by P. C. Cast
“All right. When are we going?”
“We?”
“Do we really need to go over this again? I’m with you, Wilkes.” Claudia coughed, grimaced, and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “No matter how terrible I feel.”
“Okay then. You’re with me.” Wilkes checked the sky. “It’s only about three hours until dusk. To keep Thaddeus from following, we’re going to need to leave when he wouldn’t expect us to.”
“Which means dusk,” Claudia said. “I’ll put together the travel kits. He doesn’t watch me like he does you.”
“Be sure you grab torches and tinder. Once we’re far enough from the Tribe, we’ll light them. They’ll keep the wolf spiders away, if nothing else.”
“Got it. Where are we meeting?” Claudia asked.
“East of here, at the edge of our city.” Wilkes jerked his chin at the ruined forest to his right. “If you get stopped you can always say you’re foraging.”
Claudia nodded. “The travel packs would look like I thought I might get caught out after dark. Makes sense. At dusk, then?”
“At dusk. Let’s go back to camp in different directions. No one should know you’re with me.”
“Agreed,” said Claudia.
They shook hands somberly before separating. Invigorated, Wilkes kicked into a jog, with Odin by his side. The world around Wilkes might have gone mad, but he was determined to hold on to his sanity and to warn Nik—and that determination carried him forward into the unknown.
* * *
“Fix him!” Thaddeus spewed spittle into Ralina’s face as she turned to look at him over Odysseus’s fever-ravaged body.
“I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do. Whether Odysseus lives or dies is up to him.” Ralina’s voice was filled with pity as she wiped a sleeve across her face.
“That’s bullshit! What did the others say? The other Healers?”
Ralina sighed. “Thaddeus, they said the same after they examined him. Odysseus’s wound is infected. Badly. It’s been packed with herbs and sealed with honey, but he’s stopped drinking and eating. If he doesn’t fight he’s going to die.”
“No.” Thaddeus scooped up Odysseus, shocked anew at how light his Terrier felt in his arms—as if he was already fading away. “No,” he repeated. “You said the fever is killing him?”
“Well, yes. But he only has a fever because of the infection. The knife wound was deep. It got dirty, which isn’t surprising in all of this.” Ralina gestured around them at the ruined forest. “If he fights off the infection, the fever will break.”
“I’ll get the sun-be-damned fever to break—no thanks to you or our pathetic Healers.” Holding Odysseus close to him, Thaddeus strode away as Ralina stared sadly after him, shaking her head.
Thaddeus walked blindly—not choosing any direction, letting his feet guide him. And as he walked, he kept up a steady stream of words to Odysseus.
“They say you’re too hot. Okay. Well. Let’s find a stream and cool you off. You’ll be good as new in no time. Then you and I will go after that bitch who caused this, and we’ll get our payback. Doesn’t that sound good, big guy?”
Odysseus opened his eyes. They were rimmed with red and looked brighter than normal. His tail wagged weakly.
“I knew it! Don’t you worry. You’ll be fine soon, and Nik and Mari will get what they deserve.”
And you deserve power! The thought exploded through his mind—foreign, yet familiar, and becoming more and more familiar.
I wonder if I’m going mad, Thaddeus thought.
Does it matter as long as you rule?
I don’t have a Shepherd. I can’t rule the Tribe of the Trees.
And yet you can, if you have the power to take rather than ask permission!
Thaddeus kept walking—not noticing that the sun was dropping lower and lower in the sky. Not noticing when he entered the edge of Earth Walker territory. All he noticed was the conversation going on within his mind. He didn’t come to himself until he heard the sound of water. Thaddeus blinked, as if awaking after a long sleep. He looked around, hardly believing where his feet had taken him.
Thaddeus recognized the clearing instantly.
“This is where that Scratcher bitch’s mother died.” He glanced down at Odysseus, who barely opened his fever-bright eyes. “See? There’s a creek here and those stupid statue things the Scratchers grow. Let’s get you some water, big guy.”
Gently, Thaddeus crouched beside the edge of the crystal creek, easing Odysseus from his arms and supporting him as he pointed his cracked muzzle toward the water.
“Go on, drink. It’ll help you.”
Odysseus whined softly and turned his head away.
“Look, you have to try. I know you’re not going to like this, but I’m going to hold you in the water.” As Thaddeus spoke, he unwrapped the bandage from around the Terrier’s flank. The scent of rot lifted from the oozing wound. Thaddeus ignored it. “I’m going to carry you into the water. It’ll wash some of that puss and crap out of the wound and cool you down.”
But as Thaddeus lifted his Companion and began carrying him farther into the creek, the Terrier started whining in earnest and squirming so violently that his wound completely broke open.
“Hey, hey! Stop. Okay, okay. I’ll wait a little while.”
Feeling hollow, Thaddeus sloughed from the creek with Odysseus in his arms. He made his way to one of the ridiculous statues and collapsed next to it, leaning against it as he placed Odysseus on the soft moss beside him.
Odysseus’s eyes were closed tightly, but he was panting and whining softly.
I have to help him! I have to stop his pain! Thaddeus screamed in silent impotence. I can’t lose him!
Then, miraculously, the words that had been drifting through Thaddeus’s mind came to him once again, only this time they felt different—as if they were flowing directly from Odysseus.
You’ll never lose Odysseus. Your flesh has joined. Your spirits can now join, too. It is simple. But you must choose. If you choose Life … your Companion will be healed and all will eventually go back to how it used to be. You will be a Hunter, but not the Lead Hunter. Your Tribe will be led, but not by you.
If you choose Death … your Companion’s life will end, but it will fuel a new life for you. Death will lend you power. Death will let you rule. And Odysseus shall always be with you.
Thaddeus went to his knees in front of Odysseus. The little Terrier was lying on his side. His panting was fast and pain filled. Thaddeus framed him with his hands.
“Odysseus, can you hear that?”
The canine opened his eyes and looked directly at his Companion, sending Thaddeus waves of pain and sadness and, finally, acceptance.
“You can hear that! What do I do? What do we do?”
Make your choice. Now!
Slowly, Odysseus shifted his body so that he could bare his neck and belly in open submission to his Companion, though his gaze still met and held Thaddeus’s.
He wants to die, Thaddeus realized.
You must choose.
Thaddeus’s answer exploded from within him. “Death!”
Thaddeus watched as the bright light that had always shined from Odysseus’s eyes faded … faded … and went dark.
He bowed his head and pressed his face against the Terrier’s motionless side, and Thaddeus sobbed his grief and rage—not noticing that from Odysseus’s body the verdant moss around them began to curl and die, turning the image of the reclining Goddess as wilted, as ruined, as Thaddeus’s heart.
And now your true future begins. Listen and learn what you must do to create your followers.…
As Thaddeus dug into the mound of ruined moss, dirt, fern, and vines that made up the Goddess idol and at last placed his Terrier to rest, Death continued to whisper dark words to the grieving Hunter, and Thaddeus listened. He listened very well.
CHAPTER 31
As dusk fell on the City, Death stepped out onto the Balcony of the God. He fel
t good—great actually. That the angry little Tribesman had chosen Death had been a delightful surprise. It had taken only a few whispers to shift the mortal’s destiny—to link it with His own and then send him back into the Tribe.
“And they shall continue to rot from the inside out,” He murmured to Himself. Then He moved to the lip of the balcony and shouted, “Light the fires!”
Below Him Reapers grabbed torches and held them to the bonfire that blazed in the middle of the courtyard. Then they touched the firepots, which roared to life, casting flickering light and shadow around the gathered People who were all staring reverently up at their God.
Death surveyed His army and was pleased. His People stretched, wheel-like, around and beyond the courtyard, and as more and more firepots were lit He could see their bright, eager expressions all upturned to Him. The carcasses of several animals roasted over the central bonfire. Death recognized four rabbits, three turkeys, a small boar, and even a young deer. The People had been busy doing as He’d commanded. His Blade had already reported as much to the God. Groups of the People had scattered into the forest, tracking and capturing creatures untainted by the poisons of the City. Under the watchful eyes of His Reapers, they had flayed the skin from the living creatures and joined that warm, healthy flesh with their own. Then they sacrificed each creature—quickly, with gratitude—and brought the carcasses back to feast upon. Death could already feel the difference in His people. Their energy was stronger. The young males were beginning to visit Dove’s Attendants to take their ease in the arms of women blessed by service to the Oracle. He laughed to himself. Soon her Attendants will know what it is to be in service to a Goddess.
He spread his arms wide, as if He would embrace them all.
“You have obeyed me, and see what riches you have already begun to receive! Tell me, are you stronger today than you were yesterday?”
“Yes!” the People shouted.
“Tomorrow you will be stronger, and the next day stronger yet. And on the fourth day, at dusk, we will take the City in the Trees as I have foretold, as I have commanded, as I have promised my People!”
The cheers lifting from the courtyard sounded like the roar of a great, insatiable beast. The sound thrilled Death. He gazed down at His People and noticed that they completely avoided one area of the courtyard—the place He’d hurled the mighty metal trident, killing the last of His dissenters. Death turned His head.
“Dove!” He shouted.
Instantly He heard the sound of her small, soft feet against the cracked tile of the God’s chamber.
“I am here, my Lord.”
Her voice pleased Him, though Death knew the truth was that she was terrified of Him—she might even hate Him. Mentally, He shrugged off the thought of her fear and hatred. It mattered little. She had a pleasing body and a gentle voice. She would make an excellent shell for His beloved.
“Little bird, have your Attendants send for Iron Fist. Tell him I want the remains of the traitors cut away from the trident and burned. Not in our courtyard fire, though. Burn them far away from my Temple.”
“And the trident, my Lord?”
“What of it?”
“Do you wish Iron Fist and the Reapers to move it? Perhaps return it here to the Balcony of the God?”
Death threw back His head and laughed. Then He faced His People once more. They quieted instantly.
“My little bird asks if I want the trident returned here, to the statue. Do you know my answer?” There was a waiting silence, into which Death spoke. “My answer is no! I do not need a weapon returned to the hand of an empty statue. Your God will take it with Him to the City in the Trees—our City in the Trees!”
The roar of the People’s worship washed against Death.
“Do you worship an empty statue?”
“NO!” the people shouted.
“Who do you worship?”
“DEATH!” the people responded with one word.
He glanced at Dove. She was still standing there, head bowed in supplication to Him. Something about the inherent grace of how she held herself rankled. She should be more subservient. It wasn’t that she said or did any one thing in particular that annoyed Him. It was more what she didn’t do.
Dove didn’t worship Him.
That was annoying enough in the Great Goddess. She, too, refused to worship Him, but she was the Mother Goddess, Life herself, and not a human spirit housed within a blind, childlike, mortal shell.
“Well, what are you waiting for? I have given a command. Obey!” With His foot, He shoved Dove away from Him and toward the door to the balcony. Caught off guard, Dove stumbled, arms outstretched, and fell heavily to the floor. Within seconds Lily, Dove’s favorite Attendant, was at her side, whispering soft words to her and helping her to her feet. The girl was younger than Dove and pretty, if you ignored the pustules just beginning to form at the bends of her elbows and knees.
Death waited, expecting Lily to look up at Him—to bow or at the very least to supplicate herself to Him in some way. She did not—not until she had helped Dove to her feet and the two girls were leaving the balcony. It was only after Dove stopped and whispered something into her ear that Lily paused, turned back to face Him, and bowed.
Impatiently He waved the girl away, and the two of them disappeared inside the chamber. Death would remember. He would remember that Lily was loyal, not to Him, but to Dove.
“Her blood mixed with Dove’s will surely awaken the Goddess. I will enjoy sacrificing her,” he murmured to himself before facing His people once more and raising His arms to proclaim, “Tonight we feast! And soon, very soon, my beloved People, we will live in a city in the sky!”
* * *
Dusk fell quickly in the heart of the forest, even if that heart had been severely wounded by fire. From his elevated position on the last of the platforms intact enough to bear weight, Thaddeus looked back at what was left of the City in the Trees or what he was coming to think of as his Tribe.
His clothes were stained with dirt and smudges of blackened moss. His face was ravaged by tracks left by tears. But his eyes were dry. Odysseus’s death had changed him irrevocably. He’d tolerated the Tribe’s condolences as he’d made his way back through the meditation platform without his Companion beside him for the first time in more than ten winters. He’d nodded and thanked the Hunters and Warriors who had sought him out to share in his grief. Then he had gotten away from them. They didn’t understand. None of them understood.
Odysseus wasn’t gone. Thaddeus could feel him. If he didn’t look directly down at the place by his side the little Terrier had always filled, Thaddeus could even make himself believe Odysseus was still physically there, as well as in spirit.
Thaddeus’s city was a mess, but that didn’t distress him. Over the past three days little had been done to repair and rebuild. That didn’t distress Thaddeus, either.
“It’s because they’re all sick, right, boy?” He spoke as if Odysseus were still listening attentively at his side. “That’s right! We know why.” Thaddeus laughed. It was a relief to laugh about it—to be able to show his true feelings. “So, what’s our decision? Do we tell them that this sickness—this poison in their system—can be cured? That the cure will make them stronger, faster, even smarter?”
Thaddeus imagined Odysseus looking up at him, his dark eyes glinting with the same sly intelligence Thaddeus displayed. He could almost hear the Terrier barking sharply, angrily.
“No, of course not! I didn’t mean that we tell them all. Just the ones we choose. Like our Hunters, and perhaps some of the Warriors who just today finally showed enough sense to turn on Wilkes and make me their Leader. Think of it, Odysseus! I am the acknowledged Leader of the Shepherd-be-damned Warriors! Soon they’ll be rolling over and showing you their bellies in submission.”
Thaddeus imagined Odysseus wagging his tail and barking gleefully.
“Hey, hey, hey—let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First we let the Skin Stealer sickne
ss cull the wounded and weak from my Tribe. Thankfully, the fire already got rid of the Council—those relics would never understand about our change. Cyril made that clear before I shut him up for good. But you know who would understand about us? Our Hunters and Warriors who have been the most vocal in their anger toward the traitor Nik and his Scratcher bitch. It’s as you and I decided—it’s what you made your great sacrifice for. Odysseus, it’s time I begin taking them aside and showing them what we know—the cure that changes everything. It works fast—remember? It begins almost immediately. They have canines, and whether they’re Terriers or Shepherds isn’t important. All they need do is get their canines to agree to share flesh with them.” Thaddeus wasn’t able to contain his nervous excitement, and he began to pace back and forth, back and forth, across the platform. “They’ll have it easy compared to you, my brave one. They won’t have to make the choice you did.”
Thaddeus bowed his head then as grief momentarily broke through anger. But he waved away his discontent. “It was worth it, and you’re not really gone—no matter what those fools think. Even my own Hunters and Warriors, the ones who believe as we do, wouldn’t understand what has happened between the three of us—you, me, and Death.” Thaddeus shook his head. “No. They will never know, though they will follow me. Oh yes. They will follow me. As for the rest of the Tribe, the wounded are dying off daily. Soon, very soon, those who are left, the ones who are simply infected with the skin sloughing disease, will notice the change in those we share our secret with, and if they ask to join us we’ll save them. If not, they can live sick and miserable. Well, for as long as they are able to live.” He laughed again, a hard, cruel sound. “I never imagined I’d say this, but I’d like to thank those mutant Skin Stealers for what they did to us. Hey, maybe we will thank them when I lead my changed Hunters and Warriors into their poisoned city and purge it of their infestation!”
Thaddeus could picture Odysseus jumping around him, barking his agreement.
“That’s right, boy! And it all starts tonight. The Hunters most easily led are Andrew, Joshua, and Michael. They’re also the three who are most filled with anger about the fire and Nik’s abandonment. I’m going to pull aside Maxim as well. That Warrior is mean, and mean is what we need. As soon as it’s fully dark, we’ll bring them back here where we can have some privacy for what needs to be done. I’ll just have to be sure they keep their canines quiet. No one can know about this until it’s too late. No one!” Thaddeus shouted, lifting his hands in victory as he heard inside his tainted mind the sound of his dead Companion barking to mirror his glee.