by Matt Laney
I glower at him. “For what?”
“For giving you the idea to put your leg back in the hole to trick the monster!”
“Thanks,” I grunt. “Now will you please go? This is a very important night for my grandfather. And me.”
“We will, dear one,” the sage says tenderly, “but we will not go far, and I’ll be looking after that wound of yours.” She is already beginning to drift away along with Oreyon.
As the hunter fades from view, he says, “Follow the Great Firewing. Let the Firewing be your guide, yes?”
The mood around the campsite is lively and cheerful. The radiance of the fire, the easy chatter of the soldiers as they butcher the tail, the stars flickering to life warm me as much as the flames. And these soldiers, so willing to sacrifice anything and everything for our safety and comfort. This might be the happiest night of my life. Grandfather’s too, knowing the throne will pass to me.
Not to Tamir.
The thought of Tamir brings a sudden chill in spite of the fire’s heat. What will be his next move? How will he respond when he learns the plan to poison me failed? What has Anjali told him? Perhaps my hunt was just a prelude to another battle brewing back home.
Grandfather and Galil emerge from the tent and take a seat on either side of me. Sariah passes out plates piled with slabs of raw slaycon meat. When everyone is served, all eyes turn to me.
I know what’s expected. I’m supposed to take the first bite as a sign of my victory over Storm, before everyone else digs in. Kaydan prepared me for this, too.
I poke my fork into a hunk of meat and raise it high overhead, preparing to thrust it into my mouth. I don’t feel triumphant, only grateful to be alive, grateful to Grandfather and Galil and these loyal soldiers. Instead of taking a bite, I stand, expecting an angry burst of pain from my leg.
“What are you doing, Lord?” Galil objects.
He reaches for me, but Grandfather waves him off. I hobble to Grandfather and hold the piece of meat before his muzzle. His jaws part, and I slide the hunk of meat between pointy yellowed teeth.
I make my way around the fire and do the same for Galil, Sariah, Jimo, Biku, and Mavrak. This is a complete break from tradition, but everyone is too stunned to do anything other than accept my little gift. Besides, it would be Grandfather’s place to stop me.
Once everyone is served, I return to my seat and take the last piece for myself. The meat nearly melts in my mouth and glides down my throat to an aching stomach that will surely beg for more. Too bad my plate’s empty now.
One by one the others rise, each taking a turn to offer me not one, but two hunks of meat from their plates. Each Singa transfers a portion of his or her plate onto mine. Soon my plate is stacked with a small mountain of meat.
Grandfather comes last. He lowers to his knees, an outrageous posture for one who wears the crown, and empties his entire plate onto mine. Precious pieces slide off the edges and flop to the dirt.
In a choked whisper he says, “You will be a great Kahn.”
Chapter 7
To love the Kahn is good, but a Kahn who loves you is better.
—Sayings of the Ancients
he fire burns low. Hot coals glimmer beneath charred logs, pulsing orange, then white, and back to orange. Stars sparkle, sprinkled like salt across a boundless black tablecloth.
Jimo and Sariah take turns keeping watch while Mavrak and Biku sleep. I’m nestled in the crook of Grandfather’s arm under deerhide covers. In the distance, we hear a drumbeat and voices riding atop the waves of sound.
“What is that, Grandfather?”
“That,” he says with disgust, “is the drum and chant of the Maguar. Pay it no attention whatsoever.”
“Tell me about the Maguar,” I ask, trying not to sound eager. None of the forbidden books in Galil’s secret reading room say anything about our enemies. They speak of “the Ancients,” but not about the Maguar, or the Singa for that matter. All we know about the Maguar is what the elders who fought in the Great War say about them, which isn’t much.
“They are a superstitious breed, heads so full of stories and fantasies about their god, they wouldn’t recognize a scientific fact if it bit them on the nose!”
“Why don’t we have a god?”
Grandfather becomes cross. “We don’t need one! We have our superior brains, logic, reason, science, inventions, books! The Maguar lack these things, and their beliefs fill in the gaps of what they cannot explain. To believe in something, to accept something as true without evidence, is pure folly, Leo.
“Consider the sun. The Maguar believe the sun is a servant of their god, which flies around our planet every day. What nonsense! The earth is not the center of the universe. Our sun is just one of the billions of stars we behold in the night sky.”
“Could the Maguar be taught?” I ask.
“You could sooner teach a slaycon how to swim!” he says with a snicker. That, of course, makes me think of Storm’s head bobbing up and down in the river, struggling to keep his snout in the air, all of it a trick to lure me to his side.
“The Maguar can’t be trusted with knowledge. Respect them, yes, for they are as fierce as they are primitive; however, with our weapons and intellect, we have the advantage.”
The way our elders talk about the Maguar, I imagine them as huge and monstrous, tossing aside even the mightiest Singa warriors like unwanted toys.
“How many Maguar have you fought?”
Grandfather chuckles darkly. “More than I care to count!” He leans forward and pushes back his robe to expose an old wound. “You see this scar? It’s from the Great War. The scoundrel would have finished me off if I hadn’t clung to my blade and felled him before he could sink his teeth into my neck. All of that is in the past. The wall and the fence protect our way of life now.”
I want nothing more than to see a Maguar, from a safe distance. Their drumming continues, and the rhythm soon lulls me to sleep. In my dreams, I am flying through blue sky far from this world with its slaycons, enemies, military, walls, fences, and traitors; far from my disease with its freaky apparitions. I wrap myself in clouds, soar over mountain peaks, glide up steep cliffs, and float to wherever my mind directs me.
Until I am ripped back to earth by the shrill sound of Sariah’s voice.
“Sire!”
Sariah and Jimo hover over us, blades drawn.
“Forgive me for waking you and the prince, but there is something you must see.”
“What is it?” the Kahn says, groaning and rising.
“Come with us to the wall,” she says, rousing Mavrak and Biku with one foot. “To arms!” she barks. “Bring your bows.”
She glances my way. “Perhaps the prince should stay here with Galil.”
“Do you forget that today my grandson killed a slaycon and has begun his journey to become a Singa warrior?” Grandfather asks. “He will come with us!”
Sariah hesitates. “He is wounded, and his safety may be in question. All of us could be at risk.”
Grandfather does not respond, indicating his mind is set and the discussion is over.
“Then he should be armed.” Sariah spins a blade and offers the handle to me. It’s a long blade, and I have to use both hands to keep it from slumping to the ground.
Grandfather grins. “Lead on, Captain,” he says.
The warriors, two in front and two behind, guide us into a grove of trees and through a clearing to the Great Wall itself. Only keen Singa eyes can make out where the upper edge meets the night sky.
I’ve been this close to the wall just once before. Grandfather took me camping in the Border Zones for my tenth birthday, including a tour of the topside of the Great Wall. There I saw huge crossbows with arrows the size of small trees. Those weapons were designed to slay not the Maguar but much larger creatures unknown to our lands. From a watchtower, we peered far into enemy territory. I searched for the slightest showing of a Maguar pelt until my eyes ached. I saw only trees and hill
s and sky. It was, much to my surprise, just like our side of the wall.
As we draw closer to the patchwork of stones and mortar, Sariah raises a hand, two fingers pointing at a shape lurking against the wall. An icy tingle runs up and down my spine.
Mavrak and Biku quickly sheathe their blades and notch arrows to the strings of their bows. They fan out and slink closer to the dark mass while we follow. Grandfather steps in front of me. No doubt he’s regretting my tagging along.
The shape is taller than a full-grown Singa and twice as wide. It does not move with our approach, which means the thing is sleeping, dead, or waiting to attack. It’s like facing Storm all over again. But this time, I’ve got help.
Less than two meters from the wall, it’s clear the shape is actually a tunnel leading to the Maguar realm on the other side.
My eyes drink in the sight of enemy territory. I gasp and nearly cry out with surprise as the call of a firewing bird pierces my ears. It’s the young firewing from the story I told Anjali, perched on the branch of a tree less than a meter from my head. He’s older and larger now, but not yet full grown, invisible to all but me.
“What’s the matter, Leo?” Grandfather asks.
“Nothing,” I say, turning aside.
“Does your leg trouble you?”
The phantom bird spreads magnificent red wings edged with gold and drops into the air. He floats through the hole in the Great Wall and settles on the Maguar land beyond. He stares at me, cocking his head from side to side.
“Eliyah.” Daviyah’s voice fills my mind, voices within voices. “Do not be afraid.” My heart swoons. Before I can stop myself, I’m charging into the tunnel, desperate to reach him.
“Leo! No!”
Grandfather’s words barely register. I’m inside the hole now. The view of the Maguar’s domain opens up with each step. The drums have stopped.
Two arms wrap around my waist, and I’m hauled back to Singa territory by Jimo. I don’t resist. For one thing, it would be pointless. A rabbit would have more luck escaping from the grip of a bear. For another, I’m ashamed of my disobedience, and I’d rather not embarrass Grandfather further. Jimo tosses me in front of Sariah, who can’t disguise her disappointment.
“Lord Leo,” she hisses. “We don’t know who made that hole or what might be lurking on the other side.”
I peer into the hole again. The firewing is gone. Thinking fast, I say, “We should inspect both ends of the hole, don’t you think, Captain? If there is more rubble on the Maguar side, we will know the hole was made by them. If there is more rubble on our side, we will know it was made by someone over here.”
“That would prove nothing,” Sariah counters. “Even if there is more rubble on this side, the Maguar could have moved it over here after digging the hole to confuse us. They are primitive but not stupid.”
“For the love of science!” Mavrak puts in. “What Singa in their right mind would dig a tunnel through the Great Wall? The very idea is illogical and preposterous.”
“Nevertheless, the prince has a point,” Grandfather says. “Jimo and Mavrak, you will go to the other side and make an inspection.”
Jimo and Mavrak share an uncertain glance.
“The Kahn has spoken! Move!” Sariah orders.
The two warriors collect themselves and put a blade to each hand.
“Go through single file,” Grandfather advises. “If anything is waiting to attack on the other side, it would be best if it did not kill you both at once. The second, at least, will have a fighting chance.”
Jimo, who is older than Mavrak, walks ahead, because that is the Singa way. The young are valued more highly than the old.
A few steps into the gaping hole, Jimo and Mavrak are little more than shadows before disappearing altogether on the other side of the wall. They give no cry of warning, and there are no sounds of battle flaring up from a Maguar ambush. Several moments drip by and we hear nothing. Then, shapes stir in the tunnel and a single figure advances. Sariah has an arrow on a string, ready to sail.
“Identify yourself or I will shoot,” she commands.
I believe her.
“It’s us, Sariah,” says Jimo. “All is well. Or so it seems.”
Sariah lowers her bow as Mavrak crosses back into Singa territory, followed by the hulking frame of Jimo.
“There is more rubble on that side than this one,” Jimo reports.
“Evidence that supports our hypothesis that the tunnel was made by the Maguar, from their side to ours,” says Grandfather. “And this is a strategic location, exactly between the two watchtowers of Border Zones Seven and Eight. Jimo and Mavrak, go to each of those guard towers and make a full report. Tell them, by order of the Kahn, to repair this breach immediately, guard it, and organize an inspection of the entire wall at first light. We must know if this is a single incident or part of a broader campaign.”
“The question,” Sariah ponders, “is why and how the Maguar would punch a hole through the Great Wall and then leave it completely exposed, unguarded, and so easy to find.”
“I’m wondering the same, Captain,” Grandfather replies. “There is no scent of Maguar here. My theory is they are trying to send us a signal, letting us know we are not as protected as we might like to believe.”
Sariah nods. “That much is certain. We’ve known the Maguar wouldn’t stay quiet forever. Perhaps their make-believe god has spoken or they have invented a new fiction about the future.”
My ears perk up at the mention of fiction.
Grandfather shrugs. “No sense speculating about things we do not know. That will lead us to unreasonable conclusions as quickly as any story. Fiction is a dereliction . . .”
“. . . of a scientific prediction!” we all respond together.
“Exactly so,” Grandfather says. “For now, I will go back to camp with the prince. Sariah, you and Biku stay here until reinforcements arrive. If anything comes through that hole, put an arrow through its hide without hesitation.”
“You will leave the Border Zones as quickly as possible, then?” Sariah asks.
It was more of a recommendation than a question, and Sariah appears uncomfortable at having come so close to giving an order to the Kahn.
Grandfather only smiles. “Yes, Captain. And we thank you for your concern.”
“Strength and truth, my lord.”
“Now more than ever, Sariah,” Grandfather says, “strength and truth.”
Sariah and Biku offer a quick bow and set to work arranging their weapons. I suppose if the whole Maguar Pride came charging through that hole, these two warriors could unleash a barrage of arrows and plug up the passageway with the corpses of our enemies. If not, there is no better death for a Singa than to die protecting our realm and the throne. And anyway, the Border Zone Fence would put a stop to a Maguar invasion. Singa archers from atop the wall and on the other side of the fence would bring them down.
Unless . . . the Maguar had found a way to breach the fence, too.
I tremble at the thought of wave after wave of Maguar flooding Singara to rob us of our peace, our loved ones, and our way of life.
For a time we walk in silence, Grandfather brooding and puzzling over this new development while I hold back a burning question. Soon it is too much to keep in.
“What’s going on, Grandfather?”
“I wish I knew, Leo,” Grandfather says. I can almost see doubt and worry crawling around his words like worms. “The whole thing is very strange. Twenty-five years of peace and now this?”
“May I offer an idea?”
“Of course. You may always speak freely with me, Leo.”
“Maybe the Maguar don’t want to invade our lands. Maybe they want something else.”
“That is a very charitable thought, but if you knew the Maguar, you would not give them the benefit of the doubt. They are single-minded savages who crave vengeance and victory above all. With their kind there is only one response: a lethal one.
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��We will not speak of this to anyone, Leo. If word of the breached wall reached Singara, it would cause quite a stir. Best to keep it under wraps for the time being.”
I nod, demonstrating skill at holding my tongue.
“Good,” he says before sinking back into deep thought.
The terrain lightens with the approaching dawn. Galil is already awake as we return to camp.
“Good morning, Galil,” Grandfather says. “Have you seen, heard, or scented anything unusual this morning?”
“Only the sounds of birds, the smoke of our dying fire, and the usual sights and smells of a new day.” He looks over our shoulders and the smile fades from his muzzle. “Where are the others?”
“I ordered them to stay and make a routine inspection of the wall.”
It is the truth, but not the whole truth.
“We will return to Singara without them,” Grandfather adds.
Galil cocks his head. “We will return to Singara without a military escort?”
“Until we reach the first army outpost beyond the woods, yes. Gather up what you need. We leave immediately.”
We apply ourselves to the tasks of packing and tidying up the camp. I shake the dust off Biku’s cloak, which served as my bedding, and hang it on a stubby tree branch. We carry what we can of our provisions and leave the rest for the others.
“Allow me to inspect your leg, Master Leo,” Galil requests before we begin our trek to the Border Zone Fence. He removes the bandage as though unwrapping a delicate artifact. The ointment clings to the bandage and to my fur in long, gooey tendrils. He wipes the excess away, looks closely. Sniffs.
“It is healing well, extremely well, in fact. Far better than I would have guessed after only one night.”
It’s true. The throbbing is gone and the wound has closed, but the horrible memory of Storm’s teeth pressing into my skin and bone is as present and painful as ever.
Galil produces a pair of scissors from his satchel.
“I’m going to cut off the dead skin. This might hurt a bit.”
He is right about that, but I try not to let it show. I’m supposed to be soldier material.