Siege at Howling Rock
Part Four
Mother Moon hung full over Oasis, Daughter Moon a waxing gibbous. Though it was the season of Dustdance, when the winds blew fiercely from the coast, the night air was cold and still. A pair of Red Snakes made their midnight rounds, their peace-hounds at their sides.
“I wonder what Melati is doing now,” Greenflame whispered. Voices could carry far in the rocky bowl that sheltered Oasis.
“Healing herself,” Carrun replied.
“Well yes, of course. But I mean, what is she doing right now?”
Carrun shrugged. Their leader’s day-to-day life was a mystery even when she was well. Now that she was half a world away, recovering from some mysterious ailment, any guess was as good as another.
**Whatever she’s doing, it’s to restore herself to health as soon as possible,** Carrun decided. **She will return as soon as she can to give us our new orders.** Melati’s commands to her Snakes were always variations on a theme – a new elf to watch perhaps, or a different grievance to be monitored. But Oasis thrived on routine, and the Snakes most of all. Melati knew this – she might not visit her home for months, but she always left clear instructions to her deputies to see them through her absence. Certainly Carrun did not believe the rumors some elves were spreading – that Melati had abandoned them to start a new life in the Palace.
**I can’t help but think… some of us should have gone with her,** Greenflame fretted. **What if she needs us? If she’s as ill as Klipspringer says –**
**She is still a High One in all but blood. Besides, the Master of the Shapechanged is there with her. He will protect her. Our place is here, protecting Oasis. Enforcing her will.**
Greenflame nodded. In such unsettling times, it was good to focus on the present. But as Carrun stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, she saw his mind was still drifting.
**And if she doesn’t come back?** Greenflame finally asked. Carrun could feel the anxious hum of his thoughts. **If… if she goes to the stars with Lord Haken and the Ark… where is our place then?**
**I suppose we’ll all have to decide that for ourselves.**
**Have you thought–**
**No.**
**Not even a little?**
**Nothing has been decided yet. Nothing has even been proposed. No point in fretting about it until the time comes.**
Greenflame smiled. “You were always were better at that ‘Now of Wolf-thought’ than me.”
“I should be,” Carrun said with a smug lift of her chin. Though there were no wolves left to ride in Oasis, she never let anyone forget that her father Fennec had once led the hunters, before the jackwolves sickened and the Pride displaced them. In a nation where bloodlines were paramount, she jealously guarded her title of Blood of Chiefs.
Carrun glanced at Greenflame, noted his pensive demeanor. Impulsively, she reached out and clasped her hand about his. **But whatever happens, we’ll stick together,** she promised.
He smiled. “You know what I want to hear.”
“I know what I mean to say,” she corrected.
Their patrol took them towards the territory of the Pride. The peace-hounds growled at the scent of tuftcats. Greenflame slapped his thigh and his hound obediently heeled. “Easy, Eight,” he soothed. “Just cat-stink, that’s all.”
The peace-hound whined and rubbed against his leg. Carrun’s hound began to snarl, its hackles and shoulder-tentacles rising in alarm. One scaled paw dug at the ground irritably. Only one thing unnerved the peace-hounds like this: the imminent danger of treacherous thoughts.
“Three?” Carrun asked. “What is it? Track. Go on, track!”
Three took off, nose to the ground. Eight followed close behind. The two hounds led the way to a large hut, set back some distance from the main path. Three and Eight trampled the modest garden as they set to barking and scratching at the barred door.
“Oh scat,” Greenflame muttered. “It would be her house again!”
**Arlo, Rekyen,** Carrun sent. **Come to Maleen’s hut. Bring your hounds.**
The door was made of treeshaped wood, and fastened with an iron lock, but the peace-hounds set it rattling on its hinges. Carrun lightly floated over the garden. “Open up,” she commanded. “By order of the peacekeepers!”
The door held, though Three and Eight dug deep furrows in its base with their claws. Carrun touched the clay doorframe and the wall melted under her fingers. The bolt fell away and the door swung open. Three and Eight leapt forward, scattering the dozen elves within. A maiden let out a shriek of fear, attracting the attention of Three, but Eight went straight to the instigator, a shoulder-tentacle snaking out about Maleen’s ankle and yanking her to the ground.
“Maleen!” Huro raced to her side, ready to shield her against another attack. But the peace-hound stood on guard now, panting heavily, waiting for the next command.
“Get out of my house!” Maleen shouted, staggering to her feet.
“Well, well!” Carrun surveyed the room, taking note of all the familiar faces. She wasn’t surprised to see Maleen hosting half the Pride in her hut, alongside Arshel and his friends. But her eyes narrowed and her lip curled in disgust as her gaze fell on old Sun-Toucher.
“What is the meaning of this?” Sun-Toucher demanded.
“You have no right!” Arshel snapped.
A pair of Sun Folk tried to make for the door. Three snarled at them and they flattened themselves against the wall of the hut.
“I have every right!” Carrun said haughtily. “There are no doors barred to peacekeepers!”
“And this is keeping the peace?” Sun-Toucher cried. “Breaking into homes, terrifying simple farmers? Shame to you, Carrun! Shame!!”
“Shame, you say? I call it treason!”
“Treason?” Arshel protested. “To host a meeting of tribemates in a private home? To share ideas freely in a spirit of fellowship?”
“Fellowship? Is that why our hounds smell fear and conspiracy? Is that why you bar your door, Maleen? You know how much our lord frowns on secrets! And you, Sun-Toucher! You sit on the council, yet your plot behind your lord’s back!”
“I am here as a member of the council,” Sun-Toucher protested. “To ensure all discussions remain respectful. Our sister Maleen has a grievance –”
“We know,” Carrun dismissed. “We all know. She’s been squawking about it for the last eight-of-days!”
“And what has the council done about it?” Arshel charged. “Delayed and dismissed her. And now Lord Haken has left us and neither Door nor Grayling will hear us in his absence. But we will not be ignored!”
“So you admit you are conspiring against Lady Melati.”
“I am going to call for Grayling,” Sun-Toucher spoke up. “Until he arrives, I think it best if we all–”
“She is not our ‘lady,’” Arshel sneered. “And we have had enough of her experiments! Before she returns to Oasis, there must be a proper understanding!”
“Understanding?” Greenflame repeated disbelievingly.
“No new Shapechanged – inside the walls or out! No more ‘experiments’! She’s already disordered her own mind – who knows who she’ll corrupt next!
“Out!” Carrun barked to the farmers cowering against the walls. “All of you! Back to your own homes, unless you’d like to spend the night in our caves. Oh, but not you, Arshel. You and Maleen can come with us. You can share your thoughts with Lord Door in Tallest Spire. You clearly cannot be trusted on your own.”
“Will you stand for this, Sun-Toucher?” Arshel demanded. “When did Melati’s ‘peacekeepers’ become clubs to be wielded against honest dissent? When did it become a crime to disagree with Lord Haken?”
“So you’d challenge a High One?” Carrun taunted.
“Someone has to!” Arshel sneered. “Before he turns us all into slaves – before we’re all fleshshaped monstrosities like Maleen’s poor boy–”
“That’s enough!” Carrun said, taking a step towards the belligerent farmer.
“Don’t you raise a hand to my guests–” Maleen moved to block her, fists clenched in anger. The peace-hound Eight growled threateningly.
“Please, let us not descend into violence–” Sun-Toucher began.
Eight snarled viciously, making a feint towards Maleen.
“Watch out, Maleen!” Huro cried, his hand flying to the knife strapped at his hip. The blade came out, and the flash of lamplight off brightmetal caught the peace-hound’s eye.
“No!” Greenflame shouted, as Eight leapt at the hunter. One shoulder-snake whipped around Huro’s leg, the other reached for his weapon. In an instant Huro was on his back, and the knife came flashing down.
* * *
Sun-Toucher’s anxious sending brought Grayling running out of Tallest Spire. But from the screams that echoed over the plain, he was already too late. As he sprinted towards Maleen’s hut, he recognized one cry above all the others.
Greenflame... no, not his little lad!
**Flitrin!** he sent. **I need you!** The Preservers were notoriously unreliable when it came to hearing sendings, but Flitrin could usually be counted on to obey council members, however sullenly. With Leetah and Melati thousands of leagues away, a wrapstuff cocoon was the only form of healing they had to offer. He could only hope it was enough.
Maleen’s hut came into view, as did the ring of elves gathered around it. The screams were beginning to die down, replaced by angry shouts. Grayling broke through the ring of spectators and quickly took in the scene.
There was Greenflame on the ground, covered in blood, loudly weeping. But the blood didn’t seem to be his own, thank the High Ones. It came, rather, from the butchered peace-hound lying in Greenflame’s lap.
“Eight, Eeeeeeight!” Greenflame wailed inconsolably.
One of the hound’s shoulder-snakes had been cut off, and his head lolled at a grotesque angle, the result of two or three deep stab wounds just behind his skull. The knife was still lodged in his spinal column.
Carrun was kneeling behind Greenflame, arms crossed over his chest, holding him close as he sobbed. Behind them stood their comrades Arlo and Rekyen. Arlo had a firm hand on his peace-hound’s collar, while Rekyen held a lead in either hand, trying to keep both his hound and Carrun’s at a safe distance from the fray.
Grayling’s gaze flicked to the other screaming elf. Huro lay sprawled just in front of the doorway of Maleen’s hut. A maiden was pressing a bloodsoaked cloth against his thigh. Blood pooled on the ground under Huro’s knee. Beside him lay the uncoiled loop of Eight’s shoulder-snake. Understanding dawned on Grayling just as the turmoil rose again.
“You killed him!!!!” Greenflame roared, struggling to his feet even as Carrun tried to hold him back. Eight’s bloodied head hit the dirt hard as it slipped off Greenflame’s knee.
Huro was in no condition to listen. “My leg,” he wailed to the maiden tending him. It was Arshel’s mate, Grayling saw. A quick glance at the doorway revealed Maleen, Arshel himself, a half-dozen frightened farm-folk, and Sun-Toucher, his unseeing eyes filled with tears.
“Will I lose my leg?” Huro whimpered.
Greenflame flew at him with a wordless snarl. Before anyone could react he had Huro by the shoulders, and slammed him hard against the ground. One hand held the hunter on his back, while the other closed in a fist and pummeled his face over and over.
“You killed him! You killed my hound!”
Grayling pulled him off Huro with difficulty. Greenflame kept swinging until Grayling pinned his arms back, holding him by the elbows. Teneniah shrieked in horror, wringing her hands and staring helplessly at Huro’s battered face. With the blows he had gotten off before Grayling could restrain him, Greenflame had broken Huro’s nose and split his lip.
“His leg!” Grayling barked as he struggled to hold Greenflame still. “Keep pressure on it!”
“Why?” Carrun sneered.
“Let him bleed out – let him die! I hope you die!” Greenflame raged.
Teneniah returned to tending the wound. Greenflame continued to struggle, but his strength was beginning to fail. “Breathe,” Grayling commanded.
Greenflame’s legs gave way and he had no floating powers to hold himself up. He sagged helplessly in Grayling’s arms. “He killed Eight,” he protested. “He killed him!”
**I know,** Grayling sent. He glanced back at the still form of the peace-hound. In death it bore even less resemblance to any natural beast. Eyes bulging, mouth agape… wretchedly ugly – so hideous it was somehow endearing… Eight, who whined and begged for scraps at supper, who drooled like a waterfall if you scratched him between his shoulder-snakes. Eight, who meant as much to Greenflame as any of Grayling’s wolf-friends had ever meant to him.
**I’m sorry, son. I’m so sorry.**
Carrun came forward to help support Greenflame. Grayling let her hold him as he turned his attention back to the others. The three surviving peace-hounds continued to snarl and strain against their collars. The scent of blood and anger enraged them.
“Get them out of here!” Grayling snapped at Arlo and Rekyen.
Arlo sneered. “You don’t command us, Wolf-chief!”
“You want to make this worse?”
Rekyen looked abashed. He was a distant cousin of Ahdri’s, and he had grown up as one of Door’s apprentices – he knew the importance of discipline and the hierarchy of leadership. But Arlo was a hot-blooded stripling, and he had not yet learned how to show throat.
“Why not?” he dismissed. “Seems there’s a life needs paying for.”
“Carrun, I beg you!” Sun-Toucher implored. “This madness must end!”
**Carrun, please,** Grayling locksent. **Let me handle this.**
Carrun hesitated a moment, then turned. “Arlo, get the hounds back to the dens. Rekyen, help me with Eight.” She rubbed Greenflame’s shoulder comfortingly. “It’s all right,” she soothed. “Melati can bring him back. She always brings them back.”
The hum of fluttering wings signaled Flitrin’s arrival. The black Preserver flew overhead, buzzing its disapproval.
“Too much stinkstuff, too much noise!” Flitrin sneered. “Lord Highthing won’t like. Not one bitty-bit.”
“Flitrin, here!” Carrun commanded. “We need you.”
“They need?” Arshel stammered in horror. “What about Huro?”
The preserver gave a screech as it flew to the peace-hound's side and pawed at his mangled neck. “Who broke hissypup?!” Flitrin demanded, then began to spit busily, muttering under its breath in a fretful tone. Reassured that Carrun had Greenflame and the other Snakes under control, Grayling stepped up to the semi-conscious Huro. “How’s the leg?”
“I don’t know…” Teneniah whimpered. She slowly lifted the bloodsoaked cloth and grimaced.
“Is it pumping?”
“I don’t know – how should I know?” she wailed. Maleen shouldered her aside and took over, quickly assessing the situation.
“No,” she said. “But it’s deep… into the muscle.”
“Who drew first blood?” Grayling demanded.
“That hound attacked him!” Arshel spoke up. “I warned you this would happen! We all warned you those monsters couldn’t be trusted inside the walls!”
“Liar!” Greenflame shouted, pulling away from Carrun. “Huro drew a knife on Eight!”
“Of course he did!” Arshel shouted. “They were going to attack us – they should all be destroyed! Sun-Toucher, you must insist on it–”
“Who drew first blood?” Grayling repeated.
“Huro,” Maleen said defiantly. “The hound wouldn’t release him, so he defended himself. He had every right.”
Huro was slowly coming around. “Healer…” he moaned. “I need….”
“So he slashed Eight’s shoulder-snake, and Eight bit him. Is that the way of it?”
“Please… the healer….”
“We must call the Ark,” Sun-Toucher said. “Immediately.”
“No,” Grayling said.
“Huro needs–” Maleen began.
“He needs some stitches and a little wackroot for the pain. Anything more can wait.” Grayling cast a glance back at the Red Snakes. Arlo had indeed taken his and Rekyen’s hounds away. Three remained at Carrun’s side, anxious but under control. Flitrin had nearly finished cocooning Eight’s corpse, and Greenflame sobbed quietly into his hands.
**Has he not suffered enough?** Sun-Toucher asked in a locksending. **I know that it is your heart-son who weeps, but–**
“You have a choice, Huro,” Grayling said. “Toorah comes and stitches you up, so you can bear witness to all of this, and help us set it right… or Flitrin puts you to sleep until the Ark returns from Blue Mountain and Leetah can heal you with magic. You’ll feel no pain, but you’ll have no say in this matter in the days to come.”
Huro blinked up at him through the haze of pain. “But it attacked me–” he began.
“Toorah or wrapstuff. What will it be?”
“Wrapstuff.”
Grayling sighed inwardly. He would have been surprised if Huro had chosen Toorah’s golden needles. Still, he couldn’t quite hide his disappointment.
“Please, hurry!” Huro begged.
“Flitrin!” Grayling called over his shoulder. “Once you’re done there, we’ve got another to wrap.”
“Coming, coming!” Flitrin buzzed. “Crymuch thing needs to go still-quiet now! Too much weepy-fuss!”
The Preserver set to work, and within moments Huro was still and silent under the silvery threads. “All of you, return to your homes!” Grayling addressed the milling crowd. “You are all ordered to report to Tallest Spire at sunrise, to bear witness before the Daughter of Memory. Go!” he repeated when they lingered.
Slowly, the crowd began to disperse. But Arshel made no move to depart from Maleen’s doorway.
“You had the Preserver tend to a dead Shapechanged before a live elf?” he demanded hotly.
“Home, Arshel! Unless you’d like me to drag you to Tallest Spire right now!”
“You would lay hands on me?” Arshel sputtered, indignant at the very thought.
Grayling stepped up to him, letting his height – augmented by the chief’s lock he had worn for ten millennia – speak volumes. Arshel began to shrink under his harsh gray stare. He tried to hold the stare as long as he could, but eventually his eyes dropped submissively to the dirt. Grayling stepped even closer, lowering his voice to a threatening whisper.
“I will have Three lay ‘hands’ on you,” he promised.
Arshel’s gaze flicked back up to meet his, and the rebel farmer lost what remained of his courage. He murmured his lifemate’s name and turned to make a swift retreat.
Maleen was struggling to lift Huro’s cocoon. Grayling moved to assist her, but she rebuffed him.
“I will keep his cocoon safe until the Ark returns,” she said coldly. “Since it is clear you do not have his best interests at heart.”
Grayling let it pass. He let her carry Huro’s cocoon inside unmolested.
**Why?** Sun-Toucher asked silently. **Why will you not call the Ark? And why wait until morning to take testimony? The memories will have faded by then–**
**That’s the point,** Grayling had already turned back to watch Carrun comfort Greenflame over Eight’s cocoon. **We already know what happened. We need to let tempers cool before we make any decisions.**
**And Huro? Would you still let him suffer like this if it had not been Greenflame’s beast who died?**
**He’s not suffering now.**
**And that grieves you.**
**A little. A braver elf would have borne the pain and done his duty.**
**And your duty? You are not Chief of the Jackwolf Riders any longer. You have a responsibility to all the nation’s elves, not simply your pack.**
**As do you,** Grayling sent. **Or will you tell me you just happened by this gathering?**
**Arshel and Maleen are not lone voices in Oasis. There are many who feel as they do. We ignore them at our own peril.**
**Trust me, Sun-Toucher: the last thing I mean to do is ignore this!**
He knelt down at Greenflame’s side. The lad had sobbed himself into exhaustion and now he rocked himself slowly on his heels, looking down at the blood on his hands.
“Come,” Grayling said. “Let’s take him home.”
Greenflame stared dully at the cocoon.
“Melati can bring him back,” Grayling encouraged. “He’ll be wagging his tail and drooling all over the cushions in no time, you’ll see.”
“She always brings them back,” Carrun repeated. “I’m on my fifth Three. When she returns home–”
“But what if she doesn’t return?” Greenflame demanded. “What if she can’t heal herself?”
“Don’t think like that!” Carrun cried, her voice rising in sudden hysteria. Grayling couldn’t remember the last time he had heard such fear in her voice.
“You can’t start thinking like that,” she repeated. “Melati will return. She will heal herself and she will return to us. And she will make those dirt-digging traitors pay for this!”
“No. The council will deal with them,” Grayling said sternly. “We will handle this like we handle all disputes – with testimony and trial by council and proper restitution paid.”
But this wasn’t just any dispute, and they all knew it. This was something else: the first blow in a battle that could become a war.
Greenflame stroked the cocoon, just as he might if Eight were sleeping. Grayling searched his mind for something with which to offer comfort.
**By the time I reached your age, I had lost many wolf-friends. Some to violence, some just to time.** By Greenflame’s age he had also lost both his parents, he realized.
**You’ve never known death – you’ve never even had to kill to feed yourself. It’s… a state of being I never would have thought possible. Death has always been a part of this world.**
“Well, it shouldn’t be!” Greenflame cried passionately.
For the first time, he realized what a huge gap of experience separated him and his younger son. Even Fennec, born right after the move to Oasis, had grown up knowing injuries and loss, hunting for prey, watching jackwolves come and go… understanding that life and death were inextricably bound. Greenflame knew none of this. At two hundred years old, he was still an innocent child. Until now.
**I am… so sorry you had to meet death this way.**
“They’ll pay for this!” Greenflame vowed. He wiped at his face with the heel of his hand. “They think they don’t need us – that they don’t need Melati? When we go to the stars in the Ark we’ll leave them behind, just like they want. And we’ll take all the Shapechanged with us – the peace-hounds – the gigaquails and the peacoos – even the fleshvines! Let the ravvits see how well they survive without us!” A darkness came over his face as wrath contorted his features. “I hope they all starve!”
* * *
The “Great Dig” – as Flam liked to call their enterprise – was four days old. The huge steamdrill Savin had dubbed the Termite worked day and night boring into the bedrock under the Plainswaste. Flam’s trolls kept the metal beast fed and watered, while the Plainsrunners and their ponies were put to work carrying buckets of waste rock out of the tunnel. The horses balked at working underground at first, but Teir and Kaldan helped calm them, and soon an orderly file of ponies trudged in and out of the tunnel. A veritable mountain of waste rock sprang up on the grassland, soon rivalling Palace for size. Melati kept busy by shaping the tailings into a multi-chambered spire in the Oasis style. Bluestar taught Beast how to count taal, and soon Beast wanted to spend all day playing among the rocks. Mika found herself a perch and built herself a nest of furs where she could keep eyes high.
“The Go-Backs always believed that being alive was like walking through a snow-dream,” Skot explained to a pair of young Plainsrunners as they led their ponies through the dark tunnel. Glowing rocks set at hundred-pace increments and Skot’s oil-burning lamp were the only light sources.
“What’s behind vanishes in white, what’s ahead is covered in white,” he went on. “All you can see is your own feet, moving one in front of the other – that’s all that matters. You… you keep going until it’s time to stop, and when you do, you see what’s before and behind were all pretty much the same.” He laughed. “Trust me, when you live in the Frozen Mountains, fighting either the trolls or your own hunger – life gets to feel like a snow-dream soon enough. The real living won’t start until you stop – until you die and your spirit goes back to the Palace and dwell with all the others who have gone before. That was the great Go-Back dream – the only Go-Back dream. For a long time it was my dream. If it hadn’t been for Pike’s sire and those milk-soft hands of his…” he smiled fondly, “I might have taken my warrior’s death back in the Palace War.
“Pft. And for what? I got to live in the Palace, with the spirits of all those others who had gone before. You know what it’s like? Boooooorrring!” His jeer echoed along the length of the tunnel. “They’ve got no spark in ’em. When you have no blood, you forget how sweetly it can sing when it’s still pumping through you! Dying may be the greatest dance out there, but being dead? Spare me!
“So, I figured my dream wasn’t dying a warrior’s death – it was dancing as close to death as I could, but never letting it get ahold of me.” He gestured to the patchwork of silvered scars crossing his chest and back. “Got all the best songs set down right here. Rain could have sealed me up as smooth as a fawn’s rump… but why would I get him to? These are trophies! This one,” he tapped a ragged trio of dimples at the top of his right pectoral muscle, “was from a tussle with a panther. And here,” he pointed to a divot taken out of his bicep, “one of those desert humans – whacha-call-‘ems? – Ujjals.”
“And who’s to blame for the back?” Ryx asked, peering at the many feathery lines across Skot’s shoulderblades.
“Oh, lots! A stalking bird, a fall from tree-walking, uh… I’m pretty sure there were a few other humans too – oh! And this one?” he pushed his long tail of hair out of the way to show them a rough reddish scarring on his left shoulderblade. “That one’s from the Year of Ashes. Wish I could say I got it rescuing some wolf pups from the blaze – or even a treewee. Naw, I just ran back to the den to save a few more trinkets. Thought I had time to race the fire.” He smirked. “I didn’t. Oh, it goes all the way up the back of my neck. Took off most of my hair. There was a chunk wouldn’t grow back in at first. I thought it looked sweet, really, but Pike said I looked like a sad pricklehide, so I got Rain to clean it up a bit. I don’t keep every scar I’ve gotten – Dung chips, I wouldn’t have any skin left by now. Just the ones I’m proud of. The ones where I let death get close enough to touch, then cheated the ol’ bear-poker good.”
“So what’s story behind this one?” Glemm pointed at a little scar that bisected Skot’s upper lip. Something approaching embarassment colored the Go-Back’s features.
“I’m not allowed to talk about that one.”
* * *
Aurek and Vaya stood outside the Palace, watching Cheipar giving Bluestar archery lessons. “You know…” Aurek remarked, “I think I understand now why Cheipar was able to resist the corruption in his dreams.”
“I thought you said it was because he was the lightest sleeper,” Vaya said.
“Mm, so I assumed at first. But I realize now it’s more than that. In every dream, the corruption sought to provoke one emotion above all: despair.” He smiled fondly in the direction of his stepson. “But Cheipar knows no such beast. Even in the darkest moment, he never gives up hope.”
“Hmm… wonder where he got that from?” Vaya smiled fondly, glancing over at Pike. The howlkeeper perched on one of the cornices of Melati’s rubble spire, watching the archery lesson and occasionally hollering out his own advice.
Vaya gave a little shudder and pressed closer against’s Aurek’s side. “And because of that, he’ll be in the first wave when we open the tunnel. Along with his fathers. And I can’t stop thinking… Kahvi will kill them all. Just like in my dream.”
“She won’t,” Aurek vowed. “Because you will be right behind them. And you will fight for them like the she-bear you are. And if you must battle Kahvi, you will prevail, because you have a strength she does not. You care.”
* * *
“The healer did something to me, didn’t she?” Ember asked, after her third attempt at throwing her spear landed wide.
“She saved you,” Teir insisted. “She brought you back.”
“But not all of me.” Ember looked down at her palms. “You don’t have to protect me. I can feel it: something’s missing from my blood. Nothing… feels quite right. Smells… sounds… everything’s different.”
“Your wolfblood was spent,” Teir admitted, pained. “She had to remove it in order to heal you. You… you always said you never had more than a drop – that you were a Wolfrider in soul, not blood.”
“I don’t know what I am anymore. I’ve changed… floated away. For years, I felt like I had become the ghost huntress the humans made me out to me. And now… drop or no, I’m not the same Ember I was before.”
“No,” Teir said, seized by a sudden insight. “That Ember died on the Plainswaste. You have a new life now. A second chance.”
Ember smiled wanly. “Am I only on my second?”
In the silence that followed, Teir stepped up to her, taking her hands in his. “We need to think about what we will do when this is all over. We don’t need to go back to Thorny Mountain. We can stay with Halcyon’s Pack… or go west, ride with Mardu’s clan. We can go anywhere now.”
Ember’s gaze grew distant as she considered it. For an instant, Teir thought he saw a new sparkle appear in her eyes. Or perhaps it was only a trick of the light. Long moments passed before she murmured, “Let’s deal with Kahvi first. And then…” she trailed off. “I… I want to live again,” she insisted.
Teir smiled encouragingly. “We will. When all’s said and done, what you are – everything that makes you Ember – requires no tribe, no wolfblood. It takes being chief of your own soul. Some never find that. Some, like you, are born with it. You just mislaid yours a little while.” He laced his fingers through hers. “Whatever path you choose, my fireheart, we’ll walk it together.”
* * *
What had become the elves’ war council met once more about the crystal table, studying the shimmering image of Howling Rock conjured by Skywise. Rayek joined them this time, as did a very reluctant Melati.
“The trolls’ steam-digger will angle up under the Rock,” Skywise explained, pointing to the tunnel on the three-dimensional map. “As soon as the drill hits dirt we’re on our own. Assuming Kahvi hasn’t learned how to rockshape, the caves where Mika hid should be much as Halcyon and Ember remember them. From there, it’s just a short run to the surface. That’s where the warriors come in.
“Rayek and Cheipar will lead the first wave, and Halcyon will head up the second, with the Preservers. The plan is to harry Kahvi: wear her out, keep her distracted long enough for the Preservers to cocoon her.”
“Why Rayek?” Halcyon asked. “Forgive me, but I thought the point was that the corruption feeds on magic. I thought that’s why we chose those without magic for the charge. Why is Rayek –”
Rayek bowed his head in shame, but Weatherbird spoke up quickly. “Rayek has asked us to dampen his magic powers for the siege, so that he can join the warriors.” When a gasp went up around the table, Weatherbird nodded gravely. “It was a dangerous gambit, and we cannot promise he can regain his powers as easily as we took them away. But it was his choice.”
“Why?” Aurek asked, clearly stunned.
“I…” Rayek glanced at Weatherbird questioningly. “I felt I owed it to you all,” he said at length. “As Master of the Palace, I seek only to serve my people as best I can. It seems my magic will only endanger you… therefore I must cast it aside for now. Winnowill has… severed my connection to my magic abilities. Kahvi cannot use them against us.”
“Child, that was an unnecessary sacrifice… and quite unlike you,” Timmain said. The narrowing of her eyes suggested she doubted the story.
“I don’t know,” Swift spoke up. “Bold… more than a little reckless… determined to save the day himself… sounds like Rayek to me.” She beamed at her lifemate to soften the gentle teasing.
“Do you doubt my warriors so much you must be in there with them?” Halcyon asked.
“You misunderstand,” Rayek said. “I…” he summoned a breath. “I owe the Plainsrunners a debt. Unwillingly or not, my magic… contributed to this situation. I must restore what has been damaged. This corruption – had I known…” but he stumbled over his words, and finished simply with, “This is a burden I must shoulder. And a trial I must face alongside your warriors.”
A solemn silence prevailed, until Rayek prompted, “Continue, Skywise.”
“Ahem,” Skywise cleared his throat, “Once Kahvi is down, it’s up to the third wave: Melati, Weatherbird – um, and Winnowill, of course – and Timmain. And… um, you’ll do… what you do. And when you are sure Kahvi is cut off from the Palacestone, Weatherbird will send to Sunstream and we’ll bring in the Palace. Bring the cocoon aboard and head up into orbit to finish the… uh…”
“Extraction,” Melati said tonelessly.
“That,” Skywise said.
“It’s leaving an awful lot to chance,” Swift said.
“Chance is unavoidable,” Melati murmured. “Chance and choice are what drive the wheel forward.” She shook her head irritably. “We don’t have enough fighters on the ground.”
“Rayek and Cheipar will take Pike and Skot, as well as Savin, Ryx and Marath,” Weatherbird began. “And Halcyon will take her family and Vaya in the second wave.”
“They are all vulnerable,” Melati said. “The corruption will begin to drain their strength the moment they enter the caves.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Swift said. “We can’t send in Gliders – Kahvi will turn their magic against them.”
“What we need are trolls,” Savin remarked. “Or humans. Fighters with no magic at all – not even sending. We know the corruption kills everything given enough time, but it seems to take longer to drain anything that isn’t an elf.”
“We know Drub’s trolls won’t stick their heads above ground,” Swift said. “We have a thirty-sheaf contract promising they won’t have to.”
“Crippled as he is now, Rayek has a real chance to take Kahvi unawares,” Weatherbird spoke, but her voice was pitched low, subtly altered. “But as Savin said… the ideal weapon is one who is not only a stranger to magic… but who is immune to magic.”
“No one is immune to magic,” Swift said. “Not this kind of magic.”
“There is one,” Winnowill continued. “One who has stared down the full power of the High Ones.”
Melati’s head swung up. “No,” she said.
“Who?” Halcyon asked.
“No!” Melati leapt to her feet. “No, you will not bring Beast into this. I forbid it!”
“He alone could touch the messenger sphere without feeling its power,” Winnowill continued. “He destroyed the messenger sphere as easily as crushing an insect underfoot. He is an elf without an elfin soul. Send him in the first wave alongside Rayek. Kahvi will not be able to hold them both off.”
“I won’t put him in danger,” Melati said. “Not for this – not for anything.”
“Melati…” Weatherbird spoke, her proper soprano voice restored. “I was there with Winnowill at the Cinder Pools, remember. I saw everything. Beast puts himself in danger every day. He’s a hunter. He’s the Master of the Shapechanged.”
“But he doesn’t understand this. Not magic – not any of this!”
“And that’s why he is so valuable,” Weatherbird insisted.
“I think we should bring Beast here,” Cholla said. “He has a right to hear and speak for himself.”
Cholla fetched Beast from the room he shared with Melati. The fleshshaped elf fidgetted, very aware of the many eyes on him, as Skywise and Weatherbird explained the battle plan: the troll-crafted tunnel, the entrance through Howling Rock’s natural caves, the successive melee attacks designed to wear Kavhi down, and the need for elves without magical ability.
“Do you understand, Beast?” Swift prompted when they had finished.
“You’re elves trying to kill each other,” he said disapprovingly.
“Kavhi is not an elf anymore,” Vaya spoke up. “She’s become something else… a danger to us all.”
“Like me,” Beast mumbled.
“No,” Melati objected.
“Yes. I’m different, I’m dangerous.” Beast looked up at Weatherbird. “You want me to kill her? Fine. I’ll do it. I can do it,” he insisted when Melati made another sound of protest. “I can hunt anything down.”
“This isn’t your usual hunt, Beast,” Skywise warned. “Kahvi has some very strong magic.”
“She has starstone, like Mel.”
“Damaged starstone,” Weatherbird clarified. “Very dangerous.”
“Like the sphere. I’m not afraid. I broke the sphere. I made it stop.”
“Yes, you did,” Weatherbird said. “Beast… can you see what’s on the table here?”
He turned, scowling at the smooth surface. “There’s nothing. Just more starstone.”
“You can’t see the picture of Howling Rock?” Skywise asked. “It’s rising out of the table, right here.” He outlined the silhouette of the Rock with his hand, but Beast only shook his head.
“You’re trying to trick me,” he said. “Is this a game? It’s not the time for games.”
“No, it is not,” Timmain spoke. “You’ve proved your point, child. He is indeed immune to the effects of the Palace. Fascinating.”
Beast squinted at the table. “Can you see it, Mel?”
“Never mind,” she told him. “It’s only magic.”
Beast snorted with contempt.
“Beast is unique among elves,” Weatherbird continued. “I’ve never met anyone with such a natural resistance to starstone. Kahvi won’t know what to make of him of either.”
“You may be right,” Timmain agreed.
“The corruption infects all living things!” Melati protested. “It will infect him too.”
“In time, perhaps.”
“I’m fast!” Beast protested. “Not as fast as a jackrunner, but almost.”
“If his resistance to her corruption can cause Kahvi even a moment’s hesitation, it may be enough.”
“I can do this, Mel,” Beast insisted.
“I know you can, but I don’t want you to.”
“But this is what I do. I hunt. I protect. Let me do this. You always take care of me. Now it’s my turn. This is something broken I can fix.”
Melati nodded reluctantly. Her eyes were filled with doubt. Beast smiled fondly.
“Don’t be a zwootling,” he said, his voice gently chiding. He nuzzled his cheek against hers, as an animal might. His face in her hair, he did not see the sudden look of anguish that swept over her features.
“Beast, you will stand with me,” Rayek instructed. “We will be among the first ones out of the tunnel. I gather you are comfortable with enclosed spaces.”
“I live underground, at the Cinder Pools.”
“And you will heed my commands,” Rayek warned. “Your lifemate will be further back, with Timmain and Weatherbird.”
Beast nodded. “I remember. We hunt Kavhi. We bring her down, and they take out the crystal.” He smiled at his lifemate. “It’ll be all right, you’ll see.”
Swift stood and stretched. “If we know our parts to play… let’s get some rest while we can. We leave after daysleep. Halcyon’s letting us have the ponies, but it’s still a long ride through the tunnel to reach Flam’s digger.” She sighed. “If the High Ones are with us, we’ll be at Howling Rock sometime before dawn.”
“So, it could all be over by tomorrow,” Sunstream said. “One way or another.”
The elves slowly rose from their seats and went their separate ways. At length, only Melati, Skywise and Beast remained at the table. Skywise continued to study the light-map he had conjured. “I just wish I could risk another fly-by,” Skywise muttered to himself. “Savin’s right, this map is nothing but guesswork….”
Beast stared at the air over the table, trying once more to see what Skywise did. He squinted, and for an instant thought he saw a faint outline of a howling wolf’s head, rising up from a rolling plain. Then the image was gone.
Melati took his hand in hers and tugged gently. He turned to follow her.
He knew better than to mention the momentary vision to his lifemate. Winnowill was right – he did not want to alarm her, today of all days. There would be plenty of time later, after they had dealt with Kavhi.
Elfquest copyright 2016 Warp Graphics, Inc. Elfquest, its logos, characters, situations, all related indicia, and their distinctive likenesses are trademarks of Warp Graphics, Inc. All rights reserved. Some dialogue taken from Elfquest comics. All such dialogue copyright 2016 Warp Graphics, Inc. All rights reserved. Alternaverse characters and insanity copyright 2016 Jane Senese and Erin Roberts.