Though Jarek was her constant companion, she grew to know his closest kin as well. He had a brother who stood tall and proud among Neman's warriors, well respected by the others as a fighter who possessed both bravery and cunning. His mother was a craftswoman, warm and softly-spoken, while his father was an older man who told her stories of how he had travelled as a boy across lands of dust and around seas of sand with the wanderers who had first made the journey north. Adel was not sure she believed everything he told her, for he seemed to share the same propensity for teasing as his son, but his tales were fascinating all the same, and Adel listened with rapt attention as he spoke of great walled villages where the Sun People dwelt, magicians who used fire to turn rock into metal, and fish from the great water that had bodies like clouds and stung like hornets.
Not everyone in Neman's pack was so welcoming of her, but those who attempted to pick on Adel quickly realised that antagonising the young seer was unwise. The lack of hierarchy worked both ways, and with no one to hold status over her she felt no compunction about telling her tormentors exactly what she thought of them. She had a quick tongue for insults, and a force of will that frightened even the males, much to Den Mother Leide's amusement. The older woman practically encouraged Adel's harshness toward those who deserved it, and she quickly grew a reputation as a woman not to be scorned lightly.
While her demeanour may not have won the friendship of those who disliked her, it at least silenced their surly comments and put a halt to any attempts to harass her. After so many years spent standing up to her father, dealing with the dissenters among Neman's pack was almost tiresome for Adel. Her attitude earned her respect, and when it became known that her skills as a seer outstripped even those of many of the pack's elders, that respect almost transformed into a strange sort of reverence. She was an oddity among the clan: mysterious, fascinating, and more than a little frightening. It was a reputation Adel found herself quite fond of, especially when she had Jarek to remind her that she was not so intimidating as the others believed.
The seasons began to turn, summer gave way to fall, and before long Adel started to forget the pack she had left behind. It was not that she did not care for them. She found herself thinking often of her family and the others she had left behind, but wrapped in the warm embrace of Jarek's love, and in the pleasant company of a pack she found both intriguing and worthy of her respect, it was difficult to dwell upon the past. Perhaps more than anything, she simply needed time to be happy. Her whole life had been a struggle, it seemed. An endless quest for knowledge, a tireless battle against her father, and every step of the way it had left her beaten and weary, testing her resolve as she struggled to push on. Now, at long last, Adel was somewhere she could forget about those things. It was almost like settling down to sleep after having spent a lifetime running. Peaceful and content, not possessed of any greatness or grandeur, but satisfying in a way that touched her very core. It was a sleep she never wanted to wake up from, for she had grown so weary of the pain that lay beyond it.
A small, irritating thorn niggled at the back of her mind, trying to remind her of a dream she had shared with a long-forgotten sister. It called back memories of home, anger at her father, concern for those who still fought and died by his command. But when she lay down with Jarek in the evenings, she could forget about it, and for another day she was happy again.
Once the cold winds swept in and venturing beyond the den grew difficult, Adel began learning the secrets Leide had promised. She had already shared much of her own knowledge with Neman's seers, mostly healing techniques that had been discovered and refined in response to the ongoing fighting with Alpha Kotal's pack. It surprised her to realise that she was unusually well-versed in the treatment of grievous wounds compared to most healers, for it was something she had always taken for granted. Her understanding of plants also proved invaluable to her new clan, for the two generations of experience Neman's people had with the flora of this land paled in comparison to the wisdom that had been passed down among Adel's kin for generations beyond counting.
For much of her initial season with them, it seemed that Adel was more teacher than pupil, and it was a role that she took to eagerly. She enjoyed recounting what she had learned while others listened, and it brought her a sense of great pride when they succeeded in finally putting her teachings into practice. When the first touch of winter began to ice the land, however, it was her turn to once again become the apprentice. Leide took her into the eerily lit seers' cave, illuminated by clay lamps that burned fat mixed with plant pigments that lent the flames an unnaturally coloured hue. When they were alone, the den mother reminded her of the time, seemingly an age ago, when she had asked her how to take a life from an expectant mother.
“If you still wish to know, young Adel, I will teach you, but perhaps after your time with Jarek you have changed your mind?”
“No.” Adel shook her head firmly. “I do not want children of my own. I take the burnt leaf herbs every day, but if they are not enough then I must know how to rid myself of a child for sure.”
Leide gave her a grim nod. “A shame. You would make a strong mother, but perhaps the children you tend will not be those born of your own flesh. It is a dark magic you ask to learn, and I would not teach it to you unless I knew you were wise enough to treat it with the reverence it deserves.” She stepped forward and gripped Adel's hands, tilting her chin to look up at the taller woman. “Your people fear the dark spirits, but as seers we can harness their power. We can use them to our own ends just like any other spirit, for it is we the living who hold the power to walk between their world and ours. Never fear them, Adel, for you are the one who can bend them to your will.”
The young seer nodded, eyes glimmering with eagerness. She wanted to learn. She wanted to hold a power that would set her above even the den mothers of her kin. The nagging splinter in the back of her mind grew sharper for a moment as she considered, briefly, the strength such knowledge might give her to overcome men like her father.
“Through draughts and poisons we call the power of the dark spirits,” Leide said. “Through smoke and totems, fear and panic beckon them. Make a man breathe the fumes of spirit herbs, and a totem of the dark spirits will come alive before his eyes, and it will seed madness in his soul. With the right poison to beckon them, the demons of the spirit world will kill something within a person's body while keeping them alive. It may be a child growing within a woman that is slain, or a person's memories of the past, the will to make their limbs move, or even the restraint that keeps men from becoming beasts.”
Adel closed her eyes, remembering Carim. “I have witnessed one of those for myself.”
Leide murmured something in her own tongue and nodded. “Good, then you understand the power. I will teach you, and you will swear never to share these secrets with any who are unworthy, seer or no.”
“I swear.”
Her promise given, Adel began to learn. Dark magic was not named so simply for the effects it produced, but also for the ways in which it was prepared. Many of Leide's techniques used poisons from plant and animal alike that no seer of Adel's pack would ever have considered gathering—if not for the danger in handling them, then the risk of administering them incorrectly.
They spent days hunting for rare snakes to the south of the den, whereupon the den mother showed Adel how to trap them with sticks and milk the venom from their fangs using a bowl covered with thin hide. Despite the danger, she did not kill a single one of them, for it was important not to make the elusive snakes any more difficult to find the next time they attempted their task.
The things they boiled in Leide's cooking pot filled the air inside the seers' cave with vile-smelling mist that stung the eyes and choked the breath from Adel's lungs, even through the thick fur scarf she wore wrapped around her face. Some of the concoctions they prepared could be swallowed like any other draught, while others boiled down into dry powder strong enough to kill a person if they breathed
it in, or so Leide said.
Though much of what Adel learned would have been terrifying in the hands of the wrong seer, it fascinated her regardless. The pursuit of knowledge in and of itself satisfied her deeply, lending the young woman a purpose that went beyond the simple enjoyment of life within Neman's pack. During the winter days she learned from den mother Leide, and in the evenings she lay with Jarek.
When the snows came, they moved down from the top of the hill into one of the caves with the others, though thankfully it was a short and mild winter that year. Before long they were back together in the privacy of Jarek's tent, now much improved thanks to Adel's assistance in preparing more furs and poles to add another layer of insulation to the outside.
After a busy springtime season that was over in the blink of an eye, almost a full year had passed before Adel attempted to make use of Leide's dark magic for the first time. It was the first technique she had learned, and the one she was most certain she would end up using again in the years to come. For a seer to care for her clan, she needed to understand the medicines and the magic she administered to them. Her excuse came when she began to worry that the bleeding a woman experienced every moon cycle was late for her. Only a few days, by her count, and she had not felt any of the other signs, but the possibility that she might be with child was enough to frighten Adel into taking her opportunity.
She gathered the ingredients she needed, scoured the ritual marks that Leide had taught her into the earth around her fire, and spoke the words in the tongue of Neman's people that would beckon the dark spirits. The draught she boiled almost refused to stay down when she swallowed it, the burning, peppery heat of the seed-laced mixture making her throat and sinuses convulse while the sharp flavour stung the back of her tongue. Patiently, she waited, feeling the tight, almost tickling shudders recede from her throat, only to spread throughout her whole body. For a time the sensation was almost pleasant in its warmth, like an invisible caress. Then the shudders tightened, squeezing the breath from her lungs and making her double over with a groan as her muscles cramped. Lightheadedness stole away the clarity of her thoughts, and sweat began to drip from her face.
Adel had prepared the ritual in one of the unoccupied caves near the eastern edge of the den, desiring privacy while she focused, but as the terrible pain of the draught wracked her body she began to fear that she had done something terribly foolish. Her voice weak and strangled, she found herself unable to call for help, and with each passing moment the tension in her muscles squeezed harder and harder, until she felt she was being crushed into a fetal ball by some giant, unseen hand.
The visions blurred her senses shortly after. No longer was the hand grasping her invisible, but a giant stone claw, digging into her back until her bones popped. It lifted her upward toward a giant gaping maw that resembled her fire. Teeth made of flame caressed her skin, and then she was falling, plummeting down the demon's gullet into a world of pain and darkness.
Something hot and wet cascaded over her body. Blood. She tasted it in the back of her throat, felt it seeping through her skin. Adel writhed in horror as a dozen pairs of teeth seemed to gnaw their way through her body from the inside out, splitting through her chest and arms until she was a ragged piece of meat, torn and useless.
As she fell deeper into her nightmare the memories of the past called out, drawing her back to the dark cave where Uriel had died. Adel saw through her sister's eyes, felt the pain of her body tearing, but try as she could she was unable to move. She saw her father's dark eyes staring down at her, and then she was lying in the ashes of her clan's burned den. The charred wreckage clung to her like mud, weighing down her body as she dragged herself through it, desperately trying to escape. She needed to get away from this place. She had left this behind. It was gone, forgotten.
But as the vision continued its horrifying dance, Adel witnessed the Sun People attacking again. She cowered beneath giant wolves the size of mountains, and saw her father throwing warrior after warrior into a gorge of metal blades that tore their bodies apart as they fell down. Soon every warrior was gone, and then he began throwing the elders and the young. Adel screamed for him to stop, but the effort tore her body open again, and she began to drown in the pool of ash and blood that spilled out of her.
A lifetime might have passed in Adel's nightmare for all she knew. It had taken her to the deepest depths of the spirit world where only darkness and evil dwelt, the place from which she had called the power to take back unborn life from her body. When at last she awoke on the cave's earthen floor, shivering and drenched with sweat, she understood why the magic Leide taught her was forbidden. She tasted blood in her mouth and at the back of her throat. When she looked down, she saw that the clothing between her legs had turned crimson also. Every part of her body hurt, and the cramping sensation in her muscles made it difficult to breathe, much less move. She felt like death, and worse, the memories of her visions still lingered in her mind's eye like vengeful phantoms. The things she had experienced were horrible, worse than any bad dream, and they had seeded a sense of guilt in her so strong it made her want to weep.
She would never use this magic again, she vowed, unless it was absolutely necessary. As much as she feared meeting the same fate as her sister, the idea of going back to the place of dark spirits was almost worse.
After she staggered out of the cave, washed herself, and returned to the den, she assuaged Jarek's concern by claiming she had simply eaten bad meat, but deceiving Leide was not so easy.
“You look like a spirit yourself,” the den mother said, after taking her aside into the seers' cave. “Pale as the moon.”
Adel said nothing, suffering her mentor's reproachful stare. She was unused to feeling foolish, and her pride hurt as much as the lingering cramps in her body.
“If the magic frightens you, you need not learn any more of it,” Leide said.
“Of course it frightens me!” Adel gasped. “But I am no coward. I understand it now.”
The corner of Leide's mouth tugged itself upward, and the den mother gave a small shake of her head. “You are a strange one, Adel. Most seers who feel the touch of the dark spirits never wish to experience it again.”
“You seem to know it well.”
“I am den mother. It is my duty to keep this wisdom.”
Adel nodded resolutely. “Then it is my duty also.”
Leide cackled in response. “Yes, that is true, isn't it? You may not hold the title, but you are a den mother. I see it in your spirit.”
“I would have been one day, had I stayed with my pack.”
“What makes you think that will not still happen?” Leide folded her arms. “Or do you mean to stay here with us forever?”
Adel grimaced, the guilt of her visions tugging at her again. “I cannot go back with Jarek. My people would never accept him.”
“You think this clan would accept you as den mother when I am gone?”
“Why not? I have made my place here. I speak your tongue well enough now.”
“Ah but you are not one of us, Adel. You will always be a white bird in a dark flock. A seer, maybe, but a den mother?” She shook her head. “That fate lies elsewhere.”
“Then I will be a den mother in spirit only.”
Leide gave her a lingering look. “You would do that? Take your simple happiness with Jarek and live this life?”
“I must,” Adel said. “I saw what awaited me in my father's pack. I lived it for years. It would have turned me bitter, until I was no different from him.”
The den mother closed her eyes for a moment, and a strange expression passed over her face. “Life is long, Adel, and you are young. You are happy with Jarek, I see that, and yet still you wish to learn my dark secrets. What will you do when I have no secrets left to tell? How many years will Jarek make you happy when he is all you have?”
“I love him.”
Leide smiled. “If love is all you desire then you could have found it among your own p
eople long ago. I have seen you staring north when you sit on the hilltop. Part of you still wants the life you left behind.”
“Of course it does. You think I could forget everything I once cared for?” Adel sighed. “I still think of what could have been. Of what still could be. But I know I must let it go if I am ever to be happy.”
“I hope you are right,” Leide said. “And yet life is long, and hearts change.”
Adel left the seers' cave unsettled, the den mother's words having shaken her almost as much as the lingering sickness of her draught. They played into her feelings of guilt, and the worry that had been brewing, buried beneath the glow of happiness, ever since she had left her people.
When she curled up with Jarek that evening she was able to put it to the back of her mind, forgetting everything else as she always managed to when she was with him. Yet the guilt lingered, and as the summer passed by it did not go away. Life was long, and hearts could change.
—18—
Kotal's Calling
All year long Adel's unease simmered in the pit of her stomach, as if waiting for the flame that would finally stir it into boiling over. It was not enough to dispel her happiness, but it sat in the background, predatory and ever-watching. At times she wondered whether the ritual she had performed had dragged a dark spirit into her soul permanently, one that now lurked on the edge of her consciousness waiting to pull her back into its nightmarish world. A silly thought, Adel told herself, but it did nothing to assuage the lingering feelings of guilt.
She thought more and more often about her father's pack. What were they doing now? Was her mother well? Had the Sun People attacked again? Worse, she began to wonder whether her father had grown even more reckless without her voice to stop him. It had always felt as though her words fell on deaf ears, but what if they had restrained her father in ways unseen? Perhaps they had given him pause to think sometimes when he had been ready to send more bands of warriors to the north. Maybe he had tempered his behaviour in the hopes of winning back her loyalty, even if his pride had prevented him from expressing it in ways she could understand.
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