Wicked As You Wish

by Rin Chupeco

  “Wolf king,” the old woman purred.

  Cole stiffened, but said nothing. The woman moved closer, laid a withered hand against the hilt of the scythe. Tala was almost sure it was a trick of the light, but the blade shone dimly, a dark opaque glow. The Dame took her hand away, her voice surprisingly gentle. “I knew your grandfather well in my youth. He carried Gravekeeper well. Few could match him in battle. You are his very image. The same haunted look in your eyes. All Nottinghams who bear this scythe wear that look.”

  “I am not like William,” Cole said roughly.

  “You are. My eyes are weak, but I am not too old to see. When I see your face, I remember his.”

  “I don’t care what you think, old woman.”

  “But you do care. Sometimes you care too much, and the tragedy is that no one else must know. A long, painful road is before you, wolf king, and you will grieve more than you can ever imagine.”

  Cole snatched up his wet clothes.

  “I know the reason you asked, no, demanded, to join the Cheshire’s cause.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Do they know? Why you push everyone away? Despite all you say against fate, you know you believe it.”

  In the flickering firelight, Cole’s face looked wan. The old woman continued.

  “You fear the lilacs in their hair, the softness of their smile, the tips of their feet. You will save them from death, I can see, once from frogs and once from fire and once from winter. And they will save you thrice more, once from poison and once from sword and once from madness.”

  “How did you know?” Cole’s voice was hoarse.

  “I was close once, to your grandmother. A seer she was, just as a seer I am. She frightened you as a child, did she not? You believed her, and you believe me now. I know, too, that eight shall fight at the end of the world. Only seven shall return. You know this, and I know this, and that is why you are here. The paths are long, but at its end, you will choose to die so she will not. That is what you believe. The frogs, for instance. Ugly detestable creatures. They take what they want. Do not let them take what you want.”

  Cole grabbed his scythe. The blade retracted into itself.

  “A traitor; a traitor, hiding. The wolves know the traitor. Do you?”

  The boy didn’t answer. He strode away, toward the castle’s main doors.

  The old woman laughed softly. She turned then and looked straight at where Tala lay concealed.

  “Come out, come out, sweet Makiling girl. Nothing escapes the eyes of the Hag, oh no.”

  Her cheeks scarlet, Tala crept out. The Dame crooked a finger at her, and she obeyed until she was no more than a few feet away from her, fidgeting uneasily. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she began.

  “Perhaps it is best that you did. One hundred of us, dead and dying. When the last one dies, the dice are cast. And you too, little firebird. I can see you hiding there by the flames.”

  The firebird flew out of the fireplace, perching by the grate to squawk questioningly.

  “The keep shall burn before it can rise. You and His Majesty both stand at the center of the maelstrom. Two paths lie in your way, as his does. Life in one, death in the other. But I cannot see so far ahead as to tell which path is which. I never could predict the dooms of you Makilings, as your esteemed ancestor intended. Perhaps it’s for the best. Do you know why Maria Makiling chose this curse?”

  Wordless, Tala shook her head.

  “Three hundred years of Spanish rule in the Philippines. Three hundred years of subjugation and forced labor and abuse, and still they could not wrest the magic from the Makilings and the Mai-i tribe. The Americans paid them twenty million dollars for your country, at the chance to usurp the magic, and they were even more ruthless. No amount of spells could withstand the massive army they brought to bear on your ancestors’ village, and so their leader, Maria, made a painful choice. For the longest time, the Americans believed the Makilings had destroyed their own magic rather than allow them access. The Royal States’ interest waned after that, allowing many of your countrymen to survive, to flee and claim sanctuary at Avalon. They have been fighting alongside its kings and its firebird ever since.”

  The Dame patted the firebird fondly on the head. It cooed, scuttling closer to Tala. “Trust in the firebirds, young Makiling, even against all evidence. Whatever they say and whatever they do, you must trust firebirds. Without them, all will have been for naught, and winter shall remain. You have fire in you, young Makiling, the hardest to master. But nothing would ever be worthwhile if it were easy.”

  Wark, the firebird agreed, now clinging to Tala.

  “They have lovely dances in Ikpe. It would be a shame not to spend the night. May you find something worthwhile there. This is not the last you will hear from me, young Makiling.” The Dame turned to leave. But before the darkness swallowed her up, it seemed to Tala that she aged several decades again within those few seconds; the Dame’s head now bent from age, her gait slowed and halting, and still she laughed all the while as she took her leave, a sound both soft and slow.

  19

  In Which the Team Buries a Village

  The count had given them more clothes for the journey; thick tunics, woolen pants, and boots thick and sturdy. Despite the cold morning, West insisted on wearing nothing else but his fur cloak, which he had tied around his neck, though he finally agreed to put on pants after Zoe had drawn him aside to insist. More supplies had been added to their horses’ packs: small tents, first aid kits, a few basic utensils. The map they requested had been provided and, by unspoken agreement, entrusted to Loki for safekeeping.

  The horses whinnied with delight upon seeing Ken. They cantered out from the stables one by one, bending front legs and dipping their heads to bow.

  “I’m surprised you all still remember me,” Ken murmured, patting each fondly on the neck. He caught the astonished look on Tala’s face and grinned. “Mum’s ranch breeds them all over Avalon, and they don’t easily forget a face.”

  “You understand them?”

  “Not in the same way we use language, no. It’s just the little things you pick up if you spend enough time with them. I grew up on a farm, so that’s basically been my life. Got riding experience? No? You ought to get Lass, then. You’ll take care of Tala here, won’t you, Lass?” The mare, a pure white thoroughbred, neighed her agreement.

  “Can you really recognize a horse by face?” Zoe asked, interested.

  “Can you recognize people by face?”

  “That’s different, Ken.”

  “Not to me.”

  “May the promise of spring speed your path, Nephew, and those of your companions.” The count was tired and pale, and the dark clothes he wore made his expression sallow. “Even with all this frost, it shouldn’t take you more than two weeks to reach Lyonesse. The sooner you reach Maidenkeep, the sooner the frost will lift from the land. The Dame predicted hard roads and cold nights for us all. For once, do not let her foretelling come to pass.”

  “We’ll do our best,” West promised, tears in his eyes.

  “Lady Fairfax told me about this Emerald Act that the Royal States of America had passed. That they might gain the most powerful of our spelltech is a frightening thought. That was what King Ivan feared most of all.”

  “They’ll never get it,” Alex said. “Not while I’m alive.”

  Surprisingly, it was Cole who had the most trouble with their mounts. The horses began to bray uncontrollably, rearing up in terror when Cole stepped inside the stables, and it took several minutes after he’d stepped back to pacify the group. One of the larger stallions selected as his ride, an intimidating and experienced warhorse who had, according to the count, seen his share of hard battles, refused to go near him, his eyes rolling up in fright whenever the boy approached.

  “I apologize. I can’t seem to underst
and why…” the count began, but Cole shook his head.

  “Horses don’t like me. I can move faster without one.”

  “The woods in these places are dangerous on foot, Sir Nottingham. Especially with winter about.”

  “Woods don’t frighten me, Lord Tintagel,” Cole said, and a faint half-smile crossed his dark, normally stolid face.

  “Will you be needing anything, then, Sir Nottingham?” Alex asked politely.

  For a moment, something passed between them—mutual understanding, or a silent acknowledgment of their previous agreement, perhaps. Had Tala not borne witness to their pact from the night before, she would not have noticed the odd formality. Cole shook his head. “All I’ll be needing is this.” His hands strayed to the scythe tucked into the scabbard at his hip. “I’ll catch up eventually.”

  “No water?” Zoe asked dryly. “I’ve heard that the Nottinghams could go months with nothing but the dead to power them, but I didn’t realize it was meant to be literal.”

  “Ice is good enough a water source for me,” the boy said calmly. “And if there is any game left in these woods, I’ll find it. If I find some to spare, I’ll send them your way, Carlisle.”

  “You can freeze to death for all I care,” Zoe grumbled, turning to saddle her horse. “Unfortunately, I’m in charge. We don’t know what else is in those woods, and I’m not explaining to the Cheshire why we abandoned you without good reason.” She paused. “Whether or not he sent you in the first place. We’ll wait till all the horses grow accustomed to your presence before riding out.”

  Cole shrugged.

  “How about a compromise?” Ken handed Cole a small vial. “Here. Add a few drops of these to your clothes. It’s a calming spell with some chamomile mixed in. It calms horses down quickly.”

  “It smells like flowers.”

  “You can either stink of daisies, or learn to run faster than a stallion, mate. Your choice.” Ken trotted back to the rest of the group. “We could have gotten rid of some very unwanted baggage if you’d just set him loose, you know,” he said quietly as he prepared to mount his own horse, a dappled gray stallion.

  “I’d rather keep a close eye on him here than have him stir up trouble once he’s out of sight.”

  “I knew you’d say that.” Ken sighed. “The horses aren’t going to like it.”

  “They’ll get used to it in time. Have them stay upwind of him.”

  “If he seriously thinks he can outrun us on foot, I’ll eat my horse,” Ken muttered, swinging up on his mount with practiced ease.

  The stallion nickered, looking offended.

  “It’s just a figure of speech. You haven’t been hanging around Loki, by any chance?”

  “Thanks,” Loki said, droll, from atop their own horse.

  “No charge.”

  The stallion neighed.

  Lass was docile enough, but it would take Tala a while to get used to the saddle before they could even start cantering. Like Cole, the firebird made the other horses skittish, though to a lesser degree. It took some more coaxing from Kensington to finally calm the mounts, and a little longer for Alex to convince the firebird to stay inside his saddlebag, safely hidden from view.

  The firebird disapproved of these new arrangements and sulked inside the large burlap sack, making small noises of discontent every now and then to let Alex know just what it thought about the whole matter. “We don’t want people running around screaming about firebirds coming to burn their villages and kidnap their virgins,” Ken told the bulging saddlebag, which was quivering with indignation.

  “Firebirds don’t burn villages and kidnap virgins, Ken,” Zoe said. “That’s a dragon. The stereotype of a dragon.”

  “You know what I mean. To the average villager, firebirds are just dragons with feathers and better-smelling breath.”

  The firebird snorted.

  “If there are any surviving villages left,” Loki corrected soberly. “It doesn’t look good.”

  “Did that happen a lot?” Tala asked. “Dragons attacking people, I mean.”

  Zoe nodded. “Hundreds of years ago. Though I’d say they have more reasons to attack us than we have to attack them. Dragons are lonely creatures, and they avoid human settlements whenever they can. It’s people who keep wanting to hunt them down. Avalon tried to start dragon sanctuaries in later years, but by then it was too late.”

  “My ancestors used to offer handsome rewards for dragon bone,” Alex added. “Usually in exchange for their daughters’ hands in marriage. Their fangs and teeth would be grounded down to powder and sold for their medicinal value, and for a while it was prized more than gold. By the time laws were instituted to protect dragons, most had already been hunted down to extinction. The British even started a war with Avalon, trying to get them to lift those restrictions.”

  “We kicked their buttholes,” West affirmed.

  Alex smiled briefly. “They were fresh off the success of their second opium war, but unlike China, we had certain advantages. We haven’t always done the right thing in the past. We were good at protecting Avalonian magic from outsiders, but not always the creatures we were supposed to care for.”

  “I blame us,” Ken said. “Wanna be known far and wide as a great warrior? Slay a dragon! Wanna impress the princess two kingdoms down from yours? Slay a dragon! Wanna show you’ve got better claims to the crown than the despot in power? Slay a flipping dragon! Genocide, all packaged up as feats of bravery—sometimes people can be pretty hateful, you know? No one’s seen any of them since the Burn.”

  “The Burn?”

  “Huge fight, between Peter Pan and Hook, a long time ago. Twelfth century or something. No one’s really sure what happened, but it caused a magical explosion that killed them both and left a desert that separated Esopia from all the other regions of Avalon. It’s why the Scourge was able to destroy Neverlaaaa…” Ken sputtered and coughed, looking ashamed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

  “That’s okay,” Tala said, despite flinching herself. “What happened next?”

  “Well, most dragons used to reside in Neverland. They went missing after that. The fires are still burning around that isle since the twelfth century, and no one’s been able to cross it.”

  “That’s the problem,” Zoe said dryly. “To be a hero, you need a bad guy. And when there are no bad guys available, you wind up forcing that role on something or someone people already irrationally fear. If you need a villain, sometimes all you need is a good long look in the mirror—but most people aren’t that self-aware.” She looked down at Alex’s bag. “And while I don’t think anyone’s going to freak out at the sight of a pretty firebird, I agree we shouldn’t advertise having it around, to be on the safe side. You fine with that?”

  Alex’s saddlebag cooed, slightly appeased.

  It was nearly noon by the time they made their final farewells and set off. The Dame, Tala was quick to notice, did not see them off.

  The castle soon receded into the distance, tall trees obscuring it from her vision. They were moving at a faster rate than they had on foot, but after an hour of riding she was soon sore from being constantly bounced around her saddle. She’d never ridden a horse that wasn’t attached to a carousel before, and she wasn’t sure if she could last several more days like this.

  Cole’s mount was still skittish as well, and required constant soothing from Ken before it finally relaxed. “He’s acting like he’s got a wolf or an ogre on his back,” the boy grumbled.

  Tala turned to watch Cole, who was trailing a few dozen meters behind them. The scent of daisies wafted out from his direction; Ken had finally convinced him to wear the potion. “Are wolves nightwalkers too?”

  “Are you familiar with the Red Hood legend?” Zoe asked.

  Tala shook her head.

  “Fierce warrior who lived around the same time as Avenant Cha
rming. They called her the Red Hood for her red-gold hair and the red mantle she always wore in battle. She fell in love with the wolf king—they called him that because he was so good at communicating with wolves that they considered him a part of their pack.”

  Tala started.

  “What happened to him?” Loki asked.

  “Apparently, his desire for power corrupted him.” Zoe shrugged. “He turned against the kingdoms and betrayed Red Hood, left her to die. It’s not a happy ending.”

  “The Dame called Cole a wolf king,” Tala said without thinking.

  “I don’t remember her saying that at dinner,” West remarked.

  Tala winced, although Cole was out of earshot. So was Alex, riding up ahead with Loki. “I, uh, couldn’t sleep last night. I saw Cole in the hall, talking to the Dame.” That much was true.

  “I don’t get it,” West said. “Does that mean Cole’s the traitor the Dame mentioned?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised.” Ken frowned. “Now that I think about it, the plan did start going wrong almost as soon as he showed up, didn’t it? Like that ogre attack.”

  “He killed one of the ogres.”

  “That could be some kind of trick to gain our trust.”

  “Let’s not speculate without proof, Ken,” Zoe said severely.

  “You’re defending him now, Zo?”

  “I have all the proof I need that he’s a jackass, but not enough for everything else. Let’s not make this worse than it already is.”

  “But why would he want to harm any of us?” Tala asked, to no reply.

  The cloak the count had provided took most of the cold away, but it couldn’t take away the bleak landscape. Nothing but endless snowdrifts and dead trees met them, spiraling on for miles ahead. Alex had been quiet when they started out, and his face grew angrier and more anguished with every passing minute. Tala wanted to reach out and reassure him, but he was riding a little too quickly for her to catch up on her placid but slow-plodding mare.

  “You can probably tell that none of us trust Nottingham,” Ken said. “Most people tend not to trust the Nottinghams, anyway. Exhibit A: that ugly scythe he likes to lug around, forged from ogre’s blood and shades and all other buggers we probably don’t even know the names of. No other segen’s been forged that way, and some people think the taint could influence its wielders. Story goes that Gravekeeper can summon nightwalkers.”