Sisters of Syr (The Moon People, Book Four)

by Claudia King

  “You must try.”

  Adel, who had been continuing to address the crowd while Kiren and Netya whispered, raised her voice sharply to interrupt them.

  “Listen to the words of your den mother. Trust in my wisdom. Crush your tempers. Do as I say, or face the spirits' judgement.” She gave Kin a stern look. His eyes remained rooted at her feet. When it became clear that no further arguments were forthcoming, she beckoned Narolen's mate over. “Take him to the seers' cave. Give him water, and he will recover within a day. The rest of you, back to your dens. This challenge is over.”

  With the whistle of the wind at her back, the crowd parted before Adel and the night swallowed her up. Netya caught sight of Orec hurrying after her, but she suspected the alpha's concerns would continue to fall on deaf ears. In the wake of their departure an uncomfortable tension settled over the pack, as if a great breath had been taken that could no longer be let out. Even though Adel's violet flames had long since guttered away, no one save Narolen's mate seemed willing to approach the fire. It was cursed now with dark magic. Tainted, the same way their challenge had been.

  Slowly, the murmur of voices stirred back to life. The crowd dispersed one clump at a time, conversing in hushed whispers with their friends while casting furtive glances at their rivals. Competitive spirits that had seemed almost jovial moments before now took on a surly quality as warriors jostled and pushed past one another. The fighting might have been halted, but the animosity still lurked stronger than ever.

  Netya stared into the fire, lost in worrisome thought. For the first time in many years she felt true danger on the wind. A threat not just to her, but to the whole pack.

  She had to speak with Adel. She had to get through to her. So preoccupied was she with her thoughts that she barely realised Vaya was watching the fire too, both women still and silent while their companions whispered around them.

  “You know what this is like, Kiren,” she heard the sun wolf Kale say. “We've seen it before. It is just like Hulik and Leaning Oak!”

  “Calm down, it will not go that far.”

  “Will it not?! You told me this— No, this is worse. These warriors fight like beasts. What will we do if the pack tears itself apart?”

  “No pack has ever turned on itself the way your people did,” Kiren said, but she sounded uncertain.

  After a moment of silence Kale's footsteps began to crunch away through the snow.

  “Where are you going?” Kiren called after him, but she received no reply.

  The poor boy. Netya knew how hard it was for a sun wolf, let alone one trying to find his place in a pack like this. She hoped the unrest would not drive him away again. Yet another reason for them to find some way of settling this before it got any worse.

  “I could have beaten him,” Kin muttered, crouching down next to Vaya and gripping her shoulder. “Why so quiet?”

  Claw howled mournfully.

  “Why does anyone follow that witch?” the huntress replied. “Foul sorceress. Women like her should be enemies to our kind, not leaders. You all follow her like hungry pups.”

  “She has never interfered like this before,” Kin said.

  “Someone should teach her to respect our ways.”

  Netya's lips pressed together. It was unnerving to hear such words from the woman who had once poisoned Adel.

  “There is no point in trying to fight Adel,” she said. “You would have more luck trying to uproot a mountain.”

  “Of course you would say that, Sun Wolf,” Vaya spat. “None of you have the courage to stand up to her.”

  “Your claws won't sway her, Vaya, but my words might.”

  The huntress glowered at her. “Is that how you slew Alpha Miral? With your words?”

  Netya said nothing.

  Vaya snorted. “I will find out one day, Sun Wolf.”

  “We should go back to the cave,” Kiren said. “We'll freeze out here. Even Claw is shivering.”

  “Go on,” Vaya said, sending a reluctant Claw to Kiren's side with a gesture and a click of her tongue.

  “Aren't you coming?”

  Vaya gave an abrupt shake of her head. At least she had the sense not to bring her anger inside while she still needed time to cool off.

  “I should go and find Kolami,” Netya said. “She may need help tending Narolen.”

  “What about Adel?” Kiren asked.

  “Not tonight. She won't be swayed while her temper is up.”

  Mentor and apprentice shared a lingering look, one that Netya hoped held trust and understanding. All of this, in some indirect way, had been born of Kiren's arrival, and through little fault of the girl's own. That she had to suffer for the sake of old rivalries was an injustice Netya wished to correct. It was clear to her now; Adel's distrust of Vaya was doing more harm than good, and it was spreading to the rest of Orec's pack. Challenges had happened before, and Adel had never intervened then, nor had she ever denied Orec so bluntly in front of his people.

  But what was Netya to do?

  She cast a concerned glance back at Vaya as her moccasins dragged through the snow. She touched the skull at the head of her staff, stroking its decorative blue feathers in the hopes of guidance.

  “Help me, Heron,” she implored her spirit guardian. “What must I do to touch my mentor's heart?”

  —22—

  A Vengeful Trail

  The smoky smell that woke Kiren at dawn was not that of a welcoming hearth. Bitter and acrid, it swept into Pera's cave on a chill draft, and with it came the dismayed cries of Orec's people. She bolted upright, banging her head on the top of her sleeping alcove. Pain shot through her forehead as she rolled over, stumbling to her feet with a groan. There was fire somewhere. People were shouting. Memories of a burning camp flooded back to her, sharpening her senses and pushing down the pain beneath a layer of urgency.

  She blinked the throbbing colours from her eyes and scanned the cave. Pera was still asleep in his nook, but Kale and Vaya were nowhere to be seen. Rousing the young male with a shake, she tugged him to the cave's entrance, shoved the screen aside, and crawled out into the snowblind morning to find Orec's den in chaos.

  For once the sky was clear, but rather than alabaster snow the sun shone down on a slush of grey and brown that had been kicked up by a hundred hurried footsteps. Men and women ran back and forth, some holding bowls and sacks of snow while others carried indistinct soot-marked bundles. The clan's handful of children watched wide-eyed from the sidelines, staring at the epicentre of the chaos. In the middle of the valleyside, hemmed in by a swollen knot of people, black smoke poured from one of the storage caves.

  Kiren wrinkled her nose, tasting the oily odour once again. Charred meat. Her stomach tightened in fear.

  “What in the name of the spirits...” Pera ran his palms down his face.

  “Was all of the winter food in that cave?” Kiren asked.

  The male stared at the chaos, blinking in disbelief. “All of it. All the meat. The forage. Everything we spent last summer gathering.”

  Kiren felt the panicked atmosphere stealing her breath away. She tried to reason through the danger, turning her thoughts to action rather than worry. Many of the hunters had their own personal stashes of food secreted away for the winter, but those were nothing more than small delicacies and personal comforts to see them through the dark season. The dried rations that most of the pack relied upon for their meals had been stored in that cave. Something had to be done to save what was left.

  Kiren glanced around the den. Kale was there, hanging back on the sidelines, but she saw no sign of Vaya. Claw's barking was notable in its absence, too. Kin and Orec were at the heart of the clamour, taking turns ducking into the cave with baskets of snow to smother the flames. Kiren watched as the alpha emerged with a charred sack in his arms, handing it off to one of the bystanders before falling to his knees and retching. Another male stepped forward, drew a deep breath, and plunged into the smoke behind him.

  �
��We must help,” Kiren said, rubbing her aching head one last time before wading through the snow toward the others. As soon as she reached the back of the group someone pressed a blackened basket into her hands, the contents of which looked like they had once been edible seeds, reduced now to grey husks. Looking behind her, she found a huntress already waiting to accept the basket. She passed it on, then turned just in time to have another bundle thrust into her arms.

  A line quickly formed, the urgency of the situation giving structure to chaos as the surviving food was ferried out of the cave. Some of it still looked edible, but most was ruined, either by the fire or the sludge of snow that had melted over it. One basket fell apart in Kiren's hands, spilling several meals' worth of grains into the slush at her feet. By the time the last of the food had been pulled out of the cave the sinking feeling in her stomach had become a dreadful weight. She had never been involved with the winter rationing back home, but even she could tell that the surviving food was not nearly enough to see Orec's pack through to spring.

  Weary and despondent, the clan slumped down around the cave's entrance, perching on rocks and dry patches of ground as they waited for their alpha to speak. Kin and Orec, their bodies darkened with soot, finally emerged once they had salvaged everything they could. The pair sat coughing as Netya and Kolami brought them water to sip, red-eyed and exhausted.

  “Is everyone here?” the alpha said at last. His voice sounded like sun-parched mud.

  “All but Narolen,” someone replied. “Him and the ones who went with him last night. I've not seen them since daybreak.”

  Kiren cast her eyes over the scattered men and women one last time. “And,” she added, her voice suddenly growing quiet, “Vaya.”

  A ripple of concern ran through the pack.

  “Whoever did this,” Orec said, “wherever they are, that is a problem to be dealt with later. Do you all understand? Pera, boy, you are fast. Run to the valley right away and tell the den mother what has happened. If the witches try to stop you let them know you carry a message from me personally. The rest of you, bring any food you have in your dens and check through what we managed to save. Then prepare yourselves for a night of hunting.”

  “What if this was another punishment from Adel?” a fearful voice said.

  “Or the spirits themselves. They can spark wild fires when they have been angered.”

  Kin shook his head. “Not in these lands. Not in the heart of winter. The hands of men strike fire more easily than spirits. How did no one see this happen?”

  “The den mother told us to go to our dens,” someone replied. “It was only the smoke that roused us.”

  “We will find whoever is responsible later,” Orec said impatiently. “Have no fear, they will be punished for it, but for today that punishment can wait. Unless we wish to spend the rest of the winter starving we must make ready to hunt again.”

  “Winter is never a good time for hunting. There may be no prey at all.”

  “Exactly why we must start now,” the alpha replied. “This land has been good to us in years past, but never have we had the need to hunt during winter. There is always prey somewhere, waiting out the cold just like us. I'll not ask the witches to share their food unless we've no other choice.”

  “We would never let you starve,” Netya said.

  “I thank you for your kindness, Sister Netya, but ours is the pack of hunters and warriors. If there is food out there to be found, we shall find it.”

  “It was Vaya,” Kiren heard someone mutter. “Once a traitor always a traitor.”

  “Don't be a fool,” another voice replied. “I saw Narolen staggering off before the seers even had time to tend him last night. He was the one angry enough to do this!”

  “Quiet,” Orec said sharply, his words bringing on another rumbling cough. Once Netya had soothed him with some more water he cleared his throat and spoke again. “I warn you all, any who make trouble over this will answer to the den mother as she promised. She called us savages last night. Words spoken in anger, perhaps, but if we turn on one another now we will only be proving her right.” He slammed his water bowl down on the rocks. “Our task now is to feed our clan. Leave the troubles of blame and punishment to me.” His hand swept across the group; a sharp gesture of finality.

  As Pera hurried off up the ridge Kiren made her way over to Kale. If anything he looked more pale and shaken than the night before.

  “Have you seen Vaya?” she asked.

  The sun wolf jumped at the sound of her voice. “No— no. Not since daybreak.”

  “She did come back to the cave last night, didn't she?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Kiren, do you think they will listen to Orec?”

  “I hope so. Food is more important than squabbling.”

  “I hope so too.” Some of the tension seemed to flow out of him, but he still looked deeply unsettled. He blinked a few times, then looked at her as if hearing her words clearly for the first time. “Vaya is missing, you said? I'll... I will look for her. Maybe she is in the training cave.”

  Kiren nodded her thanks, but she had a terrible suspicion that her friend would not be found anywhere in the den. She turned her attention instead to the snow at the base of the ridge, walking down to the area beyond the huts in search of tracks. The snow was deep. The skies had emptied the last of their heavy fall before clearing, obscuring any trails that might have been left before dawn. Kiren's worry began to worsen. Vaya would not have left without saying anything, and if Narolen was missing too...

  Please, let your pride not have led you somewhere foolish.

  The sun was high by the time Kiren gave up on her search. She had stamped a crescent of footprints back and forth around the edge of the den half a dozen times over, all to no avail. A whistle drew her attention, and she looked up to see Netya's mate Caspian crouching on a ledge above her. Before she could speak he tossed down her bow and a basket of newly made arrows.

  “I hear you're one of the few who can use this. Birds struggle to hide when the trees are bare. Bring down a few by tonight and you will make Orec very happy.”

  Kiren frowned, thumbing the grip of her bow. She still felt a sense of obligation toward Caspian for his part in allowing her to become an apprentice, but her concern for Vaya outweighed it right now.

  Sensing her hesitation, he asked, “You have something else you mean to do?”

  “Vaya is missing.”

  “And you worry she was involved in what happened with the cave?”

  Kiren nodded. “And Narolen. I've heard he is gone too.”

  A sigh left Caspian's lips. “I knew there was something else troubling Orec. Come.” He reached down and beckoned her to take his hand. Tucking the bow beneath her arm, she clambered up the rocks with the male's help.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To look at that cave. I want to be sure of what happened there last night.”

  “How will that help find Vaya?”

  He looked back over his shoulder. “You'll not find any pawprints in the snow, but those aren't the only tracks a wolf can leave.”

  “What do you mean?”

  As they approached the entrance to the storage cave Caspian shooed away a pair of youngsters picking through the burnt refuse outside.

  “Is Vaya good with fire?” he asked.

  “No more than anyone else.”

  “Is Narolen?”

  “I do not know.”

  Caspian rubbed his chin, peering into the darkened opening. The cave was long and deep, but not particularly wide. Well-suited to storing supplies, but awkward to live in, and Kiren could see no natural vents for smoke to get out.

  “I understand why no one sleeps here to watch the food,” Kiren said.

  “Someone will after this,” Caspian murmured. “Comfortable or not, Orec won't risk losing this much food again. Sentries on food, sentries on supplies.” A troubled look crossed his face. “Distrust is a dangerous thing to take root in a pack.”<
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  “How does this help me find Vaya?” Kiren asked impatiently.

  Caspian stepped into the cave and bent down to sift through the debris. The remains of many baskets and racks littered the sides, with cracked seed husks and ashen meat strewn about where it had been trampled underfoot.

  “What are you looking for?” Kiren was beginning to grow restless. At times like these she longed for action, not contemplation.

  Reaching behind one of the baskets, Caspian withdrew a damp, partially burnt handful of straw. “Something like this. Food does not burn easily to a loose flame. Someone set tinder and fuel to make sure the entire cave took light.”

  “Vaya would not do such a thing.”

  Caspian gave her a wry look. “My memories of her say different. But even so, it would have taken time to bring tinder in here. Wood, too, to keep a hot blaze going. A lot of work for a single person to manage.”

  “Narolen kept plenty of firewood in the training cave, and he would have had people to help him.”

  Following Kiren's thread of suspicion, they headed back outside and around to the training cave. It was close by, with no other dwellings along the way from which people might have seen the culprits coming and going. Sure enough, upon pulling aside the hastily fastened screen they found scattered grass near the entrance. The pile of firewood and kindling, always heaped near the main hearth where it could stay out of the damp, had diminished significantly in size.

  “It was them!” Kiren exclaimed.

  “Not so hasty, Kiren,” Caspian said. “Look for the tracks, remember? Why are all the largest logs left behind?”

  “Because they are heavy? I don't know!”

  “Two people could have carried one of these with ease, but a lone huntress would have had to leave them.”

  “Then Narolen and his friends were lazy.”

  “Or it was not them.”

  “Why does any of this matter?! I am looking for my friend, not someone to blame for burning the food!”