by Jesse Teller
“Well then, finish already,” Brenden said. He swatted the beast on the rump and it snarled at him. It slowly, methodically licked her face and neck until she was clean of all the sweat from the battle, all the blood from her hands, and every bit of dirt from her neck. When it finally pulled its paw away, it lumbered off in the direction her papa had gone. She hopped up and scooted to the other side of the room. She grabbed the wall, stared at Brenden, who stood on the far side of the room flicking at Hunet’s broken finger. They both laughed, and she pointed at the panther.
“You have a panther?”
“That was Ruckus. Father bought him for Brenden as a birthday present this last year,” Hunet said.
“Yeah, Hunet got Tawny the year before.”
“What is a Tawny?” Rachel asked.
“Oh, she is a hyena. She is a mean bitch, but fun to wrestle with. None of the dogs mess with her. She is grumpy most of the time, but when I walk the streets with her, the other kids run and scream,” Hunet said with a laugh. “They just call out for their mommies and yell for their fathers. All except Locke, Flak, and Brock. But they are crazy.”
“There is a monkey around here somewhere, too, but we haven’t seen it in a long time,” Hunet said.
“Yeah, Hunet left his window open and it vanished,” Brenden said. “Don’t tell father, okay?”
She scowled. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
Her brothers both looked at her in shock.
She smiled, trying to hold back a giggle, but it didn’t work. “Okay, I won’t tell. But you are not my boss.”
“That damn monkey has been home since I left that blasted window open. It comes and it goes,” Hunet said.
“What kind of monkey is it?” she asked.
“Baboon. Red butt. Purple and blue face,” Brenden said.
“It has red on its face, too,” Hunet said. “I left the window in your room open when I closed the door. If it is in there when you get there, just shut the window for me, okay?”
“What if it poops in my room?” Rachel said.
“What if it poops on your pillow?” Brenden said. He broke out in gales of laughter. Hunet threw a dog bone at him and bonked him in the head. He rubbed the spot and grumbled.
“Where is my room?” she asked. The boys looked at each other and smiled.
“We made you a surprise,” Brenden said. They jumped to their feet then rushed off. She fought to keep up.
They were faster than her.
When she reached her room, they threw the door open, and she walked in. Her jaw dropped open.
“You guys did this for me?” She loved them then. That was all it took.
“We didn’t paint it. We know a guy that is a good painter. Father gave us some money to set up your room and Brenden thought of this. This is why you have an old bed, no night table, and a splintering wardrobe,” Hunet said. “But we thought you might like it, so we took the chance. Father will likely want to buy you new furniture. He will yell at us, but in the end, he won’t mind.”
She looked at the face of the matron eagle they had painted on her room wall, and her tears rose. She battled them back. The other walls were painted with the faces of powerful women, the back corner of the main wall painted with the image of a Fury Temple. She did not know how they had all the details down so perfectly. She turned to them, and Brenden sat on the floor and smiled.
Hunet looked at her with worry in his face. “Do you like it? We can paint over it if you want us to.”
She shook her head. “Don’t you dare.”
“We want you to be a Fury if you want to. We will help you stomp anyone that says any different. You’re a princess,” Brenden said. “We will help them all remember that.”
“Are you two princes?” she asked.
“Jolonyst was our mother, too,” Brenden said.
“What was she like?” Hunet asked.
“A storm. She was like a storm,” Rachel said. “I will tell you about her if you want me to.”
Brenden nodded.
“Please do,” Hunet said. “We want to know what she was. You can be a Fury princess if you want to be, but you also have to be Beastscowl. Flak told us no one nation is more important than the other. It takes all of the five nations to make up our people. We believe that.” He picked his nose and wiped it on her floor.
“You have to be Ragoth and Fury. That is gonna be tough,” Brenden said.
“When you are ready to see the rest of the ghetto, come find us,” Hunet said. “Until then, we are going to let you get some rest. We will have Treal get you a bath. He is our serving man. Father saved his life a while ago, and he has been working at the house ever since.”
She grabbed them both and hugged them tight. “I love you both.”
“Already?” Hunet said.
“That was fast,” Brenden said.
She punched them both in the head. They laughed and walked out.
As they left the room, Brenden whispered to Hunet. “Do you think she saw her pillow?”
Rachel closed the door and turned to her bed. There on the pillow was what looked like a big pile of baboon poop.
II
33 Years Before The Escape
Gerber led them out. He walked like a god, his relic, the mighty spear of Grethel clutched in one hand, his head held back. His hair had been oiled and pulled into a tail. He wore a leopard skin vest, opened to expose his nest of black chest hair. On his back he wore a black leather cape. From his hip rode the ivory horn of the Beastscowl family. His boots were hard leather and steel. And he led his family out into the streets.
On his right stomped his firstborn, Hunet. He carried a spear big enough for a man, though only nine. He wore no shirt and leather pants that flared out wild. They were orange and decorated with flames of black. His belt held the curved dagger given him by Yenna Redfist on his sixth birthday. He wore a black feather in his blond hair and his nose was pierced with a brass ring. He wore no boots and his feet were dirty and scuffed. He looked as if he had just walked off a battlefield, and his snarl warned any who might disturb him. In his left hand he held a thick steel chain wrapped around the throat of the hyena beside him.
On Gerber’s left walked Brenden, his black hair long and thick. It was wild and uncombed, the very vision of feral, and from it hung the finger bones of the first man he killed. Brenden had been out in the city alone when three men attempted to kidnap him. They knew Gerber would pay any sum to get his son back alive, and they had seen their opportunity and seized upon it. Brenden killed one of them and the others had run. While the man lay dying on the street, Brenden sawed off the hapless kidnapper’s hand and carried it away as a trophy.
Brenden wore a baggy white leather coat with a high collar, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He wore tight black pants with steel studs running down them and a set of boots made from white lion’s fur. He carried a spear smaller than his brother’s, for he was but seven and could not yet manage the height.
By his side walked his red panther, Ruckus. It snarled and growled as it walked, every now and then loosing a roar that filled the streets with terror.
Rachel wore her hair short and feathered like the wings of an eagle. She wore a blood red dress cut up both sides to the hip. The woman who made it had been horrified that a girl of eight would wear such an outfit, but Rachel learned a long time ago that no fine thing she set her eye to would ever be denied her, should she but ask her papa for it. Her dress’s bodice erupted in black feathers that rose to frame her face. She wore black gloves that ended at her elbows, and on her hips hung two small swords. She had smeared war paint on her face, a white chin to the lips and orange flames that danced up the sides of her head, wreathing her juvenile but far from harmless visage in fire.
She rode behind her papa on the great brown bear he bought her on her seventh birthday. She gripped its fur with tiny yet formidable fingers and clenched her legs around its neck to guide it. It had been wild as a raging fire when
she met it. But she tamed it after fighting with it for a few weeks. In the end, no animal was as savage, no wild creature as feral, as the Daughter of Beasts.
They walked from the home of the Beastscowl line, and behind them walked Gerber’s Wildings, the men he counted on most, the warriors of the Beastscowl ghetto who earned the right to protect his streets and home. They wore their weapons boldly; their armor and furs polished and perfect.
The citizens fell in behind the Wildings, every man, woman and child stepping with the Sons and Daughter of Grethel. The great parade of power was in full swing, and Rachel was excited.
She could barely sit still. The bear under her could feel her excitement and bellowed out a roar every now and then. They were approaching her favorite event of the year.
When they reached the end of the Beastscowl ghetto, they saw the parade in full force. Every one of the seven ghettos flowed with pride from their homes in resplendent droves. All headed west to the great castle of the city, where Yenna, one night a year, secured them a building big enough for the party of the year, the end-all and mother of all celebrations, the Brotherhood Feast.
When Gerber reached the cross street, the mighty Redfist family was walking it. Every citizen of their ghetto was walking behind them. Flak rode in the back, bringing up the rear with his servant, Brock Clay. They rode black stallions, beasts Rachel had never even heard of in her time on the mountain. Flak rose up on his stirrups to salute Gerber, who lifted his spear in return. When the Redfist family had gone by, Rachel saw the coming of the wolves.
Oa Fendis rode high on his horse, scowling at all around him and locking his eye on the Redfist procession. Rachel heard Oa argued for hours with Yenna about the order of the parade during the planning, saying the Fendis should be allowed to lead the procession yet again this year. Her papa raged at the very notion of demanding such an honor twice in a row. Gerber’s rage stayed with him for days, even drawing him into talks of confronting Oa in a duel.
In the end, Jessop smoothed it all over, with a few kind words and a soothing of Gerber’s mood. Rachel learned what Hunet told her was true. In all the years since the progetten had come to the mountain and the city of Tergor, only one hand could cool the hot temper of the Beastscowl family. Only a Redfist could calm the savage beast.
Oa and his wolf lords walked in step behind the Redfist clan. Rachel stared in wonder at the men who stomped behind Oa. Some of them walked beside a Neather wolf, a beast they drew from the mountain. It was a wild thing striding unchained beside a Fendis warrior. The progenitor of that nation had found peace and camaraderie with the animals, and even while sitting atop her bear, Rachel could not take her eyes from the sight of a warrior walking beside his wolf.
When the Fendis nation had marched past the street Gerber stood on, Locke came to him and pointed at the end of the line. Gerber rapped his spear on the ground and roared, and as one the Beastscowl clan took to the streets.
Locke ran up to Gerber and spoke over the city’s loud cheering.
“Yenna said to take your time as you walk today. You might have noticed the parade is moving slower than usual.”
Gerber grunted.
“Well, a gang of street toughs got into a scrap with Tulbo the other day. They have been following him everywhere and even splashed red paint on the side of his door.”
“They did what!?” Gerber roared. “I want names.”
“They are watching today, Yenna is certain. He wants to put on a show.” Locke smiled. He was twelve and everything that was right with a boy. The hammer he wore on his belt was huge for a boy his age—would give many grown men pause—and there was much talk about him going to the mountain soon to try to draw a wolf, a feat that would make a man of him. His blond hair was long and curly, and he had a shine to him only confidence and grooming could bring. Rachel wondered what his wife might look like when he took one, and decided that had she been older, she would have killed every girl who got close to him.
“Hi, Locke,” she said. He looked up at her and smiled. She giggled.
“Hello, Princess, you look equal parts beautiful and terrifying today.” He winked at her and Brenden growled.
“Get back to the line, boy,” said Gerber. “You are Yenna’s squire. You will be busy all day. You have no time to be shining smiles at my little girl.”
Locke nodded then ran off.
“Who stands behind us, Father?” Hunet asked. “Who is next in the procession?”
“Well, with no Flurryfist, and no Steeltooth, it must be Tulbo Stonefist and his ilk. We need Seven Blood in Tergor, boys. I am going to send you up there when you are older. There are no Beastscowls in the hills. We are spread thin, kids. Hunet will have to lead when he is far too young.”
“I will be ready, Father,” Hunet said.
“You could send him now, Papa, and he would still be fiercer than any warrior on the mountain,” Rachel said.
“Too true, but I need him for a few more years. Yenna needs to calm your head, boy. When Locke comes of age I have arranged for you to squire Yenna. He will teach you what I cannot.”
“What is that, Father?” Brenden asked.
“How to plot, how to work a room, how to be calm in the face of stupidity.” Gerber laughed. “He will teach you not to play with your food.”
“There were six of them, Father,” Hunet said.
“And you took your time,” Gerber snapped. “Now listen, kids, Tulbo is in trouble. Now he could march out against these bastards, but he might have a hard time finding all of them, and they will harry him night and day. There is only one way to send these men to the dark corners of the city, and that is with fear.”
Brenden laughed.
“That is what we are best at. Isn’t it, children?”
“Yes, Father,” Hunet said.
“As you say, Father,” Brenden said.
Rachel threw her head back and loosed the battle cry of the Fury nation. She fired off the scream of the matron eagle.
The crowd pulled back and Hunet laughed. He took his hyena right toward the curb where the citizens of Tergor watched. As Hunet approached, citizens fled wailing. All the people of the city ran except a girl. A street girl Hunet’s age wearing rags, barefoot and filthy. She walked up to the hyena and reached her hand out to it.
When it snapped at her, she snarled at it. She reached out to pet its head, and Hunet grabbed her. He pulled her out into the street and handed her to Gerber.
Rachel’s papa looked at the girl before nodding and taking her hand.
Hunet went back out to scare the death out of the people of Tergor. Rachel wondered if Hunet had not just found his bride.
Brenden slapped the panther’s side and it raged. He turned his eye on the people and they pulled back. It seemed Hunet’s hyena terrified the people on the right, but the people on the left turned to run when Brenden simply looked at them.
Rachel stood on the back of her bear and pulled her swords. She flipped them and twirled them in a dizzying display of death. She almost slipped once but turned the misstep into a jump and hid it well.
Gerber cried out and his Wildings grunted. And so, the Beastscowl family raged and the enemies of the Stonefist disappeared.
The castle was big and cold. When they walked through the outer walls, Rachel saw huge tents filled with food and drink, booths and tables for all the men, women, and children to eat at, with plenty of room to dance. Here the majority of the citizens of Yenna’s Ragoth would spend their night.
Hunet had been ordered to stay here and help Sallon Black Hand keep order. Gerber grabbed the boy by the back of the neck and pulled him in close.
“Sallon is in charge. You back him. If anyone gets out of line, you let him deal with it. If he needs help, give it to him. Do not unleash that monster of yours unless Black Hand tells you to.” Gerber handed the young girl over to Hunet. “Don’t let her distract you from your duties. You are Grethel’s blood; you have a duty to your people. Talk to her and get to k
now her, but do not let her have all of your time.”
Hunet nodded. He took the girl’s hand and turned to walk away.
“Hunet, my boy,” Papa yelled.
Hunet turned back.
“Dance, son.”
Hunet smiled and walked off with the girl he just met, a girl unafraid of her brother’s hyena, and a girl Rachel believed not afraid of much of anything else.
“That is for both of you,” barked Gerber. “I want to see you out on the floor dancing. Brenden, at least one dance with your sister. What do we say?”
“Grethel was the only one of the Seven that danced,” Brenden said.
“Why, girl?” Gerber asked.
“Because if you can dance you can fight,” said Rachel.
“Good, now go,” Gerber affirmed. “Brenden, don’t fight too much. If you do, no biting, no weapons — unless they say a foul word about your blood or your sister.”
Rachel leapt off the bear, then Gerber walked it away.
She had so much to do in such a small amount of time. She had been told the feast would only be twelve hours long. She slapped Brenden on the back of the head as she passed him, and he growled.
She flew up the stairs. They rose from the back of the room and flowered out into two flights, spanning the sidewalls when they rose to the second level. She turned when she got to the top, looking down at the gathering of men and women below her. She stared in wonder at the growing crowd, excitement in her gut and her fingers. Rachel laughed and turned for the east wing of the castle, the wing Yenna had purchased for the day.
She shoved her way through men and women until she got to the main dining hall where the tables had been set. She ran to the table she loved as two other girls got there. She smiled at them.
“This is my table,” Rachel said.
“Well, we are not afraid of you, Rachel Beastscowl. You can’t chase us off today. You know as well as we do that Flak and Locke are going to sit in that table right there.” The girl pointed at the table beside theirs. “We have decided we are going to have the best view of the entire party.”
