“Kellan?” Kellan had always been irritating, flirtatious, arrogant. But even with all his faults, he had become her friend. The weight of his words, that she would soon part company with her friends, slammed into her chest like a battering ram. She would miss him and Lonian and Laera terribly.
“Those four slash marks on your face. How did you get them?”
“I… what?”
“I’ve seen my share of wounds from Ice Wolves. At first that’s what I thought those were, but then I realized their claws are larger than that. If an Ice Wolf had slashed you, you wouldn’t have a face left.” He jerked toward her. “So how did you get them? Who hurt you?”
The memory of Channon, wild-eyed, half-starved, leaping onto her, came unbidden to her mind. She had been sure he would kill her. Rayna tried to speak, but could not find the words.
“It was him.” Kellan’s voice was quiet, laced with anger.
“He didn’t know what he was doing,” Rayna snapped.
“There was a girl in my tribe. Married a man who beat her, and funny enough, she told me exactly the same thing.”
“It isn’t like that!”
“She said that, too.”
For a moment, Rayna was silent. Anger choked her. The crashing of the ocean and distant clanging of the beggars’ cups filled the air. “Stop trying to save me. I’m not some helpless maiden that needs rescuing, Kellan.”
“You didn’t seem to mind me stepping in when Garrison was torturing you.”
“That isn’t fair! How dare you use that against me!” The wind pushed back her hood again, but Rayna was too furious to care.
“I just want you to think about what you’re doing.” He stepped closer to her. “Forget about the futility of fighting a war you can’t win. Do you really feel safe going anywhere with him? If he hurt you once, then he'll hurt you again.” He reached to touch the scars along her cheek, but she slapped his hand away.
“He didn’t know what he was doing. Channon would never hurt me. Not when he is in his right mind.”
“But he’s not! What happens when one of his nightmares goes too far? What happens if he thinks he’s really back there? He could kill you, Rayna.”
“I won’t abandon him to save my own life. I thought you knew me better than that.”
“I understand that you love him.” He took her arm with a gentleness that felt wrong in the heat of their conversation. “But love makes you blind. It makes you foolish. How do you think Channon will feel if he does hurt you again? If he kills you?”
She swallowed. Kellan’s frank words chilled her more than the cold. Channon would never hurt her on purpose, but what if he did not know what he was doing? Her fingers rose to the four long gashes Kellan had stitched up. Channon winced every time he saw that side of her face. She knew the guilt must be eating at him. It was not his fault. If it happened again, it would still not be his fault. But Channon would not see it that way. Tears dripped down her face, the sensitive skin around the wounds stinging with each drop of saltwater. “What do you want from me?”
Kellan pulled her into an embrace. She did not struggle as she listened to his ragged breathing. “I want you to be safe.”
“Then what you want is impossible,” she whispered into his cloak. “No one is safe, least of all me.”
“I know. I just want you to know I wish it. You deserve that, and though people rarely get what they deserve, if anyone should, it’s you.”
She pulled back, staring up at him. “What about you? What do you deserve?”
He grinned ruefully. “A long drop and a short rope. But fortunately for me, as I said, people rarely get what they deserve.”
Rayna wanted to dispute that, but there was much about Kellan that she still did not know. Maybe he was honest, joking, or both. With him she was never certain, and she was not convinced he was, either. Before she could say anything more, Mina called them from the bottom of the hill.
“Lonian and Laera are back! Time to go.”
They rejoined the others, never mentioning their conversation again. Given how loud they had shouted, Rayna wondered if Channon might have overheard some of it. If he had, he gave no indication. He said nothing at all as they walked across Vanuuk’s plaza toward the port. At the eastern end of the village, a sun-bleached dock extended into an inlet. Ten fishing skiffs were tied along its edge. Lonian led them to the last one on the right, a two-masted schooner with Seadog painted across its side.
“Captain Arryks is an old friend. Honest fellow as far as these types go. He’s agreed to take you to Areytown, but it will be best for everyone if the three of you keep your heads down. Understand?”
“When do we leave?”
“Right now. The tide turns and your time runs short.” He wrapped Rayna in a hug, and she gripped him back with all her strength. “Be careful now. Remember that no matter what happens, you always have a home with us.”
“Thank you for everything, Lonian.” He released her, and Rayna knelt beside Laera. Thank you, as well, Laera. I’m glad I met you.
The dog bowed her dappled head, blinking her two-colored eyes. You as well. I never thought I would count a wolf among my friends.
Rayna rose, turning last to Kellan while Lonian said his goodbyes to the others. After a moment of hesitation, Kellan circled his arms around her.
“Goodbye, Red.” He kissed her forehead.
“This doesn’t feel like goodbye.”
“Well, you’re the seer. Maybe that’s a good sign.” He winked, but his smile was faint. “Please remember what we talked about, and stay alive, if you can.”
“Same to you.” She nodded once. “Thank you for helping us.”
He closed his fingers around her wrist and brushed his lips against her knuckles. “Rayna Myana, it’s been infuriating knowing you. I hope you’ll drive me insane again some day.”
After one last embrace, Rayna boarded the ship. Channon and Mina stood by her side as the crew members pushed off, waving to the Sylrians until the Seadog turned out of the inlet. Per Lonian’s orders, they avoided the crew as the men went about their duties, instead finding their way below deck. The scent of rats and molding grain filled Rayna's nostrils. Combined with the rocking of the ship, her stomach was soon wobbling. She found a quiet spot against the hull with a bucket within arm’s reach and settled in with the others for the long, nauseating journey down the coast.
Rayna drifted into a light sleep. In her dreams, she saw only darkness. She was haunted by the feeling of something forgotten, or something she ought to have learned, but never did. She woke with a sinking sensation battling her nausea. Mina's snores in the close darkness sounded beside her. Channon, however, was stiff and still, so she knew he was wide awake despite his closed eyes. When he slept, he was seldom motionless or silent.
Her old instinct to tell Channon everything on her mind resurfaced, but she stifled it. Instead she leaned her head on his shoulder, letting his heat warm her cheek. He adjusted his arm around her, looked down at her, and smiled. It was not his old carefree grin. His eyes did not crinkle, and in truth it seemed as melancholy as the rest of his expressions.
But he was trying. Perhaps he had been lost in thought. Was he in some far off Hell? Or was he back home in summer, when the grass smelled sweet and the trees were strong for climbing?
She returned his smile, but before she could say anything, shouting came from the deck. The ship lurched as something crashed into its hull. The impact was so heavy Mina pitched to the side before the Seadog evened out. Without a word, Rayna and Channon scrambled to the bottom of the stairs. The hatch was still open, and through it they saw the deck and the enormous sails of a far larger ship. The twin ravens of the Kyrean Council Guard emblazoned the snapping canvas. Mina crawled between Rayna and Channon as soldiers swarmed the deck.
“Make way,” the Kyreans shouted on the planks above. “Make way for Councilor Tallis Terayan!”
Chapter Thirty-One
Pillars of smoke mar
red the horizon, turning what might have been a rosy sunrise murky. Pike snorted acrid air from his nostrils. The Maenorens were less than ten leagues to the north, and their fires burning night and day bathed the forest in smoke. With the early winter winds, it was not thick enough to affect his vision, but it was difficult to scent the currents when every breath sent sharp, gritty smog burning through his lungs. He did not know whether this was an intentional tactic, or whether the shadow-stalkers just liked to watch things blacken and die. He said as much to Ash as they trekked through the ferns to the main trail. The nose blindness made scouting more difficult, and less fruitful, but it had to be done.
Or, Ash said, stopping to scratch an itch behind his ears, maybe they’re afraid of the dark.
Pike snorted and batted Ash with his bushy black tail. They’re Maenorens. They are the dark.
Ash brushed past him. Maybe they’re cold, then. They don’t have any fur after all.
Pike had no argument. He trotted into the lead, taking them in a wide arc around the valley where the Fenearens and Trues planned to make their stand. Bayne, Silver, and Roxen had given them strict instructions to stay out of the valley until told otherwise. All of the fighters had been shown a map of each of the traps set for the invading army, but there was no point in testing their memory until necessary. The trails around the valley were safe, though, at least for wolves who could spot the sinew trip-wires dotting the path, smoke or not. They stepped over one of these, careful to not let their paws brush the sensitive thread.
Once clear, Pike lengthened his strides, and Ash easily matched his pace. Pike may have had more muscle and height than Ash, but the younger wolf was almost all legs.
Pike? Ash's whiskers twitched as a denser cloud of smoke blew over them.
Yes, Ash?
Ash turned away, ears pinned. Do you know where Gar’s gone?
I told you, Pike said with a bit more edge than he meant, I don’t know any more than what Bayne told all of us–that Gar had an important mission-and would be back as soon as he could.
I know, but I thought when you said you didn’t know–
That I was lying? Pike sat back on his haunches, looking Ash in the eye. Why would I lie?
Ash paced in circles. I thought Gar might have told you where he was going, and that you might not want to tell me, because Gar is in danger and you didn’t want me or the rest of us to worry.
Pike tracked Ash’s restless movements. We’re all in danger, Ash. The only way Gar wouldn’t be is if he had run away and somehow avoided the Maenorens.
You don’t think that do you? That Gar left us? Ash froze with one paw still lifted.
I wouldn’t blame him. At least one of us has a chance to live through this war.
Don’t say that! Ash barked with sudden ferocity.
Why not? It’s the truth. Pike regretted his candor when Ash’s fierce face fell slack. His small frame and over-stretched legs gave him the appearance of a yearling, even if he was only two winters younger than Pike. Pike could come to terms with his own impending death, but those of his friends? The destruction of his pack? He would fight and die for them, but it would never be enough. The Fenearens, Maenoren Resistance, and Trues stood no chance against the Maenoren army and its allies. Another wave of smoke rolled over them, and both wolves coughed.
When the air cleared this time, a new scent struck Pike: the scent of a man–a Maenoren man, and he was close.
Beside him, Ash growled lowly. Do you smell that?
Smoke must have masked him. What do you think?
Ash’s tail rose as hackles pricked the base of his neck. Could be a scout. Think we can track him through all this?
Pike lowered his snout to the ground in answer. The burning air made it tricky to find new scents, but he knew what to seek now. He ignored the irritating air as he focused on the Maenoren’s sweat and steel aroma.
This way, he indicated with an ear twitch.
They crept beneath the ground cover for almost a league, heading due north. Possibilities of what lay ahead played out in Pike’s mind, each more sinister than the one before. The man might be a defector like the Resistance, or perhaps a scout as Ash had suggested. But he could also be the first of the Maenoren’s final invasion, or a trap to ensnare the Fenearen patrols. Pike had never feared men, let alone one of them, but if the stories of Rhael and his abilities were indeed true, then one man might be worthy of his fear after all. It did not matter, though; Pike and Ash had to find out who the mystery man was and tell the others.
The scent swelled until their quarry was visible even in the foggy forest. A lone Maenoren man, a boy really, walked up the path, his arms wrapped around his shoulders. Pike and Ash exchanged a wary glance.
Pike leaped from the bushes, Ash following him. The boy shrieked and fell backwards. Instead of reaching for a weapon, he gripped a dried plant stalk, waving it as if it were a sword.
What is he doing? Ash advanced, teeth bared despite his confusion.
Pike stilled him with a bark. He padded past Ash and sniffed the plant’s fragrance. Lavender. I thought so. Ash gave no sign that he understood, so Pike continued. It’s an old custom. Humans present a stalk of lavender to wolves as a symbol of peace.
Why? Ash asked. He and Pike split, circling the trembling Maenoren.
Scent is a language we all share, even if most humans comprehend very little. Pike made sure the boy carried no weapons. The Maenoren whimpered in Clanspeak, hiding his face behind the withered purple flowers. Waves of black hair framed his pinched face, and his armor and golden cape swallowed his thin frame.
I almost feel bad for him, Ash said as he came up behind the boy, who yelped and fell forward, landing in an awkward crouch.
Almost, Pike agreed. He parted his jaws, breathing hot air into the Maenoren’s ears.
Should we kill him? There was no fear, no revulsion in Ash’s words.
Pike did not answer right away, distracted by Ash’s cool acceptance of the coming violence. No. Might be a defector or a messenger. We'll take him to Bayne and Silver. He backed away from the Maenoren; Ash did the same. The boy came slowly to his feet, crossing the lavender over his chest like a shield. For a few breaths they stood there, two wolves and a boy alone in the woods, before Pike leaped behind the Maenoren and snapped at his ankles. The boy shrieked, running down the trail with Ash and Pike herding him off the path to avoid the traps.
Bayne leaned against the mantel as Silver motioned their guests to sit. Six men and women crowded their den, not counting Silver and himself. He wished they could have met outside, but strategy discussions demanded privacy. The closeness of the space, combined with the hazy air made his chest ache with each lungful, but he hid his discomfort. Seperun accepted Silver’s offer of tea with a gracious smile before sitting at the low stone table. Roxen sat beside him, hazel eyes trained on the ground. To his right was Daria, Alphena of the Western Densite, and beside her were the three remaining Den Alphen. Cadmen, Alpha of the Eastern Densite, did not help with the space issue. He was the better part of four and half tail-lengths, and though he sat, his broad, muscular frame made even Roxen seem frail in comparison. Cadmen had slung one of his enormous arms around the shoulders of his mate, Alphena Serine, a lithe woman with closely shaved red hair. Despite their appearances, Bayne knew that of the two, Serine was the true warrior. She had won her status in a dominance battle, whereas Cadmen had wed into his. Arlo, the one-eyed lone Alpha of the southeastern site, completed their number, as well as what was left of the council of Den Alphen.
Once all were settled, Bayne began. “The Maenorens are within striking distance, which means the time for our stand has almost come. Roxen and I have finished preparations in the valley, and Silver tells me our forces have been integrated to their best advantage. Soon we move the pups, elders, and those unfit to fight to a safe location with most of what's left of the food stores. Then all that will be left,” Bayne ran a hand through his hair, “is the waiting.”
&nb
sp; “Alpha Bayne.” Serine leaned forward, staring at him with blue eyes so pale they almost faded into their whites. “Why wait when we can attack now? Send me and some of our best warriors. We’ll rout the Maenorens as they sleep and send them screaming into your hunters’ traps.”
Cadmen grunted his approval, though the others remained silent. Bayne had expected such a suggestion from Serine.
“I understand your instincts, Alphena, but we simply do not have the numbers to spare even a small force. As you well know, none who undertake such a mission would survive, and even if they succeeded at rousing the Maenorens to action, the loss would be too great in the end. We’re strongest as a pack.”
“Bayne’s right.” Daria squeezed Serine’s hand. “You want revenge, Serine, as do I. But if we are to have any chance, our priority must be destroying the Da’ Gammorn. As long as even one of those fights, we’ll never win. Not when any dead Maenoren has the potential to rise again.”
Serine crossed her arms, but did not argue.
Arlo barked a humorless laugh. “Not to mention, each of us could die and come back to kill our brethren if we lose our seals of protection.” He tapped the pendant around his neck.
Silver stood beside Bayne. “The new Lead Healer, Jaline, had an idea about that. We’ll use lawsonia dye to draw extra seals of Wolnor on our skin before the battle. They won’t be able to use our dead against us, at least.”
Arlo’s one gray eye twinkled. “Well, thank the gods for that.”
“So,” Seperun drained his tea and addressed the Fenearens in his low, metered voice, “we will protect ourselves from the Da’ Gammorn using Wolnor's seal. My arbalists have joined your archers and will position themselves to kill as many Da’ Gammorn as they can, trusting your melee fighters, my infantrymen, and the True Wolves to do the rest. Your traps will cut through Rhael’s numbers, preventing the formation of phalanxes. We force our enemy into the trees, where your kind have the advantage, and kill until there is no killing left to be done. It is a good plan, Alpha Bayne.”
Hex Breaker (The Fenearen Chronicles Book 1) Page 36