The Only

by Katherine Applegate; Michael Grant

  “Are you sure you know how to do that?” Khara asked Renzo, secretly winking at Tobble and me.

  “What?” Renzo demanded. “You dare question my ability to cast concealing spells on jewels? May I remind you that this is my area of expertise?”

  “I suppose it takes a thief to hide things from thieves,” Tobble said. “Not that I meant to call you a thief,” he added hastily. “I would never wish to insult you!”

  Renzo reached down and hoisted Tobble behind me on my saddle. “Tobble, I am a thief.”

  “You were a thief,” Khara said.

  “Yes, I was a thief,” Renzo said with a wistful sigh. “Now I’m a horse trader.”

  “What do you mean, Renzo?” I asked as I adjusted a stirrup.

  “The Lady Khara is sending me to the Infina to purchase horses.” He said “purchase” with obvious distaste.

  “Yes, purchase,” Khara said. “I’ve entrusted a large number of jewels to you, ex-thief Renzo.”

  Renzo finished settling Tobble in place, positioning tiny stirrups so he could sit more comfortably behind me. Khara stepped close when Renzo turned to her. Quite close, in fact. I noticed Gambler looking away, his eyes smiling, though his face was, as always, intimidating.

  “What makes you think I won’t take the jewels and buy myself a nice farm somewhere safe?”

  “You won’t,” Khara said.

  “You seem very sure,” Renzo said.

  Khara touched his cheek and left her fingers there for what seemed—to me, at least—a long time. Renzo bowed his head and for a moment their foreheads touched. It was not the sort of thing a great lady would do with a thief. Nor was it the kind of thing a thief would dare with a great lady.

  “Oh!” I exclaimed, but quietly, so that only Tobble and Gambler heard me.

  “I believe,” Tobble said, looking at Gambler, “that Byx just figured something out.”

  Gambler nodded. “I believe you’re right.”

  Both of them seemed amused. Clearly I was the last to see what seemed obvious, now that I thought about it: the Lady and the thief were in love.

  I thought of my mother and father. I’d often seen them looking at each other like they were the only two dairnes in the world. It was the single example of love—that kind of love—I’d ever witnessed. Somehow, in my innocent way, I’d imagined that it was only my mother and father who looked at each other that way.

  Khara and Renzo?

  “I am a little slow sometimes,” I confessed.

  “They are of the age for that sort of thing,” said Gambler. The fur on his shoulders rippled in a sort of felivet shrug. I suspected he didn’t disapprove of Khara and Renzo so much as the idea of romance itself. Felivets are solitary animals, for the most part.

  “You’re going with Renzo?” I asked Gambler.

  “I am,” he said. “I would happily go with you, Byx, but the people you are going to see are not fond of my kind.”

  “Perhaps because your kind eats my kind,” Tobble said.

  “Yes,” Gambler said, “that may be it.”

  While Renzo saddled his own horse, Khara came to me, checking every last detail of my pack. When she was satisfied, she said, “Byx, I am sending you and Tobble alone because I think two small creatures on a small horse may not attract the eyes of soldiers looking for trouble.”

  “Yes.” I forced a smile. “We’ll be fine.”

  Khara looked at the two of us, the dairne and the wobbyk, and nodded. “You two are unlikely heroes, maybe, but I believe in you.”

  I heard Tobble stifle a sob.

  “Now, listen to me,” Khara said, dropping her voice. “This is the second part of your mission, Byx. I have complete faith in you. But you’ve been through much in your short life. I worry for you and Tobble sometimes. I don’t know what lies ahead, but we are on the precipice of war, and war changes people. I want you to stay true to what you believe. Whatever comes, remember who you are.”

  “Yes, my lady,” I said, suddenly formal, even as I wondered again if the old Byx even existed anymore.

  “Sabito and Stimball are flying to friendly rookeries to gather support. They will meet you to help transport the wobbyks you’ll have recruited.”

  “You sound so confident,” I said.

  “That’s because I am.”

  I heard a clattering of hooves. General Varis charged up on his horse, a chestnut beast twice the size of Havoc.

  “Good, you haven’t left yet.” He swung down out of his saddle—quite gracefully, given his size—and retrieved something from a leather bag. “I have a gift.”

  He unwrapped a fabric covering to reveal a small, teardrop-shaped shield made of wood and boiled leather.

  “It should be about your size, Byx,” said the general. “You hold it like this.” He mimed slipping an arm through the straps. He couldn’t very well stick his actual arm through, as it was the size of my two legs put together. “The round part at the top covers your body. The pointed part at the bottom will protect your legs if you are riding.”

  “That is very kind of you, General,” I said. “Thank you. I have no way to repay you.”

  “Yes, you do,” he said, returning to his usual warrior self. “Accomplish the mission the Lady has given you and I shall be more than repaid.”

  I attempted a salute, like I’d seen some of the soldiers do. He returned it. At which point Tobble decided he’d better salute, too, although he ended up poking himself in the eye.

  We rode away, yelling our goodbyes, feeling hopeful, excited, and fearful all at once.

  14

  Goodbye to Maxyn

  We hadn’t gone far when, just outside the camp, I saw Maxyn standing alone.

  “Maxyn!” I called. “Are you waiting for someone?”

  “For you.” He offered a hesitant smile. “Of course.”

  I dismounted so he wouldn’t have to gaze up at me. And because I sensed he wished to speak privately.

  “It’s good to see you walking more,” I said.

  “I still need my crutch from time to time. But I am definitely improved. Enough, it seems, that I, too, have a mission to perform for the Lady.”

  “Oh?” I said. It surprised me to hear that Khara would assign work to Maxyn so soon. But she needed to use every talent at her disposal, and dairnes like Maxyn and me did, after all, have a unique ability.

  “I’m to board a small ship at the mouth of the Telarno.”

  “A ship?” I asked. “We have a ship?”

  “No, but there’s a pirate ship.”

  “What? You’re going away with pirates?”

  “These pirates have made trouble for themselves with the natites,” he explained. “They’re extremely interested in getting back into Queen Pavionne’s good graces. The Lady says we’ll be watched closely by unseen natite eyes.”

  I touched his shoulder. “But where are you going?”

  “To the lost colony,” he said. “I’m to sail clear around Nedarra to the Pellago River. I’m not well enough to ride a horse for any great distance.”

  I frowned. The lost colony was a tiny, isolated dairne fishing village. “Does Khara expect you to bring dairnes to the fight?”

  “No. I think the Lady understands I’m no warrior.” Maxyn threw up his hands. “She’s looking ahead to the hoped-for peace. She doesn’t seek dairne swords. She seeks dairne truth telling.”

  I gazed at my fellow dairne, my gentle mirror. “I’m sorry to be leaving you, Maxyn. I wish we’d had more time to become better friends.”

  I wasn’t quite sure what I meant. Had I hoped Maxyn would become as dear to me as Tobble? Or was I talking about the way Khara and Renzo were friends?

  Gambler had said the two humans were of the age for things like romance. But I didn’t think I was. And in any case, I didn’t seem to feel that way about Maxyn.

  Still, our connection was unique. We were two dairnes in a world with far too few of our kind remaining. After the slaughter of my family and
village, I’d traveled Nedarra convinced I was an endling until the moment I’d seen Maxyn and his father. That memory would be etched in my heart forever.

  “I fear you have the harder path ahead, Byx. I’ll be lolling about the ship, lying in the sun and dining every night on fresh fish.” He looked over his shoulder, making sure Tobble couldn’t overhear. “The thing is, I . . .”

  “What’s wrong, Maxyn?”

  “Nothing.”

  “It’s all right. You can tell me.”

  “Byx, I’m not brave like you.” His words poured out like tears. “Tell me how to do it. Tell me how you do it.”

  My mouth hung open. “I . . . I . . . What?”

  “You went face-to-face with a Knight of the Fire. You stood before the Murdano without crumbling. You saved the dairne colony.”

  His last reference made me queasy. It had been my idea to float fire ships into a Marsonian blockade of the colony. Many—far too many—Marsonians had died because of me.

  The old Byx would never have done such a thing.

  “I was scared all the while,” I admitted.

  “You, scared?”

  “Terrified,” I said. And of course, being a dairne, Maxyn knew I spoke the truth. “I don’t think you can stop being scared, Maxyn. I don’t think that’s what it means to be brave. I think being brave means being afraid and still doing what you must do.”

  Even, I added silently, if it means abandoning your childhood self. Even if it means becoming someone cold and calculating. Someone capable of rationalizing brutality in the service of a greater good.

  “Perhaps,” Maxyn said. He sounded dubious.

  “Maxyn, whatever comes, remember who you are.” I felt like a fraud, parroting words Khara had spoken to me just minutes earlier. But I’m no speechmaker. I didn’t know how to sound inspiring.

  Maxyn cocked his head, smiling shyly. “Do you ever wonder what will happen to us when all this”—he waved his hand toward the army encampment—“is over?”

  “Not really,” I admitted.

  “Will we go to live with other dairnes?” Maxyn asked. “Start new colonies? New . . . families?”

  “I suppose,” I said. “But for now, this is my family. I guess I’m afraid to think that far ahead, you know?”

  “Fare you well, Byx,” Maxyn said, his dark eyes shimmering. He waved to Tobble. “And safe travels to you, friend Tobble!”

  We embraced, a bit awkwardly. I climbed back into my saddle and off we went. Every so often I turned back to see Maxyn, watching us disappear from view. I felt a stubborn lump in my throat and hot tears threatening.

  Be resolute, I told myself. You’ll see Maxyn again. You’ll see all your friends soon enough.

  In the meantime, I had a map. I had a small sword and a shield. I had jewels in my pouch. I had my faithful Havoc. And I had my dear friend Tobble.

  All I had to do was something that had never been done before, knowing that the armies of two nations would happily see me dead.

  “This will be fun,” Tobble said, without any conviction whatsoever.

  “An adventure,” I said, my tone just as flat. “Though I don’t like being separated from everyone.”

  Tobble nudged me with his nose. “You’re not separated from me.”

  “You know what I mean, Tobble. Khara and the Army of Peace are in danger. We won’t have any way of knowing what’s happening to them until it’s too late.”

  Tobble fell silent. Nothing he could say would comfort me, because we both knew I was right. We would simply have to tolerate the horrible uncertainty.

  Of course, I reminded myself, that was true of all of life, wasn’t it? I recalled something my father, who loved wise sayings and proverbs, used to say: “The only thing certain is uncertainty.” How right he’d been.

  We rode all day. For two hours we followed the Telarno north before turning westward into forested terrain toward our final goal, Bossyp.

  I have some experience of forests now. And I can say that some are lovely, lush places, carpeted by fallen leaves and populated with docile creatures.

  You get a feel for the character of a forest. Some of them almost seem to invite you in.

  We were not entering one of those forests.

  On the map, the stretch of dense trees had no name. But before we’d departed that morning, Bodick the Blue had taken Tobble and me aside.

  “I argued with myself about whether to tell you this,” she began, which was not an encouraging start. “I don’t wish to frighten you, Byx. But I know things about the forest you’ll be riding through. Things few others know.”

  Definitely not an encouraging start.

  “There’s a reason the forest isn’t named on the map. You see, a very long time ago, before the flood, even before Urman’s yew, there was a magician, a sorcerer. And you must understand that in those long-ago days, theurgy wasn’t the weak force it is now, used only for small, temporary spells. Back then, magic was very powerful, and no magician was more powerful than”—Bodick looked around nervously—“than Gaziko. And the reason that no map shows the name of the forest is that its true name is Gaziko’s Ezkutak.”

  “What a strange-sounding name,” said Tobble.

  “It’s an ancient tongue, a language of evil.” Bodick shuddered.

  “But surely this magician is long dead?” I said. “Any spells would have faded by now, right?”

  Bodick forced a doubtful smile. “I’m sure that’s true,” she said. “But I felt you should be told nonetheless.”

  Now, facing a phalanx of dark, enormous trees, we recalled Bodick’s warning. But even without her words, I would have felt something wrong about the forest ahead.

  Even before she’d told us that Ezkutak was the ancient word for horror.

  “Centuries ago,” Tobble muttered under his breath as we rode beneath the trees. “It was all centuries ago.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, inhaling the dank odor of moss and decay. “Long, long ago. And it’s a large forest, many square miles. Whatever this evil wizard did or didn’t do, it would have been in some small part of the forest, not all of it.”

  “Of course,” Tobble agreed.

  On we went, trying to talk ourselves out of our fears.

  But horses don’t understand speech. They know only what they feel. And judging by his hesitant steps and low-hung head, Havoc didn’t like this forest. Not at all.

  And it turned out he was right.

  15

  Gaziko’s Ezkutak

  As we ventured into the gloomy forest, the trail petered out, and we were left to find our way on our own. As long as the sun remained in the sky, we knew our direction, but the days were growing ever shorter as winter approached. Once night fell, we wouldn’t be able to see the stars through the dense canopy of tree limbs.

  At the border of the forest, we’d faced tall, straight evergreens with branches so high on the trunks that we could easily skirt most of them. But as we continued, the evergreens vanished, replaced by gnarled, misshapen oaks and drooping, black-leaved tyru trees.

  We pressed on, knowing that every minute was precious if we were to accomplish our goal. But the darkness grew ever deeper, until I couldn’t even see Havoc’s nose.

  I tried for a happy voice. “Well, I suppose we’re going to have to make camp here. The ground’s flat and dry. And I hear a stream nearby. At least we’ll be able to refill our waterskins.”

  “I don’t like this place,” Tobble said, clearly not fooled by my attempt at optimism.

  “Come on, Tobble. Are we really going to be frightened by tales of long-gone evil?”

  “Yes,” Tobble said. “We definitely are.”

  “You’ll feel better when we get a fire going. A nice little fire. That’s what we need.”

  We found plenty of dead branches and fallen tree trunks, but it was so dark that we had to drop to all fours and feel around for each piece. An hour passed before we had a decent fire, and by that time we were both quite hungry
.

  Even with the fire going, we could see only a few feet in any direction. We ate in silence, listening to the stream gurgling. Finding it would have to wait for morning. When we’d finished eating, I hung a sack of oats over Havoc’s head, and Tobble and I laid out our bedrolls.

  Given my nerves, I didn’t expect to fall asleep. For his part, Tobble vowed to stay alert all night. But after just a few minutes, I heard his familiar singsong snoring, and that sound, along with a hard day of riding, allowed my weariness to overcome fear.

  The next morning, I woke with a start. Tobble was looking down at me, his hand on my shoulder. His eyes were even larger than usual. And he was trembling.

  I blinked, adjusting to the sickly gray light. “What is it?” I asked.

  Tobble couldn’t speak. He could only stare.

  I stood, and then I saw.

  Not a hundred yards distant was a desolate clearing. At its center was a large mound, ten times my own height. A mound made completely of bones.

  “It’s some . . . some kind of . . . ,” I began, but I had no idea what it was. What natural explanation could there be for this mountain of bones? And even if there was one, it wouldn’t have explained what we saw next.

  The trees surrounding us weren’t simply trunks, branches, and leaves. Each and every tree had grown in and around and through skeletons.

  Closest to us was what appeared to be a human skeleton several feet off the ground. A foot protruded through dark leaves. Out of a low branch, a bony hand seemed to point to the sky. When I focused my unwilling eyes, a skull stared vacantly back at me from just inside a deep cleft in the tree.

  Tobble hugged my waist, his head half-buried in my fur.

  “What is this place?” I asked in a strangled voice. “What kind of monster would have made it?”

  “We can’t . . . we can’t . . . we can’t go on!” said Tobble. “This is a cursed place!”

  I put an arm around his shoulders, comforting him. But I needed comforting as well, because Tobble was not wrong. This was an evil place.

  “What was that?” Tobble yelped.

  “What?” I demanded.

  “I heard something. Like a whisper.”