Wind Rider

by P. C. Cast

  Death smiled. “One I must possess. Watch with me, my Blade, and let us see what we might learn about her.”

  “Her? A woman has magick?”

  Death pulled His gaze briefly from the fire girl to send his Blade an admonishing look. “Never underestimate a woman simply because she is a woman. The Goddess of Life is female, and She is the only thing in this world mightier than death.”

  “Y-yes, my Lord,” Iron Fist said instantly. “I apologize. I was only surprised. Um, my Lord. The sun finally sets!” He pointed at the empty horizon.

  “Wait.” Death held up His hand, stilling Iron Fist. “We will not rush down to be burned by this mysterious fire that—” And then even the God of Death’s words failed Him as He watched the ring of fire fizzle from around the girl.

  Only it didn’t go out. Instead the girl—this spectacular young Warrior woman—lifted her arms as if she would embrace the dying flames. And the flames came to her! They formed a column before her. With a mighty shout of “IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN!” the girl made a throwing motion, which the flames obeyed, landing in an exploding blaze that neatly cut off her pursuers.

  Then the girl, the young, bloody man, and three canines sprinted for the channel. Death’s sharp eyes saw what was happening. “She’s escaping to join her people on the channel,” the God realized. He also realized this was the perfect opportunity for Him to take the City in the Trees. Death turned to face the army of men hidden on the shadowy ridge. “Iron Fist, remain by my side.”

  “Yes, my Lord. Always, my Lord.”

  Then Death raised His trident over His head, shaking back His cloak so that His massive silhouette was fully visible.

  “ATTACK!” he bellowed.

  “Death! Hu! Hu! Death! Hu! Hu! Death! Hu! Hu!” His army beat their tridents against their shields as they repeated their war cry over and over while they poured over the edge of the ridge toward the unsuspecting Others below.

  “Now, my Lord?” Iron Fist was trembling with anticipation beside Him.

  “Follow me!” Death commanded. Iron Fist obeyed, following his God as Death strode along the ridge, staring down at the fire girl, who had now gotten in one of the many small boats that were spreading out along the channel and begun swiftly rowing into the distance.

  You will not escape me! Death channeled power into the thought and the girl looked up, meeting the God’s gaze. Yes! Know me! See me! I am coming for you, fire girl! The God raised the huge trident and bellowed the mighty call of a rutting stag into the darkening sky.

  As her boat drifted from his view, Death turned to his Blade. “Follow her. Find out where she is going. Do not return to me until you know her destination, but you must return to me.”

  “Always, my Lord!”

  “Then, go with Death’s blessing.” He rested His hand on Iron Fist’s bowed head. “And know that what you do not only serves me, but also my consort, the Goddess of Life, who shall soon be your Lady.”

  “Yes, my Lord! Thank you, my Lord! I will not disappoint you.”

  “Of course you won’t, for then I would have to kill you, and I would find that most inconvenient.” Death felt His Blade tremble beneath His hand. “Now, go!”

  Death watched long enough to see Iron Fist slip a small boat into the water and enter the channel, paddling after the disappearing line of boats. Then Death turned His attention to the scene of carnage below Him.

  Death smiled.

  Already many of the Warriors of the Others had fallen. Many more, though Death could not rightfully call them Warriors, were fleeing into the forest. I shall round them up and deal with them next, He decided. It was the small circle of Warriors who were still battling His army that He looked to.

  They’d taken a stand on a wide wooden platform that had been built into an ancient pine. Though there weren’t many of them, their arrows and spears were carving a deadly swath through His Reapers. Death sighed in irritation and made His way down the ridge, but as He drew closer to the main battle, His irritation turned to amusement when He recognized the Warrior who was obviously in charge of the group of fighters.

  “Ah, Thaddeus, and so we will finally meet.”

  Death waded into the carnage, forcing His way toward Thaddeus and his small group of men. His Reapers, appearing more animal than man as they fought, roared a feral cheer when He joined, and redoubled their attack—easily overwhelming the Tribe’s meager, but persistent resistance.

  As Death cleaved through the weakened Tribe, He became fascinated with the canines. He could feel the bond they had with their Companions. It was much like the connection that drew Him to Thaddeus.

  Much like—and not alike at all. Death tasted and touched the Companion bond as He ended life after life, and was intrigued by it—by its fierceness and its loyalty. Except for Thaddeus’s small group, the only real resistance to His Reapers came from the canines—huge Shepherds that fought valiantly beside their humans, not faltering or retreating, even when their Companions were cut down. Death watched a ferocious Shepherd stand over the body of his fallen Companion, still battling with his last breath.

  Perhaps I shall have a canine—the largest, fiercest of the Shepherds—a God of Canines for the God of Death! That thought had Him smiling as He came into full view of Thaddeus and his men.

  Death stood still and observed. Arrows still rained from Thaddeus and the Warriors, but it was easy to see that they would soon run out of ammunition and be overwhelmed by His Reapers, who milled anxiously around the tree, taking turns drawing their fire.

  Death reached out, following the connection that had already been established between Him and the anger-filled Thaddeus when he’d chosen power over love and sanctioned the death of his canine Companion. The God saw Thaddeus startle, as if he’d backed into a hot coal, and his arrow went wide, missing the Reaper he’d aimed at and harmlessly embedding into one of the tall pines nearby. Thaddeus looked around, obviously searching the crowd.

  Death raised His mighty trident and stepped forward, shouting, “ENOUGH!”

  Every living thing within hearing of the God’s voice reacted by pausing as their bodies—be they human, canine, bird, or insect—all responded on a visceral level to Death’s command.

  With no hesitation, Death strode toward the tree. One of Thaddeus’s men panicked and fired a crossbow at the God. It hit him in the middle of His massive chest and, chuckling, Death brushed it aside as if had been an annoying, but harmless insect.

  Several of his Reapers snarled and lunged forward, obviously determined to take the tree.

  “Reapers—hold!” Death commanded. His army, though still snarling and bellowing, lowered their bloody, triple-tipped spears, and the exhausted Tribe dropped to their knees or leaned against trees, gasping for air and trembling with fatigue. “Thaddeus! Command your Warriors to hold!” Death ordered as He continued to approach the tree.

  Thaddeus stared at the God and shock flashed across his easily read face, followed closely by recognition and then fear.

  “Stand down! All of you—stand down!” Thaddeus shouted.

  “Very good,” Death said, looking up at Thaddeus. “I like this beginning, Thaddeus, though this is not, of course, the first time we’ve met.”

  Death saw the way the Tribe looked at Thaddeus. His small group of Warriors kept glancing from Thaddeus to the God—back and forth. Not in fear or anger, but rather curiosity, as if waiting to hear the rest of the story.

  The rest of the Tribe reacted much differently. Their voices began to lift in concern and confusion. Many stared at Thaddeus with more disgust than they appeared to have for the God and His Reapers. Ah, so, he has not yet found a way to control them all. I shall aid him with that, and when I am done using him, he will go the way of his canine and be sacrificed for the greater good.

  “Thaddeus, your people are weak. Your city is destroyed. It is time to choose.” As Death spoke the Tribe fell silent.

  “You say we have met before, but you have changed, Dead Eye.�
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  “Indeed I have,” said Death. “Dead Eye is no more. He willingly sacrificed himself to awaken me, the God of Death. Much like your beloved Odysseus sacrificed himself to awaken the true Warrior within you.”

  “Odysseus died because of a mutant Scratcher bitch,” Thaddeus hurled the words through bared teeth, looking so much like Death’s Reapers that it caused the Tribe to gasp.

  “Ah, but you and I know the truth of that, don’t we?” Thaddeus began to spew more words at Death, but the God lifted His hand, cutting him off. “No. Save your lies and excuses for others—if you survive. Now you must choose. Put down your weapons and ally yourself with Death—or be claimed by it.”

  Thaddeus’s gaze was sly. “Allies do not surrender to one another.”

  “Yes, well, Thaddeus, if you were the God then you could make the rules. You are not. I am. And I demand my ‘allies’ drop their weapons,” Death replied conversationally.

  “Don’t do it!” shouted someone from the crowd.

  “The Tribe will not surrender to Skin Stealers!” called another.

  Death ignored them and locked His gaze with Thaddeus, speaking calmly, as if they really were old allies. “You have had a taste of it—of real power. Only I can show you how to feast upon it. Or I can kill you. Yes, certainly, a few of you will escape, but to what end?” The smile that spread over the God’s face was feral. “You can always retreat to our city. The People and I will not be there. We shall be here, building a new city in the sky. Make your choice!” Death commanded in a voice that shook the boughs of the pines surrounding them.

  “Tribe of the Trees! Drop your weapons!” Thaddeus shouted.

  All around Death came the sound of crossbows, arrows, knives, and swords falling to the ground as the Tribe reluctantly did as the new Leader of their Warriors commanded.

  CHAPTER 3

  The night sky filled with clouds and darkness came swiftly and completely to the Umbria River. Mari couldn’t help but think it was a reflection of the dark, disturbing horrors they’d left behind.

  From his seat on the left ballast of the little boat that held Mari, Nik, Rigel, and Laru, the big male Shepherd whined, pulling Mari’s attention from the oppressive sky.

  “Hey, it’s okay, Laru. I know this will take some getting used to, but it’s going to be a long journey so you might as well settle in,” Mari told Nik’s Companion.

  But instead of settling, Laru whined more urgently, and Rigel added to the emotional tug Mari already felt from his sire by sending her an image of Nik looking exhausted and covered in blood.

  Carefully, Mari put her paddle down and moved along the little boat until she reached Nik, whose bowed back was to her as he methodically stroked the water. She touched him gently, causing him to jerk in surprise and grunt in pain.

  “Mari, you have to keep helping me paddle—at least until we’ve rounded the far side of Farm Island and officially entered the Umbria River.” Nik spoke between heaving breaths.

  Mari realized her hand was wet from touching him. She rubbed her fingers together and smelled them—and the truth hit her deep in the stomach.

  “Nik, you’re bleeding. Badly.”

  “Gotta get us out of here. There’ll be time to fix me later.”

  “Nik! Look at me.”

  Reluctantly, he sat straighter, pausing in his paddling, to turn on the little benchlike seat and face Mari. She felt his forehead and cheeks, sucking in her breath at the amount of cold sweat covering him and the clamminess of his skin. Then her hands flowed over his body, swiftly and competently, with her healer’s touch finding the seeping gashes in his shoulder, side, and thigh.

  “Nik, you’re wounded and you’re losing a lot of blood.”

  “I know, Mari. But we’ve fallen behind the rest of the Pack. We must catch them.”

  Mari looked behind them. Nik was right. Davis and Jaxom’s boat had been just a few yards behind them, but now there was only the complete blackness of empty water. Her eyes searched in front of them, and she could just make out the lightening of the water that the other boat’s paddles briefly disrupted.

  “No, Nik. This won’t do. If you pass out I’ll never be able to catch up with the rest of the Pack.” Mari cupped her hands around her mouth. “Davis! Nik needs help!”

  “Mari! I hear you. Coming back now!” Davis called to them.

  “No, Mari. Don’t let them do that. We don’t know if the Tribe is following us.”

  “Jaxom chopped holes in the other boats. We have time,” she said firmly. Her hand covered his. “Stop paddling. You’re making the bleeding worse.”

  With a sigh Nik dropped the paddle into the wooden hull of the boat. Mari was sitting close enough to him to feel that the instant he was no longer using his waning energy to paddle, his body began trembling. Not long after they’d launched safely into the river, Mari had dug through her travel pack for her shirt, and put it on. Now she started tearing strips of cloth from it and tying them around the worst of Nik’s wounds.

  “Mari, Nik—what is it?” Davis’s voice was filled with worry as their boat bumped against them and Jaxom reached out with a paddle, which Mari grabbed, pulling the two little wooden canoes together.

  “Nik’s hurt. He’s bleeding. A lot.” She worked quickly, bandaging Nik. “He can’t go on until I heal him.”

  “I can go on, but I will admit not for much farther,” Nik admitted.

  “No problem,” Davis said. “Here’s what we do. Mari, you and Jaxom change places.” When Nik started to protest, Davis cut him off. “It’s only temporary, Nik. The Pack isn’t far ahead of us. Jaxom can help you catch up to them, and I can do the same for Mari. Once we reach them, we’ll change boats again.”

  “Good idea,” Mari agreed. “I’m assuming Antreas is in the lead boat?”

  “He is,” Davis said.

  “When we catch them we have to get word to Antreas that we have to stop—at least long enough for me to draw down the moon and heal Nik.”

  “And yourself,” Nik added grimly. “You called sunfire to you—several times. You saved Laru and Rigel and me.”

  “And Fortina! Don’t forget about this special girl,” Jaxom added. The young Shepherd had somehow curled most of herself onto Jaxom’s lap, though like her littermate, Rigel, she was far too big to fit comfortably. Mari noted that Jaxom didn’t seem to care at all that the overgrown puppy was wet and heavy. His hands continuously stroked her soothingly, and Fortina’s gaze rarely left her new Companion’s face.

  “We wouldn’t forget about Fortina.” Mari managed a smile for Jaxom and his newly bonded Companion. “Welcome to our pack, sweet girl. I’m so glad you’re with us.”

  “So am I!” Jaxom looked at Mari with happy tears pooling in his eyes. “She loves me so much. I can feel it.”

  “I know. I’m happy for you, Jaxom,” Mari said.

  “There is nothing like being bonded to a Shepherd,” Nik said, nodding. Then he grimaced as even that slight movement caused him pain. “And I am happy for you, too. But, that doesn’t change the fact that Mari saved all of us, and she needs the power of the moon for herself.”

  “I’ll keep some of it, don’t worry, Nik. But I’m also not as exhausted as I was last time I used sunfire. I’m learning, and this time I was able to absorb some of the sun’s power for myself.”

  “But just a little while ago you were so sick,” he said.

  “I was, but that had more to do with seeing that creature on the ridge than sunfire exhaustion. Jaxom, pass Fortina to me. I’ll settle her, and then you and I can trade places.”

  Nik acquiesced as they balanced carefully—first passing the pup over, which Rigel and Laru watched carefully, tails thumping in encouragement. Then Mari touched Nik’s damp cheek. “We will stay close by,” she reassured him before she and Jaxom exchanged places.

  Rigel whined from his ballast.

  “It’s okay, sweet boy,” Mari said quickly. “I won’t be far away.” Davis’s little blond Ter
rier, Cameron, huffed a greeting and licked Mari’s face, which made her laugh. “And Cammy will keep an eye on me.”

  Mari ignored Rigel’s snort and petted Cammy while the Terrier wriggled with happiness.

  “Easy, Cammyman. Don’t want this canoe to overturn,” Davis said, and his Companion instantly quieted.

  “Jaxom, did you get holes punched in all of the remaining boats?” Nik asked.

  “All but one or two at the very end of the row—they were both single seats. I focused on the bigger crafts first. I—I hope that was the right thing to do,” said Jaxom.

  “It was,” Nik said. “Well done. And now I’m less worried about being followed.”

  “The Tribe is too busy fighting the Skin Stealer army to bother with us,” Jaxom said. “I watched as long as I could, and saw no one coming after us.”

  “I feel terrible for them.” Mari shuddered.

  “Them?” Jaxom said. “You mean the Tribe that tried to kill you and Nik?”

  Mari met his gaze. “No, I don’t mean Thaddeus and the twisted Warriors he’s creating. I mean the rest of the Tribe—Ralina and the others—the ones not filled with hate.”

  Jaxom grunted and said nothing as he picked up Mari’s discarded paddle and took her place in the rear of the canoe.

  Davis and Mari exchanged a look. “It’s difficult to have empathy for a people you don’t know,” Davis said softly. He touched her hand as he handed her Jaxom’s paddle. “Thank you. Thank you for knowing and for having empathy.”

  She nodded and smiled sadly at Davis, longing for a world where empathy wasn’t such a sparse commodity. Then she took her place in the rear of the canoe. “I’m ready.”

  “Okay, let’s lean into it and stroke hard. The faster we catch the others, the sooner Nik can be healed,” said Davis.

  Mari bent to the task of slicing her paddle into the deep, black water. She tried not to think about the darkness below her. She didn’t have any particular fear of water, but as an Earth Walker raised in Clan Weaver, she hadn’t spent much time on the water. She could, of course, swim. All Clanmembers learned when they were children. They did fish, but only in the streams and lazy creeks that traversed Earth Walker territory. Never in the Willum River—it was controlled by the Tribe in the west, and the Skin Stealers in the east. Mari had never even glimpsed the Umbria River, which she thought might very well prove to be a good thing. That night she couldn’t see the shore—not on either side of her—so Mari pretended that it was much closer than she had a feeling it actually was.