Bako didn’t know everything after all.
“To those who fell? No, the Reghen and the Ouna-Ma will never go to them. But they were not hurt. There they are.”
Elbia pointed to the moving torches on the right. Guides and a herd of children were approaching the field.
“And how do they learn?” I asked.
“You will tell them. So the weak come to respect the strong,” Old Man answered.
“But they live,” said Elbia.
“Yes, they are called Sheep, but if they slaughter us all like sheep… Who will become warrior?” said Atares.
“So, the maulers won’t tear apart the first to fall today?” asked Danaka.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I think so.”
VI.
Ninestar
Thirteenth Winter. The Sieve. Third Night.
“O Goddess sweet and beautiful, come listen…your children…bring the light…” The words, I forget. Never could I remember the prayers, the songspells of the Goddess of light. Not even in the darkness, when I needed them most.
In the foggy darkness, my defeated rivals, no more than shadows shorter than I, began to gather. I was the first to make it to the field. Across from me, two golden eyes beamed through the bare trees and two wings, sharp as blades, spread left and right. The silver light of Selene colored the monster approaching.
“Demon,” I cried.
The eagle owl found a spot on a cut trunk next to me, and his angry hoots greeted the children.
Not many breaths passed until I heard a vicious snarl, and this time it was indeed a monster. The eagle owl took flight. A dark four-legged creature was coming toward me with an unceasing steady growl, as if it had a curdled gob of spit trapped in its throat. The torchlight illuminated its head. The beast’s eyes, like shining chestnuts, mirrored my tremble. It wasn’t the four gleaming fangs that weakened my knees. It was the smaller teeth, so many and so sharp, lining the beast’s mouth. As the torchlight flickered, the mauler’s slow breath came out warm on my balls and froze me still. The dog stopped growling, bent its head, and licked my toes.
“You still smell of horseshit,” Atares said with the first laughter I had heard in two days.
I was counting torches as the Guides were lighting them, around the field. They were about as many as the eyes of Darhul. The light from each torch moved differently, but together they were one dance, one circle of death around us.
I stood between Malan and Elbia, but Old Man ordered her five bodies farther. Our fingers briefly touched as she slowly walked away. Atares said with a muffled voice, “Stop, or they’ll throw you into the river.”
The Sheep stood among us, and we were all there again as in the previous night. Only Ughi was missing.
“They don’t know, do they? They still think the first boy dies,” asked Atares.
“Or the first girl,” said Malan.
I heard a little girl next to Elbia. She was crying, coughing, and screaming, all together.
“I don’t want to fall first.”
Elbia took her hand and whispered something into her ear. I didn’t hear it, but it calmed the girl. Maybe she told her not to fear because they wouldn’t kill the first to fall. Or just simply, “Be strong.” Elbia surely knew what to tell her.
“The second trial begins. Stand a Wolf today and you’ll feast on roast meat,” the Reghen announced.
“Didn’t they give you meat last night?” I asked the weakling who stood to my right.
He gave me a blank stare as if he understood nothing of what I said.
“Did you get any gruel this morning?” I asked.
It took him many breaths to give me an answer, and I wondered for a moment if the Guides had cut out the tongues of the Sheep.
He finally stuttered, “Yes.”
It would have been so much easier if they hadn’t given them even that. Without food, they wouldn’t last even till noon.
The trial continued unchanged. We stood in the darkness, in the first breath of dawn, and then through the soft rain. I kept an eye out for the dogs, the frozen rage, and the veiled Witches—anything that could attack me. Nothing. It was easier than the first day. A handful of children fell a little after daybreak.
“You can all go to the demons. I can live without meat.” With those words, Atares knelt and then crushed on the mud. It was the first surprise of the second day, his voice was not weary, he didn’t even look tired.
Atares talked too much, and he was curious. He may have wanted to go to the other tents, those with the many children. He would have more Stories to tell there, I thought.
Bako did not fall, nor did Malan. My mind went back to the blade fight, Bako beating me easily in the tent the previous night. In there, I was the orphan, the one who didn’t know anything. But here, outside in the mud, I was the Wolf.
And how could I not be? That was how the old Greentooth raised me since I could walk, each day harder than the one before. Not enough mare’s milk, plenty of kicks and curses, and two pails to fill. The only thing that ever changed was the season: the cold that froze me to the bone, rain like needles, and heat that almost melted my skin. The day was rarely good. When it was, it was worse because the other children were out playing. Insults and stones were flying.
“Stay away, you filthy mongrel.”
“Take your flies and get lost.”
Each pail was heavy as a two-wintered baby, and Sirol was endless on foot. I had marked the camp from end to end. From the eastern end of the bootmakers’ tents to the western end of the Archers’ camp, next to the Endless Forest. But I still didn’t know how to count more than a few times on my fingers.
I counted sunlight. On my eleventh winter, when I was strong enough, I figured that if I walked fast all of a day’s daylight, without even stopping for a breath, I could cross once from east to west all of Sirol. My legs and hands were iron. My mind could go blank all day, working as a mule. These trials of the Sieve were silly chores. How much I wanted to shout to the Reghen, the Guides, and the Ouna-Mas: “This is too easy for me. I will never fall!”
I didn’t.
Neither the Guides nor the dogs harmed the first child who fell on the second day. Nor did they harm any of the other weaklings. The Guides were no longer a threat; the other children were.
Roast meat every night. I wanted to scream with joy. By full-moon night, I would be a true fearless warrior, faster and stronger than the mauler; bite him in the neck. Victory messes quickly with the head of a twelve-wintered boy.
The day was passing under light rain and the stares of the weak. The rain added to the boredom. It stopped late in the afternoon, and a rapid cold came from the Forest. The cold tired me only a bit, while others were shivering from head to feet.
Old Man approached us. His face was so close to mine that I had to take a step back.
“Why do they fall?” he asked.
No answer.
“Who will tell me?” He was louder, closer.
“They’re weaklings.”
“They’re Sheep. Their knees melt,” said Bako.
“It’s the hunger.”
“The cold.”
Some of those who had fallen were strong-built children.
“And not only,” said Old Man.
“You? Orphan?” Now he was asking me.
“What?”
“Will you fall?”
“Never.”
He turned his back on me.
I was the strongest. I wasn’t meat for the dogs. I had eaten well the previous night.
When only seven of us were left, early in the evening, I raised my fist to celebrate. The rest followed—except for Malan. He just looked at me like I was a fool. None of the Reghen made a move to bring us meat. I put my arm down, and we all continued to stand.
Six remained. The Reghen did not move. Then we were five. Nothing. It was late in the evening, and all the birds had disappeared. If anything moved among
the branches, it was either wolves or, worse still, Reekaal. I had never been this close to the Forest at night before as I had these first two days.
And if two of us were left? Or one?
And if only Bako and I remained, that swine with the burnt cheek? How I wanted to be alone with him in this field, without blades, to fight bare-handed.
And if it was only Malan and I? Could I take him?
If it was Elbia and I? I didn’t want to fight with Elbia. She was a girl. What glory could I enjoy in that?
There was another one still standing, who I later learned was named Matsa. A Sheep who had no meat the night before. He was thin but not weak, each curve of his small muscles outlined as if he were a skinned rabbit.
Bako fell. Four of us remained.
The Reghen approached with a basket. The smell of meat.
I jumped around Bako, who was eating mud facedown, unconscious.
“You wanna fight, mudface? Get up. Come on, blade fight. Wake up, stupid. Don’t be afraid,” I yelled until they loaded him onto the cart.
Old Man came from the side and slapped me so hard in the head that I fell on my ass. The fresh blow woke me up. I had forgotten what my skin felt like all day. My meat was in the mud. He was shouting into my ear, almost ripping it out with two fingers. “Listen, fool. Don’t ever tempt the Goddess. She saw you, she heard you.”
He let me go, and I ran to Elbia. She had remained standing, a Wolf, like me. The biggest smile was carved on my face.
“He is helping me,” I told her.
“Who?”
“That old Guide. The one who took me out of the tent the first night.”
“I don’t like the other cloudy-eyed one,” she said.
I found the last remaining clothes under the shed and dressed, still lost in my smile. Those weren’t my clothes. The trousers were shorter. The coat was tighter, and it stayed open around the chest. It didn’t have my smell on it. It smelled of defeat. They were bad luck, these clothes. As soon as I put them on, the Goddess saw me. I stuck my tongue out at her all day, her rage would be soon coming.
I was walking toward the Wolves’ tent. Its hides were an earth color, and bull horns were tied on a stake outside. Gray hides covered the other tents to the left of me, those of the Sheep, and a staked donkey’s head stood in front of them. It was still dripping. To fend off the Reekaal.
We were just four children victorious in the tent, and it seemed enormous. The meat was even tastier. And more plentiful.
Elbia wiped her hands well on her trousers. “How do you do it, Da-Ren? Yesterday, they called you meat for the dogs, yet here you are again a second night.”
I wanted to tell her the truth. I imagine the mud to be horseshit.
But lies came out of my mouth. “Roast meat? I will be here every night.”
In a Tribe of carved monsters with iron-hard faces, she was the most beautiful. Her legs strong, not as a chicken, her brown hair shining like the tail of an Archer’s horse, her full lips like double-curved bows. And those bright, fiery sparks of her eyes foretelling that our Tribe would conquer the world.
“How do you do it?” I asked her.
A smirk. That was a smirk on her lips. How did I dare to ask?
“They came to our tent the day I was born, Ouna-Mas and Reghen. He said to my mother that I was marked for glory. I was born fortunate, and I carry this prophecy with me out there in the field every morning.”
It was the most fitting answer. She was the daughter of Enaka.
“You, Matsa?”
He hadn’t opened his mouth except to gape upon entering the Wolves’ tent. I didn’t ask what the Sheep’s tent was like. It was bad luck to go looking for defeat.
“I want to be an Archer.”
He knew what he wanted. I still didn’t.
“You, Malan?” Elbia asked him.
He didn’t raise an eye to look at her. He was looking at me.
“Nothing.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think of anything.”
“Another moon. When we are done here, I’ll go see my mother again,” said Elbia.
She was looking only at me, once again.
I had no strength for any more talk. The sweet sleep of victory embraced me. I dreamed of a headless donkey trampling over Bako’s face and belly.
Midnight, I woke to the touch of pain and the sound of my own scream. A cinder had jumped from the fire and landed on my chest. It managed to burn a hole through the woolen tunic and was scorching my bare chest underneath. That cinder wanted to wake me.
I threw it away, and my gaze fell onto the two Guides in our tent. They were sitting in front of the fire, stealing its warmth, with their backs turned. They turned for an instant when I cried out, caught a glimpse of me, and showed me their backs again. The other three children were rolled up in deep sleep. I wrapped myself with the hide and closed my eyes, but the burn on my chest and the Guides’ words had woken me for good.
They talked as if I weren’t there.
“We should have patched our tent before the Sieve. It leaks every night,” said Murky Eyes.
“Just as well. There’s only four left today, so there’s enough room in here for us. The fire is bigger here. Rest and eat,” answered Old Man.
“Third winter in the Sieve. A cursed fate. Where are the raids we used to go on, Rouba?”
Rouba! I knew the name of the old man who kept helping me.
“It’s too late for us, Keko. We won’t be raiding anymore. We have only the Sieve,” answered old Rouba. His hair was gray and thinning.
“This is shit here. Minding, killing children.”
“Yeah, there’s no joy in this. But you know what the Reghen say.”
“Better go to battle with eight wolves…”
“Than ten sheep. This is the Truth of the Sieve, two out of ten perish. It has to be so, Enaka demands the purge.”
They had a slice of meat. One would take a bite and pass it to the other.
“Can you believe that these two are from the orphans? Who would have thought it?”
I tried not to make a sound. The fire stole their words and carried them up to the smoke hole, and I lost them. But when the dogs weren’t barking outside, I could make out what they were saying.
“You are new to the Sieve, Keko. I have seen it many times. It is a great strength. Those who don’t have a mother don’t cry, don’t care.”
“And they don’t fall.”
“Yes. Look at that kid, Da-Ren. Have you seen how he stands, like his legs were tree trunks rooted to the ground? He may not fall for the entire Sieve.”
“No one has ever done that.”
“Oh, but he is strong. I tell you, he has passed his twelfth winter and we’ve forgotten him.”
I lowered the hide beneath my ears so I could hear.
“With so many buckets of shit that he’s carried, yes, he is strong. But those brown curls of his hair. His mother was an othertriber for sure.”
“Well, lucky for him that she no longer lives,” said Rouba. He turned to look at me, and I just managed to close my eyes.
“Have you seen the other one, that Malan? Whenever I turn my back, I fear he’ll stab me with a knife.”
“He has the eyes of the Reekaal. The Cyanus.”
“Do not bring the Reekaal into the tent at night. The nights belong to the demons, and they can hear.”
The Reekaal, the legendary otherworldly demons of the Endless Forest, did not steal my attention. I wanted to hear about me.
“Do you think we may be rearing the future Leader here?” asked Keko.
“Of one of the warrior Packs? For sure. But of the whole Tribe? The One? The next Khun? There are more than forty other fields with other children in the Sieve scattered around us.”
“But we chose the strongest children here.”
“Even so. How many winters has it been? I am an old man, and Khun-Taa is still the Leader of the Tribe. Twenty-five winters n
ow. And there are so many others, older than they are, waiting to be Khun.”
“And if we have a woman Leader growing here? Leader in a Pack? The Archers? That Elbia?”
“You know that one of these three has the curse of the Goddess. It is always the strongest of the Wolves who carries it. Second-day standing—”
“It is not Elbia. Da-Ren has the curse,” Keko said.
Something was walking on my foot, but I didn’t dare move. Matsa was mumbling in his sleep, and the Guides stopped talking for a few breaths.
“How do you know?” asked Rouba.
“On the first day when Sah-Ouna approached him first. Didn’t you see? The mark is well hidden by his hair, but…”
The dogs kept howling outside, and I wished for lightning to burn them. I closed my eyes and played dead as the Guides turned toward me again. I tried to breathe as if I were asleep.
“What mark?” asked Rouba.
“He’s a ninestar. I don’t know how he can still be alive or what he is even doing here. But Da-Ren has the curse for sure. The third day is dawning today. Count. On exactly the twenty-first day, the Ouna-Mas will finish him.”
“A ninestar and an orphan?”
I remained frozen when Rouba’s fingers passed through my hair. They were warm from the fire.
“Black livers of Darhul. That’s a solid mark.”
“What is it?”
“He is not just a ninestar. He has the mark of the full red triangle. See, here. A cursed ninestar,” said Rouba.
He took his hands away. Keko’s hands also searched through my hair. They were rough, like blade stones, grinding the bones beneath my skin.
“A full red triangle. Mark of the darkness,” Keko said.
“Careful you don’t wake him.”
“He’s sleeping like a rock on the banks of the Blackvein. He won’t wake. They’re all dead tired.”
“A true ninestar. I’ve never seen one in the Sieve. Not one in the ten thousand Archers when I was there.”
“No one would ever make it alive that far. It takes another five springs of training to join the Archers. Black fate. What demon took the mother’s mind to bear him a ninestar? Couldn’t she hold another night? Or push sooner?”
Drakon Book I: The Sieve Page 4
