Behind the Walls
Part Two
The Pride assembled at dawn on the flats just outside the Sun Gate: ten riders in all, astride tuftcats in a variety of spotted pelts. Sust took up position at the lead astride Lashtail, the longtooth’s great-grandson. Bluestar scrambled up in front of him, wrapping his legs around the tuftcat’s broad neck. Though lean compared to his kin, Lashtail was still large enough to bear them both without complaint.
“Why do I get the feeling I’m not invited this time?” Maize pouted prettily as she helped Tufts wind a scarf over her largely-bare head. Though Bluestar had heard it remarked that Tufts was currently wearing more hair than she had in years – no less than five serpentine braids that hung to her shoulders – she had still left large sections of her scalp shorn and oiled. The child winced at the thought of the sunburn that would result if the scarf slipped off. He tightened his own scarf over his hair.
“Mmm,” Tuft nuzzled noses with Maize. “I’ll bring back countless lovely cuts and bruises for you to fuss over, lovemate.”
“And you’ll have great fun getting them, won’t you?” Maize smiled fondly. “My barbarian.” Then she remembered Bluestar and she turned to Sust. “You will take care of him, won’t you? No rough-riding through the Shambles? Remember, he’s just a kitling.”
“Sust took me hunting when I was a kitling,” Tufts pointed out.
“Yes, but you were born to it.”
“So was I!” Bluestar insisted, fed-up with the incessant coddling. “I was riding wolves before I could walk. Besides–” he pointed upward at the circling Preserver. “I’ve got Waterleaf – so how much trouble could I really get into?”
“Waterleaf take good care of silverbaby highthing!” Waterleaf called down encouragingly.
“We doing this or not?” asked Huro, the youngest of the tuftcat riders. He wore a scarf tied askew on his head and streaks of white clay around his eyes.
“Riders, to me!” Sust called, raising his sword high.
“Be safe!” Maize called, a last desperate appeal, as they rode towards the rock wall. As Lashtail neared the sandstone, it melted away, revealing a tunnel to the world outside. Sust nudged Lashtail’s ribs and the tuftcat began to run. Bluestar let out a little yelp of delight as the cool morning air hit his face.
“Who’s shaping the rocks?” he asked. “I didn’t see anyone–”
“Oh, it’s ol’ Yurek,” Sust shouted in his ear. “He’s always on guard. No one gets in or out without his leave.”
The tunnel measured little more than a hundred paces long, and suddenly the rocks were gone and they were out under the pink sky once more. The still-unseen sun had painted a bright line of light on the eastern horizon. Sust turned the Pride north before the Daystar could mount the horizon and blind them all. They descended into a gulley and gathered together to plan the day’s hunt.
“So who’s it gonna be?” Huro asked eagerly as he dismounted. “We gonna draw lots again?”
“I haven’t had a chance in ages!” Bekah pouted.
“Count me out,” said Shasu. “My digestion can’t take being prey.”
“No one told you to eat so much the night before a hunt,” Bekah pointed out.
Tufts eyed Bluestar with a smirk. “I think it should be our guest-of-honor.”
“Tufts!” Maleen chided. “He’s just a child. Anyway, he doesn’t know the rules.”
“Or the land,” Coppersky pointed out.
“What rules?” Bluestar asked. “What are we talking about?”
“Who we’re going to hunt today.” Sust said. “Come on, let’s do this fairly. We call for volunteers, then draw lots from there.”
“I’m in,” Huro piped up. “Me too,” said Bekah, “And me,” said Tazah.
“Oh, count me in as well,” Coppersky volunteered. “Someone needs to offer a bit of a challenge.”
“You hunt elves?” Bluestar piped up, incredulous. His father had never told him this part.
“Yep,” Huro teased with a malicious smirk. “And then we flay ’em good and roast ’em up for supper! Didn’t you know?”
Bluestar ignored the taunt. “So it’s… like counting taal?” He’d played variants of the game both inside the Egg and in the village of High Hope… at least until the human cubs had realized they could never win against an elf child.
“Uh-huh. With tuftcats,” Sust added with relish.
“I’m in,” Bluestar declared.
“Hah. Nice try, cub. But your father would never forgive me. And believe it or not, there is a limit to just how much I want to rile him up.”
Coppersky snorted audibly.
“Come on, let the kit put his name in,” Tufts said.
“It’s too dangerous,” Maleen said.
“And it would make poor sport,” Tazah added. The maiden looked at Bluestar skeptically. “He doesn’t even have a mount.”
“So we give him double the lead time,” Tufts said.
“Please, Uncle Sust? I want to try it.”
Sust looked to be wavering. “But if you get hurt…”
“Leetah will fix me up and Father never needs to know!”
“We don’t leave children unsupervised,” Maleen said. “It’s too dangerous.”
“You said there’s no danger in Oasis anymore,” Bluestar reminded Sust.
“There’s always danger,” Maleen countered grimly. “Even behind the walls.”
She was thinking of her son. Bluestar had finally gotten the story out of Maize, after inquiries to older elves had been rebuffed. Yosha… that had been his name. Born of forced Recognition between Cricket and Maleen, and dead fourteen years later. The last elf to die in Oasis, four thousand years earlier. A grim sort of fame.
“Yosha was Melati’s lovemate,” Maize had explained. “His death broke her heart. She swore she’d never let another elf die after that. And she swore she’d never love again.” She sighed approvingly; the tale appealed to her romantic nature. Bluestar hadn’t bothered to remark that surely it was Leetah who deserved the praise for keeping the elves of Oasis healthy, since Melati seldom visited anymore.
He looked out over the Thorn Fields. All he could see where deformed pricker-trees and a multitude of rocks: he’d faced more threatening surroundings in the rainforest.
The Pride continued to argue. At length Coppersky interrupted. “Scat! All right – I’m deciding this. Put the kit’s name in. If he’s drawn, we hunt him first. Then you’ll hunt me. That should be sport enough for you all!”
Maleen began to protest, but Coppersky cut her off. “Even with double the lead he won’t make a quarter-league before we catch him. How much trouble can he get into? Sust?”
Sust fished out the lots – simple oblongs of bone polished and painted with different symbols. He counted out enough pieces for all the volunteers and shook them together in a small leather pouch. “Blank piece is the prey,” he instructed. “Don’t show till I tell you.” Each elf dipped a hand in. Bluestar was the last to draw. When Sust gave the signal, they opened their hands. Bluestar’s piece was a pristine polished white.
“There it is,” Sust said with a laugh. “All right, cub – you sure you want to do this? No shame in backing out.”
“So why should I back out?”
“Because your Wolfrider pride will never recover when we hunt you down under an hour?” Tazah suggested.
Bluestar grinned. “That sounds like a challenge. You know what wolves do with challenges, don’t you?”
* * *
They left him in a stand of cacti and gave him until the sun cleared the mountains. Waterleaf insisted on accompanying him, but Bluestar warned the bug to keep silent. “Or you’ll spend the rest of the day in my pocket!”
“No fuss-muss. Waterleaf be good.”
“Good.” Bluestar turned and scampered up the crumbling hillside.
It had been a long time since he’d been allowed to run properly. Waterleaf hastened to keep pace. Mindful of the unfamiliar terrain, Bluestar tried to keep to the high ground – he might be more visible, but at least he would not get trapped in a dead end. He left negligible prints in the dusty ground, but he knew the tuftcats would easily be able to follow his scent. Would that he had some bittergrass or a proper stream to swim through.
It wasn’t long before he heard the snarls of the tuftcats on his trail, and whoops of the riders.
Tazah was right, of course. He wouldn’t last long against practiced trackers, not over unfamiliar terrain. Still, he was determined to try.
He came to another gully carved out by the seasonal floods. He ran downhill, heading steadily northward. The ragged rock tower called Melati’s Ruin loomed on the horizon. He tried to keep its summit in sight as he wound his way through a series of twisting slot canyons. But soon he was in too deep, and he could see nothing overhead by the canyon walls.
He heard an elfin voice: female, filled with excitement.
“He’s in the Shambles! It’s all over now.“
“Get down, Waterleaf!” he hissed under his breath.
“Scamper-scamp in circles. Waterleaf will find the way.”
“No! Don’t let them see you!”
Waterleaf flew up over the lip of the canyon wall to scout. “Oooh! Waterleaf see!” it trilled. Somewhere in the distance, an elf let out a howl of triumph.
“Puckernuts!” Bluestar ran on, leaving the Preserver behind. He blundered down the trail until he came to a sheer rock wall. He scrambled for handholds but found now. The riders were closing now. He heard ten sets of paws flying over sand and stone, ten different laughs echoing through the canyon.
He could just see the top of the rock wall. He could picture himself standing on top of it.
Sorry Mama, he thought, as he closed his eyes and concentrated.
He heard a slight pop in his ears, and when he opened his eyes, he was standing atop the rock wall, out of the canyon. He dropped down onto his belly and held his breath. The Pride had descended into the canyon.
He heard them draw to a halt below him. He heard the outlines of hostile words and he imagined Tufts and Tazah blaming the cats for chasing the wrong scent trail…
And then he heard Waterleaf buzzing overhead. “Silverbaby hiiiiiighthing?” it trilled.
In once, in for eight, Bluestar decided. He twisted his head and fixed his gaze on a listing boulder some forty paces away. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt his ears pop and he was crouching at the foot of the boulder. He looked north and spotted a flat patch of ground. Eyes closed, ears popped, and he was there. With each ‘flit’ the feat became easier. Each time he picked a more distant landmark, and each time he made it there in the literal blink of an eye. One jump after another, until he could hardly register the ground underfoot, until he seemed to float on the astral plane itself.
He didn’t ever want to stop.
* * *
He was completely lost.
Bluestar looked around at the unfamiliar landscape. He couldn’t see the walls of Oasis anymore – he couldn’t even Melati’s Ruin. He was crouched in a shallow bowl filled with ancient salt deposits. The air smelled vaguely of rotten eggs.
The sun hung high overhead – it had been hours since he had started flitting, and now he was completely exhausted, overheated and desperately thirsty. He had already drained his waterskin in three long draughts, and there was no shade under which to take shelter.
“Well… this is a fine mess,” he murmured to himself.
He had only himself to blame. His mother had warned him about flitting too far, too fast. But it had been so easy to fall into a hypnotic rhythm. It must be what dreamberry wine felt like.
On the good side, he was pretty sure he’d proven his mettle to the Pride.
Now what to do? He could go out and send for help, of course. It would be a small feat for him to reach Haken. But… then he’d have to admit just how he’d come in his “telemutation” training. He could send to Mother – or even better, to Grandfather and the Palace. But then they would find out he had flitted without permission – and he’d be in even more trouble than if he’d just confessed to Haken. He could wait and hope the Pride could smell him out – but he knew he’d left no scent to follow.
So there was only one thing for it. He’d have to figure out how to get back all on his own.
He hiked out of the bowl, until he could see all around him. The view was not encouraging: nothing but sand and salt flats and strange chalky mounds that reminded him of termite nests. The highlands were bare of even the hardiest plants, while the lowlands lay under a layer of brownish vapor. Lurid colors streaked the salt pans – yellows and oranges and the brownish red of dried blood. Bluestar squinted up at the sun and tried to get his bearings. He had been flitting steadily northward: surely he had only to start back southward.
At the moment, however, he couldn’t summon the energy to flit more than a few paces.
Off to his right he could see a cluster of larger mineral formations, perhaps a league distant: ovoid domes like a half-buried clutch of massive bird’s eggs. He could make it that far at least. He could find shade and maybe some water that wasn’t too noxious.
He wrapped his scarf over his nose and mouth to soften the ever-present reek of sulfur and began to walk.
He’d barely gone a hundred paces when he heard the roar.
He had heard all manner of animal sounds in his life: wolves, mountain lions, enraged sea-bulls and lowing shagbacks. But he had never heard quite such a roar before: loud as thunder and with a reverberation that seemed to make the very air shudder. It was coming from the mineral domes.
“Well, puckernuts,” Bluestar muttered.
Then the answering calls began: snarls and whimpers and distant yips like jackwolves puppies’. Bluestar looked around, bewildered. A streak of movement over the saltpan to the right. A cluster of shapes racing through the sands over his left shoulder. They were all too far away and moving too fast to identify. But he knew in his bones they had to be Shapechanged.
“And he sings to the Shapechanged…” Jethel had said.
Bluestar felt a wind at his back, surprisingly cool.
He slowly turned and saw the cloud of black dust rising from the horizon. It billowed upwards like smoke.
Bluestar tightened his scarf over his mouth and began to run. As he felt the first pinpricks of grit striking his back, he tried to flit. But he had neither the strength nor the focus for it.
He caught sight of a Shapechanged running parallel to him, one ridgeline away. It ran on two legs like a flightless bird – or a deathclaw – but its head and torso were clearly canine in origin. The roar echoed again over the plain and the creature ducked out of sight behind the ridgeline, a second before the ridgeline disappeared under a veil of swirling dust.
The wall of dust caught up with him. The blast of wind Bluestar clear off his feet. He hit the ground hard, tried to roll into a crouch and recover. But the howling storm would not let him up. Flying dust tore at his exposed flesh. The wind held him on his hands and knees. Bluestar crawled towards the first rock he could find and huddled behind its scant shelter. Dust piled up around his feet. He coughed and retched against his scarf, trying to keep the grit out of his mouth and nose. When he managed to force his eyes open, he saw nothing but a black haze.
A third roar, barely audible over the sound of the wind. Bluestar took a gamble. He filled his lungs with a breath more dust than air and screamed back. The storm swallowed up his cry as soon as it left his lips.
This would be a perfect time to admit defeat and find his mother on his astral plane. But he was too afraid to leave his body to mercies of the storm. There was no way of knowing if he could find it again.
So he tucked his chin to his chest and wrapped his arms around his head, trying to protect himself as much as he could. He focused on his rapid breathing and his racing heart. As the dust continued to pile on his head and pool around his legs, he thought he heard an elf’s voice calling a single word.
“Child…”
A scaly set of claws fastened themselves over his forearm, and he felt himself wrenched up from the sand.
* * *
Bluestar awoke far sooner than he let on. He dimly recalled being carried slung over a bare shoulder, outrunning the wind. He remembered when the dust fell away, replaced by clean air and solid rock walls. He saw flashes of light in a long dark tunnel. But then the creature carrying him finally slowed its pace, and he closed his eyes and feigned sleep.
He felt himself being lifted up, then cradled against a body wrapped in lizard skin. He struggled not to flinch when the clawed hand that had seized him earlier now ghosted over his face gently. A raspy voice hummed comfortingly.
Bluestar forced him limbs to hang slack. He let himself be carried an indefinite distance in the strange arms. Dull light flickered beyond his closed eyelids. He felt a sudden softness underneath him as his rescuer laid him down on a bed. A real bed, with sheets and a pillow for his dusty head. The clawed hand brushed the worse of the dust out of his hair, and again he heard the elfin tongue murmuring “child…” in a sort of dumbstruck wonder.
The shadow over him withdrew, and Bluestar risked opening his eyes. He saw a rockshaped den not unlike the deeper storerooms at Oasis: all smooth stone walls and lantern light. He saw a figure just on the edge of his field of vision, tall and lean, shedding a long cloak from his shoulders.
His throat tickled. The irritation grew, until he couldn’t suppress a cough. One led to another, until he was racked with dry heaves, trying to expel the sand lodged deep in his throat. Hands fell on his shoulders, turning him, letting his head hang over the bed. When the fit abated, he felt himself guided back onto the mattress. Something wet touched his lips. A waterskin. He felt the first drops of cool water and a longing moan escaped him.
“Drink,” the shadow urged. “Drink.”
The claws came under his skull, holding him up just enough that he wouldn’t choke. Water trickled down his throat after the first swallow he abandoned caution, sucking greedily at the spout until it ran dry.
He tried to open his eyes again, but his vision swam. He thought he made out a face, elfin in its proportions, but heavily deformed.
“Sleep,” his rescuer whispered. “Safe now.”
Bluestar obeyed. He willed himself into a dreamless oblivion, all dark and cool and safe.
He awoke to the sound of voices arguing and the faint hum of starstone in the air.
“ – just be sensible for once,” a female voice, pleading gently, but with a note of irritation.
“I am!” the masculine growl he remembered from before. “Very sensible. I found him. I saved him.”
“But Beast, we can’t keep him!”
“Why not?”
“This isn’t another lost puppy!”
“It’s a child!” the male voice said eagerly, then added, almost bashfully, “He looks like me.”
“Oh, Beast…”
Trying not to move his head, Bluestar cracked his eyes open. He could see two figures in shadow, one elfin, the other… not. Not entirely.
He’d seen his share of fleshshaped elves before: Tyldak and Bonebat with their wings, Coris and Fairweather with their tails. He’d even met a maiden in the deep rainforest who’d had her skin tinted green and her hair made to grow in leaf-like dreadlocks. But he’d never seen an elf with massive claw-feet and a twitching tail!
“Why would you want a child?” the female continued. Bluestar blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his vision. She was made up entirely of shades of red: red hair, red-brown skin, a gown of red silk. As she turned slightly, he saw the source of the starstone glow – a cluster of crystal shards worn at her throat.
“Why not?” the creature argued. “He could stay with me when you’re away. And I could teach him – I – I could take care of him,” he said, in a tone of wistful longing. “He could be ours!”
“Oh Beast,” the elf-woman sighed again.
“Please? Please, Mel?”
“We can’t keep him. He must a family of his own.”
“They didn’t take care of him! He was all alone. I saved him! That means he’s mine now. That’s how it works!”
The female held up a hand to silence him. She glanced towards Bluestar, and Bluestar closed his eyes tight.
“Shh. He’s awake…” **I know you’re awake, child.** Her voice echoed in his head. It held none of the warmth she’d reserved for her companion. **You have no need to fear.**
**Are you sure about that?** Bluestar asked. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes again. When neither elf made any sudden move towards him, he sat up and rubbed the lingering grit from his eyes.
“You’re Lady Melati,” he stated, trying to sound confident.
She nodded. “And you… you don’t come from Oasis. You’re far too pale for that… but not quite pale enough to be one of those savages out of the north. Hmm… and silver hair… you’re right, Beast, he does look like you. Not just the hair, something in the eyes as well.”
The shapechanged elf took a step forward. The light caught his face and Bluestar got his first clear look at the Master of the Shapechanged.
It was hard to look past the extensive fleshshaping, and the scar tissue that covered half of his face. But Bluestar noted the bones of his skull, the shape of his jawline, and the familiar shape of the silvery eyes. He looked like he could be the child’s elder brother.
“You must be Weatherbird’s child,” Melati declared at length. “My lord has spoken often of you. He was eagerly awaiting your visit; strange that he let you stray so far from Oasis.”
“How far from Oasis am I?”
She regarded him curiously. “You truly don’t know, do you?”
“I wouldn’t ask if I did.”
“A full day by Steam Road; ten by foot. So how did you find your way here?”
“Is that real starstone, or converted seedrock?” Bluestar countered.
She smiled as she touched her necklace. “Shards of the Little Palace. Fragments lost during the Flight from Sorrows. When I found them they were almost completely inert. But I restored them. There – I have answered your question. Will you answer mine now?”
Bluestar shook his head.
“M-my name is Beast,” the shapechanged elf piped up. “What is yours?”
“Bluestar.”
Beast grinned. “Are you hungry, Bluestar? You must be. We – we can have supper – the three of us together! Oh, but you’re all dirty. Would you like to bathe first?”
Bluestar forced himself to return the smile. “I would, thank you… Beast.”
* * *
“What do you mean you lost him?” Haken raged, his voice echoing off the walls of the council chamber. Sust could only hang his head.
“Forgive me, lord. I don’t know what to say. We lost him. His scent, his tracks… he just… vanished into thin air.”
Haken’s eyes widened, then narrowed to angry slits. “I see…”
“We’d been sending for him all day – telling him to come out of hiding…”
“You should have come back hours ago!”
“I… I thought if I could just flush him out… no one would have to know. Please, lord – if anything’s happened to him....”
“Who else knows he’s missing?”
“The Pride, of course, but that’s it. I’ve left the others outside to keep searching – I came right here.”
“Good. We must do what we can to keep this our secret.”
He strode across the chamber to the Little Palace. A soft hum filled the air as he laid his hand on it.
“Are… you calling for Sunstream?” Sust asked nervously.
“And admit our failure? I hardly think so. Or would you care to tell your brother that you let his precious son slip his leash?”
Sust shook his head vigorously.
“No… we shall simply have to find the boy ourselves.” Haken closed his eyes and drew on the power of the Little Palace. He let his spirit out of its confining shell, to explore the astral plane. He send out a call pitched exactly for Bluestar, and when he received no answer, he broadened his area of search. The call went out again and again in an ever-expanding circle, until he heard a faint reply.
It wasn’t Bluestar’s sending. But it was an answer.
In a flash he was back in his body, looking down at the frantic Sust. “Well, it seems my daughter has saved your skin… and mine. She has the boy. He’s quite safe.”
“He’s with Melati? I thought she was still up north at the Cinder Pools?”
Haken smiled condescendingly. “I hardly think it likely that Bluestar could have reached the Cinder Pools by himself, do you?”
Sust bowed his head. “No, of course not.”
“Now you’d best call back the Pride and go tell Cholla that Bluestar won’t be home tonight.”
* * *
The bath was a rockshaped depression that filled with steaming hot water from a fissure in the rock when Beast removed a heavy plug. It smelled slightly metallic, but it felt heavenly on Bluestar’s aching flesh. After he’d scrubbed off the last of the sand, he climbed out of the pool and wrapped himself up in a too-large robe of zwoot’s wool.
Supper was some sort of roasted meat. Bluestar ate heartily, too famished to remember proper Oasis table manners. Beast watched him with the wide-eyed fondness of a cub for his first wolf-friend, while Melati studied him guardedly.
**You haven’t tried to send for help,** she remarked, as Bluestar picked the last scraps from his plate.
**We’re a little out of the way for that.**
**Not for you, to hear Haken boast of you. I hear you’re every drop the Blood of Palacemasters.**
**Do I need to send for help? I thought I had nothing to fear from you.**
They were sending openly, but Beast did not seem to react. Bluestar risked a glance at him.
**He cannot hear us,** Melati confirmed. **He is quite deaf to sendings.**
Bluestar had never heard of an elf who could not send. For a moment he thought of Pool’s warnings about Melati growing elves like fleshvines. Was that what she’d done here – was Beast elfin flesh without an elfin soul? But even humans and trolls had souls, surely. And Beast seemed as intelligent as any human. Surely even Melati could not create souls. Did she steal one from the starstone around her neck? Had she learned how to restore the spirits of the dead to living flesh?
And why did Beast’s unscarred features seem so familiar? Why did Melati drew attention to their resemblance just before she guessed Bluestar’s identity?
**Who is he? What happened to him?**
**That’s none of your concern.**
“What happened to you, Beast?” Bluestar asked aloud.
Beast blinked. “What? When?”
“How did you...” Bluestar gestured vaguely. “Get to be how you are now?”
Beast frowned a moment. Then he grinned. “Melati.” He held up his shapechanged arm, flexing his muscles to show he could make the spines at his elbow rise and fall. “She made me better.” He turned an adoring gaze across the table. “She makes everything better.”
Bluestar could have sworn he saw an added flush of red rising to Melati’s cheeks.
“But what about that?” Bluestar pointed to the scarring on Beast’s face. “Why didn’t she make that better?”
“She did,” Beast said. “I was broken and she fixed me. She’s very good at fixing.”
“You must be tired, child,” Melati said firmly. “After this you’re going to sleep, and then I will take you back to Oasis.”
“Can’t he stay longer?” Beast asked eagerly. “You’d like to stay, wouldn’t you, Bluestar? We could go exploring – do… do you like exploring?”
“Beast,” Melati warned.
“I do like exploring,” Bluestar agreed. “Why did Melati need to make you better? What was wrong with you before?”
“I was broken. I said.”
“How did you get broken?”
Beast narrowed his eyes. Clearly he did not like the current line of questioning. “What matter? It happened. Long ago… long before you.” Again, something in his expression struck Bluestar as achingly familiar. It made him think of the look Weatherbird would give him when she’d caught him doing something foolish.
“That wretched business with Maleen’s boy… a cousin of yours.”
“Yosha was Melati’s lovemate… she swore she’d never love again.”
“Who were you before you were Beast?” Bluestar asked.
“Enough, child,” Melati warned. Bluestar turned towards her.
“Why does he look just like me?” **I’m right, aren’t I?**
**I swear, if you know what’s good for you, you will shut your mouth!**
“Why do I look like him?” Beast asked Melati, confused.
“Are you going to tell him?” Bluestar demanded.
“Tell me what?” Beast got to his feet. “What?!”
Melati hesitated, and Bluestar seized on the chance. “You’re my cousin.”
Beast stared at him dumbly. “My mother’s grandfather… he’s your sire’s brother,” Bluestar explained. “You are Yosha, aren’t you? Cricket and Maleen’s son. Everyone thinks you’re dead but you’ve been hiding here all this – aagggh!” he clutched at his temples as a stinging pain between his eyes stole his voice.
“That’s enough out of you!” Melati hissed.
“Yosha…” Beast repeated. “That name. I had… forgotten.”
“Beast?”
“Why do I hear that name again?” he demanded, springing up from the table. He pointed an accusing finger at Bluestar. “How does he know that name? He’s too little. He shouldn’t know. No one should know. They should forget, like I forgot. Why? Why did you make me remember?”
“I… I’m sorry,” Bluestar offered. He looked to Melati for guidance.
“Yosha is dead,” Melati said firmly.
“This is my skin now,” Beast added. “I’ve had it longer than he ever did! It’s too late – too late – he can’t have it back now!”
Melati hastened to Beast’s side and held him close. “He won’t. He’s long gone, you know that. Shh, my sweet Beast. You’re safe. Remember: you’re safe. I chose you.”
**You brought him back from the dead?** Bluestar guessed.
**I tried to,** Melati admitted. **I was… unequal to the task.**
**He doesn’t remember anything?**
**He doesn’t want to. What he does remember frightens him. You have frightened him.**
**I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…**
Melati closed her mind to him. “Shh… it’s all right, Beast,” she soothed. “I’ll take care of everything. You go on to bed. Forget about the boy. He’ll be gone when you wake up.”
“We can’t send him back now!” Beast cried. “He’ll tell! He’ll tell them all and they’ll want him back!” He twisted free of Melati’s embrace with a bitter laugh. “See? We have to keep him now!”
Oh puckernuts, Bluestar thought.
“Don’t be silly. They’d ask too many questions if he just disappeared.”
“But–”
“Beast, do you trust me?”
“Always!”
She smiled tenderly and kissed the scar that ran across the bridge of his nose. “Then leave everything to me.”
She seized Bluestar’s hand and wrenched him up from the table. **I hope you’re happy.**
**I’m sorry–**
**Sorry sorry, always sorry, yapping ravvits – so much easier to beg forgiveness than to actually think before you open your mouths!**
She jogged him down the corridor towards the bed where Beast had first laid him down. When she wretched one silk throw off the mattress Bluestar’s first thought was that she was preparing a shroud. **Please, I won’t tell anyone! I promise! You don’t have to–**
**Don’t be stupid.** She seized a pillow and shoved it into his hands. Then she dragged him around a corner out of sight of the bed. “Until that scene at the table I was minded to let you have my side of the bed. But instead you’ll sleep here.” She let the silk throw pile on the ground. “Tomorrow it’s into the Steam Road and down to Oasis.”
“There’s a station here?” he asked, before he remember she had learned to rockshape.
“You think I would let those sneaking trollkin build a station anywhere near my refuge?”
Bluestar shook his head. “No. You wouldn’t let them find out about… Beast.”
Melati’s expression softened. “You think me cruel by keeping him a secret. But you saw what the mention of… of that name does to him. He’s worked hard to forget. So have I.”
“But why? I don’t understand why you didn’t just–”
“Take him to Oasis? Show him off? ‘Shade and sweet water, you all remember Maleen’s son? Well, he doesn’t remember you – any of you. And it’s no good trying to share your memories with him, because his mind is locked up as tight as a human’s!’”
Her voice was choked with bitterness, but she could not stop herself. “‘But look, doesn’t he remind you so much of all the pain I caused you when I challenged him to climb rocks after dark? Why, you only need look at those scars to remember… to remember that – that night… like it was… only yesterday.’” A sob stole her voice and she turned away, drawing a deep breath to steady herself. When she looked back at Bluestar, she was in control of herself again.
“There, now you’ve upset us both. And will you do the same to Maleen and the others? When they’ve mourned and moved on, just as we have. Yosha is dead! There’s no reason to torment them all with Beast’s existence.”
“I’m sorry,” Bluestar said again.
“Anyway, Beast doesn’t want them to know. Even if I did… I respect his wishes. No one must know, he says. He is my secret, mine alone.”
“But Carrun knows, doesn’t she?” he asked, realizing as he said it that he probably should not have.
“What? What has Carrun told you?”
“Lies. Good ones. But not quite good enough. She’s seen him, hasn’t she?”
Melati said nothing. “Does she know who he is?” Bluestar pressed.
“If she does, she’s been wise enough not to speak of it. And it was a mistake letting her see… a moment’s weakness, many years ago.”
“Carrun keeps your secret, so can I. I promise.”
A ghost of a smile, not unlike Haken’s half-hearted attempted, drifted over Melati’s lips. She bent down until she was eye to eye with the child. “I believe you can. I believe you can do just about anything you set your mind to. Precious kitling….” She stroked his cheek. “I am very sorry for putting you through this, truly. But I’m afraid there’s nothing for it.”
Her hand carded up through his hair, coming to fasten over the dome of his skull. Her stare bore into him.
“What–”
Her other hand pressed down on the other side of his head. Her lips moved, mouthing a word.
Forget…
**Wait–**
**Forget.**
Sleep rolled over him like the wind of the duststorm. He felt himself swooning under the weight of her hands.
**Forget.**
* * *
“Wakey-wakey!” Waterleaf buzzed.
Bluestar slowly opened his eyes. He lay on a pallet in an unfamiliar room, surrounded by familiar faces. Uncle Sust looked relieved, Lord Haken vaguely disapproving, and Maize overjoyed. A group of other elves were clustered together over Maize’s shoulder – her parents, and one other he could not quite see. He tried to prop himself up on his elbows, but Leetah the Healer stepped forward and gently guided him back down.
“Wha…” he slurred. “Where…”
“You are in my chambers,” Leetah said crisply. “Though I see no reason why. The swelling inside your skull has already gone down. It seems my granddaughter did the right thing putting you in a deep trance.”
“You needn’t sound quite so bitter about it,” spoke a strangely familiar voice. The press of elves at his bedside withdrew slightly, and Bluestar saw the speaker, an elf-woman clad all in red, her form and features a taller, leaner version of Leetah.
He was certain he had seen her before, either in sendings or in the flesh. But for the life of him, he could not recall where.
“Who… are you one of the Red Snakes?”
She smiled lightly. “I am the Red Snake.”
“My daughter Melati found you quite some distance from the Pride’s hunting grounds,” Haken explained.
“What happened to me?” Bluestar asked.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Melati asked.
“I… I was counting taal with the Pride. And I…” he struggled to recall what had come next. There had been flitting, certainly. More than he’d ever want to admit. And swirling dust… a sandstorm? And then only darkness and the vague dreams of voices in the shadows.
“I was patrolling the northern limits of the Thorn Fields when I found you,” the red maiden explained. “It seems you taken something of a tumble – oh, nothing serious, but you were quite delirious from heatstroke in the bargain. I thought it wisest to keep you asleep for the transit back to Oasis.”
“You’ve been gone almost two full days,” Sust piped up. “I’d say that’s a new record for a hunt. But let’s not crow about that to your papa, shall we?”
The mention of his father jolted Bluestar alert. “Do they know? Mama and Father?”
“No, and I see no reason why they need to,” Haken said. “After all, it was assumed you’d commit a few youthful follies here.” **Fear not, Bluestar. Your secret is quite safe.**
Bluestar smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Lord Haken.”
“You owe my daughter thanks as well,” he prompted gently.
“Thank you, Lady Melati. I guess I’m real lucky you happened by.”
“Dare I ask what you were doing out there at high noon?” Leetah asked.
“Putting my new mount through its paces. I think I’ve finally found a lasting compromise between speed and stamina.”
“If you ask me, the crescent-horns were just fine before you started improving them.”
“But no one asks you, Grandmother.”
“Now, now,” Cholla spoke up. “Leave her be for once, Leetah. And Melati, you are having supper with us tonight – I insist on it. It’s the least we can do after you took such good care of Bluestar. I’ll cook you up your favorite stew.”
Melati inclined her head slightly. “I’d be glad to. And I’d like to get to know young Bluestar better. Such a promising little lad.”
For some reason, her praise sent a shudder down his spine.
“I hope you’ll stay for a few days at least, Aunt Melati,” Maize said. “We all miss you when you’re away so long.”
“Oh, I’m quite sure ‘all’ is an exaggeration, my dear,” Melati narrowed her eyes at Leetah.
“I do worry for you, Granddaughter, believe it or not. I worry what you’re becoming out there, all alone.”
“My Shapechanged keep me company.”
The Shapechanged… he had dreamed about them: wolves that ran on two legs and a creature that looked almost elfin…
He shook his head, trying to remember more, but the dream was already gone.
* * *
Haken met Melati as she was exiting Klipspringer and Cholla’s chambers.
**You wiped the boy’s memory, didn’t you?**
A lesser elf might yelp in surprise at the intrusive locksending. But Melati merely turned her gaze towards the tall shadow lingering in the alcove.
**A necessary precaution.**
**Oh, do not misunderstand me. I quite approve. But it does make me wonder just what he witnessed at your Cinder Pools.**
**Come north and see for yourself, whenever you like.**
He smiled faintly. **No need. I know you cherish your privacy. And I trust you’d give me no reason to regret giving you such a free hand.**
**Never, my lord father.**
A flick of fingertips motioned her closer. **You are prepared, I trust?** he asked. **We are but one year away from the event.**
Melati nodded. **I will need to bring some…specimens with me. I trust I can borrow Flitrin to cocoon them properly.**
**Of course.**
**I’ll return in time to help with the final conversion. But do you think it necessary? Can a pack of humans truly endanger the very flow of time?**
**A merest moment out of place could undo everything. And the survival of our kind cannot be entrusted to those fools in the Homeshell – they have made that abundantly clear. Swift tasked me to calculate how to save the most elves if it came to it. But the souls beyond Oasis are not my concern. We will survive – that’s all that matters!**
Melati raised an eyebrow. **And when the rest of the Circle realizes you’ve enough converted starstone to make a rival Palace?**
Haken gave a soft tsk. **Patience, child. One crisis at a time.**
Elfquest copyright 2015 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 2014 Warp Graphics, Inc. All rights reserved. Alternaverse characters and insanity copyright 2014 Jane Senese and Erin Roberts.