Legacy of the Claw

by C. R. Grey

  Just then, an eagle flying overhead suddenly screeched and the girl turned. She took off into the trees with Taylor in pursuit. Bailey cursed under his breath. Roanoake really did have an Animas Eagle, just like he’d joked to Phi. Now he had to figure out where the Animas Eagle was, and if its kin had already spotted his position.

  He decided to switch tactics and take the offensive—moving under the cover of trees and bushes, trying to stay out of sight from above. He saw a blob of green paint against a tree, and knew that someone had had a close call with a Roanoake Slammer. He was in their territory now, far away from his own team’s flag.

  But he wasn’t the only one. Again he saw Taylor. Only a few paces away, Bailey’s fellow Slammer seemed to be tracking the Roanoake Sneaks back to their home base, with Taylor in pursuit. Once Bailey was sure that there was no one watching, he caught up to him.

  “What are you doing all the way out here?” he asked Taylor. “You’re a Squat—you should be guarding our flag.”

  “What are you doing then?” Taylor responded. “Trying to steal the Roanoake flag yourself? That’s a Sneak’s job. Mind your own business, freak.”

  Frustrated, and not wanting to cause a fight, Bailey turned away—one of them needed to get back to Fairmount territory and help protect the flag. He dashed back across the terrain, hoping that he wasn’t too late.

  As he got closer to his team’s flag, he saw a flash of green and black stripes at the far side of the rocks. It was the same girl from before—she’d doubled back around after leading Taylor away from his own flag. Bailey’s only chance to intercept her was to ascend the steeper rock face and guard the flag from there. He looked around at the base of the rock—where were all the Squats? The other Slammers? It was clear that Roanoake might not have been tree-climbers, but they were awfully good at diversion. His teammates were nowhere to be seen, probably lured away by Roanoake Sneaks just as he and Taylor had been. The Fairmount flag was unprotected.

  He tucked the Flick in his waistband and began to climb the rock. He wasn’t sure if the Animas Deer had even seen him yet—if not, she’d get a surprise when she looked over the top of the rock. He’d be waiting with the Flick, if only he could get up high enough …

  Bailey could just see the tops of the stands from his vantage point on the rock, and he heard the cheering echoing across the field. Then something grabbed his foot. He almost lost his grip, but he got ahold of the rock and looked down. A Roanoake Slammer, a broad-shouldered, curly-haired boy had followed him onto the rock, and now held firmly to his ankle.

  “Gotcha,” he said, grinning. “Now, Ruthie!”

  The Animas Deer appeared at the top of the rock and scrambled toward the flag. The Slammer pulled hard on Bailey’s ankle, trying to dislodge him from the rock.

  “Get off!” Bailey grunted. The Slammer only held on tighter.

  “Not a chance!”

  Bailey tried to keep his left hand firmly on the rock face so that he could mark the Sneak, Ruthie, with his Flick and disqualify her from being able to capture the Fairmount flag for the win. But he couldn’t hold on, even with the uniform gloves helping his grip. His hand slid from the rock, and both he and the Roanoake Slammer hit the ground with a harsh thud.

  As Bailey and the Roanoake Slammer sat up, groaning, someone darted out from the trees at the base of the cliff. It was Phi.

  “Phi, the Roanoake flag is on the far end!” Bailey said as he pointed to the other side of the field.

  But Phi was hardly listening to him. Instead, she was looking adamantly into the sky, searching the blue for something Bailey couldn’t see. He heard a cheer from the top of the cliff, followed by a loud, high whistle from the stands—the Fairmount flag had been captured. They had lost.

  Phi walked closer to him, still scanning the sky.

  “Phi, what’s going on?” Bailey asked. “The game is over—what are you doing?”

  “It’s Carin,” she said. “She has something.”

  Atop the cliff, Bailey could hear the Roanoake Sneak’s celebratory whoops, and the grumblings of the Fairmount Squats. He stood next to Phi, who pointed up. The falcon was circling closely above them, and she sounded a screech before landing gracefully on the leather gauntlets on Phi’s outstretched left arm and plucking a loose feather from her chest.

  Something fell from the falcon’s talons. Bailey reached out just in time to catch it before it hit the ground. The Roanoake Slammer walked over to them, gaping at Carin.

  “What in Nature is that, a knife?” the Slammer said.

  What it was was a claw—a huge one that spanned the entire length of Bailey’s outstretched hand. The blunt base of the claw was rough with dried blood that looked like it had been there for a long time. But Bailey noticed that the tip of the claw ended in a menacing point.

  “Wow,” Bailey said.

  “Ants,” said the Slammer.

  Phi said nothing, but her eyes widened as big as dinner plates. Bailey handed it to Phi, who held it up in the sunlight.

  “It looks ancient,” she whispered.

  The other players began to descend the cliff and head back to the warm-up areas. The Roanoake Slammer cast one last curious look at the claw before jogging to meet his teammates.

  “Should we show Coach?” Phi asked.

  “Not yet,” Bailey whispered, standing between Phi and the other students. He thought once more about the clean, deep wounds in the dead bear’s hide, and the shadowy figures between the trees at the edge of the Dark Woods. If those men had weapons like this, if they’d been the ones to kill the bear so close to the school—as a warning, or a threat?—then the claw was too important to simply hand over to Coach Banter and his blundering bulldogs. No, it was best kept a secret until Bailey could find out more.

  Thankfully, Phi nodded in agreement. Without saying another word, she tucked the claw into the waistband of her uniform. The memory of Phi’s hurt look when he’d left her alone in the opera house lobby last week flitted through Bailey’s mind, and he suddenly felt guilty.

  “Um, Phi,” Bailey began nervously. He struggled to find the words. There was so much going through his mind—about the men in the woods, the visit to The White Tiger, and now the claw. He wanted to explain why he’d left in such a hurry, yet he didn’t know where to start.

  “I’m sorry I lost us the game,” Phi said, cutting him off. She stared off toward the stands.

  “Oh,” Bailey said, somewhat relieved she had changed the subject—even if the game seemed trivial now. “That wasn’t your fault.”

  Together they walked across the terrain and out of the woods back into the bright, normal day.

  After the game, Bailey, Hal, Tori, and Phi sat in the common room in the Towers with the claw between them on a circular wooden study table. A few other students read or played card games like Rabbit Flash or Rat’s Nest nearby, but most of the school was off preparing for the evening party, the Autumnal Soiree. The four friends huddled close so they wouldn’t be overheard.

  Hal reached out and turned the claw over in his hands.

  “It’s definitely from something big. Not a bear, though. This looks more like it came from a big cat.”

  “Are there any big cats in this part of the kingdom? Could it be what killed the bear a few weeks ago?” Phi asked.

  “Maybe,” Hal said, but he sounded unconvinced. Hal moved the claw toward and then away from his eyes, trying to find the right focus through his glasses. It was then that Hal pointed out what Bailey hadn’t noticed at first.

  “Look at this,” Hal said, skimming his finger along the claw’s edge. “This has been sharpened recently, with a file or something. What if someone used this as a weapon to take down the bear?”

  Bailey took the claw and ran his own finger along the inside of the claw’s curve. He nearly sliced into the pad of his thumb. Hal was right; the claw was extremely sharp, and not in the way that Nature had designed.

  Hal looked up at Phi. “Where did Carin find th
is thing?”

  Phi was quiet for a minute. The falcon was sitting on her shoulder, preening.

  “I … I’m not sure,” she said. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Carin, as if mimicking her, stood very still. Phi opened her eyes and sighed with exasperation. “I don’t know. I’m not that advanced. But I know she wasn’t very far away. She stayed close by the school.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Hal. “A weapon like this, so close to the school?”

  Bailey felt a knot tighten in his stomach.

  “It means someone’s out there,” he said. “Someone’s watching Fairmount. It could’ve been a warning.”

  “Or a threat,” Hal added.

  “The men you saw—” said Tori. “It’s them, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe,” Bailey said. He turned the claw over in his hands. It felt smooth and a little heavy. It was easily seven inches long, with a deadly curve at the end. Its surface was a dark gray, with pale streaks of creamish-white around the base. The men in the woods were big and savage, and when he thought about the damage they might do using this as a weapon, he shuddered.

  “But who are they?”

  Tori gasped. “The Dominae.”

  Hal, Bailey, and Phi each turned to stare at her.

  “Why would they be hiding out there? Isn’t that all just politics?” Phi asked.

  “My uncle Roger says the Dominae are out to start a war”—Hal shrugged—“but he can be a little paranoid. Anyway, aren’t they more interested in stirring up trouble in the Gray?”

  “That’s only the half of it,” Tori said. “You don’t know all the rumors that are going around in the city—people are afraid. My parents told me that there’s talk about the Dominae raising a secret army across the kingdom. What if this is where their army is gathering?”

  Bailey had never seen Tori this animated about anything.

  “That seems pretty extreme,” he said. “Why would they care about Fairmount?”

  “Why wouldn’t they?” Tori responded. “Fairmount is where some of the greatest work of the Age of Invention took place. If I were looking to take over the kingdom, I’d be keeping tabs on what goes on here, for sure.”

  A tapping on the nearest window caused them to look up. Three bats fluttered against the window, trying to get in through an open pane at the top. The sky outside was dark.

  “Ants! We should get back to Treetop.” Phi stood up. Carin hopped onto the table and shuffled her wings impatiently. “The soiree’s going to start soon.”

  “Can I keep this?” Bailey asked. He still had the claw in his hand. It was a frightening object, especially when he thought of it being used by the Dominae. But he couldn’t let go of it—not yet. “Just for now,” he added.

  “If you want,” Phi said, looking at him curiously.

  “Yikes—good luck getting any sleep with that thing under your pillow,” Tori said as she grabbed Phi’s elbow and half waved, half swatted them a good-bye.

  Bailey and Hal arrived at the grand meeting hall just as the party was getting under way. Despite losing the Scavage game, the mood remained festive. The grand meeting hall inside the library building was decorated with blue-and-gold banners and sheaves of wheat celebrating the harvest season. The school had hired a jig band from one of the neighboring towns, and they began by playing fast and fancy reels that no one really knew how to dance to, but at least it was easy to tap one’s feet.

  They both immediately looked around for Tori and Phi. Hal looked sophisticated, Bailey had to admit—he was dressed in a lean black suit and vest with light gray patterns of bats’ wings on the jacket shoulders and back, and a crisp purple tie. Bailey had nothing nicer to wear than his Fairmount blazer and navy dress pants, but he’d combed his hair, at least, and felt presentable. Hal had offered to lend him a cravat, but he’d politely declined.

  They spotted Tori standing by the refreshment table.

  “Would you two like to not dance with me?” Tori asked. She hadn’t changed out of her school clothes—a pair of high-waisted tweed trousers under her Fairmount blazer—and was leaning against the wall of the assembly hall, arms crossed.

  “You don’t dance?” asked Hal.

  “I can dance—four years of lessons, thank you—but I don’t like to show off. Not in this crowd.”

  “Hmm.” Hal nodded. “Yes, it’s uh … it’s good to keep certain skills up your sleeve, I guess.”

  The tune that was playing came to an end, and Phi wandered over to them from the dance floor, looking a little flushed. Unlike Tori, she’d dressed up in an ill-fitting skirt and blouse, and had swept her curly hair up into a bun.

  “Are you still being a sourpuss?” she asked Tori.

  “I’m being mysterious,” said Tori. “There’s a difference.”

  Phi looked at Bailey as she smiled, and a terrifying thought occurred to him—he should ask her to dance. The very idea made his throat close up and his palms turn clammy. Even if she said yes, what would he do then?

  “Who—who were you dancing with just now?” he asked her.

  “No one in particular,” she said. “I don’t really know how to dance at all. I just move my feet from side to side and see what happens.”

  Bailey made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cough. Hal raised an eyebrow at him.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m terrible at it,” Bailey said.

  “You told me once you used to go to barn dances,” Phi said kindly. “I bet those were fun.”

  Bailey stumbled to respond. A Lowland barn dance was not the same as standing across from Phi at a Fairmount soiree. But Bailey was saved from answering when he caught sight of Mr. Nillow, his History teacher, sampling a glass of punch at the other end of the refreshments table.

  “I’ll be back,” he said to Phi. “Got to ask Nillow something.” He could feel the eyes of all three of them on him as he walked away. He truly did have something to ask the professor—several things, in fact, that had been on his mind since his trip to The White Tiger pub—though as he turned his back on Phi, he felt a mixture of embarrassment and relief.

  “Good evening, Mr. Nillow,” he said, sidling up to the table.

  “Hello, Mr. Walker. Behaving ourselves?” Nillow said, tugging at a striped waistcoat one size too small. He was a rather rotund man.

  “Yes, sir. I was thinking—we haven’t covered the Melorian Age of Invention in class yet, but I’d like to focus on that as a topic for my final paper. Do we have any transcripts of his speeches here in the school?”

  “My Nature, no,” Nillow harrumphed. A dribble of punch escaped down his chin, which he wiped away with the sleeve of his jacket. “A pity. In the seventeen years that the Jackal held this kingdom by the hoof, he decimated public records of Melore’s reign. Rotten trick he pulled. The only reliable transcripts, if they exist at all, are in Parliament’s archives.”

  Bailey, though disappointed, felt bold.

  “He did the same with the Velyn, didn’t he? The Jackal, I mean.”

  Nillow looked sidelong at him.

  “Now you’re on about something entirely different. You ask some people, clearing out the Velyn was the one useful thing the Jackal did during his time in power. Ruffians, the lot of them. Savages.” Nillow cleared his throat and downed another gulp of punch. “I wouldn’t be much interested in a thesis on them, if that’s what you’re thinking, my boy. Best stick to history that matters.”

  Nillow turned away, clearly ruffled by Bailey’s question. Bailey wondered what the RATS would have said in response—some history still mattered, to them at least. And it was beginning to matter to him as well.

  When he returned to his friends, Phi had disappeared, and Hal and Tori stood side by side by the dance floor.

  Tori was actually swaying a little bit—almost like she was having a good time. She smirked at him.

  “You fouled that up,” she said.

  “Fouled what?” he asked, thinking she meant his conversation with Ni
llow.

  “Phi wanted to dance with you,” said Hal.

  Bailey could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks.

  “Really?”

  “But you just missed her,” Tori said, her smirk softening. “She said she was tired and went back to Treetop.” She looked at Hal. “Do you know the Lemur Hop?” she asked him.

  Hal straightened his vest and jacket. “Um … yes. I do,” he mumbled.

  “Then let’s go,” Tori said, grabbing his hand. Hal waved at Bailey as Tori marched him toward the dance floor.

  Bailey stood alone for a minute, watching his schoolmates have a good time. Unsure of what to do with his hands, he fumbled around in his pockets and realized that the pendant Tremelo had given him, which he was used to carrying, was not there. Another disappointment. He’d have to remember to check his room later.

  Alone, Bailey left the meeting hall. The sounds of the party echoed in the atrium, and the entrance to the library portion of the building, a grand marble archway, was empty.

  Bailey believed Nillow that most records of Melore’s words and deeds had been scrubbed in the long years of the Jackal’s reign—but he didn’t want to give up hope that something, some piece of information, would join together the jagged edges of what he’d learned so far with Tremelo’s strange riddle about Awakening. Bailey glanced behind him. The entire school was preoccupied with merriment. He slipped away into the darkened library.

  Not entirely certain where to start, he made his way up the stairs to the history section. The autumn moon beamed through the tall glass windowpanes of the stairwell.

  Just as he reached the third floor, Bailey heard a clattering sound nearby. Was someone else prowling around the library after hours? He looked down the long, open hallways. No one.

  Quick footsteps echoed from below. Bailey leaned over the railing at the top of the stairs, hoping to catch a glimpse of who it was—but only saw the dark shadow of a large, ominous bird perched on the stairwell underneath him. It emitted a loud squawk and Bailey jumped back. Forgetting all about the history section, he slowly retraced his steps down to the second floor to get a closer look at the bird. But when he reached the landing, it was gone, and all was silence.