Wolf's Eye

by Rae D. Magdon

  “What is it?” I asked.

  The smell was heavy and coppery, like blood, thick with musk and fear. There was a twisted, humming energy in it, too. Magic.

  “Shadowkin,” said Larna. “Maybe Kerak with them.”

  My forehead puckered. “Shadowkin? Kerak?”

  “They are demons, made from bad magic. The Queen uses them.”

  “Canna be,” said Hosta, who was listening. “They are not real. Only a story.”

  “They are real,” Larna insisted. “I have seen them.” The entire camp was listening now. “They came to my village… they slaughtered everything. The town burned while the people tried to stop them. It smelled just like this.”

  Hosta tried to object, but Farseer silenced him with a look. “You are sure, Larna?”

  Their eyes locked. “Yes.”

  There was a six second pause. “Then we need to fight,” Farseer decided. “How do you kill a demon?”

  Larna knew the answer. “Fire, lots of it. They are afraid of fire and light.”

  Without being told, all of us stood up. The few youngsters and the very old bolted themselves inside their huts, stacking chairs and tables in front of the doors. The rest of us started bringing firewood. A few gathered kindling, leaves and twigs from the ground. We piled them in the fire pit, building it into a small blaze, then an unsteady, stretching tower. Sparks leapt, licking the dry wood into a flaming frenzy. It was the biggest fire I had ever seen.

  The shadows beneath the trees lengthened and still we worked. “Are they coming?” I whispered to Larna from the corner of my mouth.

  “The smell is heavy. They will be here.”

  Her eyes were slits, and her jaw was a sharp, tense line. She looked wary. “Why didn’t we run?” I asked.

  Larna was shocked. Her forehead lifted in surprise. “Leave our territory? Never. We will defend it with our lives.”

  For the first time, I realized that some of us might die. Even Larna. The thought left me cold. I was not afraid for myself. Larna would protect me. But who would protect her?

  I clung to my lover, drawing her close and soaking in her warmth, her heartbeat, the rising and falling of her chest. All the things that meant she was alive. “Be careful, my warrior,” I murmured in her ear.

  There was no time for Larna to answer. A noise came from our left. Something rotting and sickly-sweet moved into the camp. “Kerak!” someone shouted. The thing was brown and dried-up looking. Its body was vaguely human, but twisted and stretched like clay. Its arms and legs were too long and its nails were curved hooks.

  The thing stalked forward on all fours like a prowling cat. I realized that it had no eyes. I watched the thing for less than a second, but its image was seared behind my eyes. Larna was the first to react. She reached and grabbed a stick from the edge of the fire. As the Kerak lifted its head, she charged.

  The demon raised its hooks to slash down and rend. Larna was faster. As soon as the fire touched its skin, it let out a high, keening cry. As if it had been a signal, the forest erupted with shapes. There were more Kerak and big, blue-black shadows that looked like hulking dogs. They were the Shadowkin. Their mouths were filled with black teeth and their muscles bulged under their tough hides.

  There were Wyr among them, but not our kind. They smelled of magic and moved jerkily, like puppets on strings. Of course, that was all they were. Mogra was controlling them. With torches and skinning knives, the Farseer pack defended themselves. We changed into our half-shapes. Our forepaws could clutch crude weapons, with a little practice, but I preferred to use my claws instead of a torch or a dagger.

  Soon, the ground ran wet with black blood. I did not know what I was doing. I was only reacting. When one of Mogra’s pets rushed me from the left, I met it with my fangs and tore out its throat. With the great fire at my back, and the limp, twitching body in front of my paws, I felt sick with fear. There was blood in my mouth, but I could not taste it.

  To my right were three or four others, trying to bring down a bulky Shadowkin. My body felt cold and heavy, but I clipped at the thing’s leg when it stepped close enough. It kicked me several yards back.

  As my head swam with lights, I saw a lean brown Kerak above me. I tried to curl into a ball to protect my belly, waiting for the hooks to rip me. Before it could touch me, its skin erupted with fire. It screamed and fell, thrashing on the ground.

  Farseer was standing over me. His torch was in his left hand. The skinning knife in his right was covered with blood. He turned to use the torch on another demon. My eyes scanned the battlefield for Larna. It was dark and hard to see, but she was unmistakable.

  Larna was wild with battlerage, tearing through everything she saw. Surrounded by enemies, she somehow held them all back, swinging her torch in one hand and slicing with her knife. When a Shadowkin tried to crush her in its jaws, she actually shoved her torch down its throat. Smoke poured from its drooling mouth, and it fell, almost crushing Goran, who was standing beside it.

  Because I was not a skilled fighter, I joined many small groups, landing a few blows on the huge demon dogs that they struggled to bring down. I learned to dodge their legs and slit their bellies from underneath. Soon, my fur was covered with slippery, foul black meat. The smell burned my nose and eyes.

  Although she was old, Aria was with the rest of us, looking unsteady on her feet and with a torn ear. I was surprised to see her. She should have been in one of the huts. I loped closer to her, hoping that I could help. She shook her tail at me, asking me to leave, but I glued myself to her side. I would feel guilty if anything happened to her.

  We were only forty, but when I looked around the battlefield, there were more of us than them. Mogra’s puppet-Wyr had been taken down quickly. They were not very good fighters. Most of the Kerak had been burned. A few baked corpses had actually fallen into the fire pit.

  There were only a few lumbering Shadowkin left, fighting with slow, crushing blows. Farseer was fighting one, wearing his wolf skin. He dodged its teeth while Hosta tried to burn it with a torch. Suddenly, the monster lunged, swiping at Hosta with its massive paw. Farseer saw the hit coming and tried to block it with his body. The hit connected, stunning him.

  From across the camp, Larna saw and started running. But there was no way she could

  get to him in time. The Shadowkin picked Farseer up in its huge jaws and shook him like a doll, tossing him carelessly to the ground. He did not get up again.

  With three enemies attacking him and Larna on his back, the giant beast fell. I realized with an aching heart that it was the last one to die.

  …

  The bodies were counted. There were twenty-six of them and six of ours. It had seemed like more while we were fighting. Bleeding from several places and breathing hard, Larna found me. I was all right except for a few bruises and cuts, which I was cleaning with a wet cloth.

  “Here, use this, little bird.” Larna handed me a small pouch. I opened it, and fine white powder spilled into my palm. “Put it on the open wounds. It will be stinging-”

  “Ouch!” I shouted as I shook some of the loose powder onto my torn arm. It bubbled and hissed like boiling water. The sting made my eyes water.

  The pain faded quickly. I loosened my tight throat and unclenched my teeth. “Dinna use it all,” Larna cautioned. “I am needing some.”

  Carefully, Larna and I dusted each other with the powder. I ran my hands over every inch of Larna’s body, reassuring myself that she was safe and whole. I did not even care that we were naked this time.

  “I am fine,” she insisted while I cleaned three claw marks on her thigh. She could not hide a sharp breath of pain when I used the powder. “Do you know if Farseer is all right?”

  “How would I know? I have been here with you the whole time.” But I wondered, too. Both of us remembered his torn, limp body spilling from the jaws of the Shadowkin. Neither of us knew what to say.

  After I was sure that my warrior was all right, we went to Farseer
’s hut. The rest of the pack was there, too. We waited, silently, through most of the night, pressing close together for warmth through the long, black hours.

  …

  Chapter Seven:

  Jana Farseer was dead. We did not need to be told. The expression on Aria’s face spoke for him as she came out of Farseer’s hut. It was bleak, resigned. “Go in,” she told us. The entire pack had taken turns waiting outside his hut, as if our presence would guard his soul from death.

  Larna put her arm around me, and a group of twelve went in. We were the first two inside. With Jana’s corpse we numbered thirteen. He lay still on the bed. It looked like he was only resting. But the smell of death was there. His tough brown face had not been damaged in the attack and it looked as if he might open his eyes and see us.

  “Travel safe in the next world.” Yerta’s voice shook as he broke the silence that blanketed us.

  It seemed like I should bow my head. I did, lowering my eyes to my feet. Others around me were doing the same. In the stillness, Larna’s hand found mine. We both clutched tightly, sharing our sadness and strength.

  Aria opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. There was nothing to say. The pain was still too fresh, too new.

  The warmth and gentle pressure of Larna’s hand made a small part of my heart feel still and safe, even while my mind was spinning. Her lips were pressed together and her neck was tall and stiff. I noticed that she was watching Hosta. I had not noticed him in our group of twelve, but he had come into the hut with the rest of us.

  “He will be missed,” said Hosta, who was on my left. But I Knew he did not mean it. I Knew, even though his face was sad and his eyes were dark.

  “He is not gone,” Larna said. “He has not vanished completely.” In the light of day, faced with life’s painful realities, it might have been a silly thing to say. In the dark hut, it did not seem silly at all.

  “No, of course not,” Hosta corrected himself.

  We all stood in silence for another minute.

  I turned to my right. “Larna,” I whispered in her ear, unsure.

  “Cate,” she whispered back.

  “Come outside.” We walked out into the light. I wanted to tell her how I felt lost and found at the same time, frightened and safe. She was all of the good and right things in my life. We walked into the trees, hearing morning birds and smelling running water. Larna held my hand. The grass was cold under our feet.

  “It is bad to be around Hosta,” I said suddenly. “He is dangerous.” My feelings about him had been preying on my mind, and I had to speak of them to someone. Larna looked at me doubtfully. “He is not respectful of Farseer’s memory.”

  “I canna think so,” said Larna. “Hosta respected Jana Farseer, to be sure. We all did. But I am not wanting you around him for other reasons.” The jealousy on Larna’s face was easy to read.

  “His brother seems all right,” I said, trying for peace.

  “Yes, Yerta has been here as long as Hosta. Six years. I have only been here for two.”

  “Two is a long time,” I said, putting my hand on Larna’s arm. She leaned in to my touch.

  “I am glad you had that time with Farseer.” Tears brimmed in my lover’s eyes, but she did not let them fall. Perhaps she needed time. “Larna, would you take me to see Kalwyn? We could stay for a few days… to get away from here…”

  “I will go if you are wanting to, little bird,” Larna said, sounding puzzled. “Are you really that frightened of Hosta?”

  I nodded. Larna noticed my frown and balled her fists so tightly that the blood drained from her knuckles. The gray sky peeking through the treetops sucked the color from her face. “I will never be letting him touch you, little bird. Has he done anything to… hurt you?” she asked, her voice strained, wanting to break.

  I shook my head. “Of course not, no… I just have a feeling…”

  “I see how he watches you. It will be good to go away. I am not wanting you to be upset.”

  I touched her cheek with my fingertips, almost feeling her black hair. “No one but you will have me, I promise.”

  Larna’s muscles smoothed. She let a slow breath out through her nose. “We should be leaving quickly, this afternoon.”

  A wonderful blanket of heat spread through me, driving out the chill of death. I knew that

  Larna loved me. “My warrior,” I sighed, taking Larna in my arms and smiling softly.

  “Little bird,” she whispered into my hair. My anchor in this tossing ocean of a world.

  …

  We prepared to leave in under an hour. We brought little food, mostly fruit and bread, and some clean shirts and leggings. I wore my cape and packed Ellie’s journal, not wanting to sever that link. When we had everything we needed, we left quickly and quietly, while everyone was distracted.

  “I hope you do not feel like I am forcing you to leave,” I said. Larna did not understand about Hosta,. I did not want to force her into a journey so soon after Farseer’s death unless she truly wanted to go.

  “Of course not.” Larna sounded almost offended. “I am fond of Kalwyn. And if you are not feeling safe around Hosta, I will be taking you away from him.”

  “Larna,” I called, and she turned to face me, stopping. “You remind me of him,” I finished. She knew that I meant Farseer, not Hosta. Her face was unreadable for a moment and then she looked strangely pleased. She did not answer, but her smile stayed for a long time afterward.

  The smell of camp fell farther and farther behind. Larna was careful to watch my steps and listen to my breathing. She wanted to move faster, but her concern for me prevented her from driving us too hard. I was grateful. Long distance travel was easier for Larna than for me.

  After three hours of walking over roots and rocks, a raven swooped in front of our path. I flinched. Larna snapped at it, but the dark feathered bird perched on a branch above our heads, staring down its black beak at us. It did not seem to be afraid.

  “I am not liking that deathbird,” Larna mumbled. “Let’s be going on.”

  Less than six minutes later, we found what had interested the raven. We smelled it first. The bitter scent burned in our noses. I squinted my eyes. Soon, it hung so heavy in the air that even a full human would have noticed.

  “Larna, is that…?”

  “Shadowkin have been here.”

  The smell was almost as bad as it had been after the attack on our camp. Shadowkin smelled of blood and fear and raw meat. I gagged, twisting my face at the horrible sight that we came upon.

  Six and ten humans had been massacred. That was my guess, at any rate. I could not count them, because they were in pieces. I almost stumbled over a foot as I picked my way through the body parts. Larna was ahead of me. Both of us were in shock.

  The bloody head of a child, probably five or six, stared at me with dead eyes. That was too much. I collapsed onto the leaves, slippery with blood, and vomited. Larna hurried over to me and held my hair at my nape. I dry-heaved for several seconds afterward, even when my stomach was empty. My muscles were trembling so badly that I almost lost my balance when I tried to stand up.

  Larna helped support my weight until my balance returned. I saw tears, glistening beads that clung to her cheeks. “Refugees,” she whispered, staring at the child. “Refugees trying to get out.”

  Both of us left that awful place as quickly as we could. When we were several minutes away and the smell had faded, Larna said, “we have to be doing something, Cate. The Kerak and Shadowkin are slaughtering innocents now. They are not only one group, sent by the witch to kill the Farseer pack…”

  “Could it be the same group that attacked our camp?” I asked hopefully. I did not want to imagine a second group of monsters in the forest.

  Larna shook her head. “We killed most of that group.”

  “Why would the witch make more Shadowkin? Could the Kerak with them mean that the Queen…”

  “I do not know. I am hoping not. But we must tell t
he Rebellion. After we stop at Kalwyn’s to make sure she is safe, we will be going to the Rengast. I am thinking that Hosta will take over as Alpha now that Farseer is…” there was pause. “Gone.” She could not say the word dead. “I will suggest our going to him when we get back. That will keep us away from him for even longer. He will not be bothering you.”

  “And then?”

  Larna looked at me for a long moment. “And then, we fight.”

  …

  We made our way to Kalwyn’s as fast as we could. After the attack on our camp and the butchered refugees, we did not know what we would find. Outside, the house looked unchanged. I let a little of my breath spill out. Maybe the Shadowkin and the Kerak had missed Kalwyn’s house.

  Larna, braver than I was, opened the door. We knew that something was wrong as soon as we stepped inside. Kalwyn’s house was always untidy, but it looked like a hurricane had torn through the front room. Larna and I shared twin gasps. Papers were scattered over the floor. A cracked wooden bowl had fallen from the table. Two of the chairs were overturned.

  “What happened?” Larna asked, looking around at the mess. She bent down to straighten one of the tipped chairs.

  “Kalwyn?” I called out, walking toward the kitchen. I peered up at the mask above the door. Its open mouth was twisted in surprise; its eyes were wide. I held my breath and stepped forward. Pots were tossed around the room. There were five deep gouges in the table. Claw marks. Next to them was a knife.

  I reached to grasp the handle and lifted it. A thick black sludge dripped from the blade. It smelled of fear and death and tainted magic. Shadowkin blood. The corrupted magical energy in its scent made my throat burn and my stomach toss.

  “Larna,” I called out. She came running into the room, panting lightly. Her eyes caught the knife.

  “Shadowkin,” she said. “I smelled them, but I was thinking it was the stink from the clearing…”