Slight and Shadow (Fate's Forsaken: Book Two)

by Ford, Shae

  “Kael,” he said, touching a hand to his chest. “What brings you to the plains?”

  Eveningwing’s pupils dilated and shrank as they studied his face, flicking quickly over his every feature. “I came to kill you.”

  The giants broke out in a chorus of mumbling. He thought he heard Brend hiss: “I told you so!”

  But Kael wasn’t alarmed. “Yeah, I’m not surprised. The King has sent shapechangers after me before.”

  His smile seemed to disarm Eveningwing, but only for a moment. He returned Kael’s smile with a sharp one of his own. “The King didn’t send me. I came here to kill you for myself — for my own reasons.”

  “I knew it!” Brend stormed. “What did I tell you, eh? There’s no trusting them. We ought to have killed him when we had the chance.”

  Kael was slightly surprised by Eveningwing’s confession. He was certain they’d never crossed paths before. What could he have possibly done to make the halfhawk his enemy?

  “Why do you want to kill me?”

  Eveningwing’s face betrayed nothing. So Kael had no idea what he was thinking until he said: “You killed Bloodfang.”

  There was a jolt in Kael’s chest at the sound of that name, a pang that made him choke on his next breath. Bloodfang was another memory he’d been trying to bury. He told himself over and over again that Bloodfang had wanted to die — Kyleigh had even forgiven him for it. But the guilt still haunted his heart.

  “You’re right,” he said, not taking his eyes off Eveningwing. “I did kill him. And I deserve to die for it.”

  His black pupils sharpened into points, and Kael knew what was coming. He braced himself for the moment when Eveningwing would lunge at his throat … but it never came. In another blink, his pupils were wide again, and he slumped back against the wall.

  “I never had a flock of my own. Bloodfang was kind to me. Wolves are often kind — as long as you aren’t hunting in their territory,” he added with a smirk. “Bloodfang taught me many things about our people. He taught me to fight honorably. He told me to seek wisdom.” Eveningwing sighed heavily. “Now I have found wisdom exactly when I didn’t want to. I cannot kill you.”

  Kael had been trying to digest everything Eveningwing told him, but it was difficult: the halfhawk’s tongue moved every bit as quickly as his eyes. “Why can’t you kill me?”

  Eveningwing rolled his head back, cracking his neck, and Kael saw that another patch of feathers sprouted from the base of his skull. “Because you saved my life. You’ve set me free. And by the laws of my people —”

  “Stop.” Kael held his hand up quickly. “I know what you’re going to say, and I won’t hear it. The debt between us is already settled. You came here to kill me, I stopped them from killing you,” he waved to the giants — who, despite their suspicions, had begun crowding around in interest, “and then you decided not to kill me, after all. So everything balances out. There’s no life debt between us.”

  Eveningwing blinked. “But there’s still the matter of the curse —”

  “Curse? What curse?” Brend said. He’d begun to slink closer, but at the mention of a curse, he leapt back. “You better not have brought any curses around here —”

  “It’s not that sort of curse,” Kael said.

  “Then what sort is it?” Declan stood with his arms tensed at his side. His gaze narrowed to burn a point through the middle of Kael’s head.

  He thought quickly. He couldn’t let the giants know that Eveningwing had been magicked — that would raise all of the wrong sorts of questions. “It’s … more of a figure of speech,” he said. An idea came to him, and he charged after it — hoping to mercy that Eveningwing would play along. “When a shapechanger loses a friend in battle, it hangs over him like a curse — um, plaguing him with grief. Until he can avenge his friend, that is. Then his grief is lifted.”

  There was a mumbled chorus of ahs from the giants gathered around him. They nodded to each other, their eyes widened in understanding. Only Declan still seemed troubled: he blinked furiously and scratched at his ear, a confused look on his face. But after a moment, even he seemed to believe Kael’s story.

  Or at least, he didn’t say any differently.

  “So your grief is your curse,” Brend said. He watched for a moment as Eveningwing’s head bobbed up and down.

  “Yes.” The halfhawk shot a look at Kael. “Though now I’m sad again because I have no way to repay you.” He seemed to have another thought — one that was in no way connected to the first. His amber eyes flicked around the stall, over the rafters, along the wall and out into the aisle. “This is different from the other human nests I’ve been in. Why do you live here?”

  Brend snorted loudly and shook his head at the other giants.

  “We’re stuck here,” Kael explained. “It’s like a prison.”

  Eveningwing’s dark brows climbed high into the crop of his hair. Then for some reason, he began to squirm. “You’re prisoners?” When Kael nodded, he broke into a wild grin. “That’s how I’ll repay you! I can set you free —”

  “No!” Brend roared, and it was no joke: his foot came down so hard that it shook the dust from the rafters. “Try to spring us out of here, and I swear I’ll kill you. I’ll tan the savage leather from your hide —”

  “He’s only trying to help,” Kael cut in. “Or are you too proud to take help from a shapechanger?”

  “Pride has nothing to do with it,” Declan said. He nodded to Brend. “Tell them.”

  Brend took a deep breath. The red retreated from his face, but the furious glint never left his eyes. “Gilderick keeps our women locked up in his castle,” he said evenly. “We don’t know where, and we don’t have any way of finding out. But the important thing is this: if we try to rebel, Gilderick’s sworn to kill them. For every man that escapes, he’ll kill one of our sisters and hang her body in the Fields. That’s why we don’t care for outsiders — because outsiders don’t care for us. What’s it to them, if one of our sisters fall? They don’t mind hurting us … they’d do anything to save their own hides.”

  He glared, and Kael realized that the glint in Brend’s eyes wasn’t anger at all:

  It was fear.

  “Gilderick wouldn’t really —” Kael began, but Declan cut him off.

  “Oh, he certainly would. You weren’t here the day the plains fell, rat. You didn’t see how Titus’s army slaughtered our parents. You didn’t see how Gilderick sorted us out.” His eyes slipped dangerously beneath the shadow of his brow. “So you’ll just have to believe me when I say that he would — because he’s already done far worse.”

  Kael’s mouth went dry. He could practically feel Brend’s anger burning behind his reddened face. All around him, the giants’ breath blew out sharply, their nostrils flared. Even the rain sounded more malicious than before: it drummed in his ears, warning him.

  But he didn’t listen.

  The giants might’ve thought that Kael didn’t care, but the truth was that he cared very much. He wouldn’t try to slip out now, not when it might cost the giants the lives of one of their sisters. But he also wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life in chains.

  No, this was just another rut in the path — a problem that he would have to solve. Kael realized that he wouldn’t have a chance to go back to the seas. He wouldn’t be able to rely on the pirates for help. From this point on, he’d be on his own.

  It wasn’t ideal, but he could do it. He’d have to do it. If he didn’t figure out a way to free the giants on his own, they might all very well rot in their stalls.

  “I think you understand now, wee rat. So I won’t kill you outright. But know this: if I catch you trying to slip out of here,” Brend smiled widely, “well … we’ll just tell Finks that the lions got you.”

  Kael shrugged. “All right. I won’t go anywhere.”

  “Good,” Brend said. Then he straightened up to look around at the others. “If there’s going to be any plotting done, it’ll need to
be done a giant’s way — and by way of a giant!”

  There was a grunt of approval from the others. They crowded around at the door and poked their heads over the walls. Every pair of eyes was trained on Brend.

  “Our Prince will have the answer. He’s been thinking hard these last many years, and I feel he’s close to making us a fine plan!”

  Kael could hardly keep himself from gasping when the giants grunted in agreement:

  Prince?

  He’d read a little about the giants’ government in the Atlas. They didn’t have a class of lords and ladies, but lived scattered about in family clans. The clans warred amongst each other constantly: bickering over land, water, cattle — just about any little thing they might use to start a fight.

  The only person who had any manner of control over the clans was the Prince. He alone had the power to collect taxes and call the giants to battle. When outsiders invaded the plains, it was the Prince who rallied the clans to fight. Some historians believed that the giants put the Prince’s word even above the King’s.

  Kael was surprised at first, but his excitement quickly wore off when he realized that it didn’t make any sense. “You mean to say that your Prince is here?” When the giants nodded, he still didn’t understand. He thought they might be trying to trick him. “I don’t believe you. Gilderick never would’ve let the Prince live — even as a slave.”

  The giants broke out in a rowdy bout of laughter, elbowing each other and pointing down at him — as if they could hardly believe such a silly creature existed.

  Kael’s face burned hot under their jeers, but he wasn’t about to be defeated. “All right — who is it, then? Where’s your Prince?”

  “Here!” Declan said.

  But before Kael could be properly shocked, the other giants began calling:

  “Here!”

  “Over here!”

  “No — I’m the Prince today, you clodders!”

  They dissolved into chuckles once again, and Brend goaded them on: “Gilderick tried to kill him, didn’t he? He tried to wipe out the Prince’s whole family! But that’s the problem with the giants: we’re all family. As long as there’s a giant left alive, the plains will have a Prince. He’s here among us,” Brend said, sweeping his arms around. “One wee little Princeling cousin — a fellow so far down the line that not even the bloodtraitors could remember him. We’ve kept him safe all these years. And when the time’s right, we’ll put him back on the throne.”

  The giants let out a barking cheer, and Kael suddenly understood. “You wouldn’t give him up.”

  Brend’s mouth fell open in mock surprise. “He’s got us figured out, lads — we’d better crush his wee head!”

  Eveningwing sprang to Kael’s side, shielding him with a feathered elbow. His sharp eyes stabbed at the giants, warning them. And their laughter dried up immediately.

  “It’s all right. They’re only joking,” Kael said, peeling Eveningwing to the side.

  Well, he hoped the giants were joking. But with Brend, it was always difficult to tell.

  *******

  That next day, the ground was still too wet to do any planting. So Hob ordered that the giants spend their time tending to the plows: they were to oil the harnesses, check the frames for cracks, and take the blades to the castle to be sharpened.

  Kael was wondering how many fingers he might expect to lose when Hob shouted: “I need a team of beasts to go with Churl to the Pens — they’ve run out of straw for their blasted animals.”

  Brend and Declan’s hands shot into the air. Kael’s arm almost came out of its socket as Brend jerked his wrist skyward, volunteering him.

  Hob’s lips pinched around his chew. “A rat? And the two of you again?” He scanned the crowd, but none of the other giants raised their hands. “All right, I suppose you’ll do —”

  “No, you can’t send them,” Finks sputtered. He’d just emerged from one of the sheds behind the barns, a clump of Fallows in tow.

  The Fallows stood pigeon-toed behind him. Their milky eyes sat dead, and their mouths hung slack. Each one had a shovel propped over his shoulder. Kael realized that they must’ve been going to dig a fresh latrine.

  That was the one good thing about the Fallows: they did all of the tasks that nobody else wanted — like pulling Churl’s wagon, and filling in the old latrines. And they never once complained.

  They were a bit difficult to control, though. Even now, they didn’t seem to notice that Finks had come to a stop: the Fallow nearest to him trod on the back of his heel, and he yelped.

  “Back! Get back!” he screeched. He flayed them with his whip until they slunk away, then he spun back to Hob. “That little rat will be no good to you.” His lips parted over his teeth in a sly grin. “Why don’t you put him in my charge for the day?”

  More than anything, Kael didn’t want to spend his day digging latrines. The odor rising from the mire was so powerful that it singed his lungs. He always tried to keep his visits quick and to the point.

  Fortunately, Hob was having none of it. “You’re not the foreman, here — I am. And if I say the rat is fit enough to toss hay, then so he is. Now get back to your work.”

  Finks stomped off in a huff, and the Fallows trailed along behind him — waddling like a line of the largest, most unfortunate-looking ducklings Kael had ever laid eyes on.

  As soon as Finks was out of sight, Hob chased them away with a few blows of his whip. Kael followed the giants to a shed behind Northbarn — one so large that it was almost a barn itself.

  The shed was packed from floor to ceiling with straw. Declan handed Kael a tool that he recognized as a pitchfork. He’d seen pictures of them before, but never actually used one. He learned quickly that they were less a tool than a four-headed spear.

  “Watch it, wee rat!” Brend called from over his shoulder. Kael stood back — but not nearly far enough.

  Brend tossed a forkful of hay and Kael had to drop on all fours to keep from getting stabbed. “What in Kingdom’s name are you —?”

  “I told you to stand back,” Brend said. He held his pitchfork out to Kael. “You see, what we do with these strange little things is scoop up great loads of hay —”

  “I know what they’re for,” Kael snapped back. His hand burned furiously where Eveningwing had scratched him, and he was in no mood for Brend’s heckling.

  “Stand by the wagon and load the hay we toss,” Declan said, jabbing his fork behind him.

  Churl was parked a few paces outside of the shed. They’d taken the water barrels out of his wagon, leaving the bed empty. The giants tossed straw out in loads over their shoulders, where it landed in a neat pile in front of Churl. And it was Kael’s job to scoop it into the wagon.

  The shaft of the pitchfork had clearly been made for giant hands: try as he might, Kael couldn’t get a good grip on it. His fingers stretched out until it pulled painfully on the wounded skin of his hand. The top end of the pitchfork was so heavy that he had to wedge it against his chest and try to lever it over his shoulder.

  By the time he got the first load tossed back, most of the hay had slipped out between the prongs — dumping down upon his head.

  Straw stuck in Kael’s hair and to the sweat on his face. It fluttered beneath his collar and hung onto his back, itching him mercilessly with even the smallest movement. He shook the tail of his shirt, trying to force the straw out, but the sweat on his back held the itching bits to his skin like paste.

  While Kael struggled, the giants made short work of the hay. He watched in amazement as they tossed heaping forkfuls over their shoulders. Their movements were deft and practiced: they bent over and around each other, turning like companions locked in battle. Brend’s long arms hoisted high and up, while Declan launched bundles of straw in quick, heaving motions.

  They had the whole shed cleared out in the time it took Kael to make a dozen throws.

  “Shoo, wee thing!” Brend said, chasing Kael away from the pile. “This is a gia
nt’s work.”

  Once they had the straw loaded, the giants hopped into the wagon. Kael grimaced as the wheels groaned under their weight. They pulled Kael in by his belt, and he immediately wrapped his arms tightly around the wagon’s rails. He’d seen Churl drive before, and he would take no chances.

  Once they were all wedged in, Brend jabbed the butt of his pitchfork against the driver’s bench. And Churl — who’d been staring fixedly at the clouds for quite some time — snapped to life.

  “Move, move, move!” he squawked, swinging his whip in a flurry of lashes.

  The team of Fallows roared and took off — sprinting down the road as fast as their thick legs could carry them. The wagon rocked dangerously as it bumped over rocks and divots; little bits of hay streamed out behind them. Kael’s feet left the ground several times.

  And had he not been holding on for his life, he probably would’ve been thrown to his death.

  Chapter 15

  The Scepter Stone

  Across the main road from the Fields lay the Pens. They filled the land on the other side of Gilderick’s castle: a patchwork of neat little fences that hemmed the earth into squares, each filled with an astonishing number of animals.

  Kael had never seen so many creatures in one place. At first, he thought that all animals must live inside little paddocks, like the ones that dotted the Valley. Then he’d been surprised the first time he saw the pirates return from a raid with a large clump of cattle perched atop one of their ships. He remembered thinking how strange it was for so many great creatures to sit quietly, completely untroubled by the fact that they were trapped on a tiny boat.

  He wondered why they hadn’t tried to escape.

  Now as he looked out at the Pens, he couldn’t help but wonder the same thing. There were so many of them, and their fences were so small, that Kael couldn’t believe that the animals hadn’t tried to flee into the wilds. But they didn’t so much as raise their furry heads to look at the lands beyond their fences: they were far too concerned with their grazing.