by Claudia King
Vaya, however, seemed to take silence itself as an insult, particularly when it came from Netya.
“No warrior's heart in you, Sun Wolf?” the huntress said with a grin. “Does my tale steal the courage from your soul?”
Netya gave her a patient smile. “Not all of us seek glory in violence. That has never been Adel's way.”
“You can admit you are a coward. Nothing worse than one who pretends to be a wolf by hiding behind false teeth.”
Netya looked away, saying nothing. There was no point with Vaya. Anything she said would only antagonise her further.
Koura looked between the two of them and gave a snort of bemusement.
“Sun wolf she may be, but you don't know much of Sister Netya if you think her a coward.”
“Koura,” Netya said sharply, channelling her mentor as she gave the warrior a frosty look with the intent of silencing him. To her dismay, the man was either too intoxicated or too caught up in the fervour of Vaya's tale to catch on.
“Let me tell you a tale, Huntress,” he said with a lopsided grin, pushing himself up on one elbow. “You're not the first woman to slay a fearsome beast in these lands. You know why we all came to serve Adel, yes?”
“Everyone knows that tale,” Kiren said, leaning forward with interest. “She defeated Alpha Miral, the most powerful warrior this side of the mountains.”
Koura spat into the fire. “Curse his name. No other pack ever called that man friend. But do you know how? No, she did not pull an eagle of fire from the sky or summon up a mountain to crush him like in those tales you hear at the gathering. Adel's magic may have turned him back when he attacked this place, but it was another witch who sent him on his final journey to the spirit world.”
Vaya's eyes narrowed. “Who was this warrior?”
“This isn't a tale that needs telling,” Netya said.
“Of course it is!” Kiren replied. “I want to know. Was it Sister Lyucia with her poisons? Or that huntress, Fern?”
Koura shook his head, still grinning. He seemed to be taking great delight in holding his audience in suspense.
“If you ask the people of Miral's clan they will all tell you the same. A great witch came to their den in the guise of a helpless girl, playing the captive while she sowed the seeds of her wicked curse. She wanted revenge, you see, for Miral had slain her mate in a challenge. For many days she dwelt among them, whispering to the alpha in his tent, poisoning him with the names of dark spirits, conjuring visions of his demise. Yet Miral was blind to the danger, thinking himself the conqueror of these witches after having slain their champion.
“One night, a scream rang out from the alpha's tent! His warriors ran inside no more than a breath after the noise had ended, but Miral's body was already aflame, devoured by the witch's curse. Violet fire ate him alive, drawing the blood from his flesh and spilling it upon his furs! And the witch? She was gone. Vanished like smoke upon the wind. For she had taken the essence of Miral's life in payment for her dead mate, and with it she breathed a spell of healing into her lover's body so powerful that it called him back from the spirit world. In one day a witch of Adel's clan used her magic to both destroy and heal in a way no seer has ever done before.” He made a grunt of satisfaction and nodded. “That is why so many of us left our packs behind to follow the den mother. Hers is a power beyond all of us. We would be servants of that power, not enemies.”
Netya sat staring at the base of the fire. She did not need to look up to know that many eyes were now upon her.
“So?” Kiren said. “Who was this great witch?”
Koura chuckled. “Your friend just called her a coward.”
The silence that followed was broken only briefly by a snort of mirth from Vaya. Yet even that noise sounded hesitant.
“You?” Vaya said.
“All the clan know it.” Koura took another slurp from his bowl. “We may not like sun wolves, but no one can say that this one is not touched by Mother Syr's power.”
“Is it true?” Kiren said, her voice soft with awe. The newfound reverence with which she addressed her mentor made Netya uncomfortable.
“All tales grow more fanciful in the retelling,” Netya said.
She hated the story. It was a terrible, bitter thing, made grand by the people who had not been there to witness it. For all she knew she had unwittingly struck some bargain with the spirits to take one life in exchange for another, but it had been no feat of magic on her part. Fear, sorrow, and desperation had willed her to do what she did. A shard of flint had ended Miral's life, and a sprinkling of Adel's fire powder had wreathed his body in flame for his followers to find. Speaking the truth of it was uncomfortable at best, and hearing people turn it into a tale of romantic wonder was even worse. Yet the reputation of Adel's clan relied upon such embellishments. At the den mother's insistence she had allowed her own sad little legend to grow, and now it followed her around like a sickly shadow.
“Why did you not tell me you were a woman of such greatness?” Kiren said. “I never understood it, but now I know why they say you are the den mother's favourite.”
“Is that what greatness is?” Netya replied. “The power to kill your enemies? If so then I would rather be plain.”
Koura shook his head in bemusement, gesturing with the bowl in Netya's direction.
“Strange as any of them, isn't she? But the powerful ones often are. Not a warrior's place to question such power, only to serve it.”
Vaya continued to squint at her rival as if she was trying to unpick a particularly complex knot.
“Truly,” she murmured, “you are a worthy adversary, aren't you?”
“Adel is a woman of power, not I.”
“Did Adel ever bring a man back from death?” Kiren asked.
“She may as well have.” Koura reached down with a grunt of pain and yanked up one of his leggings, revealing a twisted scar on his shin. “See that? The den mother was just a girl when she stitched it together and pushed the bone back inside me. So many of her father's people would have died if not for her healing magic. Wounds grievous enough to kill the strongest of warriors. She knew how to bring a man back from the edge of death, or else ease his journey into the spirit world if he slipped beyond it. I knew, I always knew.” He began to ramble, slurring some of his words as he swallowed down the fruit mush at the bottom of his bowl. “Moonlight that walks among us, Adel and Uriel, seers, witches—spirits given flesh.”
Sensing an opportunity not only to turn the conversation away from herself but also to pry deeper into Koura's knowledge of the past, Netya squeezed the last of her fermented medicine out of its waterskin to top up the old warrior's bowl.
“It sounds like she won the heart of many a warrior,” Netya said.
“All of them. Too pure for a man's love, except...” Koura pressed his lips together, his face scrunching up in consternation. “Tales, tales. Not for me to tell.”
“But everyone yearns to hear tales of the den mother,” Netya coaxed. “And who else but you has known her long enough to tell them?” She knew Koura was wrestling with himself, fired up by the drink and the fervour of his last story. He had a captive audience now.
“No,” he said, “her tales are her own, but how about I tell you of the pack she came from?”
Netya smiled. “Please. We would love to hear the story of Alpha Ulric's clan.”
Kiren and Vaya had begun to whisper, their attention still focused upon Netya, but everyone else was eager to move on to the next story.
“Ulric is a stubborn old fool, but back ago—long, long ago—he could have been great. Greatest, maybe. The alpha of all.” Koura blinked hard a few times as he collected his foggy thoughts. “He was strong. Great warriors, great seers. Many in number. Then his daughters, Adel and Uriel. They were the envy of many a pack. Everyone knew in those days, they said “Ulric has the fire of the sun and the wisdom of the moon!” Bountiful territory, strong allies, fearful rivals. What undid him was... it was that
he knew it. When his enemies challenged him, he had to fight them. Could never show weakness. No insult unanswered, no accord ever accepted. He knew he was the greatest of alphas, and nothing would stop him from proving it.” Koura rattled out a bitter laugh. “But even the greatest alpha is still a pup in the spirits' eyes. Once he stopped listening to his seers, that was when it began. Throwing warriors to their deaths, turning his hand to his daughter when she tried to speak wisdom. His status was all to him, and the harder he clutched the more he crushed it.
“Then the Sun People came, raiding and hunting, and Ulric found his warriors few and his allies fewer. I still believed in him that day!” Koura slammed a clenched fist into the ground, his face flush with anger. “His warriors and I, we slew our foes, we took our scars! Young fool that I was, I never saw that the seers were the only ones who respected our sacrifice. They healed our wounds when we returned home, while Ulric only demanded we go out and fight for him again. When Adel ran away, that was the first time I questioned my loyalty to her father.”
“When she was sent to make peace with Alpha Khelt's clan?” Netya asked.
“No, no, a year before. Two, maybe. They said she was with Alpha Neman, her heart stolen by—” Koura blinked and stopped himself before he went any further.
Netya had not realised she was staring so intently at the storyteller, everyone else in the cave forgotten as she tried to piece his tale together with the other legends she had heard about Adel's past.
So this was why Kolami and her dark-skinned kin had always regarded the den mother as a friend. She remembered now, many years ago, hearing a similar tale from one of Alpha Neman's followers at the gathering. Something about a brother who had been enchanted by Adel, disappearing into the spirit world when he chased after her..?
“Was there a man she loved?” Netya said softly. “One of Kolami's clan?”
Koura's lips had sealed themselves tight. He looked from Netya to her fellow seer and huffed in resignation.
“Ask her. I'll not tell.”
Netya looked to Kolami. The young woman's eyes were wide, her fingers curling and uncurling against her thighs. Whether she admitted it or not, it was clear that she knew another side of this tale.
“The den mother grows angry any time I speak of it,” she mumbled.
“The den mother is not here now,” Netya said. “Did she live among your pack once?”
Kolami moved her head awkwardly, something mid way between a shake and a nod.
“I was only young. She lived away from us, up on the hill with Jarek.”
Netya bobbed her head, urging her to go on.
“I am no storyteller,” Kolami said. “All I remember is... I was jealous that Mother Leide took her as an apprentice and not me. She said I was too young, but she had taught girls who were younger.”
“So the witch learned her dark magic from your people,” Vaya said with obvious derision, “and now she teaches it to others.”
“The seers serve all spirits, both bright and dark,” Koura growled at her. “Show respect.”
As the warrior and huntress lost themselves in an aggressive eye-lock Netya turned back to Kolami and said, “Adel lived on a hill with someone? Jarek?”
Kolami nodded plainly. “They were in love. For as long as I can remember Jarek always used to talk about her. They met long before Adel came to our pack.”
“How long?”
“Many... many years. When I first heard Jarek speak of her he was a boy. By the time they left together he was a man.”
Netya felt the ache of a deep pain in her heart. She had always imagined Adel's lost love as a brief, passionate spark that had interrupted the den mother's otherwise dark life. A short but intense romance that had left her longing for what could have been.
The truth was so much sadder. This Jarek had not been a man she cared for fleetingly, but a love that had endured for years.
“Netya?” Kolami raised her voice in concern as Netya turned away to brush her eyes.
“Never mind me. What happened to them?” She almost dreaded to hear the answer.
“We never knew,” Kolami said. “One day they left together, then word came that Ulric had made peace with Alpha Khelt, and that Adel was now his den mother. Jarek never came back home.” Her eyes flitted briefly in Koura's direction.
“What is it?” Netya asked.
Kolami only shook her head.
Finally tearing his gaze away from Vaya, Koura cocked an eyebrow at the seers.
“Hmph. She's heard the same tales I have. You think a man like Ulric wanted his daughter mated to a dark boy from Neman's clan? He's dead or worse. Driven from our lands. Killed by the Sun People. Ulric had some hand in it, though I know not how.”
A quiet gasp left Kolami's lips.
“Who cares to remember such things?!” Koura snapped. He seemed angry at himself for having said more than he intended. “Ulric, Neman, forget them all! We are here now, we serve Adel. Let the alphas of the old clans fight while we follow a greater path. The den mother speaks not of her past, and neither should we.”
“You think serving dark spirits is a greater path?” Vaya said. “You forget all of our traditions. Strength and honour made our people who they are, not witches and trickery.”
“Shut your mouth, woman. You know nothing!” Koura tried to stand up, knocking his bowl over and slipping in the process.
“Koura, your wounds!” Netya hurried to his side and tried to make the warrior lie back down. He struggled, still trying to get at Vaya, but the drink had made him clumsy. Even though he was much stronger than her Netya managed to keep him from rising. She prayed he was too intoxicated to take the shape of his wolf.
“Don't make a fool of yourself, old man,” Vaya said. “You may have won one challenge today, but you won't win a second.”
“You'll see what I can win,” Koura growled. “Get off me, I can stand, I can fight!”
“You cannot.” Netya tried to be as firm as she could, but he was not listening. She gave Vaya an imploring look, then thought better of it and addressed Kiren instead. “She has to leave. Koura will only hurt himself if she keeps provoking him.”
The girl nodded. “There's no need, Vaya. Stay out of trouble, remember?”
Netya could not help but wonder whether her apprentice would have obeyed so readily had she not just heard the tale of Alpha Miral. It saddened her a little, but now was not the time to dwell on such things.
“He is the fool causing trouble, not I,” Vaya said.
“And he will keep causing it if you stay,” Netya answered. “Kolami, open the screen for them. Koura, shh.” She tried to soothe the agitated man with a palm against his cheek, but he shook her off and lurched upward suddenly, slamming the back of his head into her nose. Her grip on his arms slipped, and by the time she managed to blink the stars from her eyes he had staggered upright.
“Don't turn your back on me, Huntress!” Koura yelled. A gust of chill wind flooded the cave as Kolami pulled the screen aside. The fire roared and guttered. Netya stood up and dashed in front of Koura, tugging frantically at one of the pouches tied to her gown. As the warrior made to push past her she slammed her palm into his chest as hard as she could. It was like striking a tree trunk. A jolt of pain shot up Netya's arm, but Koura blinked and stumbled. She pushed him again, closing her fingers around the powder in her pouch and casting it into the fire. Violet flames erupted with a fierce whoosh, twisting and whorling in the wind. Koura recoiled in fear. Someone behind them cried out in alarm.
“Do as I say!” The wind caught her voice and bounced it off the cave walls, leaving only stunned silence in its wake.
Koura slumped to his knees, his anger gone. Now there was only fear.
Once Netya was sure the warrior was subdued she turned to help Kolami with the screen as Kiren and Vaya backed out into the snow. They were saying something, but the wind snatched their voices away before she could make sense of it. Giving her apprentice a brief nod o
f thanks, she gripped the wooden frame and hauled it back across the cave's entrance, struggling as the wind caught and tugged at the hide covering. With one last heave, the two seers wedged the screen back into place.
Koura stared at the fire, watching the last few violet sparks burn themselves out.
“Forgive me, Sisters,” he said. “I did not mean to anger the spirits.”
Netya sighed. “Lie back down and rest. The spirits will forgive you.”
No more tales were told that night, but Netya's mind still raced with questions. What had happened to this Jarek when he disappeared? Did Adel know the truth of it? Did her father? Was that why the den mother had always held such a burning resentment for her birth clan?
More troubling still, the alpha Koura had described in his story sounded much like the woman his daughter had grown into. Strong, fearsome, respected, and fiercely protective of his clan's status.
Could it be that Adel, for all of her personal pride, still stood in the darkness of her father's shadow?
—19—
Winter Fire
Despite her past misgivings, Kiren grew increasingly thankful for her mentor's presence as winter crept on. Orec's den, while pleasant enough in the warm seasons, had clearly been chosen to serve the witches first and provide comfort for its occupants second. With no communal space to gather in save for the damp and frosty training cave, enduring the cold became a daily chore. When Kiren was not shivering outside trying to gather the firewood that Pera had neglected to stock (though in fairness, he had not anticipated welcoming three newcomers into his cave that winter) she was taking advantage of Netya's hospitality to warm herself by the seers' hearth. Bringing Vaya along with her always stirred an uncomfortable sense of guilt within the young woman, but she managed to get over it every time she saw little Claw shivering in her friend's arms back at Pera's cave. He needed taking care of too, and that was worth a little discomfort.
