“What happened?” said Kyra. She was overstepping bounds, she knew it. But she didn’t care.
The woman picked up a stick and drove it into the snow, giving Kyra a pointed glance as she did so. “Your mother forced us out of our homeland.”
At this, Leyus made a noise in his throat. “Mind your words, Zora. We would have done the same, had we been in her position.” Once again Kyra sensed an undercurrent of emotion. Leyus wasn’t as hardened toward humans as he pretended to be. He’d loved a human woman once—her mother. Kyra had an opening here, if she didn’t ruin her opportunity.
“Is it really so unthinkable to make an alliance with the humans? The man whose message I bear, his name is Malikel. He’s an honorable man who won’t break his word. Wouldn’t it be better to help each other rather than destroy each other?”
Leyus looked at her for a long moment. “What does he propose?”
Kyra plunged into an explanation of what had happened around Forge. Not much of it seemed to surprise Leyus. He knew that the troops out here were from the northern city of Edlan and that they were planning an attack on Forge.
“The Edlan forces are settling in for a drawn-out siege. This buys you time against Willem’s forest offensive, but it’ll only be a matter of days or weeks before these Edlan troops start causing you trouble. They’ll be in the same forest, hunting the same game. Truth is, no matter how this fight turns out, the victors will still outnumber you by far. And eventually, they will defeat you too.”
She wondered if she was in danger of insulting him again, but Leyus simply regarded her. “And what does Malikel propose instead?”
“He would have your help breaking the siege. Your people are quick and familiar with the forest. If you create enough trouble for the troops, Edlan will retreat. In return, Forge will cede to you a portion of the forest where you can live and hunt undisturbed. He’ll also provide help in the form of workmen and supplies to help you make a real home.”
Leyus was silent as he weighed her words. “No,” he said firmly. “We will not risk our lives for the promises of a human official we do not know.”
“But—”
“I’ve made my decision. I want nothing more from you.” When Kyra opened her mouth to protest again, he cut her off. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”
There was no hint of compromise in his voice, and Kyra’s objections died in her throat. Havel and Zora watched her with equally unyielding gazes. As Kyra turned away, she racked her mind for an alternative, some other way to convince Leyus, but she came up with nothing. That was when she noticed Adele coming toward them.
The young clanswoman walked right past Kyra and bowed deeply in the Makvani fashion, running three fingers down the front of her throat. “Forgive me, clan leader,” she said. “I couldn’t help but overhear the halfblood’s request. I would like to help her, if I may.”
Leyus sat up straighter. “That is an unusual request, Adele. How do you plan to help her?”
“I would fight for her, against the Edlan troops.”
“By yourself? Why lend them your strength?”
Adele lowered her gaze, and Kyra imagined a slight flush on the young woman’s cheeks. “I would like to see peace between our people and the humans on this side of the mountain.”
“And you want this enough to risk your life for them?”
Adele raised her eyes to Leyus, and her voice was clear when she responded. “I want this enough that I am willing to take this to Challenge if you forbid me to go.”
There were gasps and murmurs, and Kyra realized that many of the Makvani had gathered around to listen. The Challenge was a right of anyone of Makvani blood, an opportunity to fight to the death on behalf of a petition. If Adele claimed a Challenge here, it would be against Leyus or someone of his choosing. Kyra had seen Leyus fight. He was almost twice Adele’s size, and far stronger. As unfamiliar as she was with Makvani customs, Kyra knew that Adele had just said she would rather die than lose her chance for peace with the humans. Why was she doing this? Was this all for Flick?
“Adele.” Pashla’s voice rang out from the back. The older woman came to her side, acknowledging Kyra with a nod before she too addressed Leyus. “I also beg permission to help Kyra in her quest. And I too am willing to Challenge for it.”
Leyus had risen to his feet by now, his arms crossed over his chest. His brow was furrowed, but he didn’t look angry. “The two of you, then. Is there anyone else who wishes permission to go with the halfblood?”
Halfblood, Kyra thought. He still spoke of her as if she were a stranger to him.
“I would,” said a new voice. Kyra recognized Mela, Adele’s friend. A few others also stepped out, mostly younger clansfolk, several of whom looked familiar.
Leyus looked over each one of them. “You understand that this is no paltry raid. This army comes in great numbers, and they are well armed.” There were a few nods. By now, almost all the Demon Riders had gathered around to watch. When Leyus spoke again, his words were to the volunteers, but his voice was loud enough for all gathered to hear. “You have my permission. Fight as you will. And if you succeed in breaking the siege, I will consider negotiating peace with Forge.”
All in all, there were twelve of them: Kyra, Pashla, Adele, Mela, three other women, and five men. They were all young. Several were friends of Adele’s or had spoken with Flick. Most were from Leyus’s clan—three were from the other. When Kyra asked one of them why he was helping, he replied, “We’ve been sleeping in trees and eating raw meat for over a year now to stay hidden from the human troops. If there’s a better way, I would like to find it.”
She was grateful for their help, but still, there were only twelve of them against over a thousand troops. What good could they possibly do?
“I’d imagined surprising these soldiers with two hundred demon cats at my back, but we can’t do that now,” Kyra told Flick. He’d found her in the forest soon after Kyra left Leyus with her recruits. Mercie, Lettie, and Idalee had taken shelter with friends farther from the city, but he chose to stay with Kyra and her band of Makvani fighters. Whenever Flick wasn’t talking with Kyra, he was at Adele’s side. Kyra wondered if he knew that Adele had been willing to fight a Challenge to win her right to be here. It seemed too personal a thing for Kyra to disclose.
“If you can’t attack them directly, mayhap you could weaken their position some other way,” said Flick. “Their supplies, perhaps?”
“That might work,” said Kyra. “But I know nothing about the Edlan supply caravans.”
“What about that trader Craigson? He’s from Edlan, in’t he?”
Kyra considered his words. Craigson did live close to Edlan, and he bore no particular loyalty to its Duke. “I’ll go speak with him.”
Though the trader camp lay outside the line of Edlan soldiers, Kyra wasn’t surprised to find them readying their wagons to leave. A potential battlefield wasn’t exactly the best place to winter. Craigson was bundling up cooking supplies when Kyra arrived, and he beckoned her closer.
“I’m glad you found us,” he said. “I was regretting having to leave without a final word with you.”
“I’m afraid I’m not here to talk about my past,” said Kyra. “Things have become more complicated since then.”
“Aye, it has. What might I do for you, then?”
Craigson listened with sharp-eyed intelligence as Kyra told him what had happened. “We’d like to avert a war,” she said. “Do you think we could stall the army by stopping their caravans?”
“I reckon you could,” he said. “The Edlan army gets its supplies from wagon trains that come down from the north. The trains are heavily armed, of course, but man for man they’d be easier to go up against than actual soldiers. What you really want to do is destroy the wagons along with the supplies in them. That would make it harder for them to recover.” Craigson paused to roll a bundle tight. “They’re friendly folk, the supply caravanners. I hate to think of them coming t
o harm, but I suppose they knew that risk when they took the job.”
“How big are the wagon trains?” asked Kyra.
“Ten to fifteen wagons, with two to four men manning each wagon.”
Kyra did some figuring in her head. One demon cat could probably handle one wagon, especially if they attacked at night. The image of demon cats leaping out of the darkness onto unsuspecting caravanners left an uneasy feeling in her stomach.
Craigson’s gaze lingered on her face, though Kyra got the impression that he was actually seeing something in his mind’s eye. “You know, your mother once led a small force against a much stronger one.”
“Did she win?” asked Kyra.
“She drove the Makvani here, didn’t she? Maikana was a strong leader.”
Kyra picked up a piece of charcoal from the fire pit and rolled it between her fingers. She knew he meant well, but Craigson’s words only made her feel smaller. “To be honest, Craigson, I’ve got enough people telling me how wonderful my ma was. Please tell me she made mistakes too.”
To her surprise, Craigson laughed. “Mistakes? Maidy, your ma’s first year as her village Guide was one mistake after another. If she hadn’t made mistakes, you wouldn’t be here.” He paused and lowered his voice. “Though she loved you dearly. It near broke her heart when she had to give you to me, and that was with the understanding that you’d be back when the drought ended.”
Kyra latched onto Craigson’s final words. “She did love me, then? She didn’t hate me, for what I was?”
Craigson’s eyes were soft with compassion. “She worried about what you’d become, but it didn’t stop her from loving you and hoping for the best. Maikana didn’t always know what to do, and she made many, many mistakes. But she loved her village, even when the villagers didn’t love her, and when she fell down, she always got up again.”
Craigson’s words reminded Kyra of the conversation she’d had with Malikel, when the Defense Minister had told her he stayed in Forge because he had work to do, despite the mistrust he faced from some. Kyra wondered about herself. Did she love Forge that much? There were certainly parts that she loved—the gutter rats, the southwest quadrant, the streets and rooftops that were as familiar to her as Flick’s laugh or Lettie’s smile. Was that enough to make it worth fighting for?
“Thank you Craigson. For everything,” she said.
Craigson took her hand in his own. His skin was callused and dry, but his grip was warm. “I’ll likely return to Edlan for the rest of the winter. When this all calms down, come find me, and we’ll talk more.”
Twelve was too large a number to convene for long, and the Makvani grew restless to disperse. It was decided that they would set scouts farther up the road to watch for the caravans. When one came close, the scout would reconvene them.
Flick pointed out that it wouldn’t be enough just to stop the caravans, since stores from nearby farms could feed the army for a few weeks at least. He volunteered to carry a message to those still around and rally them to hide their food stores.
“It’s the least I could do,” he said, rubbing his bearded chin with his fingers. Between the facial hair and the lengthening curls atop his head, he was starting to look rather wild. “To be honest, I feel rather useless. I’d much rather be taking down wagon trains with the rest of you, if only I had the claws to do it.”
“Don’t feel guilty,” said Kyra, thinking of all the Makvani who had come to her aid because of Flick. “You’ve already done much more than you realize.”
When the signal came the next evening, Kyra was still half-asleep in her cave. If she’d been in her skin, she might have missed it completely, but she’d slept in her fur, and instinct pulled her awake. Once again Kyra knew exactly where the roar had come from. It was a new thrill, bounding through the trees toward the others and seeing the branches rush by. When she sensed motion in her periphery and her nose picked up the smell of other demon cats, the fur along her spine prickled in recognition. She had never been in her cat form around so many others before, and the unexpected feeling of kinship surprised her.
They gathered in a small clearing. When they had all changed into their skin and dressed, the scout spoke. “There is a caravan on its way. I think they will camp here tonight and meet the army tomorrow.”
“They’ll be most vulnerable when they sleep,” said Kyra. “Pashla and I will go closer and get a better look at how they’re positioned. We can attack when the moon sets.”
A few of the gathered Makvani bowed to her, running one finger down the front of their necks. Then all except Pashla scattered into the trees.
Kyra stared after them, wondering at this honor they paid her, before she returned her thoughts to the matter at hand. She spoke to Pashla. “I prefer to scout in my skin, if you don’t mind.”
“You lead the way,” said Pashla.
The scout had pointed them toward the road slightly north of them, so Kyra set off in that direction with Pashla walking silently alongside her. It didn’t take long for them to hear voices and see campfires in the distance. They slowed and Kyra pointed to a tree. When Pashla nodded, Kyra led the way up. She wasn’t surprised to see that Pashla climbed well in her skin. In a few moments, they were both high enough to get a good view of the wagon train.
Like the scout had said, there were ten wagons, circled now for the night. Armed guards ringed the outside, while those inside tended to animals and prepared food.
“Where will they sleep?” asked Pashla.
“Under the wagons, I’d think,” said Kyra. “The wagons themselves are likely too full to fit any people.”
Pashla watched the wagons with the sharp gaze of a predator. “We’ll fall on the guards from the trees above. They won’t be expecting it, and they won’t be able to see us coming. But it’s still a large number of enemies for the twelve of us. We’ll all have to be in our fur, if we want our best chance of surviving to fight again. You too, Kyra.”
“I know,” she said. The idea didn’t sit well with her, but if she was to lead the raid, she would have to fight as the others did.
She and Pashla returned to her crew and made plans to meet again after the moon set. When the rest of the group left, Pashla stayed behind.
“You’re not leaving?” asked Kyra.
“I think it’s best if you’re not alone,” said Pashla.
She was grateful for Pashla’s company, though the two of them didn’t say much. Pashla seemed lost in her own thoughts while Kyra sat against a tree and scribbled diagrams on the ground with a stick. She couldn’t stay still and got up frequently to pace.
“Something worries you,” said Pashla.
Kyra took a moment to choose her words. “People will die in these raids,” she said. “Both ours and theirs.”
“Is it really so bad a thing to die in battle?” said Pashla. “There’s a saying amongst our people: ‘It is better to die honorably and render yourself immortal than live to old age and fade to dust.’”
“It in’t quite the same,” said Kyra. “You joined the fight because you think it’s worth fighting. But most of the soldiers in this war fight under orders. Some might truly care for the cause, but others serve because it’s the best way to feed their families, and still others were conscripted. So many lives stand to be lost, and it’s all for the ambitions of a few.” And there was more. It was becoming clear to Kyra that there would be no turning back from this. If she changed shape and fell on the caravan with the others, there would be no Tristam this time to keep her in line. She would take pleasure in the slaughter. She would lose herself in the act of war, and the men in the caravan would die gruesome, painful deaths.
Pashla laid a hand on her arm. “We have all agreed to follow you. If you’ve changed your mind about attacking the Edlan troops, then we don’t have to continue on with our plans.”
It was tempting, but Kyra shook her head. “No, we continue with the plan. I don’t see any better way. I do love Forge, and if we hand it over t
o Willem, more people will be hurt in the long run. More people will go hungry, or lack for medicine…”
Kyra stopped short when she realized that the words coming out of her mouth were not her own. Did the fire take more than what the Palace would have taken eventually? Lives lost when folk can’t buy medicine and food. Homes lost because the fatpurses forever grab for more. James had been talking about his Demon Rider raid, the one that killed Bella. Kyra had confronted him in a rage, unable to understand how he could have done something that took so many lives. Oh, James, if you could see me now. Here she was a few months later, in the forest among her fellow Makvani, orchestrating an attack of her own and justifying it with his words.
Something crunched in the snow around her. Perhaps Kyra was becoming attuned to her kin, because she immediately knew that another Demon Rider had come. Still, it was Pashla who recognized the newcomer first.
“Leyus,” she said, and bowed as he came out.
There was something about the clan leader. Wherever he went, he gave the impression that the territory belonged to him and everybody was there at his will. Kyra wondered what kind of greeting she would have given him if she had been raised as his daughter. Was there a different bow?
“I will have a word with Kyra,” Leyus said.
“Of course,” Pashla said, and retreated.
In the past, being left alone with Leyus would have frightened Kyra, but knowing the truth made her bold. Kyra found that she no longer feared Leyus. Nor did she worry about losing his good opinion. He’d already made it clear that she didn’t have it.
Leyus took his time before speaking, gazing down at her like a potter searching a vessel for flaws. “You’re planning to raid the army caravan tonight,” Leyus said.
“Aye,” she said. It was hard not to fidget under his scrutiny. What was Leyus doing here? “It seemed the best way to hurt the Edlan troops.”
He walked a slow arc in the snow in front of her, gazing into the forest beyond. “Had you been raised in a clan, as my heir, I would have trained you to lead your people into battle.”
Daughter of Dusk Page 27
