by P. C. Cast
“Hey, we will get through this. One day at a time,” Wilkes said. “Someday you’ll be telling this tale to our rebuilt Tribe with a new generation of youngsters all big eyed over the story while we oldsters cheer and drink too much winter beer.”
Ralina was almost smiling when from the ancient, uninhabited forest behind them came the sounds of boisterous Tribesmen approaching. Wilkes thought he might be hearing things—that he might have been driven mad by death and the stress of the past days—because why would anyone be laughing and joking at a time like this?
Thaddeus and a small group of his Hunters burst through the underbrush. They were carrying big leather satchels—the kind used to strap supplies on Shepherds’ backs if they were on long forage trips with their Companions. And the Hunters were laughing and joking with one another.
The Hunters were laughing and joking with one another.
With Ralina beside him, Wilkes stood and turned slowly to meet the group, trying to keep a hold on his rising temper.
“Wilkes! Ha! There you are. Wait till you see what we found—medical supplies! A lot of them. Can you believe our luck?” Thaddeus said, tossing one of the satchels to Wilkes, who caught it, glanced at its contents, and handed it to a gray-faced Ralina.
“Bandages and salves,” Ralina said.
“Yeah! And there’s more in the rest of the satchels, as well as a fairly large amount of herbs and tinctures. See? Lucky find! Right, Storyteller? This would make a great tale, don’t you think?” Thaddeus’s men nodded with their Leader, but Wilkes noticed none of them were as animated as him.
“I’m not sure,” Ralina said, her voice hard and flat. “Great tales need heroism and heart.”
“Perfect! We have plenty of that!” Thaddeus spoke as if he were onstage, putting on a show for his men.
Ralina didn’t answer but turned her face from him in disgust.
“Of course there are a few supplies missing. I used them to pack Odysseus’s wound. He’ll be good as new soon! Won’t you, boy?” He bent to pat the little Terrier on the head, but the canine wasn’t by his side—which Thaddeus seemed to just notice. He stood and whistled sharply. A yip came from the trees behind the group of Hunters. “Odysseus! Come on! Hurry up!”
Wilkes watched the little Terrier limp into the clearing. He went to his Companion and collapsed by Thaddeus’s feet.
“Have you had one of the apprentice Healers check out Odysseus’s wound?” Ralina asked. “His limp looks pretty bad.”
“Ah, he’ll be fine—especially after I doctored him with those medicines.”
“Where did you find them? I thought the infirmary burned,” Wilkes said.
“It did! But the Healers loaded as much as they could onto their Shepherds, and then sent them out of the infirmary. We found them not far from here.”
Wilkes looked behind the group but saw nothing. He glanced at Odin and Bear, who weren’t giving any sign that there were Shepherds to greet. Feeling sick, he met Thaddeus’s gaze. “Where are the Shepherds now?”
“Back there where we found them. I was going to drop off the supplies at the meditation platform and then find you to see what you wanted to do about them,” Thaddeus said.
“But I don’t understand. Why didn’t they come with you?” Ralina asked.
“Because they are all dead,” Wilkes said.
Thaddeus nodded. “Yeah, you guessed it. Strangest thing I’ve ever seen. The Shepherds were curled up together. Thought they were sleeping at first. But they were already stiff. Been dead since last night, but they weren’t burned, and I didn’t see any wounds on them, either.”
Wilkes forced himself to control his anger. Slowly, he stepped over the log and approached Thaddeus. Wilkes could feel Odin by his side. He could also feel the rage that burned within his Companion, mirroring his own. He stopped a hand span from the Hunter. Wilkes noticed that even before he spoke the other Hunters had moved back and were watching him warily.
“How dare you come here laughing and joking. Those Shepherds—those heroes—willed themselves to die because they couldn’t bear the horror of the deaths of their Companions. They felt their Companions suffer and burn! Can you even imagine the agony of that? And still they brought medicine to us—still they thought of the Tribe, even in the immensity of their grief and pain. What is wrong with you, Thaddeus?” Wilkes said.
“What’s wrong with all of you?” Ralina’s red-eyed glare took in the group of the Hunters as she hurled words at the men. “They are the heroes! Not you! Their sacrifice is the stuff of legends and bittersweet tales, and you came here laughing and joking after discovering their bodies!” The Hunters behind Thaddeus looked away, unable to meet Ralina’s gaze.
Thaddeus had no such problem. “We found medicine! Things that will help our Tribe. That’s what we were celebrating. I didn’t realize we needed to check with the Tribe’s Storyteller or the Leader of the Warriors first!” Thaddeus puffed up his chest and balled his fists by his sides.
Wilkes stared at him in disgust. “You don’t get it at all, do you? Sunfire! You were truly not affected by the deaths of those canines.”
“They’re dead. Nothing can bring them back. I choose to focus on the living. So do my Hunters.”
“This isn’t the way of the Tribe. This is your way, Thaddeus,” Ralina said.
“And your way is disgusting,” Wilkes added.
“It’s a new time, Warrior. Get used to it,” Thaddeus said with a sneer.
He started to brush past Wilkes, bumping him hard with his shoulder, obviously trying to throw him off balance. In his hand a knife suddenly appeared, and he brandished it at Wilkes.
Ralina cried, “He has a blade!”
Wilkes moved with the instincts of a well-trained Warrior. In an instant he had Thaddeus’s arm bent behind his back, twisting it until the knife fell harmlessly to the ground. Then, with one quick kick, he knocked the Hunter’s legs out from under him, sending him to sprawl, face-first, on the forest floor.
Odysseus snarled, and as the Hunters gasped in shock the little Terrier launched himself at Wilkes. In a movement so swift that his body blurred, Odin intercepted the canine, knocking him over, rolling him, and then pinning him to the ground, his huge jaws open and ready to rip out the Terrier’s exposed underbelly.
“Submit!” Wilkes’s abused voice growled along with his Shepherd. “Or I will let Odin kill him.”
Wilkes watched Thaddeus’s anger-filled gaze flick to his downed Terrier, and for a moment he actually thought the Hunter would refuse and cause his Companion’s death—and as Wilkes realized that, he finally understood just how dangerous Thaddeus had become and how very badly he needed to be banished from the Tribe.
“Submit!” Wilkes repeated.
“Do it,” Thaddeus told his Terrier. “Submit to him.”
Odysseus struggled for a moment longer, and then the Terrier’s body relaxed and he stretched his neck back, ritualistically offering it to a canine who was Alpha over him. Odin sniffed at the littler canine’s neck and then the big Shepherd lifted his leg and relieved himself on the Terrier’s belly before allowing him to get up.
Ralina went to Thaddeus’s dropped knife and picked it up, tucking it into her leather belt. She gave the Hunter a disgusted look, saying, “This blade is forfeit because you raised it against a Tribesman. Consider yourself lucky that we have no ruling Council right now, as you would surely be banished, or worse, for what you just tried to do.”
Wilkes released Thaddeus. “You may still be banished. Tribal Law is Tribal Law, whether there is a Council or not. No Companion may take up arms against another—on pain of banishment or death. Consider yourself lucky if all you get is banishment. I’m the third Tribesman you’ve raised a weapon against.”
Thaddeus wiped dirt and moss from his clothes as he glared at Wilkes. “Don’t be so sure of yourself. In case you’re too bound by the past to notice, let me be the first to tell you—the old Tribe is no more! I have a feeling things are g
oing to be a lot different in the future—the very near future. Watch yourself, Warrior. You’re right. I did raise my weapon against other Tribesmen—traitors—you would do well to remember how that went for them. One is dead. One is on the run.” Thaddeus made a sharp gesture to his men. “Let’s get these supplies to the wounded. Maybe they’ll appreciate them.” He turned his back on Wilkes and Ralina and stalked away, with Odysseus limping at his side and the Hunters following as they cast looks that ranged from apologetic to angry at Wilkes.
“That’s bad. Really bad,” Ralina said when the forest had swallowed the group. “There’s something incredibly wrong with that man. And I’ve never liked Odysseus—he’s always been too quick with his teeth—but Thaddeus doesn’t seem concerned at all that his Companion is wounded.”
“By his own hand,” Wilkes said. “But Thaddeus isn’t one for taking blame or cleaning up after his mistakes—ever.”
“Exactly.…” She paused and then added, “He was talking about Sol and Nik, wasn’t he? Tell me that bastard didn’t just brag about killing our Sun Priest and chasing away his son.”
“That’s exactly what he was doing.” Wilkes stared after the Hunters. “And I think it’s even worse than that. I think Thaddeus’s hatred has begun to spread to his men.”
“And from there, it could easily spread to the Tribe,” Ralina finished for Wilkes. “We can’t let that happen.”
“I’m afraid it already has,” Wilkes said. “Come on. Let’s gather the Warriors and see what we can do to help the wounded. They’re more important than Thaddeus’s hate right now. Let’s hope if we ignore him Thaddeus will fade into the background of the Tribe.”
“I can’t believe Companions will actually follow him. He’s mean, self-serving, and full of spite. Our people will see the truth about him.”
“I hope so, Ralina,” Wilkes said sadly.
Slowly, the two Companions began walking back to the meditation platform. Neither of them saw the two men, bodies painted with the camouflaging colors of the forest, rise from the concealment of a mound of forest debris and retreat silently back into the cover of the ancient trees.
* * *
Death could hardly contain His glee. It was happening just as He had intended! He tapped into Dead Eye’s memories and knew the Tribesman the Others called Thaddeus was the human who had been infected with the skin sloughing disease. Since canine flesh had merged with the human, Thaddeus had obviously grown stronger, angrier, and more discontented. It seemed he was even responsible for the death of a Leader and for the blaze that had decimated his people. And now that the Hunter’s Companion canine was wounded Death chuckled low in His throat.
“It is all going even better than I planned,” He said, more to Himself than to Iron Fist, who jogged beside Him.
“How so, my Lord?”
“I have divided the Others, and that division is going to be their undoing.” The God paused and chuckled again. “Well, that and a little help from Death.”
“Are we going to gather our men and attack now that they’re weak and wounded?”
Death held on to His patience, reminding Himself that Iron Fist was only a man, and not a very bright man at that. “No. We are not. You are my Blade. You must learn to think beyond your base emotions. Did you not hear the Warrior recount how many of the Others are dead?”
“I surely did, my Lord! Over two thousand. That is why I thought—”
“No!” The curt word silenced the God’s Blade instantly. “Did you not hear the rest of it?”
“That there are another five hundred wounded?”
Death stifled a sigh. “Yes, but beyond that the Warrior let it be known that there are still another two thousand of their people alive, many of them Warriors and Hunters. They vastly outnumber us.”
“Oh. Oh, I see. Then what are we to do?”
“We?” Death laughed again. “First, I am going to use the opening that little canine has provided and use it to draw Thaddeus closer to me.”
“My Lord, forgive me, but I do not understand,” Iron Fist said.
Because He enjoyed reasoning through His plan aloud, Death decided to enlighten His Blade. “It’s quite simple. I’ve already touched Thaddeus. He is primed to hear my voice. Imagine if he chooses me—even over his bonded Companion. Imagine the chaos he would cause within his Tribe.”
“You’re going to ask him to join us? To become a Reaper?”
“Not so blatantly, but yes,” Death said. “I am going to present him with a choice.”
“Do you want me to follow him? Perhaps take him captive again—with his canine—and bring him to You, my Lord?” Iron Fist asked.
“No, I have a better way to reach Thaddeus. His wounded Terrier has provided it for me.”
“I still don’t understand.”
Death blew out a long breath, wishing He had someone to talk with who wasn’t a complete dolt. “The creature—the canine—he is wounded. Badly enough that he is susceptible to my touch, even from a distance. And if he is susceptible to me, so his Companion will be. Watch and learn, my Blade. There is much for us to do.”
“Give me a task, my Lord! What would You have me do?”
“The next task is not yours. Lizard, though, is going to do everything.”
The God was pleased that Iron Fist asked no further questions, and He increased his speed so that the man would have to strain to keep up with Him. It wasn’t long before they came to the place they had left Lizard, hidden far enough from the Tribe that their sharp-nosed canines wouldn’t alert on the scent of rot that clung to the diseased man.
“My Lord!” Lizard went to his knees as the God and His Blade approached. “How is it with the Others?”
“It is even better than I hoped. The Tribe of the Trees is very close to self-destructing,” said the God. “All they need is a small gift from Death to complete the process.” He walked to the sick man and gently lifted him to his feet. “I need you to do something for me, Lizard.”
“Anything, my Lord!” he said without hesitation.
“Anything, even if it is unpleasant?” Death asked.
“Yes, my Lord.”
The God rested His hands on the man’s shoulders. “Your fidelity pleases me greatly, Lizard.” Death turned to Iron Fist and commanded his Blade, “Go. Find evidence of hog scat. We weren’t far from here the day the boar crossed the stream. There must be others about. I will wait here with Lizard.”
Iron Fist looked surprised but bowed and sprinted off.
“Come, sit.” The God gestured beside Him. “This shouldn’t take long. The fire has caused the beasts of the forest to be out of sorts.”
“And Iron Fist is our best Hunter,” Lizard said. With a groan he sat beside the God.
Death studied him. “Is your pain great?”
“It is nothing for You to be concerned about, my Lord,” Lizard said quickly.
“And yet I am. Answer my question truthfully.”
Lizard’s gaze fell to the forest floor. “My pain is great.”
“Are you weary of it?”
His eyes found the God. “I am.”
“Ah, I can see that. Your suffering will soon be over.”
Lizard’s pale face lit with hope. “Thank You, my Lord!”
“Rest now. You will need all of your strength for what is to come.”
Lizard did as the God commanded. He closed his eyes and slumped to his side, sighing wearily. As he fell into a fitful sleep, Death dismissed him from His thoughts. Instead, He meditated, entering a dreamlike state, searching … searching …
With little effort, the God found the bitter connection that linked Him to the small, wounded Terrier named Odysseus. He followed the thin thread of pain, feeling with the immortal sixth sense that had connected Him to humanity and the mortal world for countless ages.
The God could not see the creature. He could only feel Odysseus—his pain, his stress, and the heat that was building in his little body as it tried to fight off
infection.
Hear me, small one, Death whispered to the wounded canine.
The canine’s attention shifted inward as the Terrier suddenly found the thread that connected him with Death.
Yes! That’s it! Hear me, small one. Open to me! Your wound has made us close! Now, let us grow even closer.…
Death could feel the canine’s consciousness retreating fearfully from Him, fleeing to Thaddeus as he sought comfort from his Companion.
And that was when Death struck.
The God followed the canine’s deep and mystical connection with his Companion directly to Thaddeus’s mind. Once there, Death carefully, gently, probed—and was instantly rewarded by the knowledge that this mortal’s mind hungered for one thing beyond all else: power. Which meant Thaddeus was ripe for Harvest.
You can have more, Death whispered to the Hunter. You deserve more. All you need is power.…
“We need more power!” Thaddeus’s sharp voice echoed back to the God as Death listened to Thaddeus lecture the men gathered around him. “If we’re going to build the Tribe back to what it used to be, we need more power.”
“What kind of power do you mean, Thaddeus?” a man asked.
“Leadership! The only kind of power that counts,” Thaddeus said.
“That’s already happened,” said another man. “You’re the Leader of us, your Hunters, now.”
“I’m not talking about just being Lead Hunter,” Thaddeus said. “I’m talking about Leading the Tribe.”
“Sounds good, but it’ll never happen,” said the first man. “Not as long as our Companions are Terriers and not Shepherds.”
Death felt the surge of anger that flooded Thaddeus. Yes, you should be angry, the God prodded. Embrace it! Accept it! Use it! And don’t let them tell you what you can’t do.
“Stop telling me what I can’t do!” Thaddeus’s anger exploded around him.
Into an uncomfortable silence, another Hunter spoke up.
“Uh, Thaddeus, I heard that some of the people are saying we need to do what that Scratcher girl said—swear that we won’t take captives anymore and grant her safe passage so that she can heal our wounded.”