The Elders

by Inbali Iserles

  “You struck me!” I gasped. “I could have hit the stones.”

  He was unrepentant. “I had to get you off the Rock. Keep chanting!”

  I drew in my breath. “Come together, rays of light; comfort me in deadly night.”

  The voices of the Elders danced in my ears. Against the sweet, shrill harmony, I caught another sound. The foxes on the Rock had started barking.

  “What’s going on?” one snarled.

  “Just another pathetic trick. Forget their foxcraft and illusion. The Elders won’t escape. There’s nowhere to run!”

  Still I kept chanting.

  The amber light deepened. The mist thickened into a cloying fog. The air was sickly. I could no longer see the foxes on the Rock, though I sensed the tang of their putrid fur.

  Jana stood a few paces from me at the base of a mossy tree. I saw her turn up her muzzle. Her eyes glowed white with a shimmer of green.

  Malinta quivered beneath my paws. The tip of Jana’s tail burned silver. I looked around. The other Elders’ tail-tips were glowing too.

  Something was happening.

  The fog was gathering over the Rock. The amber light swept in circles, deepening to orange.

  The yelps of the Taken grew louder. Some fought to escape, pushing past one another to the edge of the Rock. Those who touched the shana fell back with screams of pain. There was choking and gasping, a blur of writhing bodies. A desperate whine broke through: “No air! Can’t breathe!”

  Vague silhouettes flailed beyond the wall of fog. It sank lower, the light turning orange. The words of the chant dissolved on my tongue.

  “Keep going,” warned Siffrin. “If they escape, we’re dead.”

  The dreaminess had left me. I didn’t stop chanting, but my limbs were cold. Once those were foxes just like us. They didn’t have a choice …

  Come together, rays of light; comfort me in deadly night.

  The yelps of terror faded. Even the beat of malinta seemed to still. All I could hear was the chant rising over the wood.

  Weave a wall of thickest mist; every fiend and foe resist.

  The fog had grown so dense and dark that the silhouettes vanished in its sticky embrace. It wrapped around the Elder Rock, a constricting pelt of crimson. There was a fizzling sound as the fog sank. For an instant, I saw paw prints etched in the stone, the echo of the Taken. Then the fog dispersed, the red light died, and the paw prints disappeared.

  Dawn broke over the Elder Rock. At the edge of the Rock, beneath the overhanging branches of the blood-bark tree, Simmi and Tao were curled together in sleep. At the center, where shadows didn’t reach, light blazed against the stones. The shana swirled around us, dancing along the outskirts of the Rock, protecting us from harm.

  The beat of the earth had stilled. In its wake, the wood was renewed. I heard the chirrup of songbirds from beyond the shana. The scent of blossoms was thick in the air.

  Four of the Elders padded toward me. The tan fox followed more slowly, limping. One of his forepaws twisted at an angle. I doubted he could run very fast. How did he cope in the wild?

  Siffrin hung back. His brush swept the stone and he yawned indifferently, but I caught him watching from the corner of my eye.

  “As you know, I am Jana,” the gray fox said. “This is Mika.” She nodded at the tiny ginger-and-white vixen. “She is mistress of pashanda. In a trance, Mika calls to the winds and they answer.”

  The small vixen dropped her muzzle. “I should have sensed the Taken. I knew something wasn’t right, but they’ve been banished from this wood so long I thought they lacked the nerve to come.” Her voice was high, like a cub’s, but I could tell from her whiskery face that she was old. Her long claws tapped the stone. “It was a foolish mistake and I’m sorry for it.”

  My tail crept to my flank. A deep ache throbbed in my chest. It was my fault, not hers. I’d brought Haiki, and he’d led the Taken.

  The small vixen sniffed; her ears twisted back. She angled her snout from side to side, as though she was drinking me in from my scent. Her yellow eyes seemed to look through me.

  “Siffrin was right,” she murmured. “The cub’s maa is strong.”

  “Yes,” agreed Jana. She glanced at the tall brown-furred male with the curling whiskers. “This is Brin. He is an expert at slimmering. He can cross the wood without being seen.”

  “You exaggerate, Jana,” drawled the tall brown male. “I do draw breath sometimes. You make it sound like I’m half-dead already.” For a flicker he disappeared from view, reappearing so quickly that I wasn’t sure if he’d really slimmered. The set of his jaw was firm but his small eyes sparkled.

  “And this is Shaya.” Jana tipped her muzzle to the stern auburn vixen. “She has a gift for drawing on maa. Maa-sharm, shana-sharm—we couldn’t do without her.”

  Shaya gave a haughty flick of her tail. Looking at this cool-eyed vixen, I couldn’t imagine maa-sharm with her. I noticed the scars along her flank and a clot of blood at the base of her neck. I remembered how she’d tried to chant but the Taken hadn’t let her—they’d known to target her. The Mage must have told them.

  Jana turned to the other male. “Kolo is master of karakking.”

  I tore my gaze away from Shaya. Karakking was hardly a higher art. I could do it back in the Snarl, before I’d even heard of foxcraft.

  Kolo must have guessed what I was thinking. His muzzle tightened and his ears rolled back. He threw open his gray jaws. His missing fang made him look roguish. Suddenly the trees started groaning, their branches shaking violently. I cringed against the whirr of wind through shrieking leaves. A clap of lightning tore through the trees, and the rumble of thunder rose over the wood.

  I leaped into the air, my fur on end.

  The fox’s lips closed over his teeth, and the ancient trees grew still.

  I gasped in amazement. I remembered the lightning and wind that had struck the Rock. Was this really a form of karakking? It was more urgent and powerful than any I’d imagined.

  Siffrin was still watching from a distance.

  I drew down my puffed-up tail. “I didn’t come for tricks.”

  Jana’s whiskers flexed. “I see you have a temper, young fox. We know why you came. And you brought others.” She cast her gaze over the Rock. Simmi and Tao had woken at Kolo’s karakking—but I guessed Jana meant someone else. My tail drooped guiltily.

  I lowered my muzzle. “Haiki used me. I led the Taken to the Rock.” I couldn’t meet Jana’s eye.

  “All this time, we feared the Mage would capture you for your maa. But he was cleverer than us. He let you live. He must have known you’d come here and that we’d let you pass.”

  “He manipulated the gray, just to be sure,” said the yellow-eyed Mika. “The young fox wasn’t lying when he spoke of his skulk. He’s desperate to find them—hunger and loneliness burned from every hair of his pelt.”

  No one had seen Haiki since malinta. My claws flexed when I thought of him. I gathered the ache in my chest and channeled it into rage—it was easier to bear. One day I’d find that traitor, and I’d have my revenge. I would never forgive him, not after what he’d done.

  “At least Koch didn’t come,” said Jana. “The Mage doesn’t want to risk the death of another Narral, especially after Karka.”

  Mika frowned. “I sense Koch. There are others. They are stalking the edges of the wood.”

  I looked up. The amber shana glided around the Rock, protecting us from harm.

  Brin blinked at me kindly. “We should have been seven … Then Shaya was injured. With only four Elders left to chant, we couldn’t have woven the shana. It is thanks to you that we trapped the Taken.”

  My shoulders sank. “They couldn’t breathe.”

  Kolo ran his tongue over his gray muzzle. “They were the Mage’s skulk. They would have killed us in an instant.”

  “They didn’t know what they were doing.” I could hardly bear to think about the Taken on the Rock. My gaze drifted to Siffrin, w
ho was washing his fur. The mark of the broken rose was etched on his foreleg, beneath his glossy coat. “It can be reversed, can’t it? The pleaching?”

  “What does she know about pleaching?” muttered Shaya.

  Jana spoke more gently. “It was for Siffrin,” she confirmed. From the corner of my eye, I saw the red-furred fox start. “That was before. Things have changed. The Mage has expanded his dark arts and he holds the Taken close. We cannot unearth the harm he’s caused …” Her gray tail sank with regret.

  My whiskers twitched. “But it isn’t impossible?”

  Simmi and Tao were stalking closer with nervous steps. They must have been thinking of Flint and Karo.

  Jana’s eyes were as gray as her fur. “These are treacherous times. The Mage is more powerful than ever, while we are weaker.” She tilted her muzzle toward Simmi and Tao. “You probably know him as the Tailless Seer.”

  Simmi’s hackles flicked up and Tao whimpered.

  Jana turned back to me. “Siffrin told you that we’re missing two Elders. Keeveny was our expert in pleaching, and now he is gone.”

  “Is he the Black Fox?” I asked.

  I saw Brin and Mika stiffen. Kolo drew in his breath, and Shaya’s tail flew straight behind her.

  Jana was grave. “Métis is the Black Fox. Exceptional at foxcraft, he’s master of all arts, from slimmering to maa-sharm. But rash, impatient, and with a scarlet temper.” She shared a lingering glance with Shaya and cleared her throat. “We have long guessed that the Mage is an Elder. We hope it is not him.”

  I shuddered at the thought. A fox who could karak like Kolo, who could slimmer like Brin … A fox with Mika’s talent for reading the wind would have formidable power.

  Kolo tilted his gray muzzle. “Keeveny and Métis were rivals from neighboring skulks. Keeveny may not be the Black Fox, but ambition is its own dark art. If he is the Mage, he should not be underestimated.”

  Jana dipped her head in acknowledgment. “There is a bitterness in Keeveny, an acid to his tongue.”

  Neither Elder sounded especially nice. “Is one tailless?”

  “No,” said Kolo slowly. “Or they weren’t when we last saw them.”

  “At least you have foxcraft,” said Simmi in a small voice. “Wildlands foxes are under attack.”

  Kolo scowled. “You think we aren’t aware of that?”

  “The Ghost Valley is growing,” whined Tao. “Soon our meadow won’t exist anymore.”

  Brin’s dark eyes were full of sadness. “It is a tragedy.”

  Shaya’s muzzle tensed. “All the lands surrounding the Darklands are expanding. It is more than a tragedy—it is part of its plan.”

  Jana shot her a sharp look and my ears pricked up.

  “The Mage has a plan?” She’d called him “it.” What did that mean?

  Jana turned back to me. “His thirst for maa, his army of pleached foxes … He needs all the strength he can gather.”

  It struck me that I’d never really considered this before. Why is the Mage pleaching Wildlands foxes? Why is he growing his lands?

  What does he want?

  Jana’s tail-tip pulsed silver. She sighed and lowered herself onto her belly. By silent agreement, the other Elders sat too. From a distance, Siffrin cocked his head. He was still pretending not to listen, washing his long tail.

  Jana looked from me to Simmi and Tao. “Gather closer, young foxes, let me tell you a story.”

  We did as she asked, sitting before the Elders with our brushes wrapped around us.

  Jana cleared her throat. “Some of Canista’s cubs believe in much that cannot be seen with the eyes. The wolves bow to warrior spirits while coyotes glean meaning in the earth and sky.”

  I remembered the death of the coyote chief.

  A blood sun is risen!

  Jana went on. “Dogs tell other stories, about the dark times before the furless, when they roamed the Wildlands in packs. They speak of bloody family feuds and a terrible famine that almost led to the end of their kind. The furless were their saviors.”

  I listened, baffled. How could this be? The furless were violent, cruel … I thought of the fluffy white dog from the Snarl. He had seemed quite content. Though it hardly made sense, perhaps the furless were kinder to dogs than they were to foxes.

  Jana looked at us sideways. “You’re probably thinking, what about us?” She stretched out her forepaws. “Foxes were always different from wolves and dogs, from the superstitious coyote. For us, it was never about rules. A skulk is not a Bishar—we have no servants, no kings. Above all, we treasure freedom—we do not bow to anyone.”

  I dipped my head in acknowledgment, recalling what Siffrin had said in the Snarl.

  “Perhaps Simmi and Tao know some of the Black Fox fables? They are still popular in the Wildlands.”

  “He always outwits the furless,” said Tao.

  “Quite.” Jana clenched and relaxed her forepaw in a rhythmic motion. “But we do not have tales of warrior kings, traitors, invaders, or guiding spirits. We leave those to the other sons and daughters of Canista. Except …” Her eyes roved over us. “For one. It used to be told to cubs so they learned to value freedom. Most forgot it long ago … Only the Elders remember the legend of the White Fox.”

  A murmur of static rose from the Elders. The amber light of the shana deepened. Siffrin was watching openly now, his long brush flicking back and forth.

  “Is the White Fox the same as the Black Fox?” I asked.

  Jana let out a long breath. “No,” she said at last. “It isn’t really a fox at all, not even a cub of Canista. It is not alive—not in the sense that matters.”

  I glanced at Siffrin, wondering how much of this he already knew. He met my gaze and I snapped my eyes away.

  “I don’t understand,” said Simmi.

  It was Mika who explained. “In the early ages of our world, there were other beings. Not living things, exactly, but drifting clots of maa and the dust that skims the stars. They knotted about Canista’s Lights like storm clouds. Most faded before they reached the trees and grasses below. They didn’t come to anything.”

  Little Mika shook her head. “The White Fox was a tangle of this strange matter. It broke free from the air, we do not know why. It found its way to our own land. Long ago—before the age of the furless—it sensed the fox running free in the Wildlands. It craved the feeling of wind and rain, the knowledge that it was alive. But it smelled foul to others, like acid and dust.”

  The fur rippled along my back. Acid and dust. The smell of the Taken.

  Mika’s ears rotated as she spoke. “It settled in the Deep Forest, hidden from prying eyes. There, it fed on the earth’s maa, leaching it from the soil. A poisonous yellow murk spread through the forest. It sucked the life from living things, from birds and flowers to butterflies and blades of grass. The Deep Forest rotted.”

  Mika drew in her forepaws, her long claws scratching against the stone. “The White Fox was never satisfied. It would become real, if it had to suck the maa from every fox in the Wildlands to do so.”

  “But why?” I asked.

  Jana sighed. “You cannot think of it as a real fox. It did not act from fox-like hopes or dreams. Always, it longed to take physical form … And yet in growing it could only destroy and enslave the living. It began to take shape, a ghostly being forged of ash and dust—that is why we call it the White Fox.”

  My throat was dry. “What happened?”

  “Through darkness and fire, the Black Fox came. The other Elders took their part, sharing their maa and giving their lives so that he might live to destroy the White Fox. This ball of yearning, of unquenchable desire, was banished to the furthest edges of the sky.”

  “But it’s just a story,” said Tao too eagerly. “Something foxes tell their cubs.”

  Mika didn’t answer.

  Brin flexed his spiraling whiskers. “We do not know exactly what the Mage is doing, but …”

  “His den lies in the Deep Forest,�
�� I said. “There are smells and strange noises. And you suspect.”

  Jana looked at me with ears pricked. “We suspect,” she echoed softly. “Perhaps the Mage thinks he can use the White Fox to realize his power.”

  “If he does, he is a fool,” hissed Shaya. “Once unleashed, the White Fox cannot be contained. Not by any creature. Allowed to rise, it will enslave and destroy our kind, including its former master. It will suck up our maa until there’s nothing left, till the last free fox has perished. The forests will rot, the meadows will die. Even the furless will feel it.”

  Siffrin padded closer. His amber eyes were huge. “You can stop it, can’t you?” My belly churned with fear. He usually seemed so sure of himself.

  Jana watched me. “The time of greatest maa is the gloaming, when the fruit is heavy on the trees—it is our only hope of defeating the White Fox. But to do that, we need the Black Fox. And as you know, we cannot find him.”

  Shaya’s muzzle wrinkled. “Meanwhile, the Mage is increasing his maa, pleaching without rest. If we are right—if the White Fox is rising—it may be too late by the gloaming.”

  “What choice do we have?” said Kolo, shaking his sandy head.

  Jana’s gray eyes took in Siffrin, then drifted to me. She seemed to pause in thought, her brow wrinkled with tension. She clenched and unclenched her forepaw like a cat. She looked beyond me, at the shana, and she seemed to reach a decision.

  Her gaze met mine. “You did not come to the Rock to hear of our troubles.” She studied me kindly. “You seek your brother.”

  “He’s lost in the Wildlands. The Mage’s skulk attacked my den, but Pirie escaped.”

  Jana’s glance slid to Kolo.

  “Why do you think he is in the Wildlands?” he asked.

  My whiskers twitched. “He left the Great Snarl—the Graylands. Where else could he be?”

  Mika looked thoughtful. “A fox is lost to the Elders, beyond the fur and sinew of the greatest of Canista’s cubs.”