setuni Sent a chuckle. But you have other tools, Gialyn the Divian. Now hurry, before she moves on.
I cannot. What am I supposed to do, strangle a deer?
No answer to that. Just a hint of a chuckle.
How was he supposed to kill a deer?
Not with my bare hands; even a small deer would struggle, and that would be cruel. A rock over the head, maybe? If I did that, I would have to be close, and the rock heavy enough to do the job with one hit. Could I use a branch like a spear to the heart? No, the deer would hear me pulling the twigs from any branch I found.
You will have to break its neck, he told himself. Like killing a rabbit for a stew, you will have to break its neck.
That decided, he could taste the blood in his mouth, hear the snapping bones, feel the deer struggle and then relax into death. His heart was thumping now. So hard, the thudding of the deer’s heart was almost lost.
I am ready, he Sent to Setuni.
He crept forward, and for the first time, Gialyn saw the deer they were hunting. It was a young doe, no older than a year, and half his size. Breaking the neck of a deer like that would not be hard, but if he made any noise, an animal that small would be through the thicket and gone.
Gialyn held his breath. The deer was chewing leaves, looking around as it ate. It was not looking toward Setuni, nor did it pay much attention to what was going on over its shoulder. How it was still alive with dozens of dragons about the Wet Wood was a mystery.
Gialyn took another slow step forward, placing his foot gently on the damp mulch, letting the dried leaves and bark settle under his foot before putting weight on it. He brought his other foot up level, then stepped forward again. Another wait, and he brought his trailing foot up to match the first. The deer was barely three paces away. He could dart forward and slap its rump, but he was not close enough yet to grab a hold of it.
He pulled in a slow breath. The deer stopped chewing. Gialyn froze, sure it had heard him. The deer glanced to the south and west, but not behind. Gialyn relaxed.
There was only the small wildberry bush between them now. He could not cross that without the deer hearing. He would have to jump, hope he would get a hold on its neck before the deer ran off. He crouched, wound up for the jump, and…
Setuni roared.
Startled, the deer ran off. Gialyn felt like something had been torn from his chest. His nose started to bleed, his ears rang, he could taste bile in his throat. Anger washed over him as he turned to Setuni.
“Why did you do that?” he shouted. “One more second! I would have had her! Why?”
The Fe’roc had covered the thirty paces in less than two heartbeats. Now, she stood staring at Gialyn, a frown creasing her scaled brow.
He repeated his question using the Voice.
Setuni fixed his gaze with a yellow-eyed stare. I did it so you know what prey mean to us.
Gialyn sat down hard. But I almost had it
The frustration boiling in his veins made him think he would burst. He wanted to run after to deer, grabs its head and twist until he heard that satisfying snap.
He glanced to his left, the way the deer had gone. He would never find her now; he could barely see the trees. And besides, the thumping in his throat had gone.
So you know what prey means to us, he repeated. Yes, I think I do.
Knowing this, Setuni Sent, would you join?
Would I join what? Would I join you?
Yes, would you join us?
Gialyn had never thought of it like that. He had wanted the Fe-roc to join him.
You are talking about hunting the Karakin, aren’t you? I mean, you want to make the Karakin prey?
Yes, the Karakin must be prey.
And if I join?
They are our prey, Setuni Sent.
I see.
She was telling him, if he wanted the Fe’roc to help kill the Karakin, he would have to go with them, and stay with them – they would no share their prey.
Gialyn felt half disappointment, half elation. The thought of pitting the Fe’roc against the Karakin made him want to Travel to Bly right that minute and battle the spirit wolves. But what about the others? He had a connection to Mersius and Summer, there were his new Powers to consider; Sek was still teaching him about the Voice, and never mind Elspeth: could he just leave all that?
I will have to talk to my friends, he Sent.
We leave when the moon rises again, you have until then.
Gialyn nodded.
One day to decide which path he would take – should he stay with Sek before re-joining Elspeth, or go off with the Fe’roc to fight Karakin?
He remembered the vision from behind the last door, listening to himself speak as the future King of Aleras’moya. His future-self had told him to trust Sek and follow the dragons. But the Fe’roc were dragons, too, weren’t they? Did his future-self want him to follow Setuni? Would taking that path save Bailryn, and Elspeth?
He should talk to Summer, remind himself of exactly what had been said during those visions. Glancing up at Setuni, he had a feeling, once he made his decision, there would be no turning back.
CHAPTER 20
The Shed
The tunnels below the B
reen estate were a nest of spiders and rats and crawling vermin – Fa’rann felt right at home.
When he forced himself into Lord Breen’s mind, he had been surprised to learn of all the secret passageways and dank dungeons the Breen family had added to their estate over the years. Some rooms were torture chambers, others simple alcoves where a quiet man could sneak a peek into a guest’s bedchamber. Fa’rann particularly liked the tunnel which ran under the courtyard to the new shed Breen had built at the edge of the compound – it meant he could visit his new recruits without first having to trudge through the snow.
“Don’t dig there,” Fa’rann told Kasini.
They were in the long tunnel, the one that linked the manor house to what Fa’rann had come to call the conditioning shed. The ceiling was low here, and none too safe, judging by the mounds of loose dirt and the state of the creaking joists. Kasini was worrying one of the uprights, likely looking for a rat. If she pushed much harder, she would bring the roof down on them.
“I will feed you later.”
The huge basti was too big for the tunnels. As thin as she was, she would have to stand up to turn around. In truth, were it not for the rats, Fa’rann would likely have to force her to follow. But he would need her for what he had planned for the afternoon, so follow she must.
They reached the end of the long tunnel. Fa’rann pushed the panel to the side and entered the cellar under the conditioning shed. There was plenty of room in here; the cellar was almost as large as the shed was. But there were no furnishing or crates or barrels down there, just the stairs.
Fa’rann climbed the steps up to the first landing and went through the door into the kitchen. Even from the cellar, he had heard the hum of nervous chattering and the click of boots on wood. Not many boots, unfortunately; day by day, Shanks sent fewer men and women. By the sound of those shuffling feet, today's batch numbered less than a dozen. Worse, this was the first delivery since Mia’tirdis. Still, Shanks was in Halem now, the numbers should start rising again.
Fa’rann opened the door and followed Kasini into the big room.
Excluding the two guards, there were nine men and four women waiting on his attention. They all wore the dirty rags of the homeless and were staring around the room like they had never seen a wooden shed before. When Kasini entered the room, they exchanged their study of the walls for a gaze of wide-eyed wonder at seeing the giant basti. Fa’rann smiled. Kasini always had that effect on people, and it made what came next much easier.
The Ship of Tears_The Legend of the Nine_Part One Page 22
