Siege at Howling Rock
Part Five
“We come not in the spirit of discord, but of fellowship!” Arshel proclaimed as he stared up at the High Ones on the starstone balcony. The Ark had rejoined with Tallest Spire, and the crystal vessel jutted forward from the stone like the enormous prow of a ship – or a fist raised, ready to fall to earth. Haken had shaped a wide terrace over the entrance, on which all the council members had assembled to hear Arshel’s “petition.” All but one.
It had been Grayling’s idea to stage this inevitable confrontation in front of the entire nation. The incident in Maleen’s hut and its immediate aftermath had proven the cost of subterfuge. Better to deal with this mess out in the open, as wolves did. That was what Grayling told himself. But no wolfpack had ever grown to encompass over eight hundred members. And from the crowd that had gathered around Tallest Spire, nearly every one of them had come out to watch the showdown.
Arshel’s “Fellowship” was in full force behind him: some fourteen eights of elves, most prominently Maleen and Leetah – and in a shocking turn of events, old Sun-Toucher himself. His decision to leave his place on the balcony to stand with his daughter was by far the most overt sign of the unrest. Now not even the ruling council of Oasis could claim unity.
Ahdri had tried her best to serve as arbiter in the days before Haken’s return. After weighing the memories of all the event’s witnesses, she had declared the attack on Huro and the death of Eight a tragic misunderstanding. Huro had not meant to provoke the peace-hound, she ruled, only to protect Maleen from what he saw as aggression. Nor could Greenflame be held reponsible for his assault on the injured Huro. Rage had blinded him – rage, grief, and the complete inability to process either one.
But restitution had be made, and after consulting with Door and Spar, Ahdri rendered her judgment. Once he was healed Huro would have to serve two moon-dances as a watch-companion to Feathersnake and his peace-hound, so that the young hunter could learn respect for the beasts. Greenflame would need to compensate Huro by performing chores at his hut for a similar two months. And Carrun, whom Ahdri ruled at the ultimate instigator of the whole incident, would have to issue a formal public apology for invading Maleen’s hut.
Grayling wondered how could Ahdri be so aged, and yet so naïve. Had she really expected anyone to agree to the terms? Perhaps not. Perhaps in issuing a judgement she knew no one would follow, the Daughter of Memory was making her own form of protest.
Huro had still been cocooned, awaiting Leetah’s return, but Arshel and Maleen both spoke loudly enough on his behalf. There was no way they would ever permit one of their fellows to serve as a slave to a Red Snake. Greenflame was as defiant in his refusal to lift a finger inside Huro’s hut, unless it was to burn it down. And Carrun’s choice words for her grandmother’s idea of justice had led to such strife inside Fennec’s household that father and daughter were no longer speaking.
“What did I do wrong, father?” Fennec had asked, his voice slurred with honeywine and self-pity. “We taught her nothing but love for her tribemates. She used to speak of being their protector. Now she’s their tormenter – a bully with a foaming-mad hound. And she cannot even see it!”
“Neither can they,” Grayling had said. “Not all of them, not even most. Go about in the fields and ask folk what they think of the Red Snakes. Even after this business with Huro, many elves still look up to them. If it were put to a vote, it is possible the majority could favor Carrun and Greenflame.”
“But why?” Fennec demanded.
“They keep the peace,” Hansha said placidly. “At all costs. And peace is good. Isn’t it?” His sarcasm was barely perceptible. “Maleen and Arshel are stirring up trouble, after all. They first raised their voices in anger. They refused to accept the judgment of the council. They organized gatherings in secret. There are many who mistrust their faction.” Grayling clasped Fennec’s shoulder. “And truth now, pup. What would you have done, if someone killed your first wolf in front of you?”
But Fennec had been in no state to empathize with his stepbrother. And Grayling could not blame him. Fennec looked at Greenflame and saw a warrior who should have better judgement, better self-control. But Grayling saw a child.
They are children still, he thought. Carrun and Greenflame, and all the others born since Melati gave us a world without loss. They have never had to grow up. And we were all happy to let them stay that way… as long as they were endearing in their childishness.
Given time, perhaps Grayling and Sun-Toucher could have brokered some kind of truce between the two factions. And Door’s son Klipspringer was a natural peacemaker. If only Haken could have remained at Blue Mountain a little longer.
But the Ark returned the very day after Ahdri’s ruling. Grayling couldn’t help but wonder at the timing. Had Door slipped a secret sending into the ether? Or had the High One’s senses alerted him to the storm brewing over Oasis? Perhaps, like the peace-hounds, he could simply smell dissent on the wind, no matter the distance.
“You keep speaking of fellowship,” Chani said to Arshel now. “I wonder if you know what the word means. Your band of malcontents flout the laws of our nation, attacking peacekeepers and defying the pronouncements of the Daughter of Memory.”
“I have not seen the Red Snakes hasten to obey Ahdri’s judgement,” Arshel charged.
“No… but I have not seen them march on Tallest Spire with an army at their back either.”
“Your councillors have denied us every other course of redress. We are attacked for speaking in private, so we will speak openly. I represent a growing number of elves – farmers, crafters, hunters, elders and striplings – descendents of sun and sky alike. We come here today to tell you that we fear for the state of our nation. And that we will not be silenced! We will not be intimidated and we will not be shamed into obedience. If you wish our nation to be harmonious once more, you must hear our grievances!”
Haken stood silently at Chani’s side, a stone-faced statue draped in linen. He wore all white robes today, blindlingly bright against his bronzed skin and inky-black hair. It made Grayling’s hackles rise. Only the All-Father could make white look infinitely more threatening than black.
A quick glance at her lifemate confirmed he would not answer. “Speak them, then,” Chani commanded. “Our lord hears all his children’s cries.”
“We live in a state of fear,” Arshel went on. “Fear of the Red Snakes and their hounds. Fear of the next monster Melati will make. Fear of the day we will be ordered into this Ark and carried away to some distant world. Fear our children will grow up to despise their parents. We see it happening already. We see kitlings wielding powers not even elders should command, bowing down to the will of Melati the way humans bow at the altars of Manach. We see creatures who should not exist! Plants made of flesh, beasts not born but grown! Savah help us, some of us have even seen the corpse of a long-dead child made to walk and breathe again! This is not the Oasis of our youth. This is not a nation we wish to support.”
“So you wish to leave?” Chani asked. “You are quite free to do so.”
“And why should we be driven out – cut off from the body of our nation like a piece of flesh-vine? I have seen only five thousand years, it’s true. But I have with me those who remember Oasis at its founding – who remember the Flight from Sorrows and our lord’s promise to be a caring father to all his children, not simply those who please him.”
“And how should your father show his care for you?”
Arshel did not hesitate. He had clearly long awaited this chance. “We must have a new law here. A formal restoration of the proper Way of things. A new ruling council, chosen by a nation-wide vote, with equal representation of magic-users and humble elves, of farmers and hunters and Spire-folk. A special sets of rules governing the use of magic, especially the creation of Shapechanged. The Red Snakes must be disbanded – new peacekeepers must be selected from a pool of volunteers by a proper vote, and the peace-hounds must be banished beyond the walls. And above all, our lord must swear that Melati will not return to Oasis unless she swears to abandon her magical experiments. We want no new monsters – not here, not at the Cinder Pools. Let her go to another land across the seas, and ply her arts on the creatures there. But she must never lay hands on another elf.”
A low hiss, followed by a babble of murmurs, greeted his pronouncements. As Grayling watched from the balcony, several elves who had been standing near the entrance to the Ark moved to join Arshel and his Fellowship. But at the same time, a handful of Sun Folk quietly detached themselves from the Fellowship crowd, seeking anonymity among the spectators.
Still Haken did not speak. Door scowled and Spar looked concerned. Ahdri gazed at Chani helplessly. Grayling could see the delicate tendons on Chani’s throat stand out as she ground her teeth. Yet Haken’s expression was inscrutible.
“And what will you do if we do not meet your demands?” Chani challenged at length. “Will you storm the Spire and throw us out by force?”
Arshel recoiled in mock-horror. “We’re not savages, lady. But we will not contribute to a nation that refuses to hear us. We will withdraw all our communal labors and keep to our own homes, and toil only for our own gain. Our fields will go untended and our handiwork will go unmade.”
“You think that will break Oasis? A labor stoppage by one-eighth of our nation?”
“No, lady. But I think it will inconvenience you. And the longer we continue, the more you will miss that one-eighth of the labor force. The longer you refuse to treat with us as equals, the more folk will recognize this… tyranny for what it is!”
“You think so?” Door sneered. “More likely they will recognize your petulance for what it is.”
“You wish to test us, Door? We will not bend. And you will be forced to do something. Either to conciliate or confront. I suspect you’d chose confrontation. We don’t fear it. Another elf once stood against Lord Haken and stared down his wrath–”
Grayling saw Leetah turn toward Arshel, raising her hand as if to touch his arm and stop him. But Sun-Toucher moved subtly to block her progress.
“-And though he was banished from his home, he left with his head held high. So it will be with us, if you press us. This is our home, and we will not give it up willingly. But if exile proves the ultimate price of our liberation, then we will pay it. For we are but one eighth now. But if you crush us with no more regard than you would an insect, then I swear you will see another eighth stand against you, and another, until all of Oasis recognizes this place for the prison it has become!”
This time Leetah pushed past her father and laid her hand firmly on Arshel’s shoulder. But it seemed the potter had run out of words. He stood proud and defiant, staring up at Haken, awaiting the High One’s response.
Everyone waited. The entire nation seemed to be holding its breath. Grayling’s gaze went straight to his family, assembled together on the edge of the crescent of Spire-dwellers. Hansha stood behind Greenflame, hands on his shoulders if to keep him from doing something rash. Fennec was flanked by his two children, who now seemed to perform a slow dance of allegiance – Carrun inching away from her father, as Foxtail and his lifemate moved closer.
They were not the only ones. Everywhere, elves were shifting on the balls of their feet, preparing for fight or flight.
Haken slowly raised his hand and gripped the balcony railing. Millennia of equatorial sun had tanned his skin a warm bronze like a native-born Sun Folk, yet Grayling saw that he held the railing so tightly that his knuckles turned nearly white.
“I never desired to be master of all,” he murmured, so softly Grayling was certain they could not hear him below.
“I only ever wished to serve my children!” Haken said loudly, his voice echoing out over the flat. “For a full half-spiral I have sheltered you, nurtured you, indulged you. I have denied you no comfort. I have watched generations grow up in peace and ease. And all I have ever asked is that you keep that peace.
“But now my children grow restless. They think they do not need their father anymore. They call my love tyranny, and they slander my beloved daughter, whose only crime is ambition that outstrips their limited understanding. Who is at this very moment struggling to heal herself from wounds she sustained trying to conquer death forever. To lift all elves up to their full potential! But you wish to remain small. Very well. Oasis is your home. I will never drive you from it. Go back to your homes and know that you will never need fear your All-Father. Indeed, you will not have to suffer his presence another year.
“The Ark is ready! The stars await! As soon as Melati is fully healed and restored to me, I will quit this blighted world forever!”
Grayling had to give Haken credit. He knew how to command a crowd.
The reaction was immediate: a spontaneous outpouring of shocked and frightened cries. A chorus of “No!”s rose up in speech and sending. Even some of Arshel’s Fellowship were protesting loudly. Arshel, for his part, was stunned into silence. Leetah set her mouth in a tight line of defiance. Sun-Toucher bowed his head in defeat.
“No, you have made it quite clear that my presence is intolerable! So be it. With my lady and my child I will build a new nation on a new world. And do not fear, we will take every one of the Shapechanged you find so offensive – we will erase all trace of our presence.”
More denials, more entreaties from the loyalist elves. “You can’t!” “Don’t leave us!” “All-Father, please!” Haken’s fiery gaze swept the crowd, taking in the distraught elves.
“I do not delude myself with thoughts of an easy conquest,” he went on. “Our magic will flow unhindered on Homestead, yet the world will be a primitive one, wild and dangerous. We will have to tame it before we can truly begin to flourish. I cannot promise comfort, or even safety. But I can promise the possibility of evolution – of new learning, new growth, new experiences. I do not order anyone to join me. I can only invite those who hunger for more than the limitatins of this world to put their trust in me.
“The Ark has room for eight eights of brave souls for this first flight. Those who choose to follow me will build the foundations of a new nation, under a new sky. And as our new home grows, our doors will always be open to those who choose to join.
“No-one need decide now. I will remain until Rainsign at the very least, until a new council can be formed. By a free vote. As is proper,” he added with a faint sneer.
“We don’t need until Rainsign,” Door spoke up loudly. He made a deliberate show of clasping Spar’s hand and stepping forward. “We will follow you anywhere.”
“As will we!” a voice rose up from the flat below. Grayling looked down to see Klipspringer stepping forward, his young daughter at his side.
“The Red Snakes are with you!” someone called from below. Feathersnake, Grayling thought. The oldest of the Snakes, Melati’s first acolyte. His gaze flicked to his granddaugther Carrun. She hesitated only a moment before raising her fist and calling out “The Red Snakes for Haken!”
She left her family to stride under the Ark’s archway, joining the other recruits. Greenflame pulled away from Hansha’s grasp. No! Grayling thought. But as he watched, horrorstruck, Greenflame turned to lock eyes with his father, and Hansha nodded gently. Greenflame ran over to join his lovemate and the rest of the Snakes.
All around the crescent, elves were coming forward. Coppersky stepped up silently, holding out a hand behind him. Sust wavered, but Tufts skipped forward to take her sire’s hand. Grayling watched as Sust met Maleen’s outraged gaze and gave a helpless shrug, before he jogged to catch up with his family.
“For Haken!” others were shouting. The chant rose as more and more elves stepped forward. Farmers and crafters jostled each other in their haste to volunteer. Families broke apart on the sidelines, or reunited in the center under the arch. A quick count revealed the crowd of recruits had already well surpassed sixty-four elves.
Haken stared down at Arshel with the equanimity of a victor. Only Haken could turn a public humiliation into such a triumph, Grayling thought ruefully. The battle was over. He had won the day.
But at what cost? Grayling looked back at Hansha and Fennec. His eldest stood firm with his lifemates. Hansha was looking up his lifemate on the balcony.
**Kel?** he locksent. **What will we do?**
What would they do? Stay with one son, or leave with the other?
**I… don’t know,** Grayling admitted.
He had known the day of choice would come eventually. He had known the moment he saw the Ark take shape over his head. He just hadn’t expected it so soon.
For the third time in his long life, he was witnessing the fall of a Holt.
* * *
Swift paced restlessly inside the crystal chamber. It was well past midnight outside the glowing walls of the Palace. The warriors had set out hours ago; by now they were likely nearing Howling Rock. Rayek led the best fighters they had, all trusting that their minimal magic-use would somehow protect them from the corruption Kahvi now commanded.
“I wish I was out there with them,” she murmured.
“You could be,” Ember said sullenly. The Wolf-mother slouched at the crystal table, idly running her fingertip over the surface. “Your aim is still true.”
Following her revival, Ember’s numb shock had mellowed into self-pity. Swift found it an unpleasant development. Several different retorts hovered on the tip of her tongue, all variations on the theme of “Would you rather have been a dead wolf or a live elf?” But she held her tongue. She had come close to death in the past, but never quite as close as Ember. And while she could not exactly count the Wolf-mother a friend, she understood the restlessness that drove her – the constant hunger for more. Wolfblood or not, she was a wild thing, meant to be free. To be crippled and penned inside the Palace was surely a horrible form of torture.
But her lifemate wasn’t going into battle without her, Swift thought meanly. Teir was safely denied the hunt by virtue of his animal-magic. He was even now roaming the halls of the Palace with Bluestar, trying to distract the cub from the grim mission unfolding to the north.
If the worst happened, they would still be together…
“Why didn’t you go with them?” Ember asked. “You don’t have any magic. You could withstand the corruption as well as any of them.”
“This isn’t my fight,” Swift said, remembering her parting from her lifemate.
“I will redeem myself,” Rayek had whispered in her ear as they embraced farewell. “I will put an end to Kahvi and the corruption I unwittingly spawned. And even Ember will see: I fight for the sake of all elves. I will prove I am worthy of the title ‘Master of the Palace.’”
You have always been worthy, Swift wanted to tell him. But she knew he would not listen. It wasn’t her approval he sought, nor even Ember’s. He needed to satisfy the doubts in his mind, those hissing, creeping misgivings that had robbed of him of his magic. He needed to do this without her aid. He needed to prove to himself that he could stand alone.
But he can’t! she wanted to scream. He’s more of a cripple than Ember now! He hasn’t hefted a sword with his muscles alone since he was a stripling!
He would never know how hard it had been to stand at the tunnel mouth and watch him disappear into the underground.
“If this quest should fail…” Timmain had murmured, and the face she made suggested she fully expected it would, “someone must remain to remember – and to ensure we never repeat these mistakes.”
“I’m not staying behind to be your witness,” Swift had insisted, fighting to keep the growl out of her voice. What little wolf remained in her felt its hackles rise at the idea of being a mere bystander. Swift, Blood of Ten Chiefs, didn’t keep howls, she made them!
Not that she’d had any choice in the events that had swept them up since Grohmul Djun had first spoken of the Revelation. Timmain’s words were a hard truth she struggled to digest. When all was said and done, perhaps Swift’s greatest boast would simply be that she had been there – just out of harm’s reach – to see it all unfold.
And if they failed…
No! She could begin to think like that. Timmain might be able to resign herself to any fate, but Swift could not. She had her family to think of: both underground with the trolls and remaining behind in the Palace. The sight of Skywise with tears in his eyes haunted her still. He had managed to hold them back throughout his parting from Savin, but his voice had still broken when he wished her good hunting.
As Savin turned to go, her eyes had met Swift’s, and an unspoken promise had passed between them. The Islander would guard Rayek with her life, and Swift would give Skywise the strength to endure the long wait.
“It will be first light soon,” Ember murmured.
“No… we’re still a few hours off.”
“Hours,” Ember sniffed. “Never liked using them. No point in counting time… time flies when the bloodsong runs hot, and time crawls when we have to sit an ambush.”
“I like to know,” said Swift the Palace-dweller.
“There’s head-knowing and there’s heart-knowing,” Ember countered. “First light will come soon.” She gave Swift a strange sort of weary smile. “‘Soon’ is a good counting. It feeds hope.”
Swift nodded. “Soon.” She looked up at the crystal ceiling. “I was never good at living in the Now. I suppose I’ve always run towards the Soon-to-Be. It’s… not the worst way to live, is it?”
“It… keeps me going,” Ember admitted, and her smile grew a little.
A companionable silence fell, which Swift was loathe to break. At length she said, “I’d better find Skywise.” Perhaps she could share Ember’s wisdom with him, and help some of the weight lift from his shoulders.
The ceiling’s crystal stalactites began to shiver. A faint hum filled the air. Swift’s eyes sought out Ember’s and they locked in a dreadful understanding.
“It’s started,” Swift whispered.
* * *
“Go, go, go!” Rayek barked, as the rock peeled away over their heads. Pike and Skot were the first to scramble up the steps Aurek was still shaping into the tunnel wall. Savin and Cheipar followed closely behind, weapons drawn. The sudden pressure change as the tunnel breached the surface ignited a ferocious wind. Beast hesitated. He could smell decay on the inrushing air.
“Beast, now!” Rayek shouted. Beast cast one last look down the tunnel in search of Melati. But she was still out of sight, behind the line of nervous ponies and the second team of warriors.
Mel, he thought, wishing for all the world she could hear his thoughts just once.
Then Rayek’s hand fell on his shoulder, and he surged forward before Rayek could push him.
He went up the stairs alongside Ryx, one of the Plainsrunners. They were supposed to be among the best warriors, but Beast couldn’t see it himself. They were all short and stocky, with bandy legs from riding their humpless zwoots. He outpaced Ryx within a few strides. Within a few more, he had almost caught up to Savin and Cheipar.
It seemed wisest to stay near Bluestar’s sire. If he was Weatherbird’s lifemate, then he would surely know what to do.
The rockshaped tunnel extended high above the troll-dug roadway. Cold gray stone gave way to an oily sort of gravel, and then to dirt that reeked of burnt weeds. Each step up the rocky notches, each grasp of the magically cast handholds unleashed a puff of the foul dust. Beast held his breath and climbed higher.
He broke out through a cloud a black dust, into a dark chamber. But his eyes had adjusted well to the gloom after hours spent hiking through the troll road. Even without the glowrocks the trolls used as lanterns, he could make out the contours of the cave. It was smaller than his bedchamber at the Cinder Pools, with a ceiling barely a handspan above his head. Silver light beckoned in the distance – the glow of the moons, already setting in the western sky.
The elfin warriors were already making for the cave mouth. Beast followed.
He staggered out into a wasteland.
He was used to the barren ground of the Cinder Pools, where greenery was a distant mirage and the land lay parched and sterile under the sky. But even there he could see little animals scurrying over the salt flats, and mineral pans reflecting the light of the moons. This was different. Here the land was a lustreless black, completely without shades of gray. Shattered shapes rose up all around him, but they cast no shadow despite a multitude of lights in the sky. Under a thick layer of fine ash, the ground was oddly yielding, like sticky tar. He stumbled, struggling to get his bearings. Without any sense of depth, he feared walking right into a rock.
“Keep up, Beast!” Rayek snapped as he raced by, his sword drawn. Beast hastened to follow. Despite the taunt, Beast kept a modest pace, so he wouldn’t overtake the Palacemaster. Rayek might stand as tall as Beast, but his stride was the uncertain trot of a far shorter elf. He didn’t run nearly often enough, Beast thought. But his red cloak flashed in the moonlight like a bloody flag, lending a much-needed sense of perspective.
They broke away from the cluster of rocks, and assembled together on the flattest piece of ground they could find. Howling Rock stood at their back, a grotesque featureless silhouette. Beast thought it looked like something had taken a jagged bite out of the sky.
“Agh!!!” Savin clutched at her temple as if in pain. Behind her, one of the Plainsrunners looked equally stricken. Mel had warned him about this. It was some sort of magical poison.
“Kahvi!” Rayek bellowed into the night. “Show yourself!”
“What if she doesn’t?” Pike asked.
Cheipar winced, rubbing at his eyes.
The ground trembled underfoot. Beast spread his legs wider, bracing himself for the earthquake. His foot brushed up against something hard, and he looked down to see the moonlight reflecting off a piece of stone.
No, not stone. Bone. Beast kicked at it again, curious. It was a skull. Almost elfin, but too big, and too heavy. The eye holes seemed too small, and the braincase too shallow. Human, then. He scratched at the dirt with his claws, unearthing a few more bones, bound in slick black vines. They too reflected the moonlight, seeming almost moist… pulsing.
“Look–” Beast began to say.
The bones moved. A partially articulated arm rose up from the dust, and cold tendrils wrapped about Beast’s ankle. He reacted instinctively, stomping down hard on the skull. The bones crumbled like chalk, but the black vine look a moment longer to detach from his leg.
“Did you see that?” he demanded.
“What?” Pike looked around.
“We have to keep moving,” Rayek insisted.
“Where?” Skot said. “If the she-bear won’t show herself –”
“I’m gonna be sick,” Ryx muttered.
“I can’t…” Savin moaned. “I can’t – don’t you hear it?”
Rayek let out a wordless cry. Something had seized the trailing edge of his cloak.
“There!” Beast pointed. “Don’t you see?”
“Oh, merciful drukk!” Skot exclaimed.
Something like a snake rose up from the ground and dug a bone-claw into Rayek’s cloak. The Palacemaster swung out with his sword wildly, trying to free himself. Now a hound’s skull lifted itself on a column of tar and snapped at Skot. Another human arm groped for Savin, who was now on her knees with her hands clasped over her ears.
Beast ran to her, but the bony hand reached her first. It wrapped around her throat and squeezed tight. Savin’s scream cut off in a gurgle.
Beast seized the arm by its wrist and snapped it. He lifted Savin off the ground, and she drew in an explosive breath. But when he set her back down on the ground, she could not seem to stand straight.
“My head…” she moaned. Beast caught before she could she pitch forward.
“No, no, no! You have to keep your head out of that dirt. It’s poison! Mel said so!”
Rayek shrugged his cloak off his shoulders. Freed at last, he managed to land a blow at the roiling tentacle. It dissolved in a cloud of dust. Skot had destroyed the snapping hound’s skull, and was now panting, out of breath. But the ground continued to shift underfoot, as if a nest of snakes thrashed just below the surface. A fine haze of ash floated in the air. Pike coughed.
“We have to get out of this!”
“The Rock,” Cheipar said. “She was there before!”
“Remember, when you face her, strike for her heart,” Rayek ordered. “The Palacestone.”
“You sure you cracked it the last time you two danced?” Skot pressed.
“I heard it! It was like… a thunderclap.”
They ran towards the sloping flank of Howling Rock, tripping through the heaving mire of dirt and bones. Halfway up the hillside, Ryx dropped to his knees and began to vomit.
“We’ve got one down!” Pike hollered.
“Keep moving,” Rayek insisted.
Beast dragged Savin along with him. When she could not longer lift her legs, he slung her in his arms and carried her up to the bare rock. But the rock absorbed the moonlight almost as much as the dirt, and he could not see his way up the hillside. He couldn’t keep carrying Savin. Gently, he laid her down on a patch of stone, tilting her head so she faced the sky.
“Keep your head up!” he snapped, when she turned her cheek against the rock.
Beast heard a cry and looked up. A misstep lost Pike his footing, and he tumbled down the side of the stone wolf’s back. He came to rest in a thick pile of dirt, and though he tried to rise, his arms and legs would not support him.
“Don’t stop–” Rayek shouted, in vain. Skot leapt off the path to save his lifemate from the swirling dirt. Beast shuddered as he saw a third figure rise up out of the dirt, this one a reflective oily black. Skot began to grapple with it, as Pike struggled to get to his feet. Was he caught in quicksand? Or striken by the poison dirt?
Beast glanced back at Savin. She was whimpering, clutching her temples again. “What do you hear?” Beast asked her. “What do you hear?!”
Ryx and Marath had fallen somewhere behind them. Only Rayek and Cheipar continued to stagger up the hillside.
“Kahvi – you deranged she-badger!” Rayek howled. “Let us finish this!”
A flicker of light appeared against the stone wolf’s head. It flashed a sour purple color, like the rotten pulp of the messenger sphere. Beast growled low in his chest. Prey. The chase was on. This he understood.
He raced to catch up with Rayek and Cheipar. But by then the light had retreated back into the shadows.
He heard a faint buzz in his head, like a singing insect.
* * *
The starstone pendant burned against her skin. Melati could feel it vibrating furiously, responding to the call of Kavhi’s corrupted Palacestone. A high-pitched whine began deep in her ears.
“I can hear it – why can I hear it?” she turned to look at Timmain and Weatherbird. The High One was dressed for action in leathers not unlike Aurek’s, her hair bound back from her face in many braids. Weatherbird bore a dagger at her hip and Winnowill’s bright turquoise eyes. From their furrowed brows, she knew they could hear the whine too.
“The corruption’s reach is stronger than we anticipated…” Timmain murmured.
“We have to send the second wave now,” Melati insisted.
“Not yet,” Weatherbird said. “Not until they’ve engaged Kahvi.”
Nausea churned Melati’s stomach, and she knew it was more than just nerves. “If we can feel it this far underground, the intensity at the surface much be–”
“Much worse than Skywise or Aurek predicted,” Timmain confirmed.
“We have to go. We have to go now! I have to –”
“You would be unconscious before you saw the sky,” Winnowill said. “Trust in our warriors. They can withstand the corruption… for a little while at least.”
* * *
“I saw her,” Beast cried as he reached Rayek and Cheipar. They stood just below the wolf’s head, where the rock suddenly tipped too sharply upward to climb. From their vantagepoint they could see out over the entire landscape. For all the good it did them. Nothing moved… except the shifting topsoil, and the stricken warriors, struggling to keep their heads out of the dust.
“Where?” Rayek asked.
“She was here…”
“Kavhi!” Rayek shouted. “Don’t tell me you’re shy?!”
An oily mass crawled out of a cleft in the rock. Rayek dealt it a deep thrust from his sword, but the blade lodged deep in the creature. As Rayek fought to free his blade, the beast lifted its horseskull head. “Rayek!” Cheipar warned, and Rayek jerked back just in time to avoid the clacking jaws. The horse-thing staggered forward, its body slowly taking shape. Beast saw bones that had no business being inside a horse strung together by black vines.
“My sword!” Rayek protested.
“Leave it!” Cheipar urged between violent coughs.
“It’s all I have left!” Rayek’s cry was anguished.
The horse-corruption reared up on its hind legs, pawing at the air with massive forelegs that seemed to be made of human torsos. The sword was lodged in the oily shoulder.
Beast ran towards the creature. He ducked under a swing of the foreleg, and leapt for the sword-hilt. It came away in his hands as he crashed into the creature’s hip. The whole construction of bones and magic crumbled, and Beast fell into a cushion of fine powder and sticky tendrils.
He brushed off the corruption as best he could.
Where was Savin? He had lost sight of her, somewhere behind him. On the wind, he could hear the sound of moaning. Where were the other warriors? Hadn’t Cheipar sent the call? Bluestar’s sire was moving very slowly now. His face had taken on a wan cast in the moonlight. Every breath came with a ragged cough.
Beast tossed the sword in Rayek’s direction. The Palacemaster caught it out of the air.
“She was here!” Beast insisted. “I saw her.”
“Why would she come and face us when her creatures can fight for her?” Rayek sneered. “She only needs to wait until we all succumb.”
“You need to call the others,” Beast said.
“No,” Rayek argued. “Until we can flush Kahvi out, they’ll only be more food for the corruption.”
“We can’t flush Kahvi out,” Cheipar said, his voice hoarse. “But she can.”
* * *
“Second wave, now!” Vaya ordered, as Cheipar’s sending reached her. Halcyon led the charge up the steps. Vaya waited until all the Plainsrunners were ahead, then cast one last fearful glance at Aurek.
He nodded. Vaya shouldered her spear and began to run. She clambered up the steps, coughing at the dust that rained down on her from above. Something like a root dropped into her hair, and she shook it off.
It landed on her arm. She felt it snarl in the woven quillwork of her jacket. She reached the tunnel mouth and pulled herself up into Mika’s old cave. The floor seemed to be covered in a fine dust, yet something seemed to drag at her feet.
“Petalwing, Waterleaf, with me!” she called.
She felt another tug at her arm. She turned and saw the root had become a black worm, wrapping ever more tightly around her bicep. With a shriek, she pulled at it. It came away cold in her hand and crumbled to dust.
Vaya staggered to the cave mouth. **Mother!** she sent into the night. **We’re coming for you!** She didn’t know if she meant it as threat or a promise. She only knew she would find a way to end the nightmare before the sun rose.
Halcyon was the first to go down. Her legs betrayed her almost as soon as she tried to run on the shifting ground. She fell to her knees, then her hands, and as she gasped in panic she breathed the powder-fine dust into her lungs.
“Get up, get up!” Haxhi screamed as she hauled on her mother’s arm.
“Behind you!” Dunecat warned, and Haxhi brought up her spear just in time to parry a blow from – what? It looked like a human covered in tar, but its arms were mere bone held together by black sinews. Haxhi’s spearpoint tangled in the black threads, and she had to release her mother to grapple with the thing. Dunecat attacked from the rear, slashing at the creature with his short-sword. Halcyon slumped into the dirt, moaning weakly.
Vaya struggled towards her. Things pulled at her legs: masses of tar no larger than bagfrogs, sprouting limbs of bone and ooze. The air reeked of stale death, of stagnant water, of consuming mold. Every dead thing since Howling Rock fell was coming back to life – or at least the corruption’s best attempt at life.
“Petalwing, help me!”
The Preserver seized a handful of Halcyon’s hair and tried to pull her up. “Bad blackstuff,” it hissed. “Make go still-quiet!” It spit wrapstuff at the roiling dirt, but the webbing did nothing.
Vaya reached her niece and struggled to lift her. Halcyon was dead weight in her arms. Cobwebs of black tar spilled from her mouth. Vaya wiped them off frantically with her free hand.
The corruption pulled at her. Vaya dropped to her knees. She swatted at the tendrils wrapping about her legs. She couldn’t hold Halcyon up and free herself at the same time.
“Petalwing!”
The Preserver spat and clawed and flapped its wings, but it couldn’t keep pace with the advancing corruption. Dunecat and Haxhi were battling three creatures now. Kirjan and Glemm were nowhere in sight. Neither was Waterleaf. The corruption slithered up Halcyon’s arm, weighing her down.
**Mother!** Vaya sent again desperately. **Face us yourself if you’re not afraid!**
A desperate hum in her ears was her only warning before something collided into her back and threw her to the ground. She rolled away from Halcyon, struggling to keep her mouth out of the dust. A sickly purple glow filled her peripheral vision. A hand tangled in her hair, holding down as she tried to rise.
“Why did you come here?” Kahvi hissed in her ear. “What – are you so eager to feed death?” The hand in Vaya’s hair twisted, making her cry out.
Dunecat fell on Kahvi with his short-sword. A flash of light engulfed mother and daughter, and when Vaya could see again, her nephew was on his back, stunned. His body was already starting to disappear under a layer of dust and tar.
Vaya couldn’t see Halcyon, but she could hear the hiss of dust shifting as the tendrils crept over her body once more. The very soil was devouring them.
“Mother – stop this,” Vaya gasped out, spitting around the dust that kept trying to blow into her mouth “We can help you – we can make the singing stop –aughh!”
“You can’t help – no one can,” Kahvi jeered. “It’s beyond me – beyond us all! It wants us all… all souls, all life. It will take everything! Even the singing. It will free me – it will free all of us. You just have to stop fighting.”
She pushed Vaya’s face deeper into the dust, ignoring her labored gasps. “Just stop fighting.”
Vaya felt the tendrils probing at her mouth, her nose, her ears. She squeezed her eyes tight and held her breath as the dust sought to devour her. She thrashed her limbs wildly, but Kahvi straddled her back, keeping her pinned.
“Please stop fighting,” Kahvi begged, her voice breaking with grief.
And then Vaya felt the impact tremor as something else crashed into Kahvi. Again the purple light flashed, and a shockwave shoved Vaya even farther into the dirt. Kahvi let out a roar like wounded bear. The hand in Vaya’s hair tightened, twisted. She screamed into the dirt as a hank of hair tore away from her scalp. And suddenly the weight on her back was gone. Coughing, sputtering, Vaya rose on her elbows and looked over her shoulder in time to see Beast lift Kahvi up by the scruff of the neck and throw her aside like so much dead weight.
* * *
He had seen Kahvi running down from the Rock. She was almost lost against the ground, her limbs coated in the non-reflective dust. But whenever she turned, the glow of the Palacestone lit her up like a troll’s lantern-rock.
Beast clambered over the rocks in pursuit. She was fast, but she lacked his stride. He caught up to her as she had a luckless elf pined to the dirt. He watched one of the warriors – was it Dunecat? – try to force her off her prey, but the light flashed and a magic shield threw him away.
More starstone magic! Beast was sick of it all. Anger drove him on where his instincts urged caution. When he reached Kahvi, he did not hesitate. He lashed out with his claws and sunk them deep into the nape of her neck.
Kahvi howled in pain and outrage. Beast crooked his fingers and wrenched his arm back. He lifted her up off the ground as easily as ravvit. He tossed her hard behind him.
The stricken elf struggled to turn around. It was Vaya. Beast wasted no time; he seized her jacket and yanked her up out of the dirt.
“Beast–” she began, pointing behind him.
Kahvi was already back on her feet. With a grimace, she reached around to touch the back of her neck. Her hand came away slick with a dark liquid that glowed faintly purple. “That hurt!” she accused.
“Good!” Beast snarled. And he launched himself at her.
Kahvi backed away, awkwardly raising her arms, taking dozens of long wounds that quickly sealed themselves. But with each strike, he drew a little more blood. It spattered on the ground with a hiss, like water against a hot rock.
She had relied too long on her poisoned magic; she didn’t know how to defend herself properly hand-to-hand. Beast pressed the advantage and she slowly began to give ground.
Somewhere behind him, at first Vaya just watched. Then, with a howl, she leapt into the fray, brandishing her spear. She struck so fast Beast had to leapt out of the way to avoid being skewered. A sharp jab of her spear sunk the brightmetal point deep into Kahvi’s abdomen.
The cracked starstone at her breast pulsed angrily. Kahvi twisted on the spear, trying to break free.
Then Rayek finally caught up with Beast.
Kahvi saw the blade descend towards her right shoulder. But just as it struck her – or perhaps half a second before – the Palacestone flashed, and something deflected the blow. Vaya cried out and dropped her spear, leaving the point embedded in Kahvi’s flesh. Beast looked down in horror. The wooden shaft of the spear was rotting away to dust in the span of heartbeats. But the barbed head remained deep inside Kahvi’s gut. The wound had already sealed clean.
But not the slashes Beast had inflicted moments before the spear thrust home.
The starstone pulsed light more erratically now. The crack down its center was a thick black line against the purple blooms of magic.
Beast took in the scene in a matter of heartbeats. Six thousand years of pitting his strength and wits against every test in the World’s Spine drove his mind to a conclusion.
Weak point.
Rayek swung his troll-sword again. This time Kahvi turned and caught the blade in her bare hand. Beast saw how she winced as she pivoted, how the muscles of her abdomen constricted over the spot where he knew he had seen the spearhead go in.
Two fingerspans of brightmetal were still stuck in her innards. Her magic was healing her just as Mel’s might. It was almost instantaneous. But not quite. And with each movement, the spearpoint made another cut.
“Some assistance would be appreciated!” Rayek taunted, as he struggled to free his sword from Kahvi’s grasp. Kahvi held up her free hand and a flash of light threw Rayek off his feet.
Beast struck out with his claws. He drew deep slashes to her throat. Again Kahvi roared in pain and alarm. Then she turned her hand on Beast, the light flashed and the world went completely black.
Beast expected to awake to find himself lying prone on the ground. But the blackness only lasted a moment, and when he recovered, he was still on his feet.
Rayek lay on his back several paces away. Vaya was slowly beginning to drag herself onto her hands and knees. But Beast had not moved. Kahvi was starting at him in horror. When she spoke, it seemed like many different voices all hissing at once.
“What are you?”
Beast leapt at her again. This time Kahvi broke and ran.
Beast followed her.
“Beast–” Vaya began to say.
“Help the others!” Beast shouted over his shoulder, without slowing his stride.
Kahvi was running fast, ducking and weaving through the twisted landscape. Everywhere, things in the dirt were stirring, trying to rise. Beast paid them no mind. His only focus was on the retreating purple light. The hunt was on.
* * *
“I can’t bear it!” Melati cried. She pushed Weatherbird’s restraining hand off her arm and ran for the rock ladder leading out of the tunnel.
“We all have loved ones above–” Aurek began.
“Not her!” Melati pointed an accusing finger at Timmain. “We could all die and she would count it worth the lesson learned!”
“You don’t mean that–”
“I do! I know her!”
Melati began to climb, ignoring Aurek’s pleas. Unlike Weatherbird and Winnowill, he did not try to restrain her.
She made it up five stone steps before her head began to spin. Another three steps and an ear-splitting whine echoed inside her head. Nausea came hard on its heels and her vision swam. With a moan, she lost her grip on the steps and fell down the chute. Aurek caught her in his arms before she could strike the ground.
* * *
On open ground, Kahvi had drawn well ahead of Beast. She ran in a straight line, and the earth stilled as she approached, while he darted and wove to avoid fissures and upheavals of rock. Black creatures continued to rise from the dust, but they were slow to gather their bodies together. They were no threat to him. He could hear Rayek and Vaya laboring to catch up, somewhere behind him. He wished he could think-talk, and order them to stay behind with the wounded. They were no use to him now. He was in his element. This was exactly what Mel had shaped him to do.
His clawed feet propelled him forward on the slippery dirt. His tail balanced him as he ran faster and faster – almost as fast as a jackwolf now as he found his rhythm. Faster even than Kahvi could manage, for all her magic. He was slowly gaining ground. Even as she disappeared from sight, behind a jagged uplift or into a worn crevasse, he could track her. He only had to run towards the eerie hum.
Something burst out of the ground in front of him. Beast ducked and threw up his hands to shield his face as the black form flew at him. Sickle-like claws tore at the flesh of his wrists. Beast leapt forward and rolled away. The bird circled overhead, then dove for a second attack. It had been an eagle once, and by the dust-covered feathers that still cloaked its wings, it had not been dead long.
The eagle shrieked as it buffeted Beast’s head. Claws and beak battered his face. One talon tore open the scar tissue just behind his left temple. The bird pulled back, righting itself before a third strike.
Beast’s clawed hand took it out of the sky with one blow. Bones crunched and wings tangled together. The bird fell still to the ground. Beast ran on, grimacing and wiping the blood out of his eye.
The hum was becoming more of a song – a wordless collection of notes sung by many voices, ever-so-slightly off-key. He spotted Kahvi’s light in the distance. He dug in his heels and spurred himself to even greater speeds. Kahvi was faltering now. Perhaps the spear wound and the crack in her starstone were beginning to wear on her. Or perhaps she had decided to become the hunter now. Either way, her hesitation let Beast close the gap.
Abruptly, Kahvi stopped running and turned to face him. He drew up to a skidding halt. They faced each other on a bare patch of blackened ground, amid scattered blocks of human masonry.
“You don’t understand!” Kahvi wailed. “I have to finish this! I have to end all of it! It wants me to.” She touched the starstone at her breast, then swept her hand out accusingly at the scorched ground. “They want me to! What is life but food for death? Suffering and pain! No more. The soil knows better! It’s quiet in the ground. It’s perfect. But then you come, and you wake it up and now it knows! Only when all the souls are still will I have my silence!”
“I don’t understand,” Beast hurled back. “And I don’t care. You have to stop. And I’ll make you stop.”
Kahvi sneered. “The best magic-users of our kind tried and failed.”
“I hate magic!” Beast snarled.
He ran at her, claws held high. Kahvi spread her arms and waited for the blow.
His claws sank into her breast, just above the Palacestone. Boiling purple blood bubbled up between his fingers. The Palacestone began to scream – a high-pitched whistle that seemed to burn behind his eyes. Beast staggered and cried out. The blood was burning him where it oozed around his hand.
Kahvi made a strange sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob.
“You see? You can’t do it. No one can. Nothing can stop this now! It will have you all…”
Fiery knives stabbed him, deep inside his skull. Beast pulled away with a hiss. His claws shredded her flesh as he staggered back. More blood oozed out, thick and luminous. Kahvi gave a groan and rocked on her feet.
“All your souls… all your life…. And then it will be perfect…” she vowed. “No more songs, no more strife. Nothing but stilness…”
“No…” Beast swore. It felt as if he had fire in his veins now, racing up from his seared hand, which still dripped glowing liquid. Dreamberry juice, he thought dimly. Starstone blood… mingling with his own on the open wounds the eagle had inflicted.
Kahvi stepped towards him and seized the side of his head, digging her fingers into the laceratios left by the eagle. Fresh agony stabbed through him. Kahvi’s lips moved, but he could not hear her words. The scream of the Palacestone deafened him. He felt a hot wetness at his nose and ears. His head felt like it was filled with burning coals. Soon something would have to give.
“… you see?” Kahvi continued, and now he could hear her, speaking in the many voices of all the creatures the poison magic had killed. “It’s so much better to stop fighting.”
“No!”
She pushed him down to his knees. He tasted copper at the back of his throat.
“It’ll be better soon,” she assured him calmly. “Come to me. It’s what you were bred for.”
Her nails dug into his head wound. The Palacestone began to flash erratically again. The crack running through its center seemed to pulse like a heartbeat. With each pump, more purple blood spilled out around it. Liquid magic, spattering on the ground. Beast was choking on magic.
“Yosha…” Kahvi whispered.
That hated name! It would not be the last thing Beast would hear.
With a roar, he snapped his head back, dislodging her grasp. And with another flash of predator’s insight, he knew what he had to do.
He crooked his fingers slightly, and he put all his strength into one last blow. Screaming against the shriek of the Palacestone, he drove his right hand straight into her chest, just under her quivering starstone heart. His palm cupped something solid, and he felt a great crack, as his arm sank deep into Kahvi’s chest.
Kahvi lurched forward, her hands bracing on his shoulders. They both fell hard onto their knees, clasped in a deadly embrace. Beast’s whole world had been reduced to a long, loud scream of pain. Every nerve in his body was quivering like a harp-string on the verge of snapping. Magic seared across his skin, inside his blood, through his bones. The shrieking grew so high-pitched he felt his very soul was vibrating in time with it.
His every muscle contracted tightly. His fingers closed over the starstone heart and he felt it shatter in his hand.
Then came the eruption inside his mind, as if every nerve were snapping at once. As if the death-light he’d heard the Plainsrunners mention had gone off behind his eyes. A white-hot pulse obliterating everything its path. A door long-shut being ripped open, never to close again.
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.