Polar Fates

by Skye MacKinnon

  Alis still can’t turn her head to check on what’s happening, so we’re stuck waiting for them to come into our field of view.

  We’ve got him, Torben says in Alis’s mind. But there’s a problem.

  What is it? Alis asks, panic raging through her body. She’s afraid there’s something wrong with her son.

  Torben must notice that as well. Don’t worry, Arcas is fine. We’ll deal with it once we’re through the Portal. Do you still have them under control.

  Yes, she sighs. But not for much longer. Better run.

  Finally, they reach us and I can see my men. They’re all naked and in their midst is an old man, wrinkled and bent by age. If that is Van Deen, he doesn’t look like much of a threat. In fact, I bet a slight gust of wind could blow him over. I’m amazed he’s managing to walk unaided.

  He won’t be able to run, that much is clear. But the guys have a solution already. Ràn shifts and the other three heave the man onto his broad back. Húnn and Fin stay on either side of Ràn, making sure the man doesn’t fall off, while Torben shifts as well to protect them if necessary.

  By now, Alis’s legs are quivering from the strain.

  Run! She tells them and Ràn breaks into a fast walk, careful that his rider stays in place.

  At Alis’s command, the ferals shrink back, creating an opening in their ranks for us to pass through. My men run down the hill, slithering occasionally, but they’re aware of Alis’s waning strength.

  She is moving slowly, walking rather than running, and even so she’s close to collapsing from exhaustion.

  You can do it, Alis! I cheer her on. Think of Arcas!

  Step by step, she makes her way through the ferals. Her head is drooping low and I’m really starting to get worried. I wish there was something I could do, but I’m just the passenger.

  One of the ferals to our right suddenly snarls and sits up from his cowering position. Alis is losing her hold on them.

  She checks on my men; they’re almost at the Portal. She takes a deep breath, then let’s go of her grip on the bears.

  She starts to run, slipping down the slope, but now we’re pursued by bears, dozens of them, wanting revenge for the humiliation Alis just put them through. Maybe they want Van Deen back as well, who knows. Maybe they’re aware of what we’re planning to do. That we’re going to end their leader’s rule.

  Sharp fangs graze Alis’s right hind leg and she whimpers. Her pain is only an echo to me, but I know she’s hurting. The bears behind us are closing in; we’re not fast enough. Another nip on her legs, another sharp pain.

  The Portal is still several hundred metres away. We’re not going to make it. Alis’s vision is fading, her breath is getting shallower. Even if I tried to take over, it’s her body that’s exhausted, not just her mind.

  Suddenly, a woosh of white fur races past us and into the bears behind. Torben. He claws at them, ripping at limbs and biting flanks. Another bear, a brown one. Everything is blurry, I can’t see who it is.

  We slide down the hill and I’m grateful for the snow just now. It builds a cushion that we can use to get down without having to walk.

  Our hind legs give in.

  The Portal is so close.

  Our eyes close and we collapse.

  Thirteen

  Alis

  Arcas’s first shift into a human was astonishing. He’d never shown any signs of being anything but a bear cub, but one day, he suddenly started convulsing in the middle of our evening meal. I was terrified, thinking that he was ill. There was nobody I could ask for help; it was just me and him.

  I rubbed my head against his shaking little body, trying to show him that I was there for him. That he wasn’t alone. I licked his fur… and suddenly there was no fur, just smooth skin.

  My cub had turned into a human boy. He was beautiful: gold locks curling around his cute little face, green eyes staring at me inquisitively, rosy lips that were smiling at me.

  He immediately got up and walked on two legs as if he’d done nothing else for his entire life.

  “Mum?” he asked and held out a hand.

  He spoke! He was able to speak just like a proper human. Until then, our conversations had been in our heads, that’s how I had taught him to talk. I didn’t know if all bears could communicate mentally or if that was just us, but I didn’t really care. But suddenly, my little cub had turned into a walking, talking human.

  I was both devastated and delighted. Devastated because he was suddenly different from me. Delighted because it gave him a future. He was going to be able to live in the human world, have friends, a normal life. I wasn’t too lonely out here in the mountains because I had Arcas, but I knew that once he turned older, I wouldn’t be enough for him.

  A minute later, he shifted back into a cub.

  We were both confused and when he didn’t manage to shift back, we thought it might have been a fluke. But two weeks later, it happened again. This time, he stayed human for almost an hour. By the time he turned four, he could shift at will.

  Strangely enough, he preferred to be a cub. Maybe because it was the perfect shape for running around the forests, playing with squirrels and sniffing at flowers.

  He kept that playfulness throughout his youth. I had to tell him often to be less loud, less wild, but in truth, I enjoyed seeing him love life. Compared to the humans I had grown up with, my siblings, my friends, he was so innocent, so selfless. At the same time, his innocence worried me. If he ever decided to live amongst humans, they’d likely take advantage of him. Good people are rare these days and it wasn’t any different back then.

  So when he turned sixteen, I sent him to the city to stay with my father. He was the spitting image of some of my brothers and I hoped that my father would recognise him as his grandson. I told Arcas things only I would know, so he’d be recognised by my family.

  But he was never even given an audience. Eventually, he managed to contact one of my sisters, Dia, who he managed to convince that he was her nephew. With her help, he began a new life in the same palace I’d grown up in. She organised teachers for him and slowly introduced him into society.

  He stayed with Dia and my family for two years before he returned to the mountains he’d been born in. I immediately saw that he’d lost most of the innocence he’d had before he left. He was no longer my little cub; he’d grown into a man. At eighteen, he looked a lot older than he was. Maybe being a shifter was part of the reason for his muscles and broad stature.

  He brought Raoul with him, who’d been assigned as his teacher. At first, I was furious that he’d told a human about our secret, about me. I was okay with my family knowing, but not a stranger. Luckily, Raoul didn’t stay a stranger for long. He first became a friend, then a lover.

  I think my son was happy for me, but he left after only a few weeks. He’d grown used to life in the city, surrounded by comforts and people. I was no longer enough for him. It saddened me, but I kept telling myself that I would have been the same at his age. He needed to explore, to live life to the fullest before he’d have to take on responsibilities.

  He’d finally met his grandfather, who’d taken a liking to Arcas and was intending to tutor him personally in the arts of politics. I was glad someone else was recognising my son’s potential. He was bright, selfless and curious; all qualities my father valued.

  Ignoring tradition of passing on the crown to his oldest son, the King declared Arcas his heir. I imagine there was uproar and jealousy, but Arcas took it in his stride.

  Then I died. Well, almost. Kind of. I died and I had no way of letting Arcas know that I wasn’t actually dead. He mourned me, he almost threw away the chance to become King when my father passed away just weeks after my own death. But luckily, my sister persuaded him to take the throne.

  Arcas became King of Arcadia and a much better ruler than my father ever was. He was a just ruler, a wise King who listened to his subjects and respected them. I watched from afar, filled with pride and joy. Here was a ma
n who’d grown up as a bear cub. He was proof that shifters were capable of being so much more than just beasts.

  I watched as my granddaughter Ana was born; a beautiful little girl who shifted into a bear as a new-born and didn’t shift back until she was three. That’s when Arcas did something I didn’t understand: he hid her away, refusing to tell his people that she was a shifter. Nobody knew about his own nature either except for his wife and some of my relatives. For his subjects, he was a human like any other.

  My little granddaughter had everything she needed, but she never became Queen. Her younger brother, a human boy who didn’t have the power to shift, took the role as the next ruler after my son was killed.

  Ana gave birth to three children though, who kept the line of bear shifters going. I can’t believe that the men Isla has assembled around herself are all descendants of my son and my granddaughter.

  And myself, in a way, but I refuse to think of them in that way.

  When Arcas was killed, I wished that I could die as well. I cursed this half-existence I was leading, this state between life and death that I couldn’t leave. Raoul helped me through it all, but it took decades until I was brave enough to look at how Ana and her children were doing. From then on, I kept an eye on the bear shifters, watching them from afar, remembering Arcas in this small way.

  Arcas. The bear who turned into a human and became King. My son.

  He died and lived, and now he may have to die again to save the future of his descendants.

  I know he’s in the same room with me just now, and if only I was brave enough to open my eyes I could see him.

  But I am afraid to look him into the eyes and tell him what needs to be done.

  For the first time in a long time, I’m scared.

  Fourteen

  Isla, can you hear me?”

  “Don’t shout,” I mutter, pushing back the headache making itself at home in my skull.

  I blink open my eyes and smile when the first thing I see is Finn’s lips hovering inches away from my own.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispers and I frown in confusion.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  I think back to what happened in Canada. We were running… Alis collapsed… the bites…

  “Did we get injured?” I ask, suddenly wide awake. I scan my body for pain but the only thing that hurts is my head.

  “They hurt your hind legs pretty bad,” Finn explains. “We dragged you through the Portal but Alis took ages to shift and was losing a lot of blood.”

  He points at a large brown stain on the white floor I’m lying on. We’re back in the room I arrived in when I took the Portal from Inchbrach. Correction, when we were lured through the Portal. It wasn’t a voluntary thing.

  I inspect my naked legs – someone’s put me into the same white robe again as before – but there’s not even a scratch. Shifting must have healed my injuries.

  “Is everybody else alright?” I ask and am relieved when Finn nods.

  “They’re next door with Van Deen. Kind of.”

  I frown again. “How can they kind of be in a room?”

  He shakes his head. “No, not kind of in a room. Kind of Van Deen. It’s not really him… you’ll see. Think you can stand up?”

  He pulls me to my feet and I follow him out of the room and into the one around the corner.

  The old man is sitting on the floor, propped up against a wall. His expression is empty, his eyes vacant. He’s breathing but he doesn’t seem to be aware of what’s happening around him.

  “Is that Van Deen?” I ask, causing everyone to turn around. The Fates have joined my men and the room feels quite cramped.

  “Are you okay?” Húnn asks and gives me a quick hug.

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine, but what’s going on with him?” I ask impatiently.

  As much as I would like to stay in Húnn’s arms, there are more important things to deal with first.

  “Meet Arcas,” Ràn says quietly.

  “Wait, what?”

  “Van Deen is dead. He died about a month ago,” Torben explains, keeping a wary eye on the man.

  Atropos looks angry. “We never knew because his thread was severed. I would have relished in cutting it otherwise.”

  I’m having trouble catching on. “So if he’s dead, who is that?”

  Torben grimaces. “Van Deen’s body. But please don’t call him a zombie, that’s… unpleasant.”

  Where is Arcas? Alis demands in my head, increasing my headache.

  Shush, we’re getting to that, I tell her.

  “So what’s happened to Arcas?” I ask, vocalising my bear spirit’s question.

  For once, she doesn’t even protest at me calling her a spirit.

  “He’s still in there, trapped in Van Deen’s body. We need Alis to see if she can talk to him. We’re not managing to.”

  “So how do you know he’s there?”

  Ràn taps his nose. “His scent is similar to hers.”

  I approach the man hesitantly. I have a bad feeling about this somehow. As ill and helpless as he looks, it’s all a bit too easy. We walked into that station, got him out, and all that with minimal injuries. Now he’s here and they’re saying that Van Deen is dead, so we don’t even have to make a decision whether to kill him.

  That can’t be it, surely? Life is never this easy.

  Touch him, Alis tells me and reluctantly, I go on my knees by his side and put a hand on his shoulder. Even with my human nose his smell is pungent, like he hasn’t washed in months. And not changed his clothes either, from looking at the dirty rags he’s wearing.

  How did a man like that control all those feral shifters? It certainly looked like they were under the command of someone who told them to first stalk and then attack us. They seemed too wild to make coordinated decisions like that for themselves.

  “What now?” I ask aloud but it’s mainly meant for Alis.

  Now I talk to him. Be quiet.

  I bite back a response and let her do her thing. I have to remember that she’s worried about her son. I can’t treat her like I normally would, or at least I can’t expect her to behave in her usual way. We’ve worked on her being more polite, but right now, that’s all forgotten.

  Arcas? she asks softly. Her voice echoes in my head; whatever she’s doing is different from our usual mental communication.

  Hello, mother, a deep voice reverberates in my mind. That must be Arcas.

  I wish I could give them some privacy, but I am too curious, and I couldn’t tune out anyway. Not in this new way the two are talking to each other.

  I see you’ve found yourself a new host, he says and somehow I begin to dislike him. Which isn’t right. He’s Alis’s son. I should like him.

  Arcas! Alis is almost sobbing, her voice full of emotion. There’s a pause and I know that she’s trying to figure out what to say. I totally feel for her. She’s not spoken to her son in… centuries? Millenia? She even thought he was dead. Now he’s here but somehow, he also isn’t.

  Meet Isla, Alis says finally. What happened to Van Deen?

  She’s holding back her emotions, but I can feel how hard it is for her not to break down in front of him.

  He died. Arcas does a mental shrug. I killed him. Unfortunately, it didn’t turn out as intended and I’m still trapped.

  You killed him? I’m just as astonished as Alis. The Arcas she told me about wouldn’t hurt a fly, not even when he became King.

  He had outgrown his usefulness. His voice is cold, ice-cold.

  But… Alis is speechless.

  Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same, mother.

  But…

  At the beginning, I hated him, but over time, I came to believe in his vision. It was a mistake not to let my daughter rule. Shifters should rule, we’re stronger than humans. So I began to help my host, until he grew slow. Soft. I thought that if I killed him, I’d gain full control over his bo
dy, but as you can see, that didn’t exactly work out. I can’t even shift. He laughs bitterly.

  Can you help me, mother?

  Wait, Alis! I warn her. We were attacked by the ferals. Who controlled them if not him?

  I can feel her wavering. She’s wanting to believe in the goodness in her son. She wants him to be like the young man in her memory. But then here we are, and to me, Arcas seems more like a madman than I thought Van Deen would be. Shifters should rule? Calling me a ‘host’ in that dismissive, cold way? Killing a man to gain control? That all sounds pretty mad to me. Not just mad, evil.

  Your host doesn’t seem to like me, Arcas chuckles. You give her too much freedom, mother. Hosts should be controlled or they become too independent.

  “Call me a host one more time and I’m going to kick that dead body of yours!” I shout, but all he does is laugh.

  I wouldn’t feel that, so go ahead. The only reason I’m still in this body is because I haven’t found a better host.

  Him talking of hosts is really unnerving me. Alis and I are living in symbiosis, and so are the guys and their bears. They are part of each other, they compliment each other. While they spend the majority of their time as humans, they’re always careful to give their bears enough time each day to run free, especially in winter.

  Arcas seems to pervert that relationship and thinks one of them should be in charge. The bear ruling over the human. As selfish as Alis can be, I don’t think she’d ever want that. She knows how we’re relying on each other. We’ve become friends. If she wasn’t so much older than me, I might even call us sisters.

  Is that why you came with us? Alis asks carefully.

  Of course. Once I’ve found one, I will return to my people and proceed with our mission.

  Don’t you want to be free again? Fly without the constraints of a body?

  I assume that’s what it felt like before she… merged with me. Like flying.

  I don’t know what you mean.

  She pauses. I thought it was the same for you as for me. What happened after you died?