The Dawn King (The Moon People, Book Five)

by Claudia King

  “I should have come back for you,” Jarek said.

  Adel shook her head gently. “Then I might have done something even more foolish. It made me stronger, in the end, to know the power my own doubts could have over me. I buried them deeper than ever after that day.” She sighed. “And I hated Khelt for years.”

  “Was he like your father?”

  “I don't know. My heart told me he was, but Netya always disagreed with me. My heart would have led me astray many times without her. I love that woman like she is my own blood.”

  The relief of speaking so openly was a joy Adel had never known before. It felt strange to think of it that way, for how could reliving such deep, painful memories bring her joy? Yet once she'd voiced them, the space they'd occupied in her soul opened up and let in the warmth Jarek had given her. Those memories were not gone, but they were lighter. She no longer felt as if she had to hide them away, shameful and secret. Now they could simply be, letting her emotions pass through and beyond them without getting pricked upon their sharpness. Would she come to regret this, she wondered? For as good as it felt in the moment, she might be building herself a cage that would crush her once it was all over.

  Despite already knowing the answer, she had to ask the question one more time.

  “You are still going to stay here when I leave, aren't you?”

  “I have to.”

  “I know.” She squeezed his fingers one by one, playing with them like an affectionate child. “At least this time we will be able to say goodbye.”

  “I wish we didn't have to.”

  “You'd rather live in a world of wishes.”

  He wiggled his finger beneath her chin. “Just stories. I'll tell tales of you till my dying day.”

  “You don't have to. You should find another woman and tell tales of her.”

  After a pause Jarek asked, “Was there ever another man for you?”

  “No. I came close recently, with the alpha who now leads my warriors. He lost his love too.”

  “Is he a good man?”

  Adel nodded. “As good as any woman could hope for.”

  “Do you think you'll become his mate when you return?”

  “I don't know. I might.” Adel tilted her head to look at him. The lines of his face were barely visible in the gloom, but his expression held the same sincerity as her own. “Is there anyone here for you?”

  “Maybe Arunae, one of the concubines. She is a good woman too. She deserves a husband who will love her.”

  “Then neither of us will have to be alone.”

  “We won't be alone, but we won't be together.”

  Adel drew closer, gazing into the flecks of firelight reflecting in the corners of Jarek's eyes. “We're together now. Let's not waste time thinking about when it will be over.”

  He kissed her, the warmth of his lips brightening the glow within her chest. “How long do you think we can stay like this?”

  Adel kissed him back.

  “At least until morning.”

  —40—

  Homecoming

  Progress was slow, but they pushed themselves hard to stay ahead of the temple scouts. None of the animals they hunted were large enough to make a waterskin from their innards, so they had to stay close to the stream and scout out new sources of water whenever they wanted to change direction. That often brought them close to settlements. Kale did not understand Caspian and Fern's reluctance to approach the Sun People at first, but after they told him what had happened at Beron's house he grew cautious too. There were stories about isolated farmsteads that took in travellers only to rob and kill them, or sometimes worse. He'd always thought the grisly tales were only meant to warn people against the dangers of wandering alone, but now he began to wonder whether there might be some truth to them. He did not really know many other villages besides his own, and Caspian and Fern did have the look of wild folk about them.

  They stuck to the wilderness, seeking out new water at night when they could safely use their wolves to cover ground quickly. Despite Kale's estimate, it took them more than three days before they arrived in the part of the plains he was familiar with. Caspian's wounds had slowed them all down, and the necessities of hunting and finding water had only added to the delay. Kale's stomach was aching by the third day, and the memory of crunching down small mice in the night made him feel nauseous. He did not think he could ever get used to being one of the Moon People.

  Early on the final day they were forced to approach several Sun People as they followed the great river until they found a ford. Many travellers naturally congregated at the crossing, and as they drew near Kale saw that several earthen hovels had been built since he last came this way. It was clever, he thought, to begin a settlement in a place like this. Despite the sorry state of the mud brick houses, the men and women outside had great piles of fish spread out on hide sheets, and they were roasting them to share with the travellers passing by. A burly, broad-shouldered man wore a necklace like the ones the traders in the temple village had, though only two or three metal rings adorned this one. Instead his necklace rattled with valuable shells from the sea, carved wooden beads, and polished bone trinkets. Kale thought that if the man traded his necklace for wood and the services of a builder then he might soon have a thriving village set up around this ford. Just like the temple village, it was a natural meeting place for trade.

  Kale and his companions stopped a short distance away from the water, scanning the crossing for any signs of men wearing the yellow of temple warriors. They saw none. Keeping their heads down, they followed an old man and his tame aurochs across, guided through the shallows by a length of rope that had been staked between the two riverbanks. All three of them were weary after wading through the fast current, but they agreed to press on without resting. Another hungry night would leave them even more weak and dispirited the next day, and Kale could tell that the willpower of his companions was waning. Fern remained talkative, but Caspian often lagged behind, seeming lost in thought. Back at the den Kale had spent relatively little time with Netya's mate, for he was a man of great status among Adel's clan. He usually kept the company of people like Alpha Orec, and so Kale had always felt too intimidated to talk to him. Everyone said Caspian was a quiet and thoughtful man, however, which made Kale hopeful that he might be trying to think of a way to reach Kiren and the others again.

  “You said your family held some status,” Caspian said to him a short while after they crossed the ford. “How much status?”

  “They are greatly respected in my village,” Kale replied truthfully. The sons of his family were renowned as strong and practical men. He'd joined his own pilgrimage in part to try and prove himself worthy of his bloodline. “My mother's family hold much of the farmland, and my father advises the chieftain. Before I left there was talk of him taking the chieftain's place. By now he may be their leader.”

  Caspian nodded, considering his words before responding. “We cannot bring Adel and the others out of the temple by force. We'd be fools to try again. If they wanted to leave now they'd stand more chance on their own than with us interfering.”

  “Then we may as well find somewhere to wait for them,” Fern said dejectedly.

  “I don't want to do that.” Caspian scowled. “That priest Thakayn is still there with them. If he slew the Dawn King then he may be every bit as dangerous as a rabid alpha.”

  “But what can we do about him?” Kale asked. “You said yourself, we'll not be able to return to the temple now.”

  “We may not be, but Liliac's plan was to shame Thakayn. He said that with enough voices it could be done.”

  “Liliac was a respected shaman,” Kale said. “Only a man like him could have accused a high priest. Without him no one would have listened to us.” His voice lowered as he added, “Besides, there is no Dawn King to listen at all any more.”

  Caspian sighed. “I wish I understood the ways of these lands better. Surely even without the Dawn King a high priest'
s honour could still be called into question?”

  “I don't know. It has never happened before.”

  The conversation trailed off as Caspian fell behind again, once more cocooned within his thoughts. Kale had an inkling of what he was planning. The question about his own family's status had given it away. If a powerful man, perhaps a chieftain of a sizeable village, came to the temple and accused Thakayn of treachery, surely the other high priests would be forced to listen. Without the Dawn King, though, nothing was certain any more, and Kale did not understand much about the temple's ways himself. He did not even know whether his family would accept him or turn him away.

  Despite his determination, he'd grown increasingly anxious as they drew closer to his village. The stories Netya had told him weighed heavily upon his mind. What if his mother reacted the same way hers had, seeing only a ghost in place of a son she'd given up for dead? He didn't want to think about that happening. The thought of being rejected by his kin would be even worse than the pain of never seeing them again, yet if he did not try to make them understand he would never forgive himself.

  At first he did not recognise the cluster of houses taking shape in the distance. There were too many of them, and instead of mud brick farm huts there were long, square buildings covered with pointed triangles of thatch. As the sun began to set he realised that his village had not changed, it had just grown. In two years his old life had moved on without him. Kale felt a lump rising in his throat as he saw people going to the river to wash themselves in preparation for the evening meal. Some of those figures might be his brothers.

  “Wait,” he said to Fern, coming to a stop. “I should go on my own. If they turn me away you can still pretend to be travellers. My family are good people. They won't harm you, even if they think you're wild folk.”

  Fern smiled and embraced him briefly. “If they are good people then they will welcome you home too. The spirits must have some mercy to spare after everything else we've faced.”

  Caspian caught up and nodded to him, tugging Fern down so that they could disappear amongst the grass. “Good luck, Kale.”

  Clenching his fists, he left the other two behind him and strode toward the edge of the nearest field. He didn't think he could stand to approach everyone at once in the middle of the village. Most people would be going to the chieftain's house, where the shaman could bless their day's work before they began their meal. The eeriness of returning home as a stranger unnerved him, making his palms sweaty against his fingers. Feral teeth gnawed at his thoughts, refusing to let him forget the burden that he now carried. He was an outsider. An abomination in his people's eyes. Even if they welcomed him back, he would have to keep that part of himself hidden for the rest of his life. Kiren and the others had told him it would be an impossible task.

  He hopped over a half-built dry stone wall at the edge of the field and landed on the other side. Despite all of the new houses, that wall had still never been finished. He remembered that they'd run out of stones they could dig up from the surrounding earth, and the only kind of stone traders carried was for toolmaking. Kale shielded his eyes and scanned the field, looking for anyone who might have stayed behind to carry on working. If he could talk to one or two people on their own, it would make approaching the others easier. Quite close by a woman was kneeling down in the mud, piling up fresh earth where a corner of two intersecting irrigation ditches had fallen in. Her hair was tied back with a leather band, and she had the hardy look of someone who'd toiled in the fields her entire life.

  The lump in Kale's throat stuck like a rock. It was his mother. Before he could think about turning around, she looked up and saw him. Her face remained blank. Out of habit she wiped her hands off on the front of her knee-length work leathers, rising to her feet slowly.

  Does she recognise me? he thought. Have I changed so much?

  His mother's brow furrowed. “Is that my boy?”

  He didn't trust himself to speak, so he nodded instead. She took a few steps forward, slow at first, then faster. When she reached him she put her hands on his shoulders, then his face, then his neck, as if to reassure herself that he was really there.

  “The shamans told us the omens were bad.” Despite the emotion in her eyes, she spoke as plainly as she always did. His mother had always been a simple woman. “A year ago we burned a goat's bones in place of yours.”

  “You needn't have. I'm here now.”

  His mother nodded, screwing her eyes shut as tears finally spilled from them. “You are. You're here, my boy.” She embraced him then, drawing a sob of relief from Kale's lungs as he squeezed her back. She didn't think he was a ghost.

  “Wash yourself, Kavi, the ditch can wait,” a voice called from the edge of the field. Kale recognised it as his father's.

  “Curse the ditch, come here!” his mother yelled back. A figure pushed his way through the rows of leafy berry plants, stepping out near one of the ditches and heading toward them. Kale's father was grey-haired, but he was not as old as many thought. Broad-chested and similarly wide in the stomach, he looked exactly as Kale had remembered him. The only difference was the pendant of the village chieftain that now hung around his neck.

  “Fetch my own damned wife...” he began to mutter, but the sight of another man standing with his woman interrupted him. He glared at Kale in annoyance, then his eyes widened. “Spirits be.”

  “It's our boy,” his mother laughed, pulling him over so that his father could embrace him.

  “Kale. Kale, curse you, we thought you were dead! I knew that pilgrimage was a mistake. It should have been one of your brothers.”

  He let his parents embrace him, feeling a joy in their touches that they could not express in words. At first he worried about weeping in front of his father, but soon the hefty man's eyes were filled with tears as well. They did not seem to care about the how or why, they were just overjoyed to have their son back. Soon they were trying to pull him toward the village, but he resisted.

  “What's wrong, boy? You must have tales! Everyone will want to welcome you home.”

  Kale opened his mouth, but his tongue faltered just like his feet. If he went with them now, he knew he wouldn't be able to leave. The village would embrace him. His brothers, his elders, the people he had grown up with. He'd never be able to turn his back on them again. He would have to live with the wolf forever on his shoulder, gnawing at him until he took a wound that healed too quickly or woke up in the night covered in fur.

  “Father,” he said stiffly. “Mother. I'm not the boy who left you all those seasons back.”

  “Of course not. You're a man, aren't you? A strong, strong man.” His father looked so proud that Kale could not bear to meet his gaze. In that moment he knew what he had to do.

  “He doesn't mean that,” his mother said, putting a hand on his arm. “He's got the look about him. The way warriors are when they come back from fighting.”

  His father nodded sympathetically. “Hard to return to a village full of laughter, I know. We'll wait till the meal's finished. The shaman can bless you, drive off that curse from your spirit. I'll see it's done before anyone else bothers you.”

  “A shaman can't drive off my curse,” Kale said, stepping back from them.

  “Then I'll live with a curse under my roof. You're not leaving us again, my boy.”

  The wolf started to stir, squirming around his spine impatiently. He took another step back. “Don't fear me. Please. I'll do nothing to hurt you. But if you want me to leave, I will.” This was the only way. If he didn't want to live the rest of his life in fear of the beast, then his mother and father had to understand. If they turned him away, he would go back to the lands of the Moon People and forget them forever. Letting the beast rise up within him, he took the shape of his wolf.

  Both of his parents stumbled back, their faces stark with fear. His father put a hand in front of his mother and stepped between them. Their terror cut deep into Kale's heart. Lowering his body to the earth, he
curled his tail behind him and bowed his muzzle. If they ran, he would turn away. If they shouted for help, he would flee. Neither of them said anything. They only stood there, staring at the demon their son had become. His monstrous wolf had crushed one of their bushes beneath its hind legs when he changed shape. Kale met their eyes, his ears twitching. Still they did nothing. Just like his parents, he was suddenly unsure of what to do. He'd expected some strong reaction from them. What did this silence mean?

  After several long moments he reverted from the shape of his wolf, swaying dizzily as he knelt upon the soft earth.

  “This curse came from the Moon People,” his father said at last, running his tongue over dry lips. “They gave you their magic?”

  Kale nodded dumbly.

  “That beast looked almost tame.”

  “It was no beast,” Kale said, finding his voice. “It is me. The part of me given by the Moon People.”

  “You can control it? Like a shaman's power?”

  “Yes. All of the Moon People do.”

  His mother was weeping again. “I don't understand.”

  “They are no different from us,” Kale said. “They make settlements, they sew clothes, they have children. They love each other as we do, and they also fear the monsters they call Sun People. My pilgrimage tried to fight them, and when we lost they tended my wounds. Instead of killing me, they gave me their magic.”

  His father swallowed and gestured for his mother to step back, then said, “Show me again.”

  Kale struggled to call the beast forward a second time, but after a few moments it came. He bowed his head to his father once more, flicked his tail, then reverted.

  “By the Son,” his father gasped. “You do have their magic.”

  “If you won't have it in your village, then I understand,” Kale said. “I will leave and never return. The Moon People will take me back in.”