by Claudia King
Fierce though Vaya's determination was, it did nothing to help her arm heal any faster. Even if the ache vanished completely by the time she fought Narolen, she had little doubt now that a single strain would be enough to bring it screaming back to life. Great Rook's spirit was here to stay with her, and he would never let his anger be forgotten. She should not have been surprised. Such great victories rarely came without a price.
As the light began to fade on the day of the challenge she cut loose her bindings, flexing her tingling fingers until they began to tremble. She closed her eyes, squeezing her useless hand into a fist. Every beat of her heart sent another throb of pain through her muscles. Her wolf would be fighting three-legged that evening.
Outside the cave she could already hear the whoops and howls of Orec's pack as they gathered beneath the overhang. Pera's voice rose over the hubbub, singing a song of battle to which the warriors began clapping and stomping in rhythm. When Vaya rose to leave she found Kin waiting for her outside the cave's entrance.
“Your arm isn't better, is it?” he said.
Vaya only grunted in response.
“Do you think you can win?”
“I always win,” Vaya replied, and began walking up the ridge.
“Every time?”
Another grunt.
Kin smiled. “I used to think I'd always win. Then the witches taught me otherwise.”
“Not everyone is destined to be a great warrior.”
The smile vanished. “Do you think the same of me as Narolen and the others? That I am weak?”
Vaya frowned, remembering what Kiren had told her the day before.
“Hmph. Even if you were, you'd still be fun to keep around. Like I said, not everyone has to be a great warrior.”
“Well I am a warrior, great or not.” He sounded hurt. “Not a pet like your wolf pup.”
Realising that Claw was not by her side, Vaya whistled sharply. A few moments later she heard the sound of paws scampering through the snow, and Claw bounded around an outcropping to nuzzle into her waiting hand.
“You'll win a hunt some day,” she said to Kin. “One way or another, I shan't be much competition for you next time.”
“Will you leave if you lose this fight?”
She shrugged. “I will do what I must to keep Kiren safe. Now enough of your talk about losing. A hunter who sees only failure is destined to become good friends with it.”
Kin grimaced. “Perhaps that is my problem.”
“Never falter. Follow the wolf in your heart,” Vaya said, trying to heed the wisdom of her own words. The anger she had felt the night she challenged Narolen was slow in returning. Kin had distracted her. Claw, too. When she caught sight of Kiren looking anxious at the edge of the crowd her determination wavered once more, and she felt the ache in her arm all the more keenly.
Orec's warriors cheered as she approached, slapping her shoulders and yelling words of encouragement as they ushered her through the group. Crisp shadows flickered against the overhang, a bonfire blazing at its base to take the edge off the winter air. The twilight was deepening.
Vaya came to a halt at the edge of circle the crowd had made around the fire, standing within the shadows of the rock wall on her left. She made sure to keep her arms folded, betraying no hint of her injury to the warriors standing opposite. Narolen and his mate were there, but they still conversed in hushed tones, not yet ready to begin the challenge. Perhaps they wanted to make sure everyone was gathered to witness it.
Normally Vaya would have been impatient to begin, but for once she needed more time to muster her fighting spirit. She fixed her eyes on Narolen and tried to relive the anger she had felt when Kiren was shivering in the seers' cave.
“Remember to be careful,” a cool voice sounded behind her. “Don't let yourself be baited into falling for any tricks.”
Vaya turned to see Netya standing within the shadows, heron skull staff in hand. Kiren was there too. Pera. Kale. Kin. Claw had been at her side the whole time.
“Warriors don't need tricks like yours,” Vaya replied, spitting at her rival's feet.
“Narolen might not, but his mate is cunning,” Netya said. “Caution may be a useful ally tonight.”
A low growl rumbled in Vaya's throat as she glanced back at the male and female on the other side of the fire. Why was the witch trying to help her? They were enemies.
“Is your arm feeling stronger?” Kiren whispered.
“Not now,” Vaya replied. The warriors around them had begin to chant, stomping and clapping again. Pera was no longer singing, but they had struck up their own rhythm as they sensed the challenge approaching. It was a wordless, primal chant, closer to the baying chorus of wolves.
Such sounds had filled Vaya with strength more times than she could remember, yet Claw, suddenly frightened by the stamping feet around him, whimpered and pressed himself up against her leg.
“Strength, you stupid beast,” she chided him. He scampered between her feet in agitation, threatening to trip her over when she tried to move. Narolen stepped forward into the firelight. The chant was reaching fever pitch.
“Huntress!” His voice recoiled off the rocks. “Let us give my brothers and sisters the victor they have been waiting for.”
Vaya narrowed her eyes and nodded, drawing a cheer of enthusiasm from the crowd, but when she tried to step forward Claw caught hold of her moccasin and tugged back with a fearful whine. Vaya's concern for the wolf pup swelled in her chest, overcoming her battle fury for just the briefest instant.
An instant was all it took. She knew the moment her eyes flashed down to Claw that her heart was divided. Her warrior's focus slipped. Instead of furious determination, there was worry. Concern for the pup. Concern for her friends. Doubt. Like a river splitting a crack in its bank, weakness poured into her soul. Her arm throbbed.
She could not beat Narolen.
—21—
Dark Messenger
A hand clasped Netya's shoulder, pulling her focus away from the impending confrontation. When she turned she saw Kolami, dishevelled and panting for breath. She looked to have come running on the legs of her wolf as fast as she could.
“Why is she hesitating?” she heard Kin mutter, but the look of urgency on Kolami's face demanded Netya's full attention.
“What is it?” she said, offering her staff for the woman to lean on.
“Adel,” Kolami panted. “She knows— knows of the challenge. Coming to stop it.”
Kin looked back at them, his eyes flicking between the seers and Vaya. For an instant he hesitated, then took a step forward and pulled the huntress away from the fire.
“Let me take your place,” he said. “You cannot fight. Not with that arm. Orec may permit this, but Adel will not.”
“What are you doing you fool, let go of me!” Vaya struggled to shake him off, but he pointed back in Kolami's direction.
“Adel is on her way! You think she will not take this chance to punish you again?”
Already the interruption had stirred dissent among the crowd.
“Fight him!” a voice called.
“Too late to take your woman's place now, Kin,” Narolen yelled over the noise.
“You think I cannot fight, Narolen?!” Kin roared, lunging forward and snatching up a burning log from the fire. “Vaya proved herself on the Rainfall Hunt! The one you shame now is me, saying I am too weak to defend the honour of a woman!”
Jeers and shouts of anger rang out from the group, but many others seemed delighted at the sudden upset and began chanting Kin's name. This had to be the most excitement many of them had experienced all winter. It warmed Netya's heart to see Kin, once so brash and impulsive a man, turning his hot head to the protection of his friends, even if she knew it was a hopeless effort. A woman like Vaya would never stand back and let someone else defend her honour.
Yet as Kin whirled the blazing log above his head, whipping up the crowd into a frenzy of support, Vaya stood back in silenc
e. Netya waited, but the huntress did not move. One hand remained clutched stiffly across her chest while the other soothed the wolf pup nuzzling against her side.
“Why is she not fighting?” she whispered.
Kiren sounded equally shocked when she replied. “I do not know.”
“I came here to fight her, not you!” Narolen called out.
Kin retorted with a laugh, tossing his log back into the fire in a blaze of sparks. “You called me a coward the other night, and now you are afraid to fight me?”
“This is not the challenge we made!” Narolen's mate hissed.
“Does she speak for you now?” Kin gestured to her with his palm, but his gaze was upon the crowd. “I thought I was the one yapping at the heel of his female?”
Narolen's mate yelled something back, but her voice was drowned out by the roar of the pack. They had clearly taken Kin's side.
“I'll fight you!” Narolen's rage broke through the noise. “I'll fight any who challenge my honour! You today, her the next!”
“Then do it, brother!” Kin called. “Your wolf to mine, I challenge you!”
That was it. Strips of Narolen's jerkin shredded from his body such was the recklessness of his shift. The fur of his wolf bristled, teeth bared in a shrill howl as he lunged for Kin. Snow and sparks whorled around him as his shadow flashed across the rocks, a herculean silhouette imprinted against the overhang. Kin had just enough time to take the shape of his own wolf before they clashed, rearing up on their hind legs with jaws locked. Both wolves snarled, twisting and clawing for the advantage, but their strength was equally matched.
Netya's heart beat fast, her fingers tightening around her staff. Vaya stood a pace ahead of the others clutching Claw's scruff to keep him from bolting. It seemed she was struggling to hold herself back as much as the wolf pup.
The roar of the crowd was so loud that Netya could barely hear the snarls of the two combatants, yet despite the noise the tones of a low, unnerving voice insisted their way through the clamour. Even if no words were audible, the voice had a cold character to it that Netya recognised instantly, like a snowflake alighting upon the back of her neck.
A woman stumbled to the ground on Netya's right as Adel shoved her out of the way, the layers of the den mother's gowns fluttering in the wind as she strode fearlessly toward the two wolves.
“Den Mother!” Alpha Orec's voice rose loud and firm. “The challenge has already begun! We must honour it.”
She ignored him, uttering only the word “stop” as she cast her hand toward the fire. Violet flame flared upward, gouting toward Kin and Narolen on the breath of the wind. Cries of enthusiasm turned to shock and dismay. The crowd withdrew, curling back from the unnatural light like leaves shrinking from a flame. Netya stepped in front of Kiren.
“Stop,” Adel repeated, and for a moment it seemed as if Kin and Narolen were about to obey. The grappling wolves broke apart, backing away from the violet fire, yet they were not cowed like the others. Feral anger did not always listen to reason.
Netya's heart leaped as Adel put herself between the two wolves, holding out her palm a handspan from Narolen's muzzle. He seemed not to see her, or not to care. With a bark of frustration he darted to one side, trying to get at Kin again. Adel's fingers dipped into her sleeve and flicked outwards. Had Netya's gaze not been fixed upon the den mother's fingertips she would have missed the tiny bone needle that flashed in the firelight, catching Narolen in the side of the muzzle.
Kin was wise enough to back off, hesitant in the face of Adel's magic. Narolen chased him around the fire, but as he tried to turn his paws slipped. The warrior twitched in annoyance, then yowled, pawing at the side of his muzzle as if he had been stung. Whatever poison Adel had laced her needle with, it acted fast. When Narolen tried to walk again he tripped, twitching feverishly as he fell on his side.
The crowd was silent. Netya heard the scamper of paws behind her as a handful of people fled to their dens. Brave though the warrior clan was, they all lived in fear of the witches' wrath.
When Narolen's mate made to step forward Adel held up a warning hand.
“My curse will not kill him, but one more step and you shall feel its sting too.” The den mother turned, casting her gaze slowly across the assembled faces. “I expected to find someone else competing in this savagery.”
Narolen whimpered, squirming on the ground as if his body was swarming with ants. Orec pushed his way to the front of the crowd, his brow etched in a frown, but it was Vaya who spoke up first.
“You cannot stop a challenge like this.” The hand clutching Claw's scruff was trembling.
“I am Den Mother. My will shapes this pack. Once again, Huntress, you upset the peace.” Adel gestured to the air around her. “I am told this fight was your doing.”
“I allowed it,” Orec said. “Den Mother, this is my pack to lead. You tasked me with keeping these warriors in hand.”
“Yet I hear of fighting day after day, and I arrive to find this. What is it that you are doing to keep these warriors in hand, Alpha?”
The sharpness of her words clearly hurt Orec, but he masked his feelings well beneath a look of disappointment. To Netya's dismay, she saw no such hurt on Adel's face. The anger there was real.
“Warriors must be allowed to settle their differences,” Orec said. “This one challenge I allowed. After the Rainfall Hunt—”
“Another time at which you failed. Must I call the dark spirits to remind you all of whom you serve? I thought better of warriors wise enough to pledge me their loyalty. Challenges, violence—these are not our way. Not any more. Yet it seems that one rotten seed is enough to pull you all back down the savage path of your forebears.” Adel glowered at Vaya.
Panting, Kin reverted from the shape of his wolf. “I fought, not Vaya. Punish me if you must.”
Adel looked him up and down. “The years have yet to rid you of your foolishness completely, boy. I know this challenge was meant for her.”
“Then does it not prove her obedience that she backed down from it?” Kiren said angrily.
“I back down from no one,” Vaya growled, but an agitated bark from Claw interrupted her before she could argue further. To Netya's relief, her old rival seemed too distracted by the wolf pup to enter the fray with her usual aggression. That was for the best. It would only make things worse at this point. The pack, for all their loyalty to Adel, bristled with indignation and fear. This challenge had been important to them, especially after the Rainfall Hunt, and even though Netya approved of the fighting little more than Adel, she understood what it meant to Orec's warriors.
With some effort, the den mother pulled her attention away from Vaya, sparing the huntress her wrath. When she spoke it was with great bitterness in her voice.
“You all chant and cheer for this brutality. Do none of you know how fortunate you are? Other alphas would use you as they would a blade of flint, crashing you against their foes until you splintered and broke. For pride. For status. Your lives would be second to the whims of your leader.” Adel knelt beside Narolen, a subtle flick of her fingers removing the needle from his muzzle. “You may value your warrior spirit more than your own lives, but what of those who care for you? Your sons and daughters, your mates, your friends. A true warrior fights to keep others safe, not to crush the world beneath them. I give you a place of peace, a task of honour, and what do you do with it? You make wars among yourselves so that you might die at the hands of the very kin you are sworn to protect. Enough of it. So long as you dwell in this sacred place, you will challenge one another no longer.”
“We live by your will, Den Mother,” Orec said, “but you ask my people to douse the very fire that keeps us strong.”
“I showed patience. I allowed you and Caspian to try and curb this aggression in your own way, and look where it has led. This winter has left a festering splinter in your pack, and it falls to me to remove it.”
“It would never have gone this far had she not interf
ered in the first place,” Kiren muttered.
Adel shot a sharp glance in her direction, but she seemed not to have heard anything more than a dissident mumble.
“Respectfully, Den Mother,” Orec said, “I ask that you permit us this one last challenge. Then, as you will, we shall put an end to the fighting.”
“No. The fighting ends now.” Adel swung her gaze over the group again. “Those who disobey shall no longer answer to Orec, but to me.” She gestured to Narolen's writhing body. “And to the spirits of the dark.”
“It will be a full moon or more till my people can test themselves in the Sunrise Hunt,” Orec said, his frustration resonating as he tried to impress upon the den mother the severity of her demands.
“Then that is how long your people must keep their tempers in check. A lesson to better themselves.”
Kiren tugged on Netya's arm. “Make her stop this,” she implored. “You understand the hearts of warriors, don't you? This will only make things worse.”
“I am no warrior,” Netya said under her breath.
“You slew an alpha!”
Hearing her apprentice speak those words with such reverence made Netya's skin crawl. She turned away with a shake of her head, her expression pinched tight. Fear made her hold her tongue, but not the same fear that had frozen the people around her. She had communed with the same dark spirits Adel threatened them with, and she knew her mentor's tricks. What she did not know was where Adel's heart now lay. Her words had resonated all too well with the tale Koura had told back in the seers' cave. The tale of an alpha obsessed with status at any cost, and the daughter who had suffered for it. A daughter who now seemed bent on distancing herself from her father and his violent ways no matter the cost. Was it Vaya and the other warriors Adel sought to punish, or the man she still saw behind their aggression?
“This is not something I can do now,” she whispered. “Not in front of the clan.”
“Make her see sense!” Kiren insisted.
“It is not sense that will make her understand, girl!” Netya winced as the echo of her mentor came through in her words. “She has a tender heart, I know she does... or she did, once. I do not know if I can still reach it.”
