Time passed, and the only part of the landscape that changed was the mountain’s shadow stretching longer while the shadow caster itself loomed closer. The Eye of Heaven was many times taller than any peak in Fenear. It was as tall as the mountains that separated the Peninsula from the rest of Osterna, though unlike those mountains–which reached vertically skyward–the Eye sloped, snowy and tree-spotted, into the clouds. It was an ancient mountain, shaped and broken by millennia of winds and storms. It was, perhaps, the oldest mountain–the point on which all the world spun, and the closer Rayna drew, the dizzier she became.
Distracted by the enormity of her task, Rayna did not catch the flurry of movement from the trees until it was too late for defense. Three wolves materialized before her. Tall, broad, muscular, and whiter than the snow, the Ice Wolves stood in utter silence. Rayna stopped, her tail curling to her stomach, her ears flattening against her head.
Do not grovel, Fenearen. The center one, a she-wolf, kicked the snow. Beside her, the two other wolves growled, baring their teeth. Quivering, Rayna raised her ears and tail.
Why so far from home, pup? The Ice Wolf snarled while her two companions lowered, ears forward like hunters prepared to kill.
I wish to travel to the mountain. Rayna did not look at the she-wolf’s face.
The mountain! The larger brute barked a heartless laugh, but the she-wolf cut him off.
What possible interests could you have there, southern dog?
Rayna’s mind sparked with outrage. My interests are my own. She growled and regretted it instantly.
A tight-lipped answer from a smooth-skinned pretender. The she-wolf nodded to her subordinates. The two guards advanced, circling her on either side. Rayna trained her gaze forward, looking the she-wolf straight in the eyes. White film covered them, and the wolf's fur was bald in spots. No wonder she had guards! She was old and blind!
Yes, Fenearen. My eyes failed me long ago, but I see more clearly now than I ever did in my youth.
What must I do to pass you by?
The she-wolf answered by lifting a paw and dragging it through the snow across the path. She whimpered, and her foggy eyes flashed molten silver for a moment. She returned to the center of the path.
Cross the line, she told Rayna.
Rayna eyed the line, sniffing for signs of a trap. What have you done?
An old northern wolf custom. Long ago, your goddess bade us to promise one favor. She foretold that some humans would need to reach the mountain. We were to stop all who attempted, unless they could cross a line drawn by a wolf sage. This line is a spell that will kill all those who pass over it, save those with enough divine magic in their veins to protect them. If one can cross without death, that one was touched by the gods, and therefore, must go on to the mountain.
I will clear your line in one leap, Rayna said in mock confidence, crouching.
It may interest you to know that in my visions, I have only seen one Fenearen survive crossing the boundary. And his fur was white as my own, red pup. She turned to the other Ice Wolves. Berg, Seal, we may have some sport yet.
Mustering the dregs of her courage, Rayna sprang forward, slicing over the boundary. But in the air, a sudden jolt in her chest plummeted her to the ground.
Soft swirls ushered through Rayna’s human lips.
She lives, the she-wolf said as Rayna’s eyes shot open.
In an instant, she was on her feet. Disoriented, she glanced behind her where the thin line remained unaltered.
“I made it,” she said in a triumphant—though surprised—whisper as she looked at the wolves.
I will not hinder you further, child of Lumae. If you meet my pack members ahead, tell them that I, Alphena Petrel, bid you passage.
Thank you. Rayna dipped her head. Retaking her feral form, she ran past the three wolves, never looking back. Rayna saw only glimpses of Ice Wolves as she continued. News must have spread that she had crossed the line. When the sun reached its highest point, Rayna shivered at the base of Mount Keleapath–the Eye of Heaven straight out of Thera’s stories and her own dreams. She still did not know what to do once she reached the top, only that she had to start climbing. Shifting human, she put on the gloves Lonian had given her. She made sure her pack was secure, and that Coer’s knife would not slip from her belt. The path left behind by the Ice Wolves continued up the side of the mountain, spiraling for leagues before giving way to steeper cliff faces.
The harsh, biting wind that had been absent on her trek through the drifts returned. Her skin prickled beneath her hareskin coat, and not just from the cold. Doubt, heady and numbing, poured down her spine, freezing her limbs. What if Coer, or Davin Dantes, the mage that had helped him, a man whose name she had only just learned, had been wrong? What if there was no saving Channon, seer or not? It all seemed silly now, so improbable. She had quickly accepted this quest, because she had needed to believe that Channon was not gone, that he did not die for her mistake. Desperation had driven her this far, hundreds of leagues from the country she had left on the brink of war. Hope had whispered that she could be Channon's hero, the savior he deserved. But she had played the hero when she had agreed to wed Rhael, a selfish act to prove herself. She had pretended to be noble, and failed dismally. Had she made the same mistake twice? Would Channon, again, bear the consequences of her deluded actions?
No. Rayna’s stubborn will reasserted itself. Everything she had gone through, starting with her dreams, had led her to this moment and this cold, lonely place. It could not be for nothing–not when she had come so far, not when Channon needed her. If there was a way to save him, to break through the veil and bring him home, she would find it. But first, she had to climb.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Silver led Bayne and Roxen up the trail north of the Densite, scanning the leafless trees. The scouts had found no Maenorens in the vicinity, but vigilance seemed wise. Silver’s boots left prints in the muddy, slush-covered ground, and snowflakes tickled her nose, melting in her newly short hair. Winter had arrived, and the armies of Maenor would not be far behind.
“Here.” Silver broke into a run as trees dwindled into saplings and underbrush. Farther on, the trail gave way to rolling fields of browning sweet grass and clover. She crested the first hill with her mate and Roxen close behind. A valley rested between the two large hills. In the summer, it was full of strawberries and the rabbits that ate them. In the spring, heavy rains flooded the valley, leaving lush green life in its wake. Not today. The valley was a dull, wintry brown, frosted with half-melted snow.
“Rhael passed through here on his way in and out of the Densite,” said Silver. “If he has any sense at all, this would be his ideal field. Maenoren phalanxes are only possible in open spaces, and that kind of battle formation is their best defense against True Wolves and melee fighters.”
Bayne agreed. “Between the phalanxes and the mounted Da’ Gammorn, he’d have the advantage. Normally, I'd say we should avoid this field at all costs. But Nero will have told Rhael all our usual strategies. We must behave in ways Rhael will not expect, and we must lure him to attack quickly. Our people will not survive the winter on what little food we have left. If we allow Rhael to reach this field, we can prepare for his arrival. Then we disrupt his phalanxes, drawing his forces into the woods, and we might have a chance.”
“How are we going to manage that?” asked Roxen.
“I’ve an idea,” said Bayne, “and something for the Da’ Gammorn as well.”
“Defeating them is our first priority,” Silver said. “We will protect our dead with our seals of Wolnor, but every Maenoren we kill could come right back to attack us if we don’t destroy those creatures.”
“Our best builders are gathering supplies for a few surprises. Besides that, archers are our best hope. We station one group here on the hill, and the rest will hide in the forest on three sides.” Bayne paused, a growl rumbling in his throat.
“Besides the Da' Gammorn, our other priority mu
st be anticipating what advice Nero will give Rhael. Given the differential in our numbers, I'd usually suggest an ambush during their march, but Nero will have warned him of that possibility. So we won't do that. We'll let Rhael come into the valley–where his Maenoren tactics would be of most use. But when he does, we'll be ready.” Bayne took Silver's hand, kissing her knuckles. Despite her fear and disgust over what was coming, Silver’s heart fluttered like a songbird trapped in her ribcage.
Before Bayne could elaborate further, a sharp wind gust cut across the valley, bringing a scent that made the bird in Silver’s chest seize and fall. Maenorens. Hundreds of them. Too many to be scouts, but too few to be the army.
“What the–” Silver began, but Roxen cut her off.
“Come on!” He formed into his auburn wolf shape, sprinting down the hill. Silver and Bayne shifted and tore after him. Silver lifted her muzzle to the currents as they ran. Hundreds of Maenorens, dozens of horses, but no trace of the Da’ Gammorn, all marching the trails, perhaps two leagues away. She leaped over a fallen cherry tree as three True Wolves crashed through the brush ahead of them.
Gar, Ash, Pike! What's going on? She asked, slowing to meet them.
I don’t know, Alphena. Ash gulped, his tail low. We were scouting and didn’t smell anything, and then all of a sudden, they appeared out of nowhere.
How many? Bayne asked.
A whole host. I’d guess a thousand at least, said Gar. But three Maenorens wait ahead. They broke away from the others on horseback, and nearly ran into us. We hid in time, but it was odd.
Odd how? Silver said.
The three were unarmed. When they reached the clearing by the mulberry trees, they dismounted and dropped to their knees.
Almost like prayer, added Pike.
Could be messengers? Bayne asked Silver. Perhaps Rhael expects us to surrender?
Perhaps. There is only one way to be certain. Silver bounded forward, running toward the scent. Drawing closer, she could clearly see three men kneeling in a clearing surrounded by mulberry trees. They were alone, except for the three horses grazing behind them. By the scent on the currents, Silver judged the host of Maenorens the Trues had seen to be less than two leagues north. She slowed on approach, hiding with the others behind the ferns and juniper as she closed in on the kneeling men.
What do we do? Roxen asked.
Silver turned to her mate. We should see what they want.
It could be a trap. We know how fond of deception Rhael is, Bayne cautioned.
We would smell if they had archers in wait or some other trick.
Silver has a point, Gar said.
All right, we'll see what they want. But just us three. Bayne glanced back at the three Trues. Be prepared to attack if we signal.
In unison, Silver, Bayne, and Roxen formed human. Silver wound her fingers in Bayne's, and they stood. Two of the kneeling Maenorens fell back in shock, though the tall man in the middle remained kneeling. The Trues had been right. As far as Silver could tell, not a single one of them was armed. The tallest, who had not flinched at their appearance, was dressed in simple green robes that complemented his umber skin. He smiled serenely. His posture, even on the ground, was confident, marking him as a leader. On either side, his two companions knelt once again.
When Silver, Bayne, and Roxen had reached a point of six tail-lengths from the men, each of them rose and bowed.
The center man straightened. “Alpha Bayne, Alphena Silverine, and Beta Roxen, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Please forgive our intrusion.”
“That depends,” Bayne growled. “Who are you, and why are you here?”
“My name is Captain Markus Seperun of the Maenoren Guard. Though I prefer simply Seperun. These are my lieutenants, Daveed Junian and Cassian Libera, and there are a thousand other warriors marching here as we speak. Simply put, we are here to help.”
Seperun. Silver knew that name. A month and a half earlier, when Cairn had told them of Rhael’s treachery, she had said the Northern Densite had been warned in a letter from one Markus Seperun.
“Are you Rhael's servants?” Roxen narrowed his eyes.
“We all serve Rhael. Why else would we want him dead?” Seperun smiled, but hatred burned in his dark eyes. “I am the current leader of the Maenoren Resistance.”
“I’ve heard of the Resistance, but how do I know you’re telling the truth? Why should I take the chance? This could be another of Rhael’s tricks.” Bayne advanced. Daveed and Cassian glanced nervously at their leader. Silver touched Bayne's elbow.
“A wise question, Alpha Bayne,” Seperun dipped his head. “I assure you my proof will satisfy.” He reached into his forest-green cloak, removing a letter. With a slight bow, he presented the letter to Bayne and Silver.
“What is this?” Bayne asked as Silver took the letter and opened it.
Seperun continued. “When Rhael announced his plan for peace and arranged to marry a Fenearen, the Resistance took an immediate interest in his betrothed. We knew Rhael would not follow through on this supposed peace, but we did not know how the queen-to-be fit into his machinations.”
“Oh, Wolnor.” Silver clasped her hand over her mouth as she recognized her niece's handwriting and scent. It was stale, but there was no mistaking it. “Rayna.”
“Yes,” Seperun said, despite the silent rage forming in Bayne’s expression. “As you will read, we ensured that one of our own was appointed to her protection. We watched as Rhael went from what appeared to be an indecorous infatuation to raw hatred. This hatred included casting a hex on a young Fenearen who had promised to accompany Rayna Myana to Maenor.”
“Gods, he must mean Channon!” Roxen said.
“Rayna's Maenoren guard, Coer Vantergard, became companion and protector for her while we worked to determine Rhael’s motive for her acquiescence. It was then that we discovered a plot to murder the queen-to-be.”
A snarl ripped from Bayne’s throat. “Why do you insist on recounting the details of my niece’s death?” he roared while Silver held him back.
“Death, my lord? You misunderstand me, Alpha Bayne. Coer gave his life to ensure Rayna’s escape into the outer lands to travel to the Eye of Heaven and rescue her friend. Rhael has taken great pains to hide this, but as far as the Resistance can say, your niece is alive.”
For the second time that year, Fenearens and Maenorens shared the fire pit. Sitting apart from the others, Bayne rested beside Markus Seperun. Seperun ate his meal, evidently not interested in breaking the silence.
Bayne plunged in. “My niece trusted your movement, Seperun. That carries weight. Unlike the letters Rhael sent from her, you did nothing to hide her scent. I would know if Rayna had been scared or coerced when writing it.”
“And?”
“And it’s genuine. But she is not here to confirm. So you can understand my hesitation to trust you, Seperun.”
The Maenoren shook his head. “I am not asking you to trust me, Alpha Bayne. Indeed, I would think it inadvisable, under the circumstances, for you to do so.”
“How did you get away from Rhael’s army? Almost a thousand soldiers disappearing at once? How could Rhael's men not have noticed? You managed to get within a few leagues of our Densite without our scouts noticing you. How?”
“A wise question, Alpha Bayne. In truth, it would not have been possible without one man.”
“You could all slip away because of one man?” Bayne did not hide his disbelief.
“The Resistance was fortunate to have the aid of one of the only mages left in Osterna. This man performed a spell that allowed Resistance members to leave their camps and approach this Densite without attracting the notice of sentries.”
“He made them invisible? Like the old stories?” Bayne stared at the man.
“Not as such. Rather, we went unnoticed. The spell drained our mage, though, and he has gone into hiding to recover, at my insistence.”
“So this mage will not assist us in the coming battle?
Pity.”
“Alas, no, but we can still succeed, both getting what we want.”
“What is it you want?”
“I want what you have given your own people, Alpha Bayne. Freedom.”
“You want to defeat Rhael, but I don’t understand why. Why do some of you choose to turn against him while most of your country seems content?”
“For most, there is little choice. A majority of these men here had their choice made for them by their parents or grandparents long ago. They were born into our cause. My story is in the minority, Alpha Bayne.”
“What is your story?”
Seperun looked away, his forehead creased. “My parents were like anyone else. For them, politics were not as important as the harvest. They were good, honest people living in a good, honest village. They raised my sister and me as best they could. By the time my sister reached her teen years, she was the most beautiful girl in our village. More than that, my sister was brave, strong, and intelligent. Even though I was older, I looked up to her more than anyone else.
“Every year a tax-collector from Anhorde would come to each Maenoren village. This powerful official was infamous for his lechery, so when he came to inspect our property, my parents hid my sister. The year I was seventeen, I had a hunting dog worth a lot of money. The tax-collector said he would take my dog as payment for the year. I refused. He insisted, and when I would not let him take my dog, he had his guards threaten me. My sister, distressed, came out of hiding and demanded he let my dog go. He did, but he took her instead. We tried to save her, but they injured my father. We could do nothing, because the law was on his side.
“I entered the military, working my way up until I was posted at Anhorde. I found the tax-collector and ... encouraged him to tell me where my sister was. His story finally came out. She had resisted him endlessly, and even after he–” Seperun closed his eyes before continuing, “even after he forced himself on her, she still fought him. He had her imprisoned and executed. Naturally I smashed in his skull.
Hex Breaker (The Fenearen Chronicles Book 1) Page 27