by P. C. Cast
Nik sprinted across the clearing to the ancient brass bell that was mounted beside the lift and pulled its rope, once, twice, thrice, sending a clarion of warning pealing up into the trees. Then he slammed closed the door of the cage, latching Cameron safely inside, and waved the torch wildly.
The lift immediately began up and, resolutely, Nik climbed to the top of the torch holder log and faced the blood beetles that were closing a circle around him.
“Come get me, you bastards! Let’s see how many of you I can kill with this one arrow!” Nik notched the crossbow and waited until two of the beetles fell into line and he squeezed the trigger. Thwap!
“Three down. Seven to go. I like the odds.” Nik jabbed the torch at the mandibles of the first of the creatures to reach his log, and it screamed, skittering back. “Fried bug! You know, the Lynx Tribe says it’s a delicacy—can’t stomach it myself. Just like I can’t stomach cats!” Nik shouted the words as he swung the torch like a bat. He connected with the armored head of a beetle, cracking its skull. While the bugs feasted on another of their brothers, Nik glanced up at the lift. He thought he could see that it had reached the landing, but before he could be sure a noise pulled his attention back to the carnage around him and his stomach tightened in horror.
The forest floor had begun to quiver as the true carnivores of the night crawled within the circle of Nik’s light. Bigger even than the blood beetles and drawn by the scent of gore, the death’s head roaches swarmed, covering the bodies of the first bug Nik had skewered and the two who were still tearing its body to pieces. More shrieks of agony filled the night as the roaches began moving closer and closer to Nik, devouring everything in their path.
Nik weighed his chances quickly. The lift would be sent back for him, but probably not before the fucking roaches reached him. He’d sounded the emergency bell, so Companions would be answering the summons, but probably not before the fucking roaches reached him.
And then there was the pup. Was he still alive? Was he being attacked by beetles or devoured by roaches? Or had something even more dangerous lured him into the forest? Could Nik save him?
“Well, I’m sure as hell not leaving him out here,” Nik said grimly. He’d have one chance at getting past the roaches while they were distracted by the beetles. He gathered himself, preparing to launch from the log and over as many of the damn bugs as possible, when the sky above him opened, raining fiery arrows into the seething mass of insects.
The shrieks of the roaches and beetles were deafening, and the stench of burning bugs almost made Nik gag. Then Companions began rappelling from the trees, each with thick wooden clubs in their hands and their Shepherds strapped to their backs. Legs covered by bark armor, the Companions formed a tight circle around Nik and began beating back the insects and clearing the way to the lift, which was careening downward to retrieve them all.
“With us, Nik! Move to the lift!” A Companion named Wilkes, Leader of the Warriors, smashed his club into the skull of a beetle and then kicked it so that its body was tossed backward into the horde of roaches while his Shepherd lunged, grasped a roach in his strong jaws, shaking the insect until its body ripped in two, spraying blood and insect parts around him and his Companion like macabre rain.
“I can’t! The pup’s out there!”
“The pup? The male pup?” Wilkes said.
“Yes! He took off when the beetles attacked. I have to go after him.”
“No time. Get on the lift, Nik,” Wilkes said.
“But he’s still out there!”
“Wilkes, they’re swarming. We can’t keep holding ’em off much longer,” said Monroe as his Shepherd ripped open the belly of a beetle.
Snatches of the light from the full moon touched the flesh-colored wings of the roaches and the rust-colored armor of the beetles, and as they roiled together the forest floor became a sea alive with insects.
“Nik, there’s no time. Get into the lift,” Wilkes ordered him.
“I can’t leave him!”
“He’s already dead! Nothing could survive that!” Wilkes gestured out at the writhing forest floor. “Get into the lift. Now.”
Nik allowed the tide of Companions to force him into the lift and as they began the laborious journey up to safety, he clenched the wooden bars in his hands, stared down at the seething horde below them, and shouted his misery into the night. “No! Pup! Noooooooo!”
8
Mari stretched the aching muscles of her back, rubbing her shoulders and rolling her head from side to side. She glanced at the dawn hole, and thought she saw a slight lightening. On the heels of the rush of happiness the thought of her mother returning home brought, Mari realized that time had utterly escaped her, and she had spent the entire night working on perfecting the sketch of her father, which was the one drawing she absolutely could not show her mother. Hastily, she set the drying piece aside and replaced it with the one Leda would expect to see. She exchanged the quill for sharpened charcoal. Clearing her tired mind, she pictured her mother’s delicate hands in her imagination, and got to work.
The sound of rustling undergrowth outside the cave door pulled her attention from her almost finished sketch. Automatically, she checked the hole and then smiled with pleasure. The weak light of foggy dawn was finally filtering gray from above.
There was more noise outside the cave door, and then came one, two, three scratches against it.
Worry had Mari dropping the small piece of charcoal and hurrying to the door. Had Mama been hurt again? She usually knocked, but not always—not if she’d shared too much of the healing power of the moon so that it left her weak and vulnerable.
“Mama! I’m coming!” she called through the door as she unbolted it. “Sorry, I lost track of time while I was drawing. I’ll have your tea brewing right away.” Mari swung open the door and her world was forever changed.
Instead of her mother, a panting canine was sitting in a pool of blood outside the door.
Mari shrieked and stumbled backward, trying to close the door against the creature. But the canine was too fast. Though he limped and whined pitifully, he managed to slip inside the burrow.
He was still whining, but his ears were pricked forward and his tail was wagging as he followed Mari. Backed against the moss-covered wall of the cave, Mari froze, unable to look away from the canine. Now that she’d stopped retreating, he sat not far from her, gazing up with eager, amber eyes that seemed to see through her skin to Mari’s heart.
He’s big, but he has to be young. Mari’s thoughts were clear, but felt detached from her body. His paws are huge, but they don’t look like he’s grown into them yet. She looked from his paws to the rest of his body, and gasped. The thick sable fur of his chest was matted and covered with fresh blood.
“What happened to you? What are you doing here?”
At the sound of her voice the young canine wriggled joyfully, and then started forward again toward her, only to yelp in pain and stagger to a halt, pitifully lifting and licking one of his oversized paws.
Mari moved without thinking. She went to her knees before the pup and reached out to him. He limped to her, falling into her arms and resting his head against her chest. Then he looked up at her, again meeting her eyes, and Mari was flooded with emotions: relief, joy, and an unconditional, unending current of love.
And then Mari knew beyond any doubt what the pup was doing there. “You came for me,” she said, unable to stifle the sobs that had been building within her.
Mari and the pup might have stayed that way for hours, curled together, sharing a bond that was miraculous and indescribable and life-altering, but her mother’s voice, hushed as if she was speaking a prayer to the great Earth Mother, interrupted them.
“Mari, what is his name?”
Mari looked up through her tears to see Leda standing in the open doorway and smiled as if her heart would explode from happiness. “Rigel! His name is Rigel, and he has chosen me!”
“Of course he has. You a
re your father’s daughter,” Leda said matter-of-factly, but the tears that washed down her face belied the nonchalance of her tone. Leda wiped them away briskly. “Do you think Rigel will mind if I come in?”
“Oh, Mama, please come in!” As Mari gestured with one hand for her mother to enter their home, she stroked Rigel’s thick fur soothingly with the other. The young canine had shifted in her arms at the sound of her mother’s voice so that he faced the door, and he was watching Leda carefully, but Mari could feel no tension in his body.
Leda entered the little burrow they had fashioned into home, and slowly bent just inside the door to put down the basket filled with the tribute the Earth Walkers had paid her that night, before she closed and carefully barred it once more. Then she turned to face her daughter and the pup. “Mari, your father’s Orion seemed to be able to read his mind. Galen explained to me that their bond was an intuitive one, an ability that a canine and his Companion would always share.”
Mari glanced down at Rigel. “He reads my mind?”
“In a way.” Her mother nodded. “Mostly Orion sensed Galen’s emotions, sometimes even before your father had fully thought them through himself.” Leda’s smile was sweet and sad with remembrance. “Orion knew Galen loved me long before he admitted it aloud—or, I think, even to himself.” Leda shook herself and continued. “So, though your bond with Rigel is new I believe we are going to have to test the strength of it.”
“Test? Mama, what do you mean?”
Slowly, Leda approached Mari and the pup. “Ah, I thought so. It is his blood I followed to our door and not yours.” Leda paused and smoothed back a sweaty tendril of hair from her face. Mari noticed her mother’s hand was shaking, and her eyes widened in realization. “Mama, I’m sorry Rigel scared you. I’m okay—I promise. I didn’t go outside. He came to me.”
“Yes, I see that now. There was just so much blood, and it led straight here. I didn’t see you leave the Gathering, Mari. Jenna said it was before it was fully dark, but when I saw the blood…” Leda’s voice trailed off as she wiped quickly at her eyes.
“Oh, Mama! I really am sorry.”
“There is no need for you to apologize, sweet girl. You have done nothing wrong, but I am very much afraid your Shepherd has been severely wounded.”
Mari’s arm tightened automatically around Rigel, who whimpered in pain. She loosened her hold on him instantly. “It’s okay! It’s okay!” she soothed, petting him and letting him nuzzle closer to her. “I’m such a fool, Mama. I’ve been sitting here, holding him and petting him, and the whole time he’s been bleeding and in pain.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Leda squatted in front of them. “This isn’t something you were prepared for.”
“He was limping when he came in.” Mari lifted one of his front paws and turned it so that she and her mother could peer at the pad. “Look, Mama, his paws are punctured and bleeding.”
“It was our brambles that did this,” Leda said. “You’ll have to teach him how to get safely through them, after you be sure there are no thorns embedded in his paws.” She pointed at Rigel’s bloody chest. “I’m more concerned about what’s causing all of that blood.”
Leda quickly wiped her eyes and nose with the back of her sleeve and then gently, oh so gently, brushed aside the thick, soft fur that was soaked with blood, wincing as she exposed the deep lacerations zigzagging Rigel’s chest. The pup began to shiver and pant, but he didn’t so much as whimper, though he did press closer to Mari.
“Mama?” Her gaze found her mother’s as she tried to think through the fear that suddenly seemed to press down on her, smothering her joy.
“It looks like your brave Rigel fought his way through more than our brambles to find you.”
“But will he live?” Even to her own ears, Mari’s voice sounded childlike and pitiful. Rigel whined and licked her face.
“He will live. I will not consider any other alternative, and neither will you—especially as your Rigel knows your fear before you speak it. Be strong for him, Mari.”
Mari nodded and stifled another sob.
“Think of how much you love him already, and not how afraid you are of losing him,” Leda said as she scooted closer to study his wounds. “And also think of what a brave fellow he is.”
“He is brave. He’s brave and beautiful and incredible. I know it—I can feel it.”
“He is all of that and more,” her mother agreed, smiling at Rigel, who thumped his tail in response. Leda extended her open hand to him. With no hesitation, the pup licked her and allowed Leda to stroke the sable fur on his head. “Just as his chosen Companion is brave and beautiful and incredible.” Her mother’s voice shook with emotion as she caressed the pup briefly, and then stood, brushing off her skirts.
“But your Rigel is losing a lot of blood. Those chest wounds must be closed so that he may heal.”
He’d begun to tremble and Mari hugged Rigel closer. “He’s shivering like he’s cold, but it’s warm in here.”
“He’s going into shock. You know this, Mari. I’ve drilled you over and over again about how to treat injuries. Now you must act.”
“But this is so different from listening to your stories and answering your questions. And he’s a canine—not an Earth Walker; I don’t know what to do!”
“Mari, pull your emotions together. We have no time for fear. Dawn is near and the sun is encroaching upon the night’s sky, but a full moon cannot be so easily usurped, especially on a morning as foggy as this one. I can still call down enough energy to stop the bleeding and make him comfortable, but only with your help. He’ll need your help.”
“Anything. I’ll do anything to help Rigel.”
“That’s what I need to hear. The first step of a Healer is to—”
Leda paused, and Mari automatically finished the sentence for her, “Take action over panic.”
“Excellent. Then let us act. I don’t think it’s good for him to walk. Can you carry him? We must go above and seek out the energy that sustains us.”
“He’s big, but I’m strong. I can carry him.” Mari scooped Rigel more securely into her arms. Holding him carefully, she used her legs to lift, and stood. The pup made no sound, but rested his head against her shoulder and continued to shiver and pant.
“We’re ready.” Mari panted, too, with effort, but her face was set with determination. She would carry him, and he would heal.
Leda nodded in approval and then moved purposefully to the door, lifting aside the heavy wooden plank and stepping outside.
Her mother took her walking staff. Just as Mari had, Leda used it to hold aside the razor-tipped bramble bushes that thoroughly hid their home. Leda led the way down, around, and then up another winding path, until they came to the cleared circle built into the ridge above and behind their burrow. Here the old, lovingly tended brambles had grown to a height that towered above their heads, exposing a beautiful clearing and a round section of sky.
“Sit here, in the center, in the arms of the Earth Mother,” Leda said. “Hold Rigel in your lap.”
Wordlessly, Mari obeyed her mother and approached the figure that seemed to be a woman emerging from the earth, half reclining in the very center of their cleared circle. This idol was much like the one at the Gathering Site, though older and even larger. Her skin was the softest of mosses. Her hair, a cascade of verdant maidenhair ferns. Her round face was a perfectly carved piece of obsidian, serene and ever-watchful. Mari automatically bowed to this image of the great Earth Mother, the Goddess with which Leda had such a strong connection, before sitting cross-legged facing the figure, arranging the pup on her lap and hugging him closely. While her mother walked around their clearing, picking from the aromatic beds of herbs that grew in such proliferation there, Mari stared at the Goddess’s perfect face, wishing as she had so many times before that she could feel the connection with the Earth Mother that Leda had.
Leda rested her hands, fragrant with protective rosemary, on he
r daughter’s shoulders, and as if she could read her mind said, “You do not have to hear her voice or feel her presence to know that the great Earth Mother is here. She watches you closely, my sweet girl.”
Mari drew a deep breath, letting her mother’s scent of rosemary calm her, and nodded her head. She may not feel the Goddess’s presence, or hear her voice, but she definitely trusted her mother. Mari leaned back, resting against Leda’s legs and taking comfort from her nearness.
Mari looked up, trying to see through the dawn fog to the sky—trying to get a glimpse of what was left of the night’s brilliant full moon. But all she could see was the bland grayness of a shrouded morning.
“There’s no moon left at all. It’s too late,” Mari said, trying not to cry.
“The moon is there. Seen or unseen, the moon is always there. And with the aid of our Earth Mother, and your help, I can call down her power.”
Leda didn’t waste time seeking that which she knew was there, and Mari didn’t need to look behind her to know what Leda was doing. In her mind’s eye Mari could see her mother spreading her arms, low and wide, and focusing her gray eyes skyward. She knew that, even the slight amount of night not yet chased fully away by the dawn was already causing her mother’s skin to take on the silver flush that cursed all Earth Walkers—except Moon Women—to madness from dusk to dawn. Then her mother began to repeat the invocation in a voice sweet and strong and sure.
“Moon Woman I proclaim myself to be
Greatly gifted I bare myself to thee…”
Against Mari’s back she could feel her mother tremble. “Ready yourself,” Leda told her as she paused in the ritual. “And give me your hand. Place the other on Rigel and focus, Mari. As we have so often practiced, so this night you must do.”