The Outcast

by Kathryn Lasky

  The similarity to recent events in Coryn’s life seemed both incredible and confusing. Was the egg he had rescued that of a king? Was little Coryn destined to be king and save the owl universe? Was he himself, like Grank? No wonder I must go to Beyond the Beyond. For if I am to be little Coryn’s teacher, maybe it is in Beyond the Beyond that I’ll complete my education to become a wizardly owl. And Grank had had fire sight just like I do! Coryn had never heard this detail before. And didn’t it make sense that he should become little Coryn’s tutor since he had rescued the egg? Oh, there were too many coincidences to be ignored. Coryn could hardly wait to leave for Beyond the Beyond.

  Now he finally knew why he must go. If he had only known this when Kalo asked him why he was going. But then again, he thought, that might have been a little too much. He tried to imagine himself saying to her, “Well, you see, Kalo, your little brother, the egg I rescued, he’s actually a king and I am supposed to be his tutor. Therefore I have to go to Beyond the Beyond to complete my education before I can start helping your brother.”

  First Black couldn’t come too soon! Coryn was very excited but finally he slept. He was awakened hours later at tween time, by the rustling in the Great Horned Owls’ hollow as they prepared to go out and hunt. He would wait until they left and then he would find the Star That Never Moves in the north sky and take his bearings as Mist and the eagles had taught him. He would head four points west of the star into Beyond the Beyond. This was his destiny: to teach a prince to become a king.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Wolves in the Moonlight

  As Coryn left the Shadow Forest for Beyond the Beyond, the contrary winds increased and he was forced to stop again and again. He tried flying through the trees rather than above them, thinking that this would afford him more wind protection. But the branches of the trees were being tossed wildly, and dodging them was as much of an effort as flying against the wind. Then when the winds finally died down one morning, he was tempted to fly in the light of day. Tempted, that is, until he heard the loud cawing of crows. Why get mobbed now, he had thought, after all this flying. So he counseled himself to be patient. He slept through that day, then flew night after night, stopping only to hunt enough to keep up his strength. And always, always he avoided the notice of other owls. Finally, he reached his destination.

  The sky sparkled with stars. The moon was full and low, a “perching moon,” owls often called it as it seemed to perch like an immense silver ball on the horizon.

  The moon appeared to tremble slightly as if it might fall off the horizon. This could be the edge of the world, Coryn thought, for it seemed as if he had indeed flown far enough to take him to the edge of the world.

  Coryn had perched on a high ledge just within the border of Beyond the Beyond and was surveying the strangest landscape he had ever seen. It was an unimaginable landscape and yet he had seen it before—in the fire that Gwyndor had made to burn the bones of Kludd, his father.

  Everything about this place was strange, even its color. There were patches of snow and between these patches of white, the land glistened black for the most part. But oddest of all—and this, too, he had seen in the flames of the fires—were the weird cone-shaped mountains. On top of them were openings like huge mouths that belched steam and occasionally fire into the night. Like streaks of boiling blood, coals spilled down their slopes.

  He saw Rogue colliers in the distance flying over the cone mountains, but none of them flew near the mouths. They dove for the coals most distant from the mountaintops, the ones that were cooling at the edges of the tumbling rivers of embers.

  Although Coryn had arrived only a few hours before, it was not hard to see that weapons were the main business of the Beyond the Beyond. The landscape was dotted with the glowing forges of Rogue smiths. He supposed it was because so many good coals were available for building fires. The sound of hammers striking anvils rang out constantly. And when he had taken a quick flight over one patch of forges set closely together, he saw Rogue colliers and Rogue smiths haggling over the price of embers and, farther along, hireclaws and Rogue smiths arguing over the price of a set of battle claws. He hadn’t seen this much activity in a long time.

  Returning from this brief foray to his perch on the high ledge, something else drew his attention—a swift silken movement against the horizon. It flowed like a river but clearly was no river. And as it crossed the perching moon it darkened. Soon there were black shadows printed against the silver roundness of the moon. Coryn’s gizzard quickened. He had seen these figures before. These were the weird long-legged creatures loping across the land that he had seen in Gwyndor’s fire. Yes! One turned now to look at him. Even at this distance, Coryn could see the creature’s eyes—two sparkling green slits!

  The creatures were beautiful to watch. They seemed to flow rather than run, to stream like liquid, like a river. The line of animals gradually turned toward the ridge where Coryn perched and he saw the glint of many green eyes, the greenest green he had ever beheld. Not the soft velvety green of moss, or the dark green of the fir or pine, or the blue-green of the spruce tree. No, if fire were green, this was what it would look like—sparkling, fizzing with intensity. But where were they going?

  In another second it became clear. While Coryn had been concentrating on the distant view, another strange herd of animals had appeared. Larger than the River Legs, as Coryn now thought of them, and spindly but with odd, branchlike things on top of their heads. Why would an animal wear branches on its head? Coryn wondered.

  One of the River Legs broke away from the group. It circled wide around the Running Trees that had sped up. It seemed to scan the herd and then quickly found one lagging at the rear and steered it away from the rest of the Running Trees. It bolted ahead. Another River Legs suddenly streaked up with an amazing blast of speed on the other side of the bolting animal. Then it slowed down in such a way that the Running Tree could not return to its herd.

  Coryn lifted off the ledge where he perched and began to follow the pursuit. It was fascinating. The River Legs were using a very complicated strategy. He was sure that the two chasing the Running Tree were capable of greater speed, but it seemed as if they deliberately chose to keep their pace steady with their intended prey. Perhaps they were trying to tire it out so it would not fight so hard at the kill. He knew that certain birds did this. The Running Tree had now slowed considerably as it came to a patch of ground free of snow. It began to graze, casually, as if it did not have a care in the world.

  Is the animal yoicks, or what? Coryn thought. He was dimly aware of another bird flying near him in the vicinity. Not an owl, but most likely a raven, from the sound of its wing beats.

  Now he saw that the other River Legs had drawn closer. They sunk their bodies down close to the grass and were creeping toward the Running Tree. From his vantage point high above, Coryn could see that they were stalking the animal. The Running Tree raised its head and scanned the area. It must be terrifically dumb, blind, or have no sense of smell, Coryn thought as the creature went back to eating. The River Legs were stealing closer. Now Coryn observed one of the River Legs give a signal to another. It did something with its tail. The other hunter noticed it and was off. The signal seemed to spread through the River Legs. They formed a circle around the animal, tightening it every few moments through some invisible code or signal that Coryn could not understand.

  The Running Tree was suddenly aware. It reared up, its eyes wild with terror. The four River Legs pounced on it and brought it down. One of the hunters slashed a hip wide open, another ripped open a shoulder. But the Running Tree staggered to its feet somehow. It stared hard at its attackers as if it were taking a death stand, as if saying, I cannot run, but I can stand and stare you down even as you set to kill me. Coryn was rapt. He had never seen anything like this. It was as if in that moment something was exchanged between prey and predator.

  Two River Legs began to harass it by darting in quickly with bites and snaps aimed at
the belly. More blood spurted out. They obviously wanted to keep the Running Tree bleeding.

  The creature began to wobble on its spindly legs, and then a few seconds later, it collapsed. But Coryn could still hear its labored breathing. A single River Legs now came up. It was the animal that had originally split the Running Tree from the herd. He walked around to the head of the dying beast. Coryn flew down close. He saw the killer dip his head close to the prey. Something astonishing was happening. This was not simply a stare now. The eyes of both animals locked together. There was something ceremonial about this locking of the eyes.

  Coryn knew he was right. Something was being agreed upon between the predator and the prey. It was the River Legs who now seemed submissive, as if he were asking for something, asking for the life of the Running Tree, and the Running Tree in silence was responding by saying, I am valuable. My meat will sustain you. I am worthy.

  Then in one slash with his fangs, the River Legs opened the animal’s belly and tore at its guts. There was a final gasp and then nothing.

  Coryn was stunned. He had killed many animals in his young life but he had never locked eyes with them. He had never thought much about their dying. But this was a different kind of death. It seemed almost noble. There was dignity in both the killing and the dying.

  He flew to a rock outcrop to watch as the rest of the River Legs came in for the feed. There seemed to be an order to this as well. Immediately after the death rip to the stomach, the River Legs threw his head back, closed his eyes, and howled. A large gray female trotted up to him. Coryn guessed that she was his mate. They ate first. Next came the other hunters, the ones that had chased the Running Tree and the ones that had brought it down and harassed it. The rest of the group next moved in, and finally the young ones—the yearlings and then the pups.

  But Coryn noticed one yearling lurked around the edges seeming to beg for food. None of the others, not even the pups, would let him in for the smallest nip. His coat did not gleam like the rest; in fact, his fur was scruffy and ragged and he even had bald patches. And one of his hind legs was bent and shorter than the other. Finally, when the other River Legs moved off, he approached the remains of the carcass in a limping gait.

  Coryn wondered if there might be anything left for himself. He was not even sure that he would like the taste of a Running Tree. But he was hungry. He was just about to spread his wings when a shadow passed over him.

  “Not so fast, young’un. We go first.”

  Coryn looked up. It was the raven he had sensed earlier. There were now four others, as well. The raven lighted down on the outcropping.

  “They don’t call us wolf birds for nothing, you know.”

  “Wolf birds? I thought you were a raven.”

  “We are, but we follow the wolves.”

  “Wolves?” Coryn blinked.

  “Wolves. What did you think it was that brought down that caribou? Fairy folk?”

  “Fairy folk?”

  The raven laughed raucously. “You’re in a land of great superstition here. Before our time, the Others and such like yourself believed in little spirits with wings. They called them fairy folk.”

  “Oh.” Coryn was feeling exceedingly stupid. In a moment he would feel even stupider. “I didn’t know what those creatures were called. I just called them River Legs.”

  “River Legs! Ha!” He cawed wildly. “And what did you call the caribou?”

  Coryn was almost to embarrassed to say. He sighed. “Running Trees.”

  With that, the raven let loose a loud and clamorous barrage of caws. “Hey, mates.” He tipped his head up to the other ravens that were flying overhead.

  “You know what this owl calls wolves? River Legs.”

  “You gotta be kidding!” one of the ravens yelled back.

  “And he calls caribou Running Trees.”

  It felt to Coryn as if the entire sky were laughing at him now. Even the scruffy yearling wolf looked around at him.

  When the raven had recovered himself, he began to speak again. “Them’s not trees on its head. Them’s antlers. Now, here’s how it goes, laddie.”

  Laddie? They certainly have a strange way of speaking here, Coryn thought. It was Hoolian, but with a lot of different words and an odd accent, very similar to Gwyndor’s.

  “May I introduce myself first and ask your name as well?” Coryn asked.

  The raven gave him a dark, piercing look. “We don’t inquire about names in Beyond the Beyond. We prefer being nameless—us birds, that is. The wolves—now they’re a different story. They all got names. Important to learn those. Every clan’s got a name, it does. The clan that brought down that caribou, them’s the MacDuncans, and Duncan be their leader.”

  “Clans?” Coryn asked.

  “Yeah. Like family.” Though not prepared to give his name, the raven seemed ready enough to talk. “Most wolves travel in packs, but these dire wolves call their packs clans. When a clan gets big, they break into two clans. So there might be as many as, say, five or six MacDuncan clans. But the main one is the one with the chieftain. And that was the main clan that took down the caribou.

  “The dire wolves of these clans are bigger than any wolf you’re ever going to see,” the raven went on. “Special. So I guess they feel they should have a special way of naming themselves. ‘Pack’ just won’t do. So you got your MacDuncans and your MacDuffs and your MacFangs. Oh, a whole mess of them, mostly named Mac-something.”

  “What about that little wolf ? The one they were always chasing away.”

  “Oh, that fella. Hamish be his name. The ravens eat after Hamish, sometimes before he’s quite finished. He doesn’t seem to mind. He’s a nice fella. Sad about him.”

  “Yes, it does seem sad. He doesn’t seem exactly part of the clan. They were chasing him off. Look, all that is really left are the bones.”

  “Well, that’s just the point, now, isn’t it?” The raven blinked, cocked his head, and looked at Coryn with his beady black eyes.

  “I’m afraid I don’t get the point,” Coryn said meekly.

  “You see little Hamish there, he’s got a bit of a lame leg. So he can’t be a good hunter. That means he’s lowranking in the clan. The lowest. Has to eat last and all that. But it turns out he’s a gnaw wolf, or so they think.”

  “A gnaw wolf—what’s that?” Coryn asked.

  “Don’t quite understand it myself. It’s an art with them. They gnaw bones a certain way for the gnaw-bone mounds way out to the west where the Sacred Volcanoes are.”

  “Gnaw-bones? Volcanoes?” Coryn had never heard so many new words in his life. Well, he’d come for an education and, by Glaux, he was getting one.

  “Don’t know what a volcano is, laddie?”

  “No, sir, I don’t.”

  “Well, you see them mountains over there, spewing steam and fire? Them’s volcanoes. The steam and fire comes out of the crater at the top.” He paused. “Now, that’s enough blather. I’m going down to pick what I can off this caribou. You wait a decent time, and after we get a while at it ourselves, you can come down. I’ll warn the other fellas you’ll be coming.”

  “Thanks,” Coryn said.

  “Oh, think nothing of it. You see, laddie, everyone thinks that Beyond the Beyond is a lawless place. Well, it is and it isn’t. A lot of outcasts come here that can’t live in the civilized world. Thieves, egg snatchers, chick-nappers, murderers—hireclaws, you can buy them by the dozen. But we do have our way of doing things. You saw how them wolves brought down the caribou. That’s a strategy. Wolves have the best strategies in the world for hunting. Never seen anything like it. I’d almost trade my wings to be able to think like a wolf.”

  Coryn blinked in surprise.

  “Oh, yes, I would, laddie.” The raven, or wolf bird, now lifted off from the rock outcropping. “See you at the carcass!”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A New Friend

  It would not be the last carcass at which Coryn and the nameless raven would
meet. But it was at the carcass of the moose that Coryn finally met Hamish, the gnaw wolf he had seen his first night in Beyond the Beyond. Hamish fascinated Coryn. The more he observed the lame yearling wolf, the more he realized that he was not only scorned by the others of the clan but was, in an odd way, feared as well. Then one day Coryn realized that it was not fear or scorn the other wolves felt, but that they kept Hamish in a strange limbo, feeling for him something between pity and reverence. In any case, Hamish was clearly an outcast like Coryn, and he wanted to get to know the wolf better. Coryn knew that he should not be distracted from his mission, which was to complete his education, to become a wizard like Grank of old, so he might help little Coryn reclaim the ember. But he was drawn to the little lame wolf, as well as being fascinated. So he followed the clan for just a bit longer.

  The MacDuncans had been stalking a moose for the better part of a day and a night. After his last foray into the river, he could hardly make it up the bank, and that was when the wolves closed in on him. Again, Coryn watched that mysterious moment when the prey seemed to accept its fate as it locked eyes with the predator. It stirred him deep in his gizzard as it had the first time. After the kill the wolves ate and ate. It seemed as if it would never end. The ravens were getting hungry, and the wolves even allowed the birds to join them at the carcass, a rare event. Hamish, however, was still chased away.

  Then, toward dawn, Coryn spotted a huge bear on the other side of the river. Phillip had once told him about grizzly bears, and from his description this one certainly looked like a grizzly. The wolves retreated quickly, as did the ravens. It was clear that they did not want to have anything to do with a grizzly, which could swat their heads off in a single blow.