by Peter Newman
‘With Lady Anuja’s permission, I would ask you to fetch them. We need everyone we can get.’
‘You have it,’ Anuja said. ‘Lady Farida, go now and swiftly. The rest of you, prepare yourselves for one last hunt.’
CHAPTER NINE
Vasinidra stood on the edge of the battlements, waiting for the signal. The Wild had attacked again. Once more, Fourboards was the target, a beleaguered settlement that had been battered more times in the last few weeks than it had in its whole history. Lady Anuja had led a group down to face them. A joint force of Ruby, Peridot, and Opal, the minor houses standing together as they had always done. But all three Deathless were injured and in no fit state for a prolonged fight. They were bait, nothing more.
Lord Gada came and stood next to Vasinidra, close enough that his right wing ran parallel to Gada’s left, the thin slice of air between them humming with energy. ‘Any word, High Lord?’
‘No, brother,’ replied Vasinidra. ‘When there is word, I will tell you.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Gada paused, but there was no doubt he was going to continue. ‘Don’t you think it’s been too long? What if something’s happened? What if they weren’t able to give the signal?’
‘If Lady Anuja has been overrun, we’ve already lost.’
‘Yes, you’re right.’
He was worried though. So much of his plan relied on timing and half-baked theories about the Wild’s new tactics. Would Anuja even give the signal? What if she has just gone out there to die? He shook his head to try to dispel the fear but it had little effect. Waiting had never been his strength.
Gada pointed down towards the swamps below. ‘Was that the signal?’
‘What?’
‘There. I thought I saw something.’
Vasinidra leaned out, feeling the strong currents tug at his wings. He saw endless swamp dotted with islands and ragged patches of trees. There was the Godroad, shining brightly as ever, and distantly, gathered along its edge, the nearest of the Ruby settlements. All as it should be. ‘I see nothing, brother.’
‘Oh.’
He was just trying to think of the best way to send Gada somewhere else when Lady Yadva came and joined them. ‘I never liked this plan,’ she said, settling her huge frame on the other side of Vasinidra. ‘It seems wrong to be up here while the minor houses take all the risk. I should be fighting alongside them. The only robust thing about Lord Quasim is his smile, and Lord Lakshin doesn’t even have that. Lady Anuja would last a lot longer with me and my hunters at her side.’
‘We have to give the Wild what they expect,’ replied Vasinidra. ‘There will be plenty of work for you to do soon, believe me.’
She only grunted in reply, unconvinced.
‘Was that it?’ asked Gada, pointing at the land below.
‘No,’ snapped Vasinidra.
‘You’re sure?’
Yadva shook her head. ‘I didn’t see anything.’
‘Oh,’ said Gada.
But it won’t be long now, thought Vasinidra. Somewhere out there, much further along the Godroad would be Lady Farida and her fellow Tanzanites. They too would be waiting for the signal. When it was given, they would join his Sapphires in flight, becoming the other half of a pincer that would trap Quiverhive and the Scuttling Corpseman between them. Or so he hoped.
Lord Umed arrived and joined them in a line. ‘Enjoying the view?’
‘No,’ replied Yadva.
‘Receiving last instructions from your High Lord, then?’
‘No,’ she repeated, a little more testily than the first time.
‘Then why are you standing here? Should you not be with your hunters? And you, Lord Gada?’ They did not immediately reply. ‘I see. Do you believe that by standing here and bothering your High Lord, the signal will be given faster?’
‘Fine,’ muttered Yadva, and bounded back towards her people.
Gada inclined his head. ‘Wise words, Uncle.’ As he allowed himself to be led away by Umed, Vasinidra saw it: A distant shaft of red light flickering into the sky, like a sunbeam cast in reverse. ‘There!’ he yelled, pointing.
‘What?’ said Gada, but by the time he’d turned to follow Vasinidra’s instruction, the shaft had vanished. ‘I don’t see anything.’
Vasinidra raised his spear. ‘Deathless Lords, hunters of the Sapphire, with me!’ And he leapt from the wall.
After only a few steps Chandni had lost all certainty in her surroundings. She assumed there were trees on either side of her and mud beneath her feet. But was that true any more? She felt her way forward, forced to inch along. More than once she was stabbed by a branch, or tripped by crumbling earth or treacherous roots.
Don’t fall, Chandni, she urged herself. A fall could scrape knees or hands and the slightest hint of blood would bring all manner of creatures down on her. The Dogkin was panting ahead of her but the sound was picked up by the trees and passed by on her left and right.
I wish Varg were here. Or Glider. Or even Crowflies.
It was strange. They hadn’t known each other long but she felt an affection towards the Birdkin. She suspected it liked her too, and that it was helping more than Murderkind had ordered it to.
Why do I think that? And why with such surety? Is the Wild playing tricks on me or am I starting to learn its ways?
Whenever she strayed from the path that she couldn’t see, the trees prodded at her. When she tried to get her bearings, the trees tricked her. And when she stumbled and tripped, which was often, they laughed at her. At least, the branches shook and the leaves rustled in a manner that brought the blood to her cheeks.
After what seemed like an interminably long time, the slope levelled off. There was a pressure on her sleeve and the old Dogkin led her several paces forward before letting go. No sunslight penetrated this far down, and the air was bitingly cold. The trees whispered amongst themselves. It reminded her of the times she’d been scrutinized by her mother and various family friends. All talking about her but not to her.
Chandni lifted her chin and waited.
She was sure that there was something more than trees out there. The chill air stroked her skin, making the fine hairs rise and the breath catch in her throat. Her hands began to shake. Something is here with me. It’s close!
Still she waited.
Let it watch if it wishes. I will not flee.
The voice that spoke came from in front of her. It sounded like a young man but she was sure that it was neither of those things. ‘To flee, to free. Ah, to be free! I will tell you one thing for free and one thing only: Your black feathered friends have no power in this place. They cannot protect you.’
‘I understand.’
‘That, I doubt. You stink of neediness. You stink of Birdkin. Of needy Birdkin, you stink. It is not a pleasing scent.’
She knew she had to forge an alliance with Kennelgrove but she instinctively felt it would not be as simple as laying out terms. There were some old grievances between it and Murderkind that would need careful handling. She needed to impress it but she didn’t know how. She didn’t even know if the thing in front of her was Kennelgrove, though she suspected it was. ‘May I ask you a question?’
‘A question? Just one? No, don’t answer. I will not take your charity. I too have questions and you too have answers. Let us trade. A question for a question, until I grow bored or one of us loses.’
‘How do we lose?’
‘A good first question. You agree to my terms then?’
Chandni did her best to stop her teeth from chattering. ‘When you have given me your answer, I’ll give you mine.’
It laughed. ‘I see why Murderkind likes you. Very well. The first to ask a question the other dares not answer, wins. If I grow bored, then neither of us lose.’ It murmured something so quietly she didn’t hear it the first time, but one of the trees slipped the information to her. ‘Unless I grow bored too quickly …’
‘What is your answer?’
‘I accept,’
she replied, ‘as soon as we have had a proper introduction.’
This was met by another laugh. ‘So be it. I am Kennelgrove, I am The Curious, I am prince and changer.’
I have found it! Now I need to find a way to win it over. And, after the style of its introduction, it seemed that simply giving her name would not be enough. ‘I am Chandni. I am the Iron Purebird. I am an Honoured Mother.’
She had the sense it was waiting for something more but she had no idea what it was.
‘You may ask the first question, Iron Purebird.’ Kennelgrove’s footfalls were soft and all around her, making it sound as if it were many creatures rather than one. And all the sounds were moving closer. ‘If you wish, you could ask me what your other names are.’
I have other names? She wondered if this were a trick on its part but now that it had put the idea in her head, she found she had to know the answer. ‘Yes. I want to know my other names.’
‘You are also Soultorn, the beloved of Prince Murderkind, and Packstealer.’
There were too many reasons why she could have the first of those names, but the other two were obvious. ‘Thank you.’
‘How did you bind this white-furred creature to your will?’
‘I tricked her into biting what wasn’t hers.’
‘A clever trick. Will you tell me the how of it?’
‘Yes … if you want that to be your next question.’ She held up a hand even though it was dark. ‘And now it is my turn to ask.’
‘So it is.’
‘Are you willing to consider an alliance against the Scuttling Corpseman?’
‘I might be.’
‘That isn’t much of an answer.’
‘It is the best I can give to such a poorly worded question. You have said nothing of terms nor participants, nor even what gifts might be given to sweeten your words.’
‘What kind of gifts would please you?’
‘Now that is a question I would enjoy very much,’ came the sly-voiced reply. It moved closer again, close enough now that she could smell damp wood and fur and something reminiscent of spiced wine. ‘But you have jumped ahead. Our agreement was a question for a question. You would do well to stick to the rules, Packstealer, they are all that protect you here.’
‘My apologies.’ The pressure and the cold were starting to get to her. She wondered if its plan was to keep her here until she passed out.
‘Rather than ask you two questions with my words, I would ask you one with my hands. A generous offer, I’m sure you’d agree.’
It was getting harder to talk. The tip of her nose and her lips had gone numb. ‘Y-yes.’
She’d been expecting to be groped or squeezed but she barely felt anything, Kennelgrove’s fingers ghosting over like Mothkin wings, tickling, tingling and gone. ‘Such pain! Such a heart! You grip yourself so tightly it has barely room to beat.’ He fell silent. ‘Well? What else would you ask of me?’
‘You may have another q-question. I too am feeling g-generous and want to ask a question with my hands. It is only fair.’
It hesitated. Only briefly but it was there. ‘Of course,’ replied Kennelgrove, though it sounded less sure of itself than before. ‘Whose suffering is more painful to your ears than your own?’
‘A few days ago I would have g-given you a long answer. Now it is brief. My son, my lover, my friends, the people in the sky that I w-watched over, and Lord Rochant Sapphire. My turn.’
Again, there was hesitation. ‘Mmmn.’
Her right hand was always numb and she was losing sensation in her left but she allowed both to roam over Kennelgrove. To her surprise she discovered something very much like a man. Two arms, two legs, slender like a youths. There was a coating of mud on its body and leaves worn almost like clothes but beneath them she felt human skin, alive and warm. It radiated heat in fact, enough to take the sting from her fingers and thaw out her lips. She felt a rent in the leaves and skin, and Kennelgrove stiffened as her fingers drew close. There was a hot damp under her fingers, like blood but thicker. It’s hurt. It didn’t want me to know.
‘It is your turn,’ she said.
‘Tell me why I do not go above and feast upon your lover?’
It’s angry with me and Varg will be the one to pay for it. She refused to be afraid. Those times were behind her. The Wild might be terrifying but she was Sapphire, born and bred. ‘Because he is mine, and if you hurt him, Murderkind will come for you, and you are in no condition for such a fight. I think I know who you are, Kennelgrove. I’ve heard of you before, a man dressed in mud and leaves who helped a group of exiles long ago. Because he was curious. Because of a woman named Rayen.’
Chandni had forgotten about the old Dogkin but at the mention of that name, it howled, long and loud and sorrowful. This time it was not the cold that made Chandni shiver. ‘You took that woman as the price for your knowledge. And you took away the group that tried to attack you.’ She was onto something; she knew it from the way Kennelgrove’s demeanour had changed. ‘When Rayen came back for the last time her hair was white …’ She thought back to when Fiya had told the story. White as the fur on your Dogkin. ‘You changed her hair … you changed her.’
The old Dogkin howled again and Chandni thought her heart would break at the sound.
‘By the suns, you changed them all. They are the Dogkin. Their souls are in the Dogkin!’
Kennelgrove suddenly sounded tired. ‘That isn’t a question.’
‘No. My question is … what hurt you?’
The warmth that had been so close to her receded. ‘I have grown bored. This game is over.’ Kennelgrove spoke over her shoulder. ‘Take her from here, Rayen. Do not bring her back.’
The Dogkin padded over, but when Chandni felt the tug on her sleeve, she planted her feet firmly. ‘No.’
‘No?’ asked Kennelgrove.
‘We agreed to the rules in front of witnesses.’ The trees rustled agreement as she pointed a finger to where she thought it was. ‘You are not bored. You are afraid. So either answer my question or declare me the winner.’
There was a long pause. Everything fell silent. She could hear nothing save for the beating of her heart and the grinding of Kennelgrove’s teeth.
‘Damn you, damn you, damn you!’ It came close again, and whispered: ‘The Scuttling Corpseman did this to me. Many of mine were slaughtered, but I got away.’
The trees began to whisper. ‘Corpseman, Corpseman, Corpseman.’
‘Wait!’ hissed Kennelgrove. ‘Do not summon that abomination here. Hush your leaves! Stop! Why are you betraying me?’ Its voice softened as he addressed the forest. ‘Whatever price it has offered, I will match. You know this. We have entwined together for so long and I have always been kind, have I not?’ A cold wind blew through the trees. ‘Mostly kind, then. Sometimes kind. I could be so kind if you gave me a chance.’
‘Damn you, damn you, damn you,’ came the echo of Kennelgrove’s own words, repeated over and over.
‘I have to run!’ exclaimed Kennelgrove. ‘To flee far and wide and hide and wait.’ It gave a cry of self-pity. ‘But it hurts to run.’ And then it was in front of her again. ‘You, Beloved of the Prince. Take me to Murderkind. It will listen to you. Yes. Tell it to shelter me. Together we might stand against the Corpseman. But we must go. Fast! Now. Now, I say!’
This is my chance, she thought.
‘If I do this for you, in return, you will treat fairly with Prince Murderkind, and you will restore the Dogkin to their original shapes.’
‘You ask too much.’
Chandni could hear a faint sound beneath the continuous whisper of the trees. It was a buzzing sound, the kind made by hundreds and hundreds of wings, all humming together. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘Goodbye, Kennelgrove.’
She began to feel her way towards the exit but she’d barely gone three steps before it replied.
‘All right! Thrice curse your hair and feet, all right!’
‘I have your word?’
As he said those words, the buzzing stopped, as if all those Flykin had been murdered in the same instant. Though the resulting quiet was a welcome respite for her ears, it was not a true silence. She could make out a rustling of leaves, a nasty chuckling coming from the trees themselves, accompanied by a single Birdkin. She couldn’t see it in the light, but the voice was familiar.
‘Crowflies? Is that you?’
‘Cha-aan,’ replied Crowflies.
It seemed as if they were sharing a joke, and she had a suspicion it was at Kennelgrove’s expense. She waited and listened again. Where moments ago there had been a swarm, now there was nothing, not even a single Flykin. ‘The Corpseman isn’t really here,’ she said. ‘You’ve been tricked.’
‘You dare to trick the trickster!’ Kennelgrove exclaimed, which only set them to all to laughing louder. In response, the demon spat on the floor. ‘May your seeds find only hard earth and the bellies of hungry creatures. May your roots wither and your boughs sag. May—’
‘Crowflies!’ snapped Chandni. The cold was getting to her again, sapping both strength and patience. ‘Stop laughing and take us to Prince Murderkind.’ The Birdkin gave a chastened squawk and leapt from its perch. ‘Kennelgrove, please stop cursing and come with me.’
‘For now, I will stem the flow of my hatred, though this will not be forgotten, nor forgiven.’
Chandni ignored the comment, and was relieved to find that when she left the circle of snickering trees, Kennelgrove came creeping after her.
Vasinidra heard their roar of assent as they followed, and behind it, a more ragged cheer from the people of House Ruby. There was no time for drums or speeches or song, as there would have been with a normal hunt. This meant they had to rely on the power of their Sky-legs alone to launch them, and skilled use of their wings to make the best of the essence currents.
The floating castle was quickly left behind, replaced with sky and screaming winds, and the blurred rush of the swamp beneath. There were two things that would make Lady Anuja give the signal. The first and most preferable was that Quiverhive or the Scuttling Corpseman had been seen. The second was if her forces were being overwhelmed.