by Claudia King
The barking of wolves was growing distant behind them now, replaced by the thick scent of smoke as they skirted the edge of the forest atop a high rock shelf. They were almost there.
Netya cast one last look back over her shoulder before the caves above the den were lost to view, but all she could see was smoke rising from the silhouetted outline of the forest, the valley bathed in the ruddy orange glow of the witches' fires. The night was only just beginning, and already she longed for it to be over.
—34—
Adel's Guardians
Miral's followers were in disarray. The alpha had never seen them so confused, so robbed of their fighting spirit, infected by whatever dark magic Adel was working within her den. As soon as he emerged from the forest he almost tripped over the body of one of his warriors, an old, sinewy beast who had fought at Miral's side through many battles. There was barely a wound on his body, only a handful of broken wooden spikes from the traps peppering his foreleg. It was the kind of injury a wolf like him should have barely felt, and yet he was huddled over on his side, white bubbles of spittle frothing at the corner of his mouth as he twitched in the grass, eyes roving wildly from side to side. Miral snapped his teeth at his fallen follower, digging a forepaw into his shoulder, but the old warrior did not even flinch in response.
Curse the sorceress and her wicked ways. It was one thing to down a foe through noble combat, but quite another to steal his will; to strip away his resolve and reduce him to a shadow of what he was. A violation of everything that made a man a man. Adel would suffer for what she had wrought.
Miral threw his head back and howled to his scattered brethren, calling those who still had their wits about them to his side. Half a dozen answered, but the rest seemed either lost within their own personal nightmares or too frightened to respond. The alpha roared again, rearing up on his hind legs and reverting from the shape of his wolf.
"To your alpha's side, now!"
A few more of the skittish wolves began moving in his direction, red-eyed and panting as they struggled through the smoke.
"What is this spell they have cast upon us?" Nekare gasped, gripping his alpha's shoulder for support as he rose up on two legs beside him.
"The curse of the spirit world." Miral bared his teeth, jerking his head in the direction of the light that burned farther down the valley. "She sends it upon us from the safety of her den, like a coward."
"I saw dark spirits in the forest, the bones of animals—"
"What will bones do to harm you? A man with the will to stand by my side can match the strength of any spirit. Crush them, tear this dark world of Adel's apart around her!"
A few more of the stragglers began to hurry in Miral's direction, drawn to the confidence in his voice. The light of the bonfires behind them seemed to have grown, illuminating more of the valley despite the thick smoke wafting across the grass like mist. Then Nekare turned his eyes upward, and with a silent finger he pointed to the ghostly lights shimmering above them. As they watched, more began to appear. To Miral's eyes it seemed that the stars themselves were falling, descending from the heavens to burn like tiny suns along the edges of the valley.
"How many warriors does the witch have at her side?" Nekare said.
"Warriors? Those are lights from the sky. Pay them no heed, they will not harm us."
Nekare stared at his alpha in confusion. A forlorn howl went up from one of the wolves who had been returning to Miral's side, and the beast turned tail and dashed back into the forest.
"Forward!" Miral urged. "You cannot run from spirits!"
He staggered a few paces away from the trees, clutching his head as it pounded with the ache of the cursed smoke. Every moment that passed changed the quality of the world around him. The earth beneath his feet seemed to move, rippling like the skin of a slumbering animal. The sky blazed like fire. Drawing in a heavy breath of the bitter air, he roared again, clenching his weathered palms into fists as he strode onward. He did not need his wolf. He would put an end to the sorceress's magic with his bare hands.
The strongest of his warriors followed on behind him, barely a third of their whole number, but more than enough to fight a handful of weak-willed women. They were not far from the light he had seen at the other end of the valley, though the dark made it difficult to judge exactly how far they had come. When he looked up to the sky he was blinded by light, and when he looked down again the grass beneath his feet seemed blacker than the darkest nightmare.
A tiny rushing sound pricked the air, and the shadows came alive and lashed out at him. The alpha jerked instinctively to one side as something hissed forward, long and sharp, like the fang of a giant cat. No, not a fang. A weapon of the Sun People. Miral stopped in his tracks as the thin throwing spear reverberated in the ground a few paces behind him. His followers broke apart, the one closest to the javelin barking in terror and bolting back the way he had come.
A second rush of air preceded another spear, this one burying itself in Nekare's flank. The man, now returned to his animal form, let out a throaty growl of pain, kicking his hind leg to try and work the pointed shaft loose as he staggered and blood ran down his side.
Miral snorted in frustration, leaping into the shape of his wolf and charging toward where the attack had come from. Spears of the Sun People were not thrown by demons. It was a trick, another deception, and even the reeling mind of his animal half could not distract him from the taste of flesh he now scented on the wind. Footfalls pattered up ahead. Hurried, panicked. The alpha growled with satisfaction, driving his paws against the ground as he closed the gap between them. Were his warriors still at his side? He cared not. His thoughts were fogged, able to focus on only one thing: the victory that awaited him up ahead.
Miral's surroundings began to take on more clarity now that the lights in the sky were behind him. Something was roaring to his left. A rush of water spilling down the valleyside? Or perhaps a torrent of blood. It had a strange tang in his muzzle, like everything in this forsaken place. His paws carried him uphill, over remnants of wood shavings and well-trodden grass. A great series of caves loomed out of the shadows on the valleyside, and at their foot stood the shapes of two men holding spears and an enormous wolf beside them, the beast so vast in size that it too must have been conjured from the spirit world.
Weak spirits, Miral's thoughts raged, fight me. Fight me!
A spear ripped through the air toward him, but he dodged to one side and the clumsy throw missed by several yards. The second man drew back to throw his spear, but by then Miral was almost on top of them. Before the weapon could leave his hand the alpha lunged, throwing himself upon the enormous wolf that barrelled forward to meet him without any thought for caution or grace. Something sharp dragged along his lower body, perhaps the beast's claws, but Miral barely felt it. He sunk his teeth through his adversary's neck fur and tore loose a piece of flesh, spitting out blood and hair as he kicked himself away from the crumpling wolf and set his eyes upon the two men.
"Eyan!" a female voice called, and a sandy-haired woman bolted from the darkness to rush to the fallen beast's side, a young girl trailing after her. Miral ignored them, snapping his jaws closed around the haft of the first man's spear before he could bring the point forward, crunching through the wood and driving the man down against the rocks. His forepaws hit his adversary's chest with a fleshy crack as the alpha's full weight slammed atop him, and the panicked wheeze of breath that left the man's throat signalled that his body was too broken to continue the fight.
Only one more remained, an overgrown boy by the looks of him, eyes filled with fear, a single streak of blonde hair quivering where it fell against his cheek.
Wild-eyed and with blood streaming from his muzzle, Miral lunged at him, expecting the young man to bolt. But the warrior stood his ground, taking the shape of his wolf and placing himself squarely between the alpha and the two women kneeling beside the fallen spirit beast.
Miral drew back his muzzle from his
teeth, licking his jaws and he circled the small group, letting the bloodlust burn inside him, growing stronger, fuelling his body with the same otherworldly strength that had allowed him to defeat the spirit Octavia's seers had pitted against him. None of his warriors had kept up with him, that much was clear now, but it did not matter. He would kill these ones, then gather the rest of his pack to him. Once they were emboldened by their alpha's victory, there would be no man or spirit that could stop them.
But before Miral could lunge again, another brown-furred body streaked out of the darkness, a flash of teeth swiping at his muzzle so fast it almost drew blood. The alpha dodged back, turning to face his new attacker with a savage growl. He licked his muzzle again, tongue lolling ravenously as he panted for breath. He recognised the wolf facing him. One of those from the gathering. The male who had bested the son of Alpha Ulric.
At last, a true warrior.
Miral rose up on his hind paws, emptying his lungs in a roar so ferocious it made the young warrior protecting the others recoil in fear. Yet the alpha's opponent stood his ground, cunning eyes studying the dark-furred wolf as if he were a craftsman appraising a piece of flint, weighing exactly when and where he would strike his first blow.
But no blow came, neither from Miral nor his adversary. Before either one of them could act, a light the colour of violet flowers spilled through the darkness above them, casting long shadows upon the surrounding rocks as it flickered and danced. It was a familiar light. A kind he had seen only one woman conjure.
Where are you, Sorceress?
The alpha turned his eyes skyward, and before him the valleyside erupted in spirit fire, the dark caves up above filling with its glow as three great pyres blazed to life. No, not pyres. Eyes. The eyes of a demon the likes of which Miral had never conceived. They smouldered within sockets of stone, the creature's skull forcing its way out of the cliff like a skeleton stripped of flesh, sharp stalactite jaws cast into relief by the tongue of violet fire that spilled forth from its gaping maw. And standing between the monster's teeth, arms spread wide as if inviting it to devour her, was the shape of a woman wearing a fox-pelt headdress.
Such a demon. Such a power to summon this magic. It was only then that Miral understood the true breadth of Adel's skill. She was a sorceress without rival, a seer among seers, perhaps the most powerful woman ever born of their people. And the alpha knew he had to have her power. It would be his, or else it would be destroyed by his hand.
Come out of your mountain, demon! he tried to yell, the words emerging from his throat in a wild howl, the bloodcurdling sound echoing off the valley walls over the noise of the flames. In the violet light of the monster's features he saw women dressed in seers' garb standing on the valley slopes around him, and more wolves edging forward to join them. They suddenly seemed insignificant, paling in comparison to the burning beast Adel had wrenched from the spirit world to be her guardian. It was the only foe he cared for in that moment. He longed to fight it. No greater glory had ever befallen him. But even with his mind fogged by the bitter smoke, even burning with so much furious strength, the alpha knew that he faced more wolves than any one man could fight. So many of them, and yet none had the courage to attack him. The night was young still, and his warriors had yet to taste any blood of their own. They would fight Adel's followers for him, and then he would destroy the witch and her spirit demon himself.
He reverted from the shape of his wolf, teeth still bared in a challenging grin to his foes. Spreading his palms wide, he turned his back on them, inviting anyone with the courage to finish him where he stood. Not a single paw moved. Not even the demon had the bravery to attack Alpha Miral.
There was no urgency to his step as he walked back into the darkness, for why would he need it? A greater glory than he had ever known awaited him, and before long he would embrace it.
"To your alpha's side, my warriors!" he bellowed into the darkness. "Tonight your leader tastes the blood of a demon!"
* * *
The flare of violet light was so strong that Netya and her companions glimpsed it all the way from the end of the valley. They knew the den mother had been preparing more of her spirit fire ever since they returned from the gathering, but from the sight of it she looked to have ignited an entire pyre of the magic powder.
The anxious wails of Miral's wolves increased in volume, and Netya wished she could see exactly what kind of spectre Adel had conjured to frighten them. Surely now their enemies would turn and flee?
When the commotion near the centre of the valley reached their ears Selo put out a hand to stop Netya, tugging on Meadow's tail to make her come back as well.
"It may be too late now, anyway," she whispered.
Netya nodded her understanding. They did not want to continue down the slope to the valley floor if Miral and his followers were about to come back in their direction. She clutched her spear close to her chest, barely daring to breathe as she strained to pick out any signs of movement in the darkness below them. They had almost reached the end of the valley, past the thickest tangle of trees and undergrowth where the land began to open out again. With a little luck they would be safe upon their hidden perch in the rocks, but as soon as they ventured down they would be putting themselves directly in harm's way.
The moments passed, distant cries still echoing off the valley walls beyond the trees, but not a leaf on the near side stirred. The violet glow simmered in the distance, turning rapidly more orange as the spirit powder fuelling it burned away.
"It didn't work," Meadow said fearfully after reverting from the shape of her wolf. "I knew it was too much to hope for. We must go back—"
"Remember our task," Selo whispered, squeezing the older woman's shoulder.
"Ura was helping the den mother with her fires," Meadow continued to fret. "Do you think she will have time to flee?"
"The men will protect them," Netya replied, her mouth starting to feel very dry. "They would lay down their lives for the others."
Selo gave her a sympathetic look, but Meadow's gaze remained fixed on the distant glow of the fires, biting at her fingernails as she trembled on the spot.
"If Miral's wolves are still here then we should continue," Netya said. "Selo knows where to find the bear."
The other young seer nodded. "His den is close by, but perhaps the commotion has already roused him. Be quick on your feet."
Netya tucked her spear out of sight in their hiding place before following the others down the precarious climb to the valley floor. It was not a long distance, but it required the use of hands rather than paws to traverse the steep incline of the cracked rock. Once they were safely down all three of them took the shapes of their wolves, and immediately a wave of overpowering scents buffeted Netya's nostrils. Even from here the smoke from the burning herbs tasted bitter in the air, and it was overlaid with the smells of a great many unfamiliar wolves. Phantoms of musky fur and hot breath lingered in the wake of Miral's pack, so many distinct odours that Netya feared to try and count them. Beneath all of that, however, was a richer scent. One that felt like it had seeped into the surrounding land over a great many years.
Though she had become accustomed to tracking by smell, it was clear that Selo had far more experience than Netya by the way she instinctively latched on to the bear's scent, picking out the freshest trail and following it first to the beast's cave, then away toward the centre of the valley. It seemed he had been roused by the passing of Miral's pack after all, and it was not long before Selo froze, lowering her body to the ground and flicking her muzzle forward.
There, sniffing around the edge of the forest, Netya's night eyes made out the shape of the lumbering bear a moderate distance ahead of them. She had only glimpsed their valley's fellow occupant a few times from afar, and always with the intention of putting as much distance between him and herself as possible. Now that she planned on getting even closer, however, she realised how truly vast and intimidating the creature was. The forest bears near h
er old village had been smaller, and if they were hunted it was when they were still young and made for easy prey, before they grew large enough to kill a man with a single swipe of their claws.
This one was far from young. Shaggy and muscular, he dwarfed even the largest of the Moon People's oversized wolves with his bulk. Despite his slow, almost weary-looking movements, Netya had been warned many times that a bear could easily chase down a fleeing man. A man, but not a wolf.
Selo, who had been watching and luring the beast for many days now, edged forward and let out a low bark. The bear turned his head, slumping back down from the tree he had been sniffing at. He watched them in silence. Selo edged a few steps forward, and the bear let out a warning growl. Every inch of Netya's body itched for her to run, her wolf's instincts writhing like snakes beneath her skin, but she willed herself to be still. She had come a long way since the night she bolted from the flooding cave.
The bear regarded them with a look that almost reminded Netya of the intelligence seen in the wolves of her own kind. He was an old and cunning beast, that much was clear, the strange arrival of so many unfamiliar scents and sounds having made him cautious rather than aggressive. But he was still a wild animal, and after another taunting bark from Selo the bear roared and lunged toward her. Just as they had discussed when Selo explained their plan earlier that day, the three women broke apart and dashed in different directions, Meadow a tad slower and less steady on her paws than her companions.
The bear was quick, but even his sudden charge seemed almost half-hearted, as though the beast's apprehension was still holding him back. While at first Netya had been running full-out, she soon had to force herself to slow a little before she lost sight of the bear behind her. The three of them doubled back around the edges of the valley, pausing to provoke the bear again when it began to lose interest, leading it slowly into the forest.
Now the truly dangerous part of their task began, and only Netya's fear over what might be happening back at the den kept her resolve intact. The plan had been simply to lure the bear into the path of Miral's warriors if they were able, but the time for that had long since passed. If their enemies showed no sign of retreating back past the bear, then it seemed their only chance was to lead him directly to them.
