Candlewax

by C. Bailey Sims

  Catherine reached for the dagger and held it over her shoulder like a mirror, peering into the surface of the blade. There was just a bit of dried blood and some more large bruises. She dressed again, breathing deeply as she fumbled with the shirt buttons and wincing as she pulled her coat over her shoulder.

  The sky was a radiant pink. It has no right to look so pretty. She found her leather satchel. Huddled on a mossy boulder, she ate the last of the cheese and fruit, and watched the forest come alive around her. There was still a bit of bread left. The water skin was empty.

  Hot breath made the back of her neck warm. Catherine spun around.

  “Pokos! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

  “You should pay more attention.” The fairrier cat sounded pleased with himself; his eyes were a sparkling green. “I made as much noise as your dog. They are following us. There are eighteen men—one of them appears to be your father—plus twenty-four slow horses and the white dog. Better looking than most dogs, but just as foolhardy and loud.”

  “Oh, Pokos.” Catherine struggled to find the right words. “Maybe you should leave me alone so they can find me. That way you won’t have to kill anyone and I can go home.” She didn’t look him in the eye. She felt beaten and homesick.

  “I could do that.” Pokos sounded disappointed. “Perhaps the fulfillment of the prophecy is for yet another generation. Your granddaughter perchance. I had hoped we would not have to wait so long.”

  Catherine was shocked at how quickly his eyes had changed from green to muddy brown. She could feel his sadness. “Tell me, then. What exactly am I expected to do?” she asked.

  “It is not knowledge easily learned. You will not pass a day in peace.”

  Catherine thought of her servants, her tutors, her parents. None of them had ever given her such an ominous warning or breathed a word about a prophecy. Oh yes, Catherine had learned a great deal about the mining and cutting of crystals, law and trade agreements, and the art of cartography, a subject that she relished. In addition, her grandmother had insisted on teaching her the customs of the Tabrekian court, and because of her, Catherine could mimic a credible Tabrekian accent. But now she remembered how some of her questions had been met with vague dismissal or silence and downcast eyes—questions about fairrier cats. What have they been keeping from me all these years?

  “I need to know where my destiny lies, Spelopokos.”

  “Come then. You will ride. Even slow horses will catch us if we remain in one place.” Spelopokos nudged her with his nose and crouched lower. She gathered her dagger, food bag and water skin. She took hold of his thick, soft neck fur with her left hand and pulled herself over his back. Pokos quietly padded into the forest ahead. As they traveled, Catherine could feel his deep voice as well as hear it.

  “The wearer of the Onyxes of Tabrek, someone named Catherine, is to save Lackanay,” Pokos began. “That could be you.”

  Catherine nearly lost her grip. The woods were a blur of tree branches and trunks flying past.

  “Me? Save Lackanay?”

  “As long as fairrier cats live, the entire land of Lackanay, including Tabrek, Crystallia, Alliana, Candlewax, and everything in between, will remain safe from the trodliks. If the last of the fairrier cats perishes, it will mark the end of an ancient blessing and nothing will hold them back.”

  Catherine gasped. Lackanay was known for its beautiful forests and rich farmland. Legend had it that trodliks could strip a land in no time at all. Legend. Just like fairrier cats were legend... There was something she had to find out.

  “What do you mean by ‘an ancient blessing’?” Her voice quavered. “Like a prayer?”

  Pokos leaped over a fallen log. For an instant when they were airborne, Catherine felt as if time had stopped. She leaned forward, stretching her arms out as the cat surged forward. Catherine marveled at his grace and speed.

  Just when she was sure that he had not heard her, Pokos spoke again. “When Devona was turned to desert, Elsath the Prophet invoked divine protection for Lackanay. Without Elsath, the trodliks would have continued their march right into Candlewax, then through Crystallia and up into Tabrek. All the kingdoms of Lackanay would have been destroyed eventually, even Alliana. Elsath chose us. He blessed the most powerful creature in Lackanay—fairrier cats—with the power to destroy the trodliks. Without us, trodliks would invade.”

  “You... don’t eat them, do you?” asked Catherine, fascinated.

  “No!” Pokos sounded affronted. “A fairrier cat could never eat anything so vile. Some say it is our cry or our scent.”

  “But you don’t think so,” said Catherine, sensing that the cat was holding something back.

  “I feel the blessing of Elsath with every breath. Perhaps it is their soullessness that perishes before our soul.”

  Catherine felt the powerful muscles of the huge creature she was riding and felt as if she might as well be a gnat or a mosquito.

  “Even if I am Catherine of the Onyxes, how can I possibly make a difference?” she asked.

  “I can’t live forever, Catherine. We need to find other fairrier cats before it is too late,” said Pokos, his voice heavy. “I fear I am the last cat in Lackanay. The dreams come every night now. I see trodliks crawling out of the sands of Devona.”

  Catherine gulped. “Are they white with ridges and lots of legs?”

  “Yes,” said Pokos.

  “My dream! Just last night!” Catherine thought back to the grotesque creatures crawling out of the sand.

  “It has begun for you.” Pokos nodded, satisfied. “The dreams only get worse.” A moment later he jumped into the center of a stream. Catherine lifted her feet just in time to keep them from getting soaked. The fairrier cat didn’t seem to mind wading; he stood right in the middle of it, sniffed the air, and then began to lap up the water.

  Catherine thought back to her grandmother’s whispered stories of how the trodliks had devoured Devona. Once, away from the ears of Catherine’s parents, she took Catherine’s hand in her own and told her that not even ants lived there anymore. After Devona was laid waste, she said, the trodliks buried themselves under the ground, waiting for a new land to devour.

  As Catherine grew older, her tutors scoffed at the tales of trodliks, and she ceased to ask questions. Where was the evidence? Surely, after all these years, someone would have seen such a creature, provided proof of its existence. Her father and mother warned her not to listen to her grandmother’s foolishness. Now she knew it was because the stories had something to do with her.

  Catherine sighed and looked back toward Crystallia. Somewhere out in the forest her father was trying to find her. Does he know that trodliks are real? Why didn’t he tell me? And why is he so eager to marry me off? Catherine rolled the possibilities over in her mind while matching her surroundings to the maps she knew by heart. Pokos was following the stream and they were on a northwesterly course. Catherine adapted to his fluid motions, settling into his back, busy with her thoughts.

  Pokos didn’t speak for hours, using his great strength to climb up the steeper terrain. Every now and then the fairrier cat paused and sniffed the air. Finally, when the sun was setting, he stopped on a small ledge, facing west.

  “We will rest here for the night,” said Pokos. They could see for miles. There was no sign of civilization. Catherine began to pick up tinder and dead branches from the ground, remembering the firebuilding skills Sir Gavin had furtively taught her. She flexed her hands and wondered if his training in defense tactics would be needed soon, too.

  “How long do fairrier cats live?” she asked.

  “We only die when we are killed. I am seven-hundred and thirtytwo years old. Not nearly as old as the necklace,” he said grumpily.

  “Tell me about my grandmother,” coaxed Catherine. She placed the tinder on the ground and began building a twig fortress around it.

  “Ah yes, your grandmother.” His voice suddenly brightened. “She was... beyond my words. I loved your
grandmother,” he said simply. “I met her seventy-two years ago. You look like her when she was young, but her eyes were green, not blue.”

  Catherine whirled to face him, scattering her handiwork. “You knew all along who I was!”

  “You do have her look, and the glow went off like a beacon when I jumped at your horse.” Pokos smiled at her dour expression. “As I was saying, your grandmother was a Tabrekian princess. She was married to Edward of Crystallia. He was a tall man with a red beard. Catherine told me she grew to love him.”

  Catherine bit her lip. So my grandmother had an arranged marriage! Why did I never realize that? She repaired her tinder and twig construction, and began a second pile of larger sticks nearby.

  “It was a good match,” said Pokos. “The Crystallians needed safe passage through Tabrek, so their shipments of crystals would be safe from the Allianan pirates, and in turn Crystallians provided the Tabrekians with grain and crystals.”

  “My necklace is Tabrekian,” said Catherine, her hand brushing the pendant that hung from her neck.

  “Yes,” said Pokos. “You are correct. Tabrekian metal workers are without equal.”

  “How did you meet my grandmother, Pokos?”

  “I was hunting in the Tannen Pass, high in the mountains of Tabrek, when I first laid eyes on her. She was traveling to Krenaka with a large procession of mounted soldiers. I saw the glow around her immediately. She did not know it, but she was in mortal peril. Queen Catherine and King Edward were taking five Tabrekians up to the castle of Krenaka for burial—they had been murdered. Victims of a man named Kallik.”

  “Kallik! But he is still alive today! He rules in Tabrek.”

  Spelopokos’s lips curled up, exposing his dagger-like teeth. “Not then, he didn’t. That came later. Kallik started off as a high-ranking Crystallian—King Edward’s viceroy. But he was using his position to steal crystals from King Edward’s caravans. Edward began to suspect him, but he had no proof. When the Tabrekians sent emissaries to King Edward to find out what was happening to the crystals, Kallik murdered them. If only I could have warned Edward. One whiff and I knew. Kallik reeked of evil.” The cat exhaled in a loud puff at the memory.

  “My father is always defending against Kallik’s incursions into Crystallia,” said Catherine. “How could he still be alive?”

  Pokos’s eyes flashed a fierce yellow and narrowed. He swiped at the ground with deadly claws. “He has lived far too long. Every day he draws a breath is a tragedy for Tabrek. It used to be such a wonderful place. We fairrier cats liked the Tabrekians very much—they used to raise extra goats just for us. Now, with Kallik, it is the worst of all places. It was Kallik who killed King Edward.”

  “Kallik killed my grandfather?” A cold breeze lifted Catherine’s hair and she shuddered. No one had ever shared the details of King Edward’s death with her. Not even her grandmother.

  Spelopokos nodded. “I climbed up along the ridge, out of sight, watching the procession, when I nearly ran into Kallik’s ambush party. They were positioned above the narrow part of Tannen Pass that went between the cliffs.

  “I watched as Kallik and his men rolled great piles of stones down onto Edward, Catherine, and the loyal soldiers of Crystallia. The group tried to turn around to escape back down the trail, but Kallik had blocked their exit with archers. The ground was red with blood. When all lay wounded or dead, Kallik and his men swept over them to kill those who were still alive.”

  Catherine felt a surge of rage toward Kallik.

  Pokos continued. “Edward tried with his last breath to protect his wife as she lay unconscious. I heard Kallik shout orders for his men not to kill the king and queen. He wanted to finish them himself. It didn’t take long for him to find them. Aside from having a red beard, Edward towered above most men. Kallik laughed and shouted that he would make Edward watch him kill Catherine.

  “Edward’s thigh was pierced with an arrow, but he stood and fought Kallik. His courage moved me. While Kallik toyed with Edward, I crept closer and closer, only thinking of one thing. I began to run toward the king and Catherine. Her glow made her easy to find.

  “Kallik had his back to me, but Edward saw me coming and smiled. This must have confused Kallik, because he turned to look. I saw surprise in his eyes. He froze for a moment. Edward struck him across the top of his shoulder. It was a weak blow, but Kallik fell to the ground. Then another arrow struck Edward in the chest. He looked at me as he died and pointed to Catherine. Kallik’s men were coming. I knew what I would do. I dragged Catherine to safety. We passed by soldiers who couldn’t believe their eyes. I think they thought I was going to eat her. They backed away from us as we passed.”

  “Pokos! They might have killed you, too!” said Catherine in horror.

  “All of the king’s most trusted soldiers perished that day. Kallik and the other traitors saw to that. Afterward, they carried the wounded Kallik back down to Crystallia and into the castle.” Pokos emitted another rumbling growl that made Catherine’s skin tingle. “Later, Kallik told everyone that it was the Tabrekians who had killed the king, the queen, and their soldiers.”

  Catherine’s stomach felt as if it had been punched. All her life, the manner of her grandfather’s death had been kept a secret from her. She sunk to the ground and mumbled, “So the people of Crystallia hated the Tabrekians... They didn’t know how Edward was murdered by Kallik.”

  “You have much to learn, Catherine. Your grandmother paid a terrible price for her kingdom. Your kingdom,” said Pokos. His tone felt like a swat across her face. Catherine sat, dazed, her mouth hanging open. The great fairrier cat looked at her sadly, as if wondering how she could possibly be the granddaughter of Queen Catherine.

  “What happened was not my fault,” she said. “I wasn’t even born yet.”

  “You are right. It is only... The prophecy says that Catherine of the Onyxes would save Lackanay. I... I always thought it would be her,” said Pokos sorrowfully, his head bowed.

  “Well, it looks like you’re stuck with me.” Catherine stood up, her face hot. “I’m going to light this fire now.” Catherine tried to sound authoritative, as if she were speaking to her maid or the kitchen staff. Truth be told, she wasn’t even sure she could light the fire. She had only succeeded sporadically with Sir Gavin. She glanced sideways at the cat.

  “Good. Light the fire,” Pokos grumbled, still sulking.

  “Are these woods safe?”

  “Don’t worry; you are not glowing,” he snarled. Catherine tossed her hair back behind her shoulders. It was getting dark fast. Let him sulk.

  Gripping the leather-wrapped dagger handle with one hand and the thistle-shaped silver bolster that formed the butt of her dagger with the other, Catherine twisted hard until the end popped off. Then she poured the contents of the hollow dagger handle into the palm of her hand.

  Just what she had expected—five crystals, a flint, a needle, and a tiny spool of thread. She peered inside the hollow handle. It looked empty, but there was still something odd curling around the inside. Strange, I never noticed that before. She pressed upon it with her littlest finger and pulled at the same time, and it slid out partway. She found the corner and coaxed it out. It was a tiny scroll.

  “What is that?” Pokos had taken a sudden interest. Catherine put the gems and the needle and thread back into the cavity and replaced the cap. Then she slowly uncurled the parchment.

  She read aloud.

  The bearer of this message has the right of safe passage through the Candlewax Kingdom and may remain within the kingdom as long as needed—by order of the Candlewax king.

  At the end of the message was a red wax mark with the ornate initials C K pressed into it.

  “Ha! Useless bit of parchment! Who could have possibly thought that that would ever be helpful!” Catherine had been hoping it was a map, or some sort of powerful spell, or even just a nice poem. “Well, at least I know I’ll get our fire easily started.” Catherine tucked the parchment under th
e kindling.

  “You know, don’t you, that that was your grandmother’s dagger? A wedding present from her husband.” Spelopokos spoke in a strangely subdued tone.

  “My grandmother’s? I didn’t know. My father gave it to me when I started to ride Charger. He never told me it was his mother’s...” She was puzzled. Why would my grandmother have needed safe passage through the Candlewax Kingdom? She pulled the parchment out from under the kindling and read it again. It was a mystery. Carefully she rolled it back up again and replaced the scroll within the dagger.

  “You might be worthy of your destiny after all, Catherine of the Onyxes. Burning that would have been foolish. Start the fire.” That was definitely a command. But she wasn’t about to argue with a fairrier cat.

  She struck the steel blade of the dagger against the flint and sparks shot down upon the dry grass. The tinder began to smoke and flame. Catherine sighed in relief. Thank you, Sir Gavin. She watched as the twigs caught fire and, one by one, fed the flames with the larger sticks and finally several thick branches. She put the flint back into the dagger handle for safekeeping.

  “I must hunt now.” Pokos bounded away silently. Catherine tried to make herself comfortable, but it was useless. Her hunger was too sharp. She had already eaten the last crust of bread. Trying not to think about what they might be serving back at the castle, Catherine took a swig of water. Her stomach rumbled.

  She had just started to doze when two shining spots of green appeared at the edge of the clearing. With a jolt, she reached for her dagger. The glowing eyes were part of a huge ghostly head, coming through the darkness toward her. Pokos! Hanging in his jaws was a dead rabbit. He dropped it at her feet and without a word bounded away again.

  “Thank you!” Catherine called after him, her heart still racing.

  She swallowed. Sir Gavin had once made her gut and skin a rabbit. Despite her bravado, she had gagged and been rewarded with a snorting laugh.

  Oh, Sir Gavin. How foolish I was then. Wiping away tears, Catherine looked at the dead rabbit and resolutely set about preparing it for roasting. The fire had some good coals burning. Perfect. She stared at the meat as it cooked. At last, she snatched it from the heat and without waiting for it to cool, burnt her mouth eating it. She didn’t care. There wasn’t much left when she finished.