Look after me, Ahraia thought, looking up. The smaller keress raised his head too. It was still well over twice her height, with broad, sharp antlers, fanning out above and behind its ever-turning ears.
Ahraia cleared her mind as best she could and made her binding. The enchantment was subtle, a muted bond so that the keress didn’t feel her presence. It couldn’t know she was there. As soon as it did, it would spook, and the whole herd would rally to it.
Ahraia let her eyes go blank, allowing the great elk grow accustomed to her, acquainting herself to its emotions. It was wary, right down to its bones: overseeing by nature and nervous to be patrolling near the darkened forest.
Protect the herd, it thought.
Good instincts, Ahraia answered, letting the beast’s nature govern her thoughts. She saw through the blurred eyes of her binding. It lowered its head to eat and then looked up again. She let it call as it always did. Carefully, she interjected simple thoughts into the bond.
Protect the herd, she thought. Watch the forest. Listen to the wind.
It raised its head and sniffed. She began to exert her will on the creature.
This way. The grass looks good here.
The keress took a step forward towards the thicker grass. It lowered its head and ate, then looked up again.
Good. Protect the herd . . . one step over here.
Ahraia was patient. The herd moved slowly. She tracked along, drawing it step by step towards the woods. The Bright Moon passed in and out from behind the clouds. She flitted in and out from behind the trees. The keress ambled closer until it was only some forty paces from the forest.
So close. For a moment, Ahraia saw it through her own eyes and realized how truly enormous it was. The drain was too small. It wouldn’t even pierce the hide. The keress’s antlers were too broad. She would never get within reach without being skewered, and even if she did, she couldn’t reach its throat. She hesitated.
The keress looked up, staring at the forest.
It was as far from the herd as any keress had been in all three nights. It sniffed and snorted.
It’s okay. The forest is safe, Ahraia reassured it. She dimly sensed the bull keress turning towards her. The herd was following the line of the river and had turned away from where Ahraia stood. The bull called out, summoning her keress to follow.
The forest is empty. And you’re too big to worry, Ahraia countered, holding it steady.
The bull called again, jogging several strides towards them, shaking its massive antlers back and forth, and jutting its jaw forward.
Ahraia’s keress turned. Her spine tingled with reflected fear; he realized he was too far from the herd.
You’re safe, she thought again.
The bull snorted and great gusts of fog stirred from each nostril. Her keress took a step away from the forest.
Ahraia’s ears turned down. She was going to have to turn the bull about, and quickly. She formed a second binding, intending to force him away. But he sensed her and bellowed into the night. All the keress on the plain turned to look. A flush of fear reflected from her first binding; Ahraia ignored it, oppressing its panic with forced calm.
Go, she commanded to the bull. Back to the herd.
The bull trumpeted angrily, sensing danger. The two enchantments entangled, the bull’s warnings reflecting through Ahraia to her first charge. The smaller keress startled, its fear reverberating to the bull in turn, causing it to stomp and bellow even more. The herd turned, swelling with calls and shaking antlers.
They’re spooked, Losna thought distantly.
Ahraia dropped her enchantment of the bull, realizing too late that it had only made things worse. She focused instead on her first binding.
It’s all right. Come to the forest. She rushed the thought; the keress wasn’t yet at ease. It threw back its head and bellowed into the night. It turned and jogged back towards the bull.
“No!” Ahraia voiced aloud, stepping onto the plains into full sight of the keress. Moonlight blazed upon her skin.
Stop! she commanded, her binding no longer subtle or hidden. The smaller keress froze. You are coming to the forest, she thought forcibly with a tingling awareness of the self-destruction that she was proffering. But what choice did she have? The night was almost over; the kill had to be made.
Hurry up, she thought, forcing the elk to canter towards her, each step wrapping herself deeper into its mind.
For a moment, she thought it was going to work. The keress was nearly to the forest. Its hooves beat against the grasses. Its beard waggled back and forth with every ragged breath.
Ahraia stood poised, the drain raised in her hand.
But the bull trumpeted again and her keress stopped dead in its tracks, still a dozen paces from her. The fog from its breath filled the space between them. Its black eyes stared at her. It was torn between instinct and enchantment.
Ahraia wrestled with its will, but the pull of the herd ran too deep in its blood.
Losna. I need you! Scare the herd. I need that bull gone, Ahraia thought, her whole being intent on keeping her charge rooted where it stood.
A moment later, Losna’s howl rose through the night.
“Ahooo!”
Her keress stomped its feet, twisting back towards the sound. Sweat erupted on Ahraia’s skin. She nearly collapsed, overwhelmed by the perfusion of fear. The binding snapped.
“Ahooo!” Losna darted onto the plains, a dark shadow against the moonlit grasses. The herd circled, all braying and clattering in distress. The males trumpeted and shook their antlers, tightening around the cows and the calves which mewed and squealed. Ahraia’s keress and the bull cantered back towards the herd, shaking the ground.
“Stop!” Ahraia commanded, sprinting out farther onto the plain, chasing them and reforming her enchantment as a feverish sweat broke out over her body. You’re not going back! she thought forcefully. You’re coming with me. She pushed down her fears, clenching her teeth.
Her keress stopped.
Come here, she commanded, her drain poised for the kill, running to meet it on the plain.
The bull had stopped too. It bellowed and stomped its hooves.
This is my kill, Ahraia thought, unfazed by the bulls posturing. It snorted and lowered its antlers, pawing the ground. It bellowed once more.
Then it charged.
“Light take me . . .,” Ahraia said, forgetting her task. She tried to bind the bull to slow it, but it was already seething with rage. It thundered towards her, covering the ground at an alarming rate.
No, no, no, she thought, trying more desperately to halt it.
“Ahooo. Ahoo!” Losna called distantly. Ahraia, run!
It was like being in a dream where her legs wouldn’t answer. She couldn’t form the binding.
Ahraia, run! Losna thought again, her howls turning to terror.
Ahraia turned, sprinting for the cover of the woods. Her hair whipped across her face. The ground shook beneath her. She could hear the bull closing in with great lumbering strides and ragged, bellowing breaths.
Get down, Losna urged her.
Ahraia flung herself to the ground, expecting to feel the piercing stab of antlers or the crushing weight of hooves, but instead felt a burst of air overhead. She looked up. The keress turned and swung its antlers violently about.
There was nowhere to run. It lowered its antlers. Even the smallest of its tines were twice as long as her drain. It pawed the ground, sending hard earth flying as dust. It stomped towards her.
A snarl rose through the night and Losna was suddenly circling behind the keress, yapping and lunging at it. The bull bellowed deafeningly.
Keep it busy. Ahraia scrambled to her feet and sprinted for the forest. Let it after me once I’m in the woods.
Losna danced about the bull, lunging in close before sprinting away with tail low and tense. Ahraia felt the cool shadows of the woods.
All right! Let it go.
Losna jeered at the bull,
then jogged towards Ahraia. Just as Ahraia had hoped, the keress charged after them, unwilling to give up. But it moved like the wind. Losna had to break into a sprint and Ahraia just reached the woods before her shadow and the keress were upon her.
She waved her arms and shouted, drawing the bull’s attention. She darted through the narrowest trees she could find, hoping its antlers might catch and hinder it. Instead, the beast trampled through the thicket, nearly crushing her. It kicked, and its front hooves grazed her shoulder, knocking her to the ground. She gasped, the air suddenly ripped from her lungs.
Losna leapt to her defense, but the keress kicked again, casting her to the bushes. Their link suddenly erupted with pain. The keress plowed through the underbrush, swinging its antlers violently back and forth, tearing shoots and fronds from the trees. Losna was howling in pain, calling out to the night in mindless fury.
“Ahooo!”
The keress’s antlers tore great gashes in the ground, unhindered by the vines and boughs clinging amongst the points. Losna snarled, cornered and injured.
Hey! Ahraia conveyed to the keress, enchanting it firmly to grab its attention. Come and get me!
Her taunting drove it berserk. The bull turned and she took off running. Leaves and limbs whipped past her. She sprinted, not needing to look to know the keress was just at her heels. Trees and boughs whined as they passed. The ground beneath her rumbled; the keress ran like a thunderstorm, and she like the wind on its front.
You won’t catch me, she jeered. She dimly noticed the Bright Moon had nearly set. The night was failing.
“Ahooo,” Losna called. It sounded gravelly and different. Their link was dimmed by distance.
“Ahooo,” Ahraia heard again, behind her.
The keress was almost upon her. She burst through two elm trees and heard a tremendous crash. She didn’t turn to see where the beast was but just kept running.
Another howl echoed from beside her. She looked, wondering how Losna could have covered so much ground. Then another howl came from ahead of her. Impossible. She saw dark fur dashing next to her. Black fur. Another howl. White fur. Her heart sang with bindings.
“Ahooo!” A whole pack of wolves ran with her—hunting with her. They were bound to her, just as she was bound to Losna.
Gray fur and streaming tails streaked on all sides of the keress, and fear belied its bellows now. The wolves surrounded it. The keress slowed and stopped. The pack moved endlessly tighter around the beast, circling with bared teeth. They yipped and called. The keress swung its antlers wildly, trumpeting into the night. Familiar fur flashed in front of Ahraia: Losna running with the pack, a seamless part of their collective. The eyes of the keress darted around wildly. Its movement grew more erratic, trapped by the forest.
I need to make a clean kill, she thought to Losna. Make them understand.
The wolves, however, already seemed to grasp what she needed. None made any move to attack—they nipped, but never bit, lunged but never clawed.
Ahraia scanned the woods and found two trees standing nearby, about the span of the keress’s antlers. She bound them, her will forcing them to spread ever so slightly. The binding strained at her mind.
Bring it to me, she thought. The wolves circled about the keress, herding it about until it faced her.
Ahraia? Losna thought. Her worry surged through their link.
Ahraia pulled the drain from her cloak. The keress’s eyes settled on her.
Come on. Come and get me.
The blacks of its eyes gleamed in the last light of the Bright Moon. The Dae-Mon was coming. Ahraia knew the bull wouldn’t allow itself to be enchanted, but she didn’t need to enchant it now, she needed it enraged.
Come on. Kill me and you might get away. But if you don’t, we’ll go hunting all of your kin. Every calf and cow.
It stomped and snorted in response.
“Come on!” Ahraia yelled.
It charged.
It galloped towards her, knocking aside brush and limbs. Thirty strides away. The wolves howled on either side.
Ahraia bared her teeth, her tiny knife held at the ready. Ten strides. The keress lowered its head, ready to skewer her. Five strides. Its antlers were so wide. Two strides. Too wide.
She unbound the trees. They sprang back.
Boom!
The whole forest shook. The antlers of the keress slammed into the trees, lodging deep within the heartwood. The bull bucked. Leaves cascaded and rustled in the tempest of shaking, but neither the trees nor the antlers budged.
The keress was trapped.
The wolves slowed, circling to watch. They willed Ahraia to make the kill, eager, with tails high and snouts panting. Ahraia’s heart hammered in her chest. She walked forward, relief roiling through her and her bond.
The eyes of the great bull widened in panic. The keress bellowed, getting more and more pitiful as she approached, snorting and huffing.
“Shhh.” Shhhh, Ahraia bid it. The keress’s breathing became more regular. Its struggle lessened.
The Bright Moon dipped beneath the horizon. She needed to make the kill. In the west, gray was giving way to pale yellow, the first sign of the Dae-Mon. The beast continued to struggle, albeit less than before.
“You fought well,” she said, reaching up with a hand to comfort it, its beard hanging to the ground at her feet. She felt its snout; it was wet. It flared its nostrils at her, but each breath came slower than the previous, already resigned to its fate. Its hooves had stopped stomping.
Kill, the wolves thought. Losna circled, her emotions twining with the pack.
The yellow was growing brighter in the west. Ahraia could feel the Keress’ breath hot upon her face, its chin still above her head.
“I’m sorry,” Ahraia said. I’m sorry.
She plunged the drain into its throat. The keress groaned but hardly twitched.
The keress met her eyes. It let out a shuddering breath and Ahraia felt its life expunge.
It was dead.
And then the loss struck her, heavy and agonizing. She had bound the keress, however briefly—trying to stop it, taunting it, trying to bring it after her—and she had killed it. The wracking pain roiled within her, and tears welled in her eyes. She choked, searching for breath, then collapsed to her knees and howled in anguish.
18
Beneath the Dae-Mon
The keress’s blood seared Ahraia’s nostrils, stinking of death. Her stomach turned. She was going to be sick.
We need to go. You need an underdae, Losna thought worriedly.
Ahraia wiped the tears from her cheeks, inadvertently dragging the sticky blood across her face. She was exhausted. And the part of her that had been bound pulsed with a deathly ache.
“Darkness,” she said, dimly aware of the brightening sky. She stared into the lifeless eyes of the keress. The beast was still standing, locked in place by its antlers.
We need darkness, a shelter from the day, Losna thought to the wolves.
The pack shuffled and a wolf with a pure white coat came forward, its fur painfully bright, terrifying to Ahraia.
Shelter, the wolf thought vaguely while the rest of the pack watched on. It bounded off through the woods, leaping easily through the underbrush before stopping and turning, looking back to Ahraia to follow.
Losna’s tail hung low. Though they had survived, she seemed distant. . . or angry. She’ll take you to safety. Follow her. She avoided Ahraia’s eye.
“What about the keress?” Ahraia asked, distracted by her shadow, but aware that an unprotected kill would draw a slew of predators to it.
We will keep it, Losna thought. I’ll stay with them.
The wolves spread out around the keress and Ahraia had the vague feeling of assuredness from the pack, though it was soured by something else, something she couldn’t place, festering in the air. Golden eyes watched her, noses turned towards her, all with tails low. In her state of mind, she couldn’t place the emotion.
Y
ou need to go, Losna thought.
The sky was turning a thousand shades of yellow in the east, colors Ahraia had never seen. Without other choice, she followed the white wolf, who turned and bounded off through the woods.
The rush of the hunt was wearing off. Every step sent sharp pain pulsating through her side, throbbing up through her shoulder. Making it worse, she was suddenly aware of how light the woods were becoming. They were no longer dim or dark—they were bright, perfused by gray, the sky morphing into a color she had no name for. She took Hayvon’s veil from her cloak, wrapping it haphazardly about her face. The reckoning of the Dae-Mon was coming. Her skin burned hot and the markings on her wrists were seared into her.
How much farther? she conveyed to the wolf, who bounded through the woods so quickly that Ahraia risked losing her. Her shoulder was splitting with pain.
Close.
Beyond the deep of the forest, the bright fire shone in the uppermost treetops. The Dae-Mon had risen. Her eyes burned.
How close?
Here.
The wolf stopped before a small opening in the ground, just beneath the roots of a massive tree. Her den. The closure wasn’t much bigger than Ahraia’s body.
The Dae-Mon’s light crept swiftly down the treetops. Ahraia paused, startled by the colors in the sky. But time had run out. She stooped and backed into the den, legs first, unsure what she would do if she didn’t fit.
She slid down the hole, her last view a glimpse of the brilliant light against distant tree trunks. Loose dirt crumbled between her fingers and the smell of dried earth pressed all about her, masking the blood. She shimmied deeper, feeling a space behind her feet. The den opened up, and her whole body squeezed underground. A little further and her feet ran against the hard earth. The hole above hid the sky, though the tunnel burned with light.
She immediately wanted out.
The white wolf came halfway down and sniffed.
Safe, it thought. But Ahraia sensed the same sentiment that had drifted through the pack.
Ahraia met the white wolf’s eyes, and in that moment, she understood the pack’s emotion.
Between the Shade and the Shadow Page 24