The Sianian Wolf

by Y. K. Willemse

  When he opened his eyes, Zion was directly beside the bed. He had risen on calloused talons, and his neck had extended so his eyes were level with Rafen’s. He spread his wings once, showing Rafen that extraordinary albatross range. Then he folded them against his glimmering sides.

  Rafen drew back on the bed, shaking.

  “Nufien nia, Rafen,” the Phoenix said. Though his curved beak never moved, his voice filled the room and was a gentle pressure against Rafen’s skin.

  Don’t be afraid.

  “I’m filthy,” Rafen choked in Mio Urmeea.

  “I will clean you, Rafen,” the Phoenix said. “Be clean. Accept what I give you.”

  Rafen’s phoenix feather twitched in his hem, and Rafen gripped it with sweaty fingers. The Phoenix threw back his head and opened his beak. An eerie, crystalline ringing burst on the air, rising and falling in wild melody. It was savage, yet bewilderingly beautiful. It was a physical affair that shook him, massaged him, and embraced him furiously.

  Several minutes later he realized the Voice had ceased, though the song still filled him. His body quivered with energy. He stared at his arms: they were clean. Everything was clean. His shirt was a brilliant, beacon white.

  He remembered that song in the beginning, tearing through him, pulling him out of nothingness and whipping him into Being. His first thoughts and desires had been for his Creator.

  “Now you are clean,” the Phoenix said. “I have forgiven all. I will always forgive you, Rafen, when you turn and see.”

  “Thank you,” Rafen said in Mio Urmeea.

  Although the Phoenix didn’t smile, Rafen sensed he was amused.

  “It is who I am,” he said.

  Rafen’s stomach cramps had gone. He looked down at himself. In the red haze, his skin was pale as snow.

  He was extremely tired, and without thinking, he stretched out on the thin mattress, his muscles relaxing. Ordinarily, he might have felt this was rude. Right now, however, the Phoenix’s pleasure filled the room, as if Rafen had done a valiant thing. The last thing Rafen saw before sleep descended was the gleam of the Phoenix’s eyes. His hand on his phoenix feather, he thought, So he never really left me.

  *

  At the sound of movement, Rafen’s eyes flicked open. He felt like he had had a heavenly massage. Sherwin was at the head of his bed, his bruise a vibrant purple. At the sight of his friend, Rafen felt panic rise like vomit within him.

  He sat up abruptly and yelled, “Francisco isn’t here with us!”

  “Raf, Raf, relax,” Sherwin said, forcing him to lie back down.

  Rafen’s muscles trembled. “Sherwin, we have to go to him,” he said desperately. “Yesterday, I felt – pain – he’s in trou—”

  “Franny’s with us, okay? He’s here with Roger and Elizabeth and Wynne. Yer don’t need to panic.”

  “Francisco’s here?”

  Sherwin nodded.

  “Alive?” Rafen’s voice sounded abnormally high.

  Sherwin laughed, and Rafen gritted his teeth.

  “Sure he’s alive,” Sherwin said. “In fact, he’s the reason yer alive.”

  Rafen stared at Sherwin.

  “Franny got away from the Lashki yesterday afternoon, barely. He’d been tortured, and ’e was in really bad condition.”

  Rafen’s stomach twisted, even though he had partially known this.

  “He got out of the palace, and then Kasper, Robert, and Etana picked him up. They were all there spying, see. Apparently they do that occasionally, though they weren’t supposed to go to the palace. That was Kasper’s idea.” Sherwin grinned. “Anyway, they started running with Franny, but the Lashki was after him. He didn’t get far because then his copper rod vanished or somethin’. No one knows quite how that bit goes. So they got away and then Franny came round and told them all that the Lashki had this idea to trap yer, and they better find yer quick. They found Roger, Elizabeth, and Wynne first, took a shortcut to this ’ideout, and set ’em all up here, only I’d left the camp before tha’. Then they raced back to find yer.”

  Rafen looked at Sherwin, his conscience twanging guiltily. He’d been a fool to think Francisco had betrayed him.

  “My brother—”

  “—saved yer life,” Sherwin finished. “And a few others besides. Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either. Yer shouldn’ta left the camp last night in the first place though. I don’t know what yer were thinking. Yer didn’t even set up a watch.”

  “I know,” Rafen said, ashamed.

  Sherwin turned pale as he remembered the previous night’s events. Perhaps he was recalling the man he had killed. His next words were shaky.

  “What ’appened before I came?”

  Rafen shook his head.

  “Yer won’t tell even me?”

  “How is Roger?”

  “Roger’s great,” Sherwin said. “At least, physically anyway. Etana’s taken a look at him. He’s come round and everythin’, and he’s sittin’ up. Yer know, it’s past bottle o’glue – er, two – in the afternoon, and yer still lying around. Everyone wants to see yer.”

  Rafen pulled himself up, unwillingly this time. He was still shaky. He glanced down at his arms, which seemed to glow. Even his shirt was pristine. It hadn’t been a dream then; the Phoenix had really come to him. Rafen smiled.

  “Well, Etana did a good job on yer last night. Purged yer system and gave yer a right good clean, didn’t she?”

  Rafen swung his legs over the edge of his low-slung bed. “What do you mean, she purged my system?”

  “Oh, well,” Sherwin said, looking grave. “She gave yer some kind of medicine which made yer vomit up everythin’ yer ate for a week, I reckon. It was disgustin’.”

  “You didn’t watch it though.”

  “Uh, yes, I did,” Sherwin said, blushing. “Yer said to me not to leave yer, don’t yer remember?”

  “You’re making this up.”

  “I’m not!” Sherwin said indignantly. “Yer honestly said to me not to leave yer, and yer were all panicky, sayin’ yer didn’t want to go back to them, or somethin’. So I came. Etana took yer down all these passages to this underground shake-n’-shiver, well, river, and she gave yer the medicine. Yer started retchin’ like there was no tomorrow. I had to support yer, and yer did it all in the shiver until yer looked like yer were fit to die, and then Etana said something like ‘that’ll make yer feel better’-”

  Sherwin said this in such a high voice that Rafen started laughing helplessly.

  “—and then, she took yer to this place, and told me to leave. So I left. I don’t think yer noticed, yer were zoned out. Can’t tell yer how happy I am to see yer lookin’ better. Dunno what she thought that medicine stuff would do.”

  “She probably thought it would clean me out after biting the Lashki,” Rafen said.

  “It cleaned a lot of other things besides Lashki out,” Sherwin said. “I’m surprised yer still got intestines in there. Yer sure yer feel fine?”

  “Yes,” Rafen said, smiling up at him. “I’m going to see the others now.”

  “All right then,” Sherwin said. “Etana’s goin’ to kill me, because she told me not to visit yer and ask yer to come. I couldn’t help myself. Yer never told me how bossy she is. But Kasper’s pretty awesome. Do yer need help?”

  “I’m fine,” Rafen said, pushing away Sherwin’s obliging hand.

  He rose to his feet, clenched his teeth, and walked as steadily as he could through the empty doorway of his room. The walls of the hall around him were of hard earth and rock. Lit torches hanging on them gave wavering light.

  “What is this place?” he said, looking back at Sherwin.

  “Yer don’t remember, do yer?” Sherwin said. “We had to go down this rope ladder down a big black hole, into a huge cave, and then find these phoenix carvings and get through a secret Henry Moore. Anyway, it’s this huge underground network of chambers, yer know, with all these passages leading Lord-knows-where. Unbelievable. Apparently King Frit
z kept his army down here once.”

  “Wait,” Rafen said, glancing back at Sherwin. “You said ‘everyone’ wants to see me. Who’s everyone?”

  “Well…”

  “Tell me,” Rafen implored.

  “Actually, er, I’m not supposed to say anythin’. Yeh’ll see when—”

  “Sherwin, for Zion’s sake, tell me!” Rafen shouted. He was starting to sweat.

  Sherwin looked rueful.

  “I’ll show yer the way, Raf, but yer have to promise not to kill me, because I can’t tell yer. I’m already upsettin’ yer health by doin’ this. Let’s jus’ see if yer can walk there first.”

  “Sherwin—”

  “Seriously, Raf, shut up and get walkin’. Yeh’ll find out then.”

  After half an hour of traveling through cold underground passageways, they reached a hall with old Sianian axes and arrows hanging on the walls. One threadbare tapestry depicted a phoenix feather. Rafen felt like his secret was hanging there for all to see.

  “This is it,” Sherwin announced.

  Feeling feverish, Rafen followed his friend to an open doorway. Sherwin looked sheepishly round it.

  “’ello, Etana,” he said.

  “Hello, Sherwin,” Etana said curtly from within. “Why in the Pilamùr have you got that stupid smile on your face?”

  “I have a surprise for yer,” Sherwin said. “For all of yer.”

  He signaled to Rafen before stepping into the room.

  “What’s your surprise then, old fellow?” Kasper said, then fell silent. His heart thumping, Rafen had entered, and everyone was staring at him.

  The little circular room was furnished with curved wooden benches that fit its walls. A fire blazed in an alcove at the back. Its flickering light suffused everyone’s faces. Elizabeth, Roger, and Francisco huddled close together on a bench. At the sight of his twin, Rafen felt relief assail him almost violently. Bertilde and Wynne, who sat beside each other, stared at Rafen blankly as people do when they are drawn out of conversation. Robert and Kasper flanked Etana like bodyguards, sitting directly next to… King Robert and Queen Arlene. Queen Arlene’s face was sterner and whiter than Rafen remembered it. She watched Rafen warily. Rafen was staring at King Robert.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Answers

  King Robert smiled faintly. He was almost as Rafen remembered:

  pale, freckled, yet thinner, having eaten lightly for the past seven months. His face had shrunk, and its worry lines had increased. His vibrant red moustache drooped over his pale lips and his chin-length hair came down in strands, giving the impression of a man who has lived in the wild for some time.

  Rafen’s eyes met his melting blue ones. They regarded each other for a minute, during which Rafen’s fears that they would all reject him because of his human bloodline mounted.

  Etana said to Sherwin as coldly as possible, though still not able to lose that infectious warmth she inherited from her father, “You shouldn’t have brought him. He looks like he is going to drop dead.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” King Robert said hoarsely. “He looks very well. Very well indeed, Rafen, my boy.”

  He rose, and before Rafen knew it, they were embracing fiercely and Rafen was sobbing. He clutched King Robert’s back with persistent fingers, even though the king was almost crushing his ribs. There was a lot less of King Robert to hug than Rafen remembered. Everything in him cried out at last, at last, and it took this reunion for him to know what missing someone really was.

  They broke apart. King Robert grasped Rafen’s shoulders and beamed through tears. “You have grown,” he said.

  Rafen gave a choky laugh. King Robert was stout, although Rafen was shorter still, after his years in Tarhia.

  “You must tell me everything,” King Robert said. “Yet I will give you time to breathe first, my boy.”

  Rafen couldn’t speak. His throat had a lump in it. Deliberately avoiding Queen Arlene’s eyes, Sherwin stood near King Robert, radiant with embarrassment.

  Rafen turned to Francisco, who sat on his left, Elizabeth’s bandaged arm encircling him.

  Francisco’s face was ashen, with several small cuts in places and the large bruise still prominent on his forehead. Black circles around his eyes indicated he hadn’t slept last night. His navy coat was filthy and streaked with some dried, sticky substance. His left arm hung limply at his side. However, as he met Rafen’s eyes, Francisco erupted off the bench. Next to him, Roger was almost pitched onto the floor.

  Then Rafen was in his brother’s one-armed hug, and again he cried like an idiot, because he couldn’t believe it. Francisco’s quiet joy exuded from him and gained its own presence in Rafen’s mind.

  Rafen stepped back. “Your arm,” he said. Francisco cut across him in his thick Tarhian accent.

  “It does not hurt,” he said. “Much. I am all right. Do not worry. I feared for you, my brother. Last night—”

  “It was nothing,” Rafen said quickly. It was the biggest lie he had ever told, and the look in Francisco’s eyes said his brother knew it was too. “I’m alive, thanks to you.”

  “Ach, thanks to me,” Francisco said sarcastically, with a laugh. “The others did all the work. I only fell out of a window and warned them.”

  Feeling Roger’s expectant gaze, Rafen turned to him. The color had returned to Roger’s face. His clear blue eyes watched Rafen with what instinct called jealousy of King Robert, though Rafen’s heart preferred to identify it as concern. Laying a hand on his brother’s shoulder, Rafen moved past Francisco and gave Roger a long hug, expressive of all he couldn’t voice. Elizabeth’s was even longer. She embraced him so tightly Rafen’s windpipe almost collapsed.

  Permitted to breathe again, Rafen looked around the room, feeling hollow. Bambi was not here. His insides became icy, and he looked away.

  Be a good brother.

  It was odd. He could still feel her kiss on his ear.

  At his silence, grief appeared afresh in each of their faces. For their sakes, Rafen looked at Etana, forcing himself to grin wryly despite his weariness.

  “Look,” he said, the words sticking in his throat. “I haven’t dropped dead yet.”

  Etana smiled sadly.

  *

  “Have you had contact with Alexander?” Rafen asked, staring at the silvery stream flowing through the underground cave. He couldn’t help remembering what Sherwin had told him that morning, and he almost smiled.

  “No, no,” King Robert said. “If only we had… I am sure he is all right; survival has always been his strength.”

  “I’m going to find him,” Rafen said, “as soon as I’m feeling better.”

  “No,” the king said forcefully. “Rafen, my boy, you mustn’t. He can take care of himself.”

  “I want to help him win back Siana. Unless we have enough men to overthrow the army of Tarhians and philosophers here, the Lashki will never leave. When I find Alexander, I want to fight with—”

  “Promise me you will not try such madness,” King Robert cut in.

  “Saving Siana is not madness,” Rafen said.

  “I didn’t mean that, my boy,” King Robert said, touching his arm. “I meant that you must not seek Alexander. I will send out a message again. Leave it to me. Promise me that.”

  Rafen gritted his teeth. He managed to nod and look agreeable, even though he meant none of it.

  “You must understand,” King Robert said, and Rafen felt his throat tighten, because he already knew what the king was going to say, “I cannot lose another—”

  The word “child” was on his lips. In the dancing water, Bambi twisted and twirled before Rafen, her green eyes shimmering. He could almost run to the edge of the rocky bank and touch her.

  He was sitting next to King Robert on a flat-faced rock at the stream’s edge. King Robert listlessly watched the little blue-gray fish that flashed beneath the waters.

  “We’ve never been able to catch those, you know,” he said. “Robert and
Kasper have tried, they’re just not fast enough.”

  Rafen had spent the morning in the circular room with the others. Compared to his last seven months, theirs had been very uneventful. They had remained safely hidden in the Hideout, occasionally straying outside to gather information. Robert’s, Kasper’s, and Etana’s excursion and rescue had been a flagrant breaking of rules, which King Robert had been forced to forgive. However, King Robert was uncomfortable with his guests. Rafen knew he didn’t trust Roger.

  Yet Rafen was wildly relieved that his being human hadn’t made a difference to his relationship with the king. It had seemed to change something between him and Queen Arlene though. She

  had scarcely spoken to him.

  “You didn’t tell us much about your life, Rafen,” King Robert said conversationally. “Except that you are the Wolf. A revelation to be sure. Did it surprise you?”

  Rafen nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “It felt natural after it happened though. The Wolf and the Fledgling are one role. It’s hard to explain.”

  “I am surprised you managed to avoid capture all those months,” King Robert said.

  “The Lashki was hunting me.”

  King Robert blew air out from between his teeth. “You must have drawn attention as the Wolf.”

  Rafen stared at the fish in the stream. His thoughts drifted to Erasmus, and he felt wearier than ever. “How long does grief last after someone has died?” he asked.

  His face pained, King Robert looked closely at Rafen. “Ah,” he said in a hollow voice. “You never really forget, Rafen. The pain becomes fainter and fainter, and then white, like a scar. But you always remember…”

  “But I did forget,” Rafen said. “I forgot—”

  I forgot Erasmus, he wanted to say, but King Robert wouldn’t know who Erasmus had been. Rafen had gone for months without remembering the full force of Erasmus’ personality, the sound of his voice, his words, until yesterday.