Owen shrugged and got up. He opened the top drawer of his bureau and took out a small box. He opened it and brought out something black and petrified that was about the size of his fist.
“Three years ago, I killed an Elki a few miles from here. You see, I have a dagger made from Tiberian steel. My father gave it to me before a pack of Elki tore him apart and ate every last bit of him.”
Milo and Gunner sat forward, listening. Milo glanced now and then at the black object Owen kept turning over in his hands.
“One of the last things my father taught me before he died was that Elki are allergic to a chemical compound found in nectarwine. They drink it and it gives them stomachaches and puts them to sleep. So I set up a few traps in the foothills one day, nothing harmful that could hurt a human being. I mostly used Arganulo shells—they’re like coconuts except they’re pink and taste like soap. People can’t stand the taste of them, but Elki love the stuff.
“Anyway, I filled a bunch of them with nectarwine, plugged them, and left them in a clearing. Then I camped out in a tree, which is the safest place when you’re hunting Elki because they can’t climb. I stayed there for two days watching that clearing until I saw one come out and start sniffing around. It ate the Arganulo shells, nectarwine and all.”
He paused for a moment, looking blankly down at the floor. “I followed it at a distance, mostly using its droppings and vomit to track it. Its stomach couldn’t handle the nectarwine so it was constantly crapping and puking all over the place. Finally it fell asleep. That’s when I brought out the knife and approached it.”
Milo was sitting so close to the edge of the bed he almost slid off. “What’d you do?”
“Wait ’til you hear this,” Gunner said in a quiet voice.
Owen licked his lips and took a deep breath. “I stuck the knife into the Elki’s throat and killed it. I didn’t feel anything—after all, those demon bastards killed my father. But it took me a while to do it, about ten minutes of standing over the thing wondering if I had the guts to do it or if I would just run away, like I ran away from home when they told me my old man wasn’t coming back. I didn’t hear the other Elki coming up behind me. Apparently, the Elki I had just killed was its mate. It jumped me before I had a chance to prepare myself.”
Owen hunched over his knees. He looked at the petrified black thing in his hands. Whatever it was, it looked sharp and deadly.
“That’s unbelievable,” Milo said. “Why are you still here? You should be dead, shouldn’t you?”
“Of course.” Owen gave him a wide-eyed look. “No one survives an encounter with an Elki like that. But, you see, I was lucky. When the second Elki attacked me, I managed to turn around just in time. I stuck him with the dagger right here.” He made a stabbing motion against his left armpit. “It was an accident. I never told anyone I did it on purpose. But they don’t believe me. How can I expect them to?” He shrugged. “I took the creature’s paw as a souvenir, but that only made it worse. Everyone was convinced I killed the first one—the female—while it was sleeping and then made up the rest of the story. I guess that’s life. I wouldn’t believe it either. A young Humankin like me killing two Elki in one day? A female and a male? I’d be a legend if people didn’t think I was making it all up.”
He handed Milo the petrified object. It was a claw, which is what Milo had originally suspected. The claw, however, didn’t resemble any claw he’d ever seen. It looked more like a talon from an immense bird of prey, or a velociraptor from that movie Jurassic Park that he and Emma had watched six times after their father had come home with the DVD.
The claw had three talons, one of which was large and curved, perfect for disemboweling prey. Milo passed it back.
“Now show him the other thing,” Gunner said.
“I don’t know.” Owen leaned back, his lips gathered in a pout. “Do you think he can handle it?”
“Handle what?” Milo said.
Owen got up and went to the closet. He dug around inside until he found a small case made of what appeared to be black leather. He took something shiny out of the case and covered it with his body so Milo wouldn’t see what it was.
“You can’t tell Ascher. He’ll make me wash dishes for a month if he knows I took this out of the storage room. I just couldn’t bear to be without it.”
Owen revealed what was in his hands. Milo let out a breath of wonder.
“Is that what I think it is?”
Owen nodded. “Here. Hold it.”
It was a dagger made from the shiniest and sharpest-looking metal Milo had ever seen. It felt light and deadly in his hands, and the blade was flawless.
“It’s—it’s not black, though. The ones they used on my dad…”
Milo’s voice trailed off.
“Those were dipped in Cebron blood,” Owen said. “It corrupts the metal, makes it poisonous to people like us. People with the blood of the gods.”
Milo handed back the dagger, glad to be rid of it. “I’m sorry about what happened to your father,” he told Owen.
“Don’t be. Your dad died, too, and Gunner’s family was shot down by North Korean border guards right before his eyes. We have a lot in common, the three of us. And with you being a demigod, maybe someday we could be famous Elki hunters together. We could help the Guardians and the Steel Teeth eliminate the Elki species for good and save thousands of human lives in the process.”
“Darn tootin’,” Gunner said, picking seeds off the bed and flicking them aside.
“By the way,” Milo told Owen, “I believe you. About the two Elki, I mean.”
Owen shook his head. “I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks. It’s part of the Steel Teeth code. We don’t kill Elki for fame. We kill them for peace.”
Chapter 30
Kovax shivered as a cold breeze slipped into his cloak.
The land was misty and wet. The trees, black and shorn of leaves, seemed to brood like old people dressed in black at a funeral. Wretchlows, perched on jagged rocks, fluffed their oily feathers and flapped their enormous, tattered wings, opening their hooked beaks now and then to squawk at the passing soldiers. Flitflies darted through the air, mouthpieces moving as they waited for someone to expose a bit of skin so they could bite down and drink. The old mapmakers had named this place the Withered Forest, and with good reason.
Kovax had spent the day leading a pack of soldiers toward the Nardgrillax Peaks, a string of mountains that looked the way their ancient name sounded—black and ugly, like a burnt, twisted animal spine pressed into the earth.
Basher let out an impatient grunt as he lifted his warhammer off one shoulder and switched it to the other.
Coscoros followed, studying the branches and bushes with a look of disgust on his white face. He kept his wings drawn back along his spine, though every once in a while he would flutter them to scare away insects.
Behind them, a woman with fiery orange hair and matching eyes scanned her surroundings.
“Bugs,” Coscoros said, brushing his long black hair behind one ear. “They make me sick.”
The woman scoffed at him. She wore a simple suit of hardened leather armor, dyed black and exposing the shiny yellow skin of her arms and legs. Though she resembled a human woman in most ways—except for the yellow skin and orange eyes—her Feral birthright was exposed by the tail that curled up behind her. Black and metallic, it had a stinger at the tip. The markings on its shell, like spatters of bright orange paint, were a warning that the stinger was poisonous. Her name was Leticia.
She whipped her tail around and spoke in a snide voice.
“Better than birds,” she said. “Feathers are home to all sorts of fleas and mites.”
“Acolyte feathers are resistant to that sort of thing,” Coscoros said, “but if it makes you feel better to suggest…”
“Plucking your feathers out one by one would make me feel better.”
Coscoros chuckled. “Is it difficult to hide how attractive you find me?”<
br />
Leticia’s eyes came to life like two matches being struck at the same time. With an insectile burst of movement, she grabbed Coscoros and pinned him to the nearest tree. Kovax and Basher turned to watch.
Coscoros tried to hide his surprise by smiling, but his mouth twitched, a sign that his confidence was waning. Leticia leaned forward until her face was only inches away from his. Her breath smelled papery and spicy, like a beehive.
“I could sting you, Blackwinger,” she said in a throaty whisper. “But then you would die.” She got close and smelled him. “There’s enough poison in me to kill a thousand men in ten blinks of an eye. Would you like a taste?”
“Enough,” Kovax said, stamping his staff into the dirt. “Behave yourselves.”
Leticia’s stinger hovered above her left shoulder, aimed at the spot between the Dark Acolyte’s eyes.
“My money’s on the woman,” Basher said, spinning the warhammer against the ground as easily as if it were a child’s top. It made a loud rustling sound.
“I said enough. Basher, separate them.”
Basher sighed. “It’s going to be one of those days.”
Leticia’s tail reached forward and stroked the side of Coscoros’s face with its nail-like tip. Coscoros inhaled sharply. He had stopped smiling.
“All right, you win. Put that thing away.”
Leticia smiled and let the orange in her eyes flare once more as she pulled away. She walked up to Kovax as if nothing had happened.
“Pay attention,” Kovax said, “and don’t underestimate Iolus. He could kill all of you with a snap of his fingers.” He added, “I might even allow it, just so I can have some peace and quiet.”
He continued along the path leading through the Withered Forest, using his staff as a walking stick. Leticia smiled cruelly at Coscoros and blew him a kiss before joining the low mage.
Basher smacked Coscoros on the shoulder. A bruise would appear later.
“What are you, stupid? She’s could tear your wings off and eat them for lunch.”
Coscoros watched Leticia move up the foothill, his eyes wide with delight. He sighed and fluttered his black wings.
“I think I’m in love.”
Chapter 31
They walked for a while until Kovax suddenly stopped.
He stood for a moment, eyes pointed straight into the forest, head slightly cocked as if he were listening for something. The blue crystal tip of his staff glowed faintly.
“There it is,” he said, staring at nothing. It was late evening now and the trees were dark shapes against the gloom. Bodies moved among the leaves, watching them.
“What is it?” Leticia said, keeping her voice low. “All I see are darksprites and rinrows.”
Coscoros and Basher came up behind her and studied the swaying tree leaves. Basher kept a firm grip on his warhammer and Coscoros did the same with the hilt of his shortsword.
“Smells like a graveyard,” Coscoros said.
Basher looked up at the whispering branches. “Let’s do this and get out of here.”
“We’re at the barrier,” Kovax said. “Everyone stand back.”
Leticia’s tail rose at her side, ready to strike if necessary. It was covered in dew and glistened in the twilight. Basher took a few steps back with his warhammer held before him. Coscoros skipped back a few paces and pulled out his sword.
But Kovax didn’t seem to be afraid. He reached out with his staff and barely flinched as blue light blasted from the crystal.
Basher, Leticia, and Coscoros shielded their eyes. The sudden blast of energy was neither cold nor hot, but sharp. It stung their faces, washing their skin with that prickly feeling one gets in an arm or a leg that has fallen asleep.
Kovax had revealed a giant, semitransparent dome that shone like thin crystal catching the moonlight. It was as tall as a three-story house and covered most of the forest before them. White coils of energy swam across its surface.
Coscoros slid his short sword back into its sheath. “What is it?”
“It’s a detection barrier,” Kovax said. “It alerts him to the presence of anyone who tries to cross into his lands.”
“Are we to sneak up on him, then?” Leticia said.
“Not exactly.” Kovax slid one hand halfway through the barrier. “It’s a test.”
In a low voice, he began a chant in a language the others barely recognized. It was an old, dead language understood only by scholars.
Crackling light blazed around his fingers. He made a slicing motion and the light shot down like a bolt of lightning and split against the ground, coursing along the slightly rounded edges of the barrier. A seam had opened.
“Follow me,” he said, bending at the waist so he could pass through. Beyond the seam, the forest looked even darker and more forbidding.
Leticia followed without hesitation. Coscoros and Basher looked at each other, shrugged and ducked through the opening.
An hour later they were at the base of the mountains.
“Iolus!” Kovax shouted up at a cabin sitting on a rock ledge, a leaning one-room structure that looked ready to tip onto its side. “Come out!”
Boulders sat on various smaller ledges, looking somewhat out of place, and Kovax could tell at once that they had been placed there—lifted by magic, most likely—to be dropped on intruders should the need arise. There were traps all over the landscape, and he had already evaded several without informing the others. The night had been full of near-death moments that only he knew about.
“What is it?” Coscoros said.
Kovax nodded once in admiration. “Iolus has paired himself with a talented magician. This place is protected by spells that are a match even for me.”
“Is there anything I can do, sir?”
Kovax scowled at him with such contempt that Coscoros had to avert his gaze.
“You can stay out of my way, Blackwinger.”
With a nod and a half-hearted “Yes sir,” Coscoros backed away from the low mage. He rejoined Leticia and Basher, who were gazing up at the mountainside.
The cabin remained dark and deathly still, like a dried-out husk. No one had tended to the place in a long time. Some of the shingles were missing and the dark patches they had left on the roof were like scattered signs of a disease on the shell of a dead insect.
“This can’t be the place,” Basher said. “Iolus would never allow himself to sink this low.”
“Who knows?” Coscoros said. “He disappeared almost two decades ago. Used to love being famous, remember? Paraded himself around like a movie star from Theus. But to just disappear like that—something must have happened.”
Kovax ignored his soldiers and swirled his hands like someone fingerpainting on an invisible canvas. A low hum rose from his throat. His hands began to pulse with a liquidy white light that dripped off his fingers and steamed against the ground.
Coscoros studied Leticia for a moment. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, ignoring him.
“Why do you think he did it?” Coscoros said. Still nothing. “Hey, Feral. I asked you a question.”
“I know,” she said. “I can smell your breath from here. It’s unsettling.”
Basher grunted in satisfaction. “Three points for that one.”
He walked away a few paces as if to sit against a nearby tree—or on top of one. But instead of sitting, he lifted his warhammer and, with a mighty swing that made the bare branches click against each other, he smacked the weapon against the forest floor. THUMP! He pulled the warhammer out of the hole it had made in the soil and slipped it into its harness. Then he reached into the hole and pulled out the skin of a small animal that had been flattened. He tossed the skin aside, reached in again, and pulled out a handful of guts that steamed in the cold, night air. They glistened like a pile of red ribbons.
“Oh, that’s disgusting,” Leticia said, looking away as Basher began to slurp down the entrails.
“You get used to it,” Coscoros said. “Any
way, getting back to my question, do you think Iolus, the great sorcerer from Theus, would really build himself such a pitiful cabin out here in the middle of nowhere? And if so, what would drive a man to such a desperate act? Hmm? Why don’t you give us your opinion, Feral? Or does that hive mind of yours prohibit you from independent reasoning?”
“Sure can’t encourage it,” Basher said through a mouthful of intestines.
“I’ll tell you the story,” Leticia said. “But first, the Berserker has to throw away his meal. It’s making me sick.”
“Agreed,” Coscoros said. “Basher, get rid of it.”
Basher swallowed the remaining entrails, then sucked the juices off his fingers and burped. He walked over to Coscoros. “Do you have a mint?”
Several feet away, Kovax stopped humming and began to chant. The white light around his hands swirled and twisted like glowing strands of spider web. Floating now, the strands crossed and twined in the air.
Leticia frowned at Basher’s blood-covered hands. He grinned and hid them behind his back. She shook her head at him, then walked over and sat on a rock.
“His full name’s Iolus Magnus,” she said, draping her tail over one shoulder and stroking it, “and a long time ago, the bastard broke my heart.”
Basher and Coscoros leaned forward and listened.
PART III
IOLUS
Chapter 32
“Good luck, hero.”
A younger, less battle-hardened Leticia lay on her side on a massive bed, her slender body covered, though not completely, by a silk sheet. She stretched her long legs and smiled at Iolus. Her tail poked out from the sheet, dark and shiny as a chain of polished black steel.
Iolus didn’t notice. He was putting on a suit of deep-purple plate armor he didn’t even need. His boots would never touch the battlefield.
“This is it,” Leticia said. “Your moment in the sun.”
“The sun stayed in bed this morning.” Iolus looked out the window at the gray light falling from above. He was a tall man with long, rust-colored hair he had pulled back into a ponytail. High cheekbones and deep-set eyes gave him the appearance of a man who spends much of his time in sinister contemplation.
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