by Jessi Gage
“Like kenning the wolfkind tongue for me,” Anya puzzled out. “And wi’ Riggs, if we hadna been lifemates when Magnus met us on the plain, I fear he would have claimed me then and there. He was so certain I was his promised lady that he wouldna listen to either of us. Only the lifemate scent gave him pause. Even then, he had a pledgemate contract drawn up that very night. He merely included Riggs in the contract.”
Heat flashed over Danu’s face, there and gone, at the thought of Magnus claiming Anya. But the jealousy did not distract her from the fact Anya was right. Somehow, her magic within the moonstone had known what was needed most. Away from her, her power acted in her interest, in her people’s interest, of its own accord.
A frisson of fear felt like ice water in her stomach. It was her power, and yet somehow more than just her power, since it acted independently of her. Still, she had some understanding of its nature now, and its goals seemed in line with her character. Perhaps she and Anya could use the stone if they approached it with this new understanding.
“What is it we need most right now?” The moment Danu voiced the question, she thought of Magnus. She craved the feeling of his arms around her. She wanted to finish what they’d begun in his chamber last night before they’d received news of the children. She needed to know he was safe from danger. But she was being selfish. “Not merely what the two of us need, but what wolfkind needs.”
“Victory in Larna,” Anya said. “You said it yourself. You and Seona being back where you belong hinges on Magnus besting Hyrk. What we need is victory for our men.”
“Yes.” She nodded. Anya was right. She closed her hand around the stone and pictured Magnus and his army finding the children swiftly, besting Hyrk, and returning home as victors. She could not help imagining herself being here to greet her king. She would hold him and kiss him and take him to bed so they could finish what they had started last night. Of course, the last part was what she needed, not wolfkind. But still, she could not help herself.
“Who goes there?” A booming voice sounded directly outside the bed curtains. One of their guards must have come into the chamber without them hearing.
Anya went stiff at Danu’s side. Her eyes rounded.
“Maedoc?” Danu said. “Is that you? Is all well?”
A large hand whipped open the curtain at the foot of the bed. The hand did not belong to Maedoc. It belonged to Riggs.
Shock filled his dark eyes. Then rage. “What in the name of the moon have you done?” he shouted at Anya. “What is our bed doing in the middle of the Larnian mountains?”
Fat flakes of snow blew around Riggs’s head. Beyond his massive form was the animal-hide flap of a tent. The flap opened, and Magnus appeared silhouetted against the lamp-lit interior. At once, his face filled with shock and something that looked suspiciously like relief.
Both men crowded before the parted curtain, looking wild, shocked, and, at least in Magnus’s case, extremely appealing.
Magnus’s mouth opened and closed, but he seemed unable to form words.
“Explain,” Riggs said, fierce eyes pinning Anya.
“Dinnae fash at me,” Anya said. “’Twas her doing.” She pointed at Danu.
Chapter 24
Travis hauled a bucket of water from the spring to the section of caves where Vera, Nenna, and Braeden lived. For five days, he’d been resting and healing. He was more than ready to finally contribute. Sitting still had never been one of his strengths.
“Are you feeling all right?” Nenna asked. Ahead of him, she hauled two bucketfuls. A yoke braced them across shoulders he would have thought too slender for such a load. The passageway was so dark he could barely make out her form. But he heard her just fine. He would venture into the darkest of places if it meant hearing her sweet voice.
“Fine,” he said, cheerfully. “Feels nice to do work. I could have carried two, you know.” He wanted Nenna to find him strong and capable.
“Perhaps.” Her voice sounded playful, as always. “But we have six more trips to make. I didn’t want to tire you out on the first one.”
He laughed with her, liking the tinkling sound of her happiness.
Back in the manor, as Nenna and Braeden called their rooms, he and Nenna poured their buckets into a barrel before setting out for more. At first, the darkness within the caves had felt claustrophobic, but he was beginning to grow used to it. His feet were learning the dips and rises of the well-worn paths between caverns.
The caves were located within a large mountain in northern Larna, he’d learned. The fortress Alexander and the other children had claimed was a quarter-day’s walk, though Braeden bragged he could run it as a wolf in a single hour. There were twenty-five or so of the Remnant living in the caves, but they kept to themselves in small packs, like the one Nenna, Braeden, and Vera made.
Travis had tried many times to learn how old Nenna was, but she always playfully redirected the conversation. Even though they seemed to think he was one of them now, they still kept many secrets. He intended to learn as much as he could before making a run for Marann.
“Bread, here! Get your fresh, wholesome bread!” Braeden’s voice echoed through the tunnel. He sounded very far away.
“Oh, yum!” Nenna said. “Let’s hurry. We’ll finish this trip then have lunch before we finish collecting the water.”
Once they’d emptied their second load of water into the barrel, they sat around the pit. Braeden tore off large chunks of warm bread and handed one to each of them. Travis thanked him and tore into it, hungry from the work he and Nenna had done.
“Is Vera hunting?” he asked.
“Patrolling,” Braeden said.
Travis had learned Vera was the provider and protector of their little pack. Braeden did some patrolling, but Vera didn’t like for him to leave the caves by daylight. He was too reckless and might be seen, she claimed. Nenna was forbidden to leave the caves, not that she allowed that to stop her. She’d found Travis, after all, which explained why Vera had acted so crossly with them for a few days.
“Why don’t you talk to the other packs?” Travis asked as he devoured his bread.
“We do, sometimes,” Braeden said. “But most of them aren’t very social.” His eyes darted away.
Travis had a feeling he wasn’t sharing everything. Of course, this only heightened his curiosity. “Are your caves connected to theirs? How many are female?”
“Braeden.” Vera’s voice punched through the cavern. She had a knack for appearing when Travis started asking questions. “It’s almost nightfall. Finish up then do your rounds at the fortress.”
“Yes!” Braeden got to his feet and shoved the last chunk of bread into his mouth. While he chewed, he dashed from the cavern, already stripping off his clothes.
“Wait for dark!” Vera shouted after him. There was no response. Shaking her head, she came to the pit and took some bread. “You got the water?” she asked Nenna.
“We’re in the middle of it.” Nenna dipped a tin cup into the barrel and sipped from their fresh, cold haul. “Travis is helping.”
Vera eyed him.
He straightened his shoulders and attempted to appear very useful.
“See that you finish soon. It’s almost dark.”
On their way to the spring for their third trip, Travis asked Nenna, “Why do we have to finish before nightfall?”
“Today’s our day to use the spring. Each of the packs has a set day to collect water. If we come on a day that’s not ours, we get in trouble.”
“What if you run out before your day?”
“Then we have to go to the river and risk being seen.”
Travis frowned. “By Larnians?”
“Outsiders, yes.”
Up ahead, the dim light of the spring cavern highlighted the arched shape of the entry. Far above the cold-water spring was a great crevasse allowing in light from the outside world. Now and again, a sprinkling of snow would float down to the water. Travis wondered if the crevasse was
accessible from the mountainside. With a shiver, he wondered if a person might fall in as easily as the snow seemed to.
“I don’t think there are many Larnians left,” he said, trying not to imagine skeletons at the bottom of the spring. He and Nenna stepped up to the rocky lip and filled their buckets. The water was slightly cloudy and greenish-blue in color. Their buckets stirred up sediment, but even when the water was still, he could not see to the bottom.
“You’re right,” Nenna said. “There aren’t many. But as long as there are outsiders, we bide our time here in the caves.” The Remnant seemed to hate the Larnians for discarding them, Vera most of all. While he didn’t blame them, he couldn’t understand wanting absolutely no contact with the outside world.
“When they’re all gone, you’ll come out? What’ll happen then? Where will your people go?”
“Wherever we want. All our years of waiting will be worthwhile, because we’ll have the whole of Eire all to ourselves.”
She was wrong. She seemed to think of all “outsiders” as the same, but they weren’t. The Larnians were dying out, having no women left to carry on their lines. But in Marann, there was still hope. Anya was with child. If she had a girl, Marann would go on. Sure, they would dwindle to a low number—Travis hated to think about that—but they would go on as a people. In a few centuries, they would have Chroina populated again. King Magnus and his mother before him had built up an enormous library of volumes ensuring all trades could be relearned and no knowledge would be lost. Even Riggs had a volume in the library on tanning. He had written it with his father, and all the children had read it since Riggs had become a hero so recently.
He didn’t inform Nenna that she was wrong. Not only did he not want to disappoint her, but Marann’s hope felt private to him in a way he couldn’t quite place. Nenna, Vera, and Braeden were kind enough, but their secrecy inspired him to keep secrets himself. He did not know their true motivations and didn’t wish to reveal too much about his people.
Instead of correcting Nenna, he said, “It won’t be worthwhile to you. Or Braeden or Vera. You’ll be old when the rest of us are gone.”
“No, we won’t,” Nenna said. She hefted her yoke onto her shoulders. “No more questions,” she said with a grin and a wink. “We’ve got to hurry or Vera will have a fit.”
What did she mean by No, we won’t? Did she plan to outlive him by many years? And why must she be so maddening? She answered questions up to the point where his curiosity piqued, and then she closed herself off.
“Fine,” Travis said. “I won’t ask you anything. But I have a lot to say.” Even though he was starting to breathe heavy from the exertion of lugging the water, he kept talking. He wanted Nenna and the Remnant to understand at least one thing about them. “All outsiders are not the same. You know, my people, Maranners—we’re not like the Larnians. There’s a reason we’re two kingdoms. Our ruler, King Magnus, he’s good, not like King Bantus.”
“Maybe that’s so,” Nenna said, the darkness swallowing her form. “But even good men fear what they don’t understand. You know what we are.” She meant they were rejects from breeding experiments. “If anyone finds out about us, they’ll be afraid. When people are afraid, they are dangerous.”
“I’m not afraid of you. Why should the other Maranners be? I’m telling you, King Magnus wouldn’t harm any of you. He would welcome you. You could leave the caves right now and travel to Marann, and you would be protected.”
Nenna stopped walking. “You’re wrong. You were afraid at first, when you saw what we can do, how we can change. Besides—” Her tone turned uncharacteristically dark. “I’m no fool. And neither is Vera.” She set down her buckets and half turned to him. “We’ve seen what outsiders have done to some of the wild wolves. Even to some of us when we’ve been caught unawares.” Her voice became quiet and distant, as if she were remembering scenes from long ago. “They do such horrible things because there are no women left.” Silence throbbed around them. So the Remnant knew. They understood why wolfkind was dying out. “You think your king would protect us, and maybe you’re right. Maybe he would, but only because he would want us to breed for your precious Maranners. I’m no one’s breeder.” She spat the final word and yanked up her yoke so hard Travis heard some of the water slosh from her buckets.
He stood stunned at her sudden vehemence while she marched away down the tunnel.
“No. More. Questions,” she said.
He followed, but a strange heat unsettled his stomach. He’d made Nenna angry, and he didn’t like that. But he’d learned something valuable. The Remnant didn’t remain hidden purely because they hated the Larnians for discarding them. They feared what would happen to them if they emerged.
While he and Nenna finished collecting water, he thought about what she’d said. Would Magnus force them to breed? Would he insist their females become part of the breeding lottery? Travis hated to think so, but when the survival of wolfkind was at stake, their king just might resort to force. Maybe it wasn’t so strange that the Remnant hid themselves away. Maybe it was wise of them.
But what would happen when they learned that Marann still had hope, that they weren’t as far gone as the Larnians? Would they be content to remain hidden then? Or would they grow impatient and decide to act? Could the Remnant be a threat to Marann? Nenna had told him that within this mountain, there lived twenty-five of the Remnant. What if there were more living in other mountains?
Travis’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt as one of Braeden’s visions opened up in his mind. The sensation was strange, but Travis was growing accustomed to it. With Nenna’s instruction, he had learned to see the vision in one part of his mind and still be aware of his surroundings. With his physical eyes, he saw the warm glow of the manor as they entered with the haul of water. With his mind’s eye, he saw that Braeden had reached the fortress. Like the previous nights, he perched on a stone landing looking down on the great hall.
For a band of fewer than thirty children, his cohort had worked wonders. The hall glowed with light. Both fires burned high, and torches lit the walls. Tapestries hung in the open windows high above the hall. A great boar roasted over one of the fires.
Cots were lined up near the fires, but there seemed no more need to have a section cordoned off. Firewood was stacked all along the edges of the hall, and there appeared to be a supply to last several days. Travis knew that more would be added each day as the older boys cut down trees.
Looking through Braeden’s wolf-eyes, Travis counted twenty-five children. That meant only two were missing from the great hall, not including him, of course. Perhaps they were out gathering supplies or snow to melt for water. He put them out of his mind.
The boys feasted around two long tables that had been mended. There was laughter and light conversation. The mood was far brighter than in those first days before Travis had been exiled. It saddened him to see the children so content away from their parents, their instructors, their city, and their king. Had they no loyalty?
He was reminded of the reason for their mutiny when Alexander stepped up on the dais they’d erected at the front of the hall. They had even repaired a huge throne that had likely served the governor of this fortress at one time. Alexander was wise not to sit on it, since the ornate chair would only exaggerate his adolescent form.
“Men! Well done today!” Conversation stopped. “Give yourselves a round of applause. Each and every one of you has worked his fingers to the bone to make this place comfortable.” He clapped his hands, and the other children followed suit, jostling each other good-naturedly. His chest ached to see their smiles, but he could well understand the satisfaction of a job well done. It should be Mr. Daly praising them for their work, though. Not Alexander.
“Every day, we’re making progress!” Alexander spoke into the fading applause. “We have stored meat, plenty of wood and water, and a clean, warm home. Most importantly, we have three chambers furnished for our female companions. I do believe
, gentlemen, that it is time to invite the women to join us.”
The older boys hooted and cheered. Travis felt sick to his stomach. The sounds they were making and the lecherous looks on their faces meant they were hoping to act as full-grown men. They were talking about finding Vera and Nenna as if they were no more than bodies to be had, to be bred.
“Linas,” Alexander called out.
The lanky nineteen-year-old stood from a table. “Here, Xander.”
“Is the lottery ready?”
“It is,” Linas said.
“Then we’re ready.”
“Ready for what?” one of the older boys called out. “How will you find the women, Xander?”
“And what will we do with them once we find them?” Another called out. “What if they don’t want anything to do with us?”
“Listen here,” Alexander barked out. “None of us in this room is under any delusion. These are desperate times. Magnus has allowed our people to come to this. Never forget that all of this is his fault. If we are to go on, if we are to be strong—not weakened by human blood—it is up to us.”
The hall seemed to breathe with a palpable silence. Every round face below demonstrated understanding of the gravity of their situation.
Alexander paced the dais like an experienced orator. Never had he so reminded Travis of their father. “When we first meet the women, we will present gifts. The handmade things each of you have been working on in your spare time, the jewelry and clothing we’ve scavenged. We will provide them with food. We will show them how strong and capable we are. But I’m afraid we cannot allow them the luxury of choice. They must remain with us, and they must submit to our lottery.”
He met eyes all around the tables, as if challenging anyone to argue. No one did, though several of the children looked down at their laps.
“In Marann, men purchase lottery tickets. A single ticket is drawn for each fertile lady, and the pair takes the entire season to try and breed.” His face twisted with disgust. “This practice is archaic and is the reason there are so few of us here in this hall.”