The Mage

by Inbali Iserles

  “We will, Sire.” Cattisclaw lifted her muzzle and met Farraclaw’s eye. I saw something pass between them before she tugged her gaze away.

  The other wolves started to leave. They hurried past Lop without sparing him a glance.

  “This way, Isla.” Farraclaw led me away. When we neared Lop, I saw the wound where Mirraclaw had bitten him. The white wolf had drawn blood.

  As we approached the pup den, the queen was already waiting.

  Her eyes were red, and I wondered if she’d slept. “The pups are hungry,” she began.

  “I know,” said Farraclaw quietly. “Amarog has consulted with the ancestors.”

  The queen ran a tongue over her muzzle. “Dorrel could hardly rise this morning.”

  I heard a peeping from the den. “Is that Prince Farraclaw?” came a high-pitched yelp. “Is Isla with him?”

  Jaspin, Gallin, and Lupin tumbled out of the den. Dorrel followed them, her tail wagging. They capered around me and Farraclaw. The queen fell back, her expression stern.

  “Prince Farraclaw, are you going hunting soon?”

  “Will Isla come too?”

  “Can she teach us to slimmer?”

  They bumped against me, nipping and licking. They were stronger than foxes, their touch clumsier. Yet they reminded me of Pirie.

  “Isla, we hoped you’d come. Will you show us how to do that trick?”

  I nudged them back. “Maybe I’ll teach you to karak first.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Is it foxcraft?”

  “Oh yes,” I said. “Would you like to know how to caw like a bird? Or … or bark like a dog?”

  “A dog?” yipped one of the wolves.

  “We don’t get dogs here!”

  “Are they fierce?”

  “Are they scary?”

  I remembered the wiry dogs I’d encountered in the Wildlands. “Not compared with wolves. Though you’re all scary from a fox’s point of view!”

  “Not us, though,” yipped Jaspin. “You’re not scared of us?”

  I wagged my brush. It looked ridiculously long compared with their short, skinny tails. “Of course not! Well, not till you’re grown-up!” I tried to picture them as large and fierce as Mirraclaw. The thought disturbed me. Jaspin, Gallin, and Lupin sprang around me, a frenzy of excitement. Only Dorrel held back. She crouched behind the others. Her large eyes looked sunken. The bones stuck out along her back.

  Farraclaw was watching her too.

  The queen rose to her paws. “You see how it is.”

  “I’m doing what I can.”

  “What you can,” spat the queen.

  “Amarog has spoken.”

  The queen sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re right. If they be taken from me, it is the will of the ancestors.” She tipped her head and met Farraclaw’s eye. “I have lost so much … but that is of no consequence. I bow to a greater will.” She turned slowly and padded back toward the den. Her tail was low behind her.

  We didn’t stay long at the pup den. Fresh snow was still falling softly, blurring the tundra and the great spruce.

  I hurried next to Farraclaw as he strode along the edge of the rock. “When do you plan to hunt?”

  “I know what you’re thinking.” His eyes flicked toward me. “Your disapproval is obvious.”

  “The pups are hungry. They need meat.”

  “I’m well aware of that.” An edge crept into his voice. “Amarog has walked in death. She has spoken with the ancestors.”

  I shuddered at the thought of the strange, wild-eyed wolf. “Who is she?”

  “She’s our truthsayer, our shaman. As a pup, she carried a fever for a full rotation of the moon. She walked among the dead and made of them her friends. She is our link with the past—our pathway to the future. We can only hunt when she bids it safe.”

  I’d never heard of anything like that. My tail flicked impatiently. I couldn’t shake the image of Dorrel crouching behind the others. The pup was almost too weak to rise. Would she make it through the night?

  “But you’re the prince. Couldn’t you just—”

  “No, Isla. Whatever it is, no. I cannot hunt. Not until it is willed by the ancestors.” He set his jaw. Snow clung to his thick coat, softening the sharp edges of his pointed ears. “Amarog does not rule me, she is merely a conduit. The ancestors see all, know all. To act against them is a travesty. The meat would be cursed.” He strode more quickly.

  I scurried after him. My forepaw slipped on the snow and I righted myself. “I’d sooner eat cursed meat than starve to death.” I thought a moment. “If it’s about you hunting, how about letting me catch them something? It wouldn’t be much … a bird, maybe a squirrel.”

  “You don’t understand. No one can hunt, not until the ancestors will it.”

  My ears were flat. “What Amarog said was …” I frowned, struggling to remember. “No blood may be taken or … or ‘claimed.’ Something like that. But it didn’t bother you when Mirraclaw made Lop bleed.”

  “Lop?” muttered Farraclaw. “We’re talking about the future of the Bishar, not some under-wolf.”

  “He’s a member of the Bishar too,” I pointed out.

  Farraclaw’s tail was stiff, his head dropped low. “This isn’t about Lop. It isn’t even about the pups. It’s not about any one wolf.”

  I knew that I should bite my tongue. After all, I was his guest. But the blood ran hotly through my limbs. “What is it about, then?”

  He slammed to a halt and stared at me. “It’s about the Bishar. Wolves come and go. We are snowflakes in an infinite sky. The snow will melt but the sky remains. It is all that matters.”

  Despite myself, I recoiled beneath his gaze. I sucked in my breath. He didn’t scare me. “But Dorrel may die.”

  “Pups have died before,” said Farraclaw. “They will die again.”

  My voice was rising. “Don’t you care?”

  Farraclaw looked away across the tundra. “Of course I care.” His tail sank low. When he spoke again, his voice was a whisper. “I have a duty to the Bishar. It doesn’t matter what it costs me, or what it costs the queen. The Bishar comes first. It always comes first.”

  I crackled with anger. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing—the wolves were prepared to sacrifice their own pups in the name of what? Some crazy whim?

  I’d hardly paid attention to where we were going. I looked around to see low shrubs emerge from the snow. A grim-faced wolf stood guard. He dipped his head as we approached.

  Without a word, we passed into a cave. Icicles dangled over our heads, dotted with light. The rest of the cave fell into darkness. A huge silhouette stood against the wall. As we approached, it came to life. Broad shoulders, a short tail, and two pointed ears.

  A ripple of fear ran along my back.

  Farraclaw walked in front of me. His movements lacked their usual confidence—he approached the figure cautiously. “King Birronclaw Valiant-Oolf,” he said. “Lord Protector of the Bishar of Claw, High Commander of the Snowlands. Great warrior, wise leader, I honor you.”

  “Get away from me!” The voice was surprisingly shrill for such a huge beast. It bounced around the dark cave. “Who are you? I must be alone. Touch me, wolf, and I’ll tear out your eyes!”

  The prince outstretched his forepaws and lowered his muzzle to the ground. “My King, it is I. It is Farraclaw, your son.”

  Farraclaw bowed deeper. “Fa, forgive me my intrusion.” He rose and took a step forward.

  The wolf king shifted. I couldn’t make out his features in the dim cave. All that was clear was his height and bulk. “Get back!” he snarled.

  “But Fa—”

  Without warning, King Birronclaw sprang forward, a flash of yellow teeth and moist white eyes. The old king may have been sick, but he was still the largest wolf I’d ever seen. He slammed Farraclaw with his massive shoulder. I darted out of the way as the prince tumbled.

  The king slunk back into the shadows. “I told
you to leave me alone.” His voice was low now, almost a whimper.

  Farraclaw gasped for breath. With a wince, he rolled onto his paws. He glanced at me, his ears pointed out to the sides.

  He didn’t want to take me to the king. He tried to talk me out of it.

  If I’d realized King Birronclaw was his fa. If I’d understood the madness that had rotted his mind. I glanced at Farraclaw, pity tingling my whiskers. He started forward again but paused at a distance from the king. “I am sorry to trouble you, Sire.”

  The king began muttering. “In the morning, the blackbirds sing. They cheep in the trees, and I hunt … Always, the whistle of beetles. Twilight, the ravens. Black over the sky. Ravens’ wings, silver thunder. Night creepers, they haunt my peace. Silence, I must find silence. I am not myself.”

  My tail hung low. The old wolf couldn’t help me. His mind was ruined.

  “Fa … ? My King … ?” Farraclaw’s voice was soothing. “Tell me what I can do. Shall I bring you snow to slake your thirst?”

  The king wasn’t listening. “The red-tailed hawks are calling. Tearing through my thoughts.”

  Farraclaw turned back to me. “Always he talks of red-tailed hawks but I’ve never seen one this far north.”

  The king fell silent. I saw him crane his neck and feared he’d lunge at Farraclaw again. He shuffled forward, a strange movement for such a large creature. “Who’s there?” he spat. “Show yourself.” A shaft of light fell across his face. His muzzle might have been white once, but it was blackened with dirt. His eyes were gauzy, weeping at the edges. In the light, their dark centers shrank into slits. An acrid smell rose off his fur, like meat gone foul.

  I backed away, my hairs on end.

  “Fa, I have brought a friend to see you. This is Isla. She is a fox from the Graylands.”

  “A fox?” The wolf’s teeth were chattering. He peered closer with his gauzy eyes. His jaw slackened to reveal the tips of his long fangs, but he wasn’t snarling. Hope flickered over his face. “So cold, so far. But you have come. At last, you are here.”

  I stared at him. “Do you know me?”

  King Birronclaw blinked hard. “I have known your kind.”

  He was the greatest wolf in the Snowlands—huge, powerful, potent with maha. The largest wolf in all the frozen realms.

  My heart was thumping. “A fox is lost to the Elders,” I recited, “beyond the fur and sinew of the greatest of Canista’s cubs.” I took in the hump of his shoulders, his thickset limbs. “There is no wolf larger than you.”

  The white eyes bulged. “The Elders? Is it almost the gloaming?”

  My tail jerked up. How did he know about the Elders?

  I have known your kind.

  I watched the king carefully. “Have you seen my brother, Pirie?”

  “Pirie.” The king sounded out the word in a long rasp. “Piiirrreee.”

  I stepped closer, to Farraclaw’s side. “Where is he?”

  The king’s head whipped around, toward the dark wall of the cave. He clamped his eyes shut, like he was fighting to concentrate. “Be very careful, Fox,” he growled. “You do not know what I am capable of. I don’t want to hurt you.” He snarled between his teeth. “A sickness is rotting my mind.”

  The prince watched, speechless.

  My heart was racing. “My brother Pirie isn’t here, is he?”

  The king dropped his massive head. “Dark places drive you to dark acts.” His eyes sprang open. “Only I am here. But never alone.” His gaze raced along the ceiling of the cave. Light trembled in the icicles. “Waiting, waiting …” Without warning, King Birronclaw sprang forward again. I scrambled with a shriek and Farraclaw leaped in front of me, blocking his fa’s way. But the king was determined, his eyes trained on me. “Listen, Fox, listen well!” He reached out his forepaws, snatching at me across Farraclaw. “I can help you, but you must do exactly as I say.”

  “You’ll help me find Pirie? You know where he is?”

  “Do exactly as I say, Fox! In every detail! Do not question it at any time.” The great wolf grimaced with pain. “My gerra is at war, I can scarcely think. Daily he attacks me, ravaging my maa, my very heart.”

  “Fa, please!” begged Farraclaw.

  I barked over him. “Tell me what to do!”

  The king shut his eyes again, his body trembling. He hardly seemed able to speak. “The cache,” he winced. “The cache is buried far away, amid bubbling fires that reek of decay, surrounded by frozen splinters that are larger than wolves and sharper than teeth. I buried it myself. It pains me to trust a stranger, but what choice do I have? Release the cache, reverse the spell. I beg you, set me free!”

  “What is the cache? What will I find?”

  Spit gathered at the king’s mouth and hung on the fur of his muzzle. “There isn’t time to explain. Unearth cache. Do what has to be done. The Elders sent you, didn’t they?”

  “Yes, but—”

  The king was breathless. “Don’t stop for anything.”

  I crept closer.

  “Be careful,” hissed Farraclaw. “He’s unpredictable.”

  “I need to know.” I slid past him, within reach of the great wolf. Our eyes locked. “If I do this—if I find your cache—will you take me to Pirie?”

  He lifted his great head. “Your brother Pirie, is his maa strong like yours?”

  Excitement leaped through me. “You know where he is?”

  The wolf dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I can guess.”

  “You will show me?”

  “I will guide you there myself if it kills me. You have my word. But only when you find the cache. I can’t help you before that. I can’t.”

  “Where is he? Take me where? Please tell me!”

  “First, the cache. You must hurry! I don’t have long. If I perish, I can’t help anyone.” With a jerk of his great head, he scrambled back, away from the light. He started whining. “The red-tailed hawks are back. Why do they haunt me? What do they want? I only long for peace.”

  “Fa, won’t you come out from this cave?” Farraclaw cleared his throat. “The fresh air will heal you. We’ll make sacrifices to the ancestors. Amarog will intervene. We will end this torment.”

  “There is only one end. The way of darkness.”

  “Fa, please. Won’t you come outside?”

  “Always, the beetles by day, by night. Always the shrieking.” The old wolf curled into a tight ball. He muttered to himself. I could no longer make out his words.

  “Fa … ?” Farraclaw stood for a few moments, watching the king in silence. Then he turned and padded out of the cave.

  It was still snowing. Great white flakes masked the land. The wolf who guarded the cave stood at a respectful distance.

  Farraclaw turned to me. “King Birronclaw once wielded a ferocious intelligence. The change is hard to accept.” He looked away, into the tumbling flakes.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured. I thought of my own fa. For the first time I wondered if death was a mercy—if there were crueler paths.

  Farraclaw shook his head. “The things he was saying, they didn’t make any sense.”

  “But he was expecting a fox to come. He told me what to do.”

  Farraclaw gave me a hard look. “He’s raving. You can’t take anything from what he says.”

  “He knew about the Elders. About Pirie.”

  “He could have guessed about Pirie, said what he thought you wanted to hear.”

  “But why?” My tail flicked. Hadn’t Farraclaw been listening? “He knew that Pirie has strong maa.”

  “Maha. That’s what we call it.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you call it. It means the same thing,” I pointed out. I was sorry for Farraclaw, but I couldn’t give up on my brother. The king would take me to Pirie if I found his cache. He’d given me his word. “I just need to find the bubbling fires and frozen splinters … I wonder where they are.”

  “I know exactly where they are. The fires are part o
f the Caldron, a circle of burning lakes. The splinters are the Ice Razors.”

  My tail started thrashing. “But that’s great! Just tell me where to go and I’ll find the cache!”

  Farraclaw was grave. “You don’t understand. The Caldron and the Ice Razors are dangerous lands. A wolf would scarcely choose to go there and a fox could never survive. But it is worse than that. Both are far from the heart of our Bishar, an exhausting trip through open tundra. They lie at the furthest reaches of the Snowlands, deep in the Bishar of Fang.”

  * * *

  “Prince Farraclaw!” Cattisclaw was bounding over the curving snow. I envied her strength and grace. She reached us with a bow. “Sire, Amarog the Wise is back from the Taku Grounds.”

  Farraclaw nodded. “We must go.”

  “But the cache,” I began.

  “We will speak of it later.” I saw the tension in his muzzle and stopped myself from saying more.

  Cattisclaw led us back to the den, where most of the Bishar was already assembled. It was overlooked by a craggy knoll, where Amarog sat alone. Her eyes were open but she didn’t move. She seemed to be gazing over the heads of the Bishar, into the tundra.

  Cattisclaw caught me staring. “She’s in a trance.”

  That didn’t really explain anything. I watched uneasily. Between Amarog and King Birronclaw, I’d had enough of strange wolves.

  Farraclaw looked troubled. “Leave me,” he said.

  Cattisclaw gave me a nudge. I followed her around a cluster of bushes to the den as Farraclaw sat by himself beneath a tree.

  The wolves greeted us with wet noses and wagging tails. Several broke off to chase one another, bolting out of the den into tumbling snow.

  Amarog stood perfectly still, snowflakes dancing around her.

  “She is communing with the ancestors,” Cattisclaw explained. “Last night she slept at the borders of the Taku Grounds, and today she has walked them since dawn.”

  My ears flicked back. “Taku?”

  Cattisclaw looked serious. “Forbidden. The earth is sacred where the ancestors rest. Even Amarog only wanders as far as the borders. None may cross the Taku Grounds.”

  Norralclaw gave me a nudge. “Are you well, Isla? You must be hungry.”