Scar was moving at once, paws digging into the snow and springing him forwards. He didn't even notice the wind change direction again, flowing with him towards the waiting carnage.
He had pulled away from the Long Hair and the Small One further than he realised, and it took several seconds at full gallop before he sighted them through the unrelenting snow. His heart sank as the sight of them cleared. A narrow chasm had opened beneath them and they had fallen through. The Long Hair clung desperately to the crumbling edge, while the Small One dangled from her other hand, swinging over the darkness.
That was all the sign Scar needed. Charging on, he covered the ground between himself and the beast like a bolt of lightning, flashing across the white expanse. The monster ignored him, raising his paws over his head and swinging them down like a giant hammer.
Scar leapt across the small crack in the earth and crashed into the monster's chest, his jaws sinking through flesh and clamping onto collar bone. The force of the wolf's weight colliding with him was enough to topple the beast, and together they rolled away into the snow, biting and kicking and clawing.
The beast had the tougher hide, and for every chunk of flesh Scar took out of him, he took three in return. Scar's teeth sank into the meaty part of his thigh, but the beast's talons tore into Scar's flanks and he had no choice but to let go. The beast tossed him aside, sending him rolling through the snow, blood spattering the surface.
Shaking the grogginess from his head, Scar pushed himself to his feet and glared back at the beast. For his part, the monster stared back evenly, his own white coat stained with fresh blood where Scar had bitten him. He was up on two legs now, towering over them all, his breath smoking in the frigid air while his bared teeth glistened red with blood. He unleashed a terrible roar, his fists shaking with fury as his anger bellowed out.
Behind him, the Long Hair had managed to climb out from the broken earth and dragged the Small One out behind her. They were safe for now, but only for as long as Scar could keep the beast distracted.
Though his strength was fading quickly, Scar howled his defiance and charged. It was all or nothing, he knew that. Fight or flight, and he chose to fight. The throat, he told himself. The secret of all life lies in the throat.
Scar leapt through the air one last time… and the beast caught him in mid-air. Claws sank deep into Scar's flanks, but he ignored the pain long enough to clamp his mouth on the beast's throat, locking it as tightly as he could. The beast cried out in rage, and with a desperate surge of effort, he tore Scar from him and lifted the wolf high over his head, Scar's legs flailing uselessly in the air above him.
Scar knew it was over in that moment, but he also knew a satisfying chunk of flesh dangled from his mouth. The secret of life.
The beast brought Scar crashing to the earth with all the strength he could muster. Scar felt his bones shatter into a thousand different pieces, his body exploding with pain for just the briefest of moments. And then the pain was gone and he just lay there, broken and still. He looked up at the beast and saw the lifeblood flowing from the gaping wound in his throat, flowing through his white fur and spilling to the snow.
Ignoring his own doom, the beast raised one massive balled fist in the air, ready to bring it down and crush Scar's skull. In that moment, a flash of silver cut across the beast's torn throat and his giant head toppled from his shoulders.
The Grey Beard appeared beside Scar, dropping his bloody axe to the ground beside them. There were tears in his weary eyes. That was a sign of pain Scar knew well, but he had never seen them from his friend before. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't move. Instead, he licked the Grey Beard's hand. It was all he could do.
The Grey Beard spoke softly to him, his hand stroking Scar's torn flank. Scar had been wounded there before, had felt pain ever since, but there was no pain now. No feeling at all.
The Long Hair and the Small One appeared alongside the Grey Beard, and there were tears there too. It was good that the Grey Beard had found them. He can watch them now, thought Scar. I'm tired. I need to sleep.
And he closed his eyes for the last time.
Part III
THE BLACKSTONE
Chapter Twenty-One
Heroes and Villains
No sooner had the final breath slipped from Scar's broken body, than a quiet calm settled on the scene of his last, defiant stand. The blizzard died with the wolf. The howling wind ebbed away to a gentle breeze, and the last of the snowfall drifted peacefully to the earth. It was as though the Great Hunt itself paused to pay its respects.
Mikilov laid a hand on the wolf's head and stroked him behind the ears one last time. It was heart-breaking to see him lying there like that, motionless, patches of his flesh torn open, his blood soaking into the snow. We have walked this earth together for almost a decade, my friend. Hard to believe that time is done…
Slow, cautious footsteps sounded behind him and Mikilov glanced over his shoulder. The girl, Senya, inching her way towards him, looking exhausted, bone weary and dishevelled. Her clothes were torn in places, or else caked in snow. She looked every inch a woman who had lost a fight with a kragan.
He wanted to be angry at her - to hate her even - but there was too much grief in his heart to let the anger in.
Holding to Senya's hand was a young girl dressed from head to toe in fur. She wore a necklace of small grey feathers that dangled across her chest. Grey Crow. A blind Grey Crow. Remembering Elgamire's words, Mikilov raised a brow. Radok's blind Grey Crow.
He turned back to Scar, bent low to the wolf's ear, and whispered, 'You always did make the strangest of friends.'
Pushing himself to his feet, Mikilov took a deep, steadying breath, before turning to face Senya. 'Are you ok?' he asked. She looked well enough, if a little pale from shock and exhaustion.
'Thanks to Scar,' she said. 'By the Great Hunt, Mikilov, I'm so sorry…'
It was still too raw for Mikilov to deal with, so he waved his hand in dismissal and turned his attention to Senya's companion. 'And who is this?'
'I am Nyana of the Grey Crow.' The girl's voice was small out there in the wilderness, but she spoke the words defiantly, her chin held high, her eyes carrying an intense flare though still locked on nothing.
‘You speak the common tongue?’
‘We all do,’ the girl said. ‘When needed.’
Mikilov smiled, remembering their earlier encounter with the woman Crow, before they crossed the Velga. She had spoken only in the tongue of her people, apparently unable to understand the common tongue. She played us for fools…
'It's Radok's girl,' put in Senya, as though it could be anyone else.
'And the Wolfeater himself?' asked Mikilov.
'Behind us, somehow. If he's even still alive…'
'He was when I last saw him.'
'You've seen him?' There was a desperate edge to Senya's voice. 'When? How?'
'He dragged me from the river,' said Mikilov, 'saved my life.'
Senya's eyes widened. 'You were face-to-face with him, and he's still alive?'
Mikilov's anger finally pierced the veil of grief and his eyes blazed through Senya. 'Even now, girl? Even now you know the price, vengeance is all you crave? The man saved my life; I wasn't about to end his.'
Senya flinched back a step, shocked by the flash of anger. 'I'm sorry, Mikilov. You're right. I just don't understand why. Why would he save you?'
'The same reason you saved me.' That small voice again, somehow full of power and authority despite belonging to a child. Mikilov glanced at the blind girl, watched her smile back. 'It was the Will.'
'Don't do that,' Mikilov said to her. 'I've heard the words of enough dying Basillians to know your gods hold no power. I'll not have Scar's death put down to a lie.'
'It's the truth,' she said. 'The Will moves us all, even the non-believers.'
Glimpsing something as the girl spoke, Mikilov's hand darted out instinctively. His hand closed around her jaw, thumb and f
ingers squeezing into her cheeks, forcing her mouth open. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of four fang-like teeth in her mouth, two top and two bottom. 'That's what moved Scar,' he said, 'not the bloody Will. The girl's Valor. Or at least her mother was.'
'My father actually,' she replied quickly, pulling herself free of Mikilov's grip. 'Though he was very young when he joined the Grey Crow.'
'You mean when they stole him?' asked Senya, leaning in closer to see the teeth for herself.
The girl shook her head. 'They took a Wolf and gave him wings. They set him free.'
Her voice trembled with emotion, and Mikilov guessed at the story behind it. 'And did he set you free, girl? When he saw those eyes? Not much room in the Grey Crow for a blind girl, eh?'
'I never knew him,' she said carefully. 'It was Radok who set me free.'
'I thought we might use her,' said Senya. 'If she means as much to Radok as it seems, holding her might give us an edge.'
Mikilov's gaze shifted from Senya to the girl, and back again. 'You want to use this child, blind and defenceless as she is, for a hostage? No, Senya. The Wolfeater is supposed to be the villain here, not us. Scar gave his life for her as well as for you, perhaps even more so, and he didn't do it so we could use her for bait.'
Senya sighed, exasperated. 'What then? You tell me what we do, because I'm out of ideas.'
'We wait,' said the girl, smiling. 'Radok will be here soon.'
Mikilov considered her for a long moment, then finally shrugged. 'We wait then.'
Senya stared back at him, astonished. 'You'll take her word for it?'
Mikilov shrugged. There didn't seem much else to do. 'We can wait awhile, at least,' he said, drawing a dagger from the folds of his cloak and fixing his gaze on Scar's body. 'I have work to do.'
✽✽✽
'What is he doing?'
Nyana tilted her head slightly as she spoke, listening carefully to Mikilov's gruesome work. Senya winced as the big man drove his dagger into Scar's stilled chest, then began to saw down along the wolf's torso.
'He's taking the wolf's hide,' she told the girl, turning away. For just a moment she was almost envious of the child's lack of vision.
'Why would he do that?' asked Nyana. 'I thought they were friends?'
Senya lowered her voice slightly, and, taking Nyana's hand, led the girl away. 'They were friends; the greatest of friends. That's why he takes the hide. That way, they will continue to walk the earth together. Not even death will part them.'
Nyana frowned. 'And will he wear your skin, when you die?'
Despite herself, Senya smiled. 'That's different.'
'If he does not,' the girl said solemnly, 'I will. I swear it.'
Senya stifled a laugh. Somehow, she found herself genuinely touched by the girl's grim declaration. 'Honoured, I'm sure.'
They stopped at the gaping hole through which they had nearly fallen just a few minutes earlier, and Senya peered down into the darkness below. 'What about your dead?' she asked the girl. 'What happens to them?'
'We burn them.' Nyana spoke calmly, as though this was the most natural thing in the world. 'Then we scatter the ashes to the Seven, so that they may return to the Will, as all things should.' She shrugged. 'What else can we do, once the Black Wind has had his say?'
Senya considered the idea for a moment. The Valor believed burial was the natural step once a person's role in the Great Hunt had ended, returning them to the earth. The thought of something different seemed strange to say the least. But death was death, she supposed. What does it really matter what happens to the flesh once the soul has fled this world? 'They teach you a lot about death in the Grey Crow, girl?'
'Life and death,' said Nyana. 'What else is there in the All Song?'
'Oh, I don't know…' muttered Senya, 'fun and laughter?'
Her smile faded as she studied the girl's face. Hard and lean, it was framed by the angled edges of her cheeks and chin. Even her eyes, blind as they were, sparkled with a sharpness Senya had never before seen in a child. 'You live a hard life, out here,' she said gently, 'and it's made you a hard people. But I suppose you know that better than most.'
Nyana shrugged nonchalantly. 'The Ashan Tai once told me life is only hard for those who don't know their place. My place is with Radok. He has given me a good life.'
Senya grunted. 'A child shouldn't have to know their place; the world is there for them to go find it. Whatever homelife the Wolfeater has given you, he's been butchering my people for as long as I can remember. He is not a good man.'
Nyana stared back at Senya in that strange way she had, as though her eyes were peering straight through Senya and into the horizon. Again, Senya was reminded of Elgamire, and she found herself wondering if all blind people had a gift for seeing through people and into the future.
'You want to kill him, I understand,' said the girl. 'But you won't. That is not the Will.'
'It's my will,' said Senya.
'You don't understand. But you will, once you see him.'
Senya snorted at that. 'And when will that be?'
'Now.'
Senya spun on her heels in the direction of Nyana's gaze, back towards the Velga. Four figures were crossing the white flatlands behind them. Three of them, a man and two women, Senya had no mind for, but the fourth… even at a distance she could see the dark skin that defined the Wolfeater.
In her mind's eye, Senya saw herself draw her sword and charge across the snow, striving to reach Radok and open his throat, the way he had opened Velimir's. But in reality, she simply stood there, frozen to the spot, her heart racing and blood rushing to her head.
As he drew closer, she saw that he was smaller than she remembered. His body had withered away, leaving his face gaunt and ashen. Every step he took seemed to pain him, but on he came. It's true, thought Senya. He's dying.
'Greetings, She-Wolf,' he said, drawing to a halt several strides away. Even his voice was weaker, lacking that elemental spark it had carried at their first meeting. 'Nothing to say? You've come a long way from home to hold your tongue now.'
'She was looking for a man,' said Mikilov, stepping up beside Senya and the girl. His hands glistened with Scar's dark blood, but they hung freely at his sides, relaxed. 'But it seems she's found only a ghost.'
Radok nodded a greeting. 'I'm glad to see you're still alive, Grey Wolf.'
'Thanks to you. A debt I've not forgotten.'
'Looks like you've paid it back and more,' said Radok, sweeping his gaze over the scene, taking in the two fallen beasts, before finally coming to rest on Nyana. 'Are you well, Little Sparrow?'
'I am,' she said. 'They saved me, Papa.'
Radok met Mikilov's gaze, then Senya's. 'You have my thanks, Wolves.'
Senya felt a flare of anger, enough to thaw her frozen state. 'No,' she said, 'you don't get to do that. You have to pay for the things you've done.'
Mikilov laid a hand on her shoulder. 'Easy, girl.'
Senya shrugged him off, her own hand closing around Nyana's arm and dragging her close. 'A life for a life, Wolfeater. Do you love her enough for that?'
'Oh, my life is not worth so much as hers.' Radok smiled at the girl, and Senya could see the love behind it. 'Besides, I have already paid the debt you're here to collect. Was he your kin, the old man?'
'My uncle,' said Senya.
'And I killed him, that's true enough. But only after you killed my friend. A life for a life, yes?'
'Let the girl go, Senya.' Mikilov tried to peel Senya's hand from the girl's arm, which was turning white under the pressure, but Senya shook him off again.
'He's killed far more than Velimir,' she said, her voice shrill in her own ears. 'What about those lives, Wolfeater?'
The dark man raised his eyebrows. 'You would have her pay for those lives too? This blind girl who has never even seen a Wolf, let alone harmed one? And you say I'm the monster…'
'Senya.' Mikilov again, pleading.
Senya could feel th
e moment slipping, but she had no idea why. This is why we're here, isn't it? We came all this way for the Wolfeater, and now that we have him… we're going to let him live?
'He has to pay, Mikilov,' she heard herself say, though her voice sounded smaller than usual. 'For Velimir. For Scar. For all of them.'
'By the Hunt, girl, look at him. He pays with every single breath.'
The Wolfeater had heard enough. 'Take it then,' he barked. Unbuckling the sword belt from his waist, he tossed it to the snow and spread his arms wide, waiting. 'If my life means that much to you, take it.'
'No!' Tearing free of Senya's grip, Nyana ran into Radok's arms, her own arms locking tightly around his waist. 'I won't let them hurt you.'
'Step aside, girl,' said Senya.
'No,' said the girl. 'He isn't done yet.'
Radok tried to peel away from her, but the girl held fast. 'It's alright, Little Sparrow. You can let go.'
'No, it's not alright.' One of the women, the older and taller of the two, intense eyes staring out from a black strip of war paint, the rest of her all in white. She drew her sword and stepped forward. 'You kill him, I kill you.'
'Then I kill you,' said Mikilov.
The man next to Radok, his face covered in bloody bandages smiled. 'And I kill you.'
The smaller woman rolled her eyes. 'And we're lucky if anyone is left alive to get this girl to safety.'
Senya's gaze flickered between them. From the three younger, healthier Basillians, to the sickly, withering Wolfeater. 'He's a dead man anyway. Why would any of you die for him?'
'Because he's not dead yet,' replied the woman in white. 'And he still has work to do.'
'What work?'
'To touch the Blackstone,' said the Wolfeater.
'We both must touch it,' added the girl. 'That's why we're here.'
Senya's fingers flexed on her sword hilt, tempted to draw it. I'll cut through all of them if I have to, even the girl. For Velimir…
But Mikilov spoke before she could act. 'That settles it then,' he said, lowering his axe. 'We'll travel with you to the Blackstone, and there we'll make a decision about what stands and what doesn't.'
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