by Bree Moore
“I have gathered these pieces from all over this land. Each one represents what I hope you will have in your life among our people: Prosperity. Honor. Love. Belonging.” He drew out black cords, on which dangled a few beads, and stones. On one cord, a tiny skull charred black. On the other, a raven’s inky, clawed foot. The chief placed the skull one over Harper’s head, and the foot one over Quinn’s. The amulet rested on Quinn’s bare chest, clunky and awkward. The claws scratched against his skin.
Quinn fingered a turquoise colored stone. “Thank you,” he murmured.
“I do not know which of you will step into my place. Only you know if you have been called by Raven to lead his warriors and protect his people. But I know you will both make me proud.” Chief Aguta smiled at them both, but his eyes lingered on Quinn.
“Now,” Chief Aguta spoke again. “For the final part of the ceremony. Should you choose to remain among us, you will be named, loved, and celebrated all of your days. Should you choose otherwise, your names will be forgotten, never to be spoken among us again. Accept the name which we offer, and you will be one of us.”
“Stop!” A hoarse voice cried from the darkness. A bedraggled figure from beyond the ring of villagers dragged itself forward. The crowd parted to let it through.
Wings trailing over dirt and rock, feathers sticking up or missing, blood trickling from wounds on her wings, arms, legs, torso and face, another Harper rose to her feet. As she stood, she drew her wings in close around her to cover her naked body. She shivered and swayed. Her hair matted to her face with blood on one side. She raised an arm between her wings and pointed at the doppelganger standing beside Quinn.
“That’s… not me.”
The other Harper smiled again, and Quinn knew without question this couldn’t be his sister. She dropped the blanket to the ground and laughed.
Claws grew from her hands. She shortened, then lengthened into a tall, skinny shadow with a red gash for a mouth.
“Shadow walker!” Someone screamed, and pandemonium broke out. The shadow walker reached for Chief Aguta. The chief raised one piece of the amulet he wore and bellowed a word that rang with power. A blast of white light expanded from the carved bone piece. The shadow walker hissed and slunk away, circling around. It swiped at a woman, its claws catching her wing and tearing into the feathers. The woman screamed and fell.
Quinn mustered his strength, beating his wings and leaping into the air. He aimed his legs at the shadow creature, expecting to go through its intangible flesh, but he made contact and the creature stumbled, falling away from the injured woman.
Harper reached the fire and took a burning branch from the pile in the pit. She raised it up for Quinn to see and he soared over to take it from her. She looked so thin, and her injuries were extensive. How had she survived the journey to the tribe this way?
“Fire will kill it, I think,” she muttered. She sat on the ground in a heap of feathers and flesh, eyes squeezed shut in pain.
“Ahnah!” Quinn yelled. The woman left the group of younger women she had been herding away from the monster. Her hand flew to her mouth at the sight of Harper.
“I am so sorry. I should have attended her. I will make her safe. Go!” his grandmother insisted. She knelt at Harper’s side and spoke in low tones. As Quinn turned away, he heard her bark instructions at a passing man who held a spear in his hand.
Quinn saw others gathering, amulets in hand, wicked-looking spears in their other. Some had amulets attached to their spears as well, and they sprang toward the shadow walker below Quinn, jabbing into its legs and sides with sparks of light.
Quinn adjusted his grip on the branch Harper had handed him and flew at the monster. It turned as he came and batted him aside with its massive clawed hand. Quinn soared through the air, managing to catch himself mid-flight. He had dropped the branch, but he still had the amulet Chief Aguta had given him. He just didn’t know how to use it.
He grasped the raven foot, then dropped it as if it had burned him. It felt… wrong. He tried another, a marbled stone bead, and it, too, felt wrong. He didn’t feel anything when he touched the bone, but when his hand brushed a carved bit of wood, a surge of power entered his body. That one.
He dove for the shadow walker. It had shrunk to half its initial size, but it still had an insane amount of strength, and each blow and claw sent another warrior to the ground. Quinn held out the amulet and closed his eyes. He collided with the shadow walker.
A beam of greenish-blue light shot into the shadow creature’s chest and it exploded. The ribbon of light shot into the air, painting an iconic picture in the Alaskan night sky that Quinn had seen many times in books, but never in person.
The colors danced. Quinn swore he could hear someone singing. The ringing in his ears faded and the light vanished. An object fell through the air, and Quinn swept down and snatched it. The amulet meant for Harper.
He tilted his wings and flew to meet the two small figures beside the dying fire below.
“How is she?” he said breathlessly as he landed.
Ahnah’s round face held a frown. “She is not responsive. I need to get her to our healer’s tent.”
“I’ll carry her,” Quinn offered. They wrapped a blanket around Harper and Quinn picked her up, placing the amulet on the blanket over her chest. She felt like nothing in his arms, but positioning himself around her injured wings was awkward. He tried not to step on them as they dragged on the ground. Ahnah led them to a more dome-like tent and gestured for Quinn to follow. He ducked through the entrance, letting his own wings draw inside his body to create more space inside the tent. Ahnah, too, did not wear her wings out, though the woman who greeted them inside did.
“Lay her down here. Roll her onto her stomach. Hold the blanket.”
Quinn knelt beside a bed of furs and carefully turned Harper over onto her stomach, his own clenching at the sight of her wounds. He winced when he saw her back. Faint burn scars, including three darker circular marks at her back, elbow, and ankle in rune-like shapes. Quinn bit his lip and touched one, ever so gently.
“I will tend to her,” the woman said. She had owlishly large eyes, and to Quinn’s surprise, glasses. She held a pot in her hand and a rag in the other, a look of determination on her face.
“Where should I go?” Quinn asked.
“Get some sleep, perhaps? I will send someone to wake you when she wakes.”
Ahnah cleared her throat. “We’ve prepared a space for you in our family tent.”
Quinn stood, dragging his eyes away from his sister’s wounded body, and left the tent with Ahnah, the sound of the healer-woman’s chants fading behind the closed tent flap.
Quinn scrubbed at his eyes. The sun had risen high above the mountain top in the distance.
“It’s morning?” Quinn asked, confused.
Ahnah nodded. “Meriwa will heal your sister. Her hands are deft and her knowledge wide. She has studied with some of the greatest dreamwalkers in the land.”
“Can I visit Becca?” Quinn asked suddenly, his eyes landing on the tent at the far edge of the community, barely visible through the haze that seemed to settle in front of his eyes.
Ahnah’s hands rested on his shoulders and steered him in the other direction.
“You should rest first, I think. There will be time for that.”
“You won’t let the chief decide anything now?”
“No, I will not. My husband is resting also. Nothing will be decided until rest and food have been offered.” The woman exuded calm, her hands relaxed at her sides, her gaze steady.
“Thank you.” Quinn’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. Ahnah’s head tilted and she smiled at him in a grandmotherly expression he had never known before. She stepped forward and embraced him.
He felt like a giant compared to this small woman. He worried he would break her, but she squeezed him tightly without inhibitions and he hugged her back.
“Now, the
n, get some sleep.” She sniffed and wiped a tear away. Quinn let his arms fall away from her and backed up, ducking inside the tent.
It was empty but for a bed of firs on the fresh dirt floor, the surface stamped down and hardened with clay. There was a large clay jar, like a pitcher of sorts, with water inside, and a wide flat bowl. Perhaps for washing. Quinn ignored it. He kicked his shoes off and collapsed into the bed, burrowing beneath the covers and falling asleep the moment his head rested.
A rustling sound woke Quinn. His eyelids cracked open, crusted and heavy. His head pounded.
“The virtue of Raven is not so easy to handle, is it?”
“What?” He groaned and put a hand to his head.
“You drank and you channeled Raven’s power through your amulet.” Through cracked eyes he recognized Ahnah placing a tray beside him on the floor. She handed him a cup. “Only water. Drink.”
He had so many questions about what she’d said about using Raven’s power and the amulet he wore, but he needed to drink first. Quinn sipped experimentally. None of that sour brew from the night before. He gulped down the freshest, coldest water he’d ever had, and lay back on the pillow for a second before sitting up.
“Harper?”
“She is well enough. Eat.” Ahnah passed him a flat, pale brown bread that smelled fried.
Quinn picked it up and felt something sticky. “Honey?”
Ahnah smiled and indicated a bowl on the plate. “Also some blueberries picked this morning. And the cooked meat for strength.”
Quinn ate as directed. “I will say, your food is the best here.”
“Most years, it is. We trade for some things, like flour.” She indicated the bread he was biting into.
Quinn nodded, his mouth too full to respond. He licked his fingers and finished the rest of the food, energy returning to his limbs as the food settled. He followed Ahnah out of the tent and stretched his wings and arms.
“Would you like to see your sister?” Ahnah asked. Quinn noticed her wings were not in view, which surprised him. Nearly everyone kept theirs out all the time here. It would take getting used to, having to hide his wings his entire life.
“Of course. Is she awake?”
“I believe so.”
They made their way through the village. Women crouched by fires, stoking them to life so their breakfast would cook. He even spotted a few gas stoves and other modernizations. They even had a small row of outhouses at the edge of the village, which Quinn visited before they reached the healer’s tent.
“Her mind is a bit muddled from the herbs she’s been given for the pain,” Ahnah instructed. “Be gentle with her.”
“I will,” Quinn promised. He moved the tent flap out of the way and stepped inside, bringing his wings tightly against his back to avoid knocking anything over. The healer knelt on the floor beside a low stone table, mixing herbs and putting them into jars and bowls, grinding them with a rounded stick made of stone. She adjusted her wide-brimmed glasses and gave Quinn a friendly smile, then looked to Harper.
“Harper, you have a visitor.”
Harper stirred, turning her head to face Quinn. Her expression didn’t change. He knelt and took her hand in his, but confusion crossed her face and she tugged the hand away.
“Harper, it’s me.”
“You know Becca,” she said, her voice a quiet croak.
“Yes, I do.” Quinn’s brow furrowed. “How do you feel?”
“Terrible.”
Quinn couldn’t help smiling. “So much happened the past few days, it’s hard to know where to start.”
Harper shook her head. She reached up to touch it, and her frown deepened. Her brown eyes stared Quinn down with a hard, determined expression. “Look, am I supposed to know you?”
Quinn rocked back on his heels, his wings flaring out to balance himself. “What do you mean?”
Harper looked at the far tent wall, fingers picking at the blanket over her. “There’s a… hole in my mind. All the memories are gone. I just…I don’t know what or who is supposed to fill them.” She turned back to Quinn, and the vulnerable version he had known when she was a child peered at him through her gaze. “Is it you?”
Quinn’s head jerked, as if he’d been slapped. His breathing constricted. He had to focus on a bundle of dried herbs that dangled from the ceiling before he collected himself enough to answer. He licked his lips. “I’m your brother. Our parents are Mick and Sarah.”
“I was an only child,” Harper insisted.
“No,” Quinn whispered. He licked his lips and put his hand back over hers. “No, you weren’t. You’re not. We have always had each other. I don’t know what happened, but I swear to you, we are family.”
Harper’s eyes filled with tears. She looked to Ahnah, who stood behind Quinn, then to the healer. “Do either of you know if what he’s saying is true?”
Ahnah moved forward, standing next to the bed. “It is. I am the mother of your father. You have a family, Harper. We are here with you now.”
“I don’t know how to be part of a family.” And at that, Quinn’s bold, fearless sister burst into tears. Her entire body shook with hoarse sobs. She sat up, thankfully clothed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
The healer rushed over with a clean rag and handed it to her. Harper blew her nose, wiping it. She looked at Quinn with red-rimmed eyes.
He did the only thing he could think of. He reached out and embraced her. Her shoulder blades stuck out beneath the leather vest she wore. She seemed so small and frail, and yet, from what he’d witnessed last night, she was stronger than anyone he knew. The part of him that had protected her through their childhood and never stopped searching for her when they got separated, it relaxed. He felt at ease. He would help her remember. They could create new memories here in the safety of the village. Everything was right in the world. Everything except—
A faint scream split the morning air. Quinn released Harper, whose eyes had widened. She threw off her covers, but the healer laid a firm hand on Harper’s thigh. “You will stay here. We have plenty of able-bodied warriors who can investigate the sound.” Her brow creased, and she looked toward the entrance of the tent.
Another scream. And a yell. A clatter of logs falling. A tent collapse, perhaps? And then a word Quinn had heard before.
“Namigiak!”
He scrambled to his feet and bolted for the door. At Ahnah’s cry he turned around. “It’s Becca. I’m sorry, I have to—”
“Go,” Ahnah urged him. His last glance took in Harper’s confused and frightened gaze.
“I’ll be back,” he said.
The tent door disintegrated before his eyes, sizzling with an acrid stench as a thick grey substance dripped from it. Becca burst through, her long, serpentine body writhing and smashing into the walls. The beams creaked.
“Get Harper out of here!” Quinn shouted, backing up. His wings flared out, blocking them from view. “Becca, it’s me.”
She hissed in response, fangs dripping, eyes narrow and yellow. Nothing human left in her gaze. Her entire body was covered with scales. Her shirt hung in tatters around her torso.
Quinn crouched, ready to spring and wrestle her to the ground if she moved. She slithered to the left, then darted to the right underneath his wings and struck.
Ahnah called out. Quinn pivoted and grabbed Becca around her middle, the scales sliding out from under his grip as she twisted and writhed. He threw her to the side, barely able to manage her full weight with his supernatural strength. She wound herself up, ready to strike again, spitting acid. Quinn dodged and surged forward, and Becca struck at him. He jumped, crashing into a shelf of medicines against the side wall. The serpent’s tail whipped around, catching his legs and he fell. Becca raised herself to the full extent of her height possible in the tent, tongue flicking out.
Behind Quinn, Ahnah groaned and lay slumped on the floor, a deep bite wound in her shoulder trickling blood
and grey matter.
“Enough, pet,” a male voice came from the ruined entrance. Quinn glanced over and saw the middle-eastern photographer, Avaan, stride in holding a blue flute in his hands. He smiled when he noticed Quinn.
“Ah yes, excellent. We’ve been looking for the chief, but you’ll do nicely. He’s sure to come here when he realizes his grandson and heir is in danger.”
“What do you want with him?” Quinn growled.
“Only to petition for our freedom.”
“He would have given it to you without violence.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. The thing is, even you don’t know what the chief is thinking about our friend here.” Avaan gestured to Becca.
Ahnah moaned again. Her color had paled, and her breathing appeared shallow.
“What part do you have in this?” Quinn demanded, climbing to his feet. “Did you agitate her? Force her to turn?”
Avaan walked over to Becca and stroked her scales, an admiring look on his face. “My ancestors have ruled over the lamia for centuries. I am merely reclaiming my birthright. Together we will rebuild the serpentine empire that was lost when her kind were hunted nearly to extinction.”
He looked to Quinn. “You’re fortunate that I hold the means to controlling the deadly specimen before you. This ability had all but disappeared as heirlooms became artifacts and the graves of my ancestors were pillaged by archaeologists and cryptozoologists. Their skeletons were stolen in the name of science, put into museums, ravaged. I thought they were gone, and I mourned the loss of our power, our position in society as the strongest warriors, the most respected leaders. Until I met her,”
Becca’s tongue flickered. She lowered down, her tail coiling until she stood at a more human-height.
Shouting grew louder outside the tent.
“The warriors are coming. You’ll never withstand all of them,” Quinn said.
“You underestimate the power of the lamia. A single one in the hands of a charmer can take out armies. We will walk out of here unscathed. You and your people?” Avaan clicked his tongue. “It’s a shame, truly. How about you go out to meet your grandfather? I’ll come with you to make sure you don’t try anything, and Becca will keep these women company. You can help me negotiate for our freedom.”
