by Claudia King
"I am not so sure," Netya said, recalling the moment Miral had cornered her at the gathering. He was shrewd, and he was determined. His presence had been so overbearing that any thoughts of outwitting the man had fled her mind. The memory of him still frightened her. "He is like Khelt. There is something in him that refuses to soften or break, even when it would be wise to do so." She looked up at her man and placed her good hand on his arm. "At the gathering," she said softly. "You won that fight with Adel's brother. Could you beat Miral?"
"I cannot say. You know I would rather not fight, but if I must, I will."
Netya sensed there was more to it than he was willing to speak of. He had fought Karel, had he not? And for nothing more than pride. No, she knew Caspian better now. Perhaps it had once been true that he had no taste for fighting, but that was before his inner beast had been roused by the female he now longed to protect. Every wolf, she suspected, had something that could push them to fully embrace their feral side. For Khelt and Adel it had been their hatred for one another. For Caspian, was it his fierce love for her?
A brief commotion near the group of men broke Netya's reverie, though it was silenced almost as quickly as it had begun. Squinting through the dusk, she made out a pale-looking Kin being led by Eyan and Hari away from the others. Behind them walked Adel, clad in her full gown and headdress, the knife she used for cutting herbs clutched in one hand.
"It is time, then," Caspian said, moving his arm around Netya's waist and pulling her closer to his side.
"He does not deserve to be punished," she said suddenly. "He was only foolish, not wicked."
"Foolish in a way that almost led to Pera's death." Caspian looked at her, his expression drawn with discomfort. He left the words "and perhaps yours too" unspoken.
"What good will it do now?"
"He must learn," Caspian said firmly. "It is not about making him suffer for what he has done, it is about ensuring that he never does it again." He moved his hand gently to the shoulder of her wounded arm, as if to remind her.
Netya's eyes followed the procession as they made their way down the valley in the direction of the trees, where the bone chimes rattled their eerie music in the distance. Adel made no ceremony of it, but by the time she had passed by the base of the waterfalls more than half the pack had assembled to follow silently in her wake.
"What do you think she will do to him?" Netya whispered.
"I do not know. Many times she punished those who wronged the seerhood of Khelt's pack, but it was done out of sight, and they were never permitted to speak of what happened. It was one of the reasons she was so feared by the rest of the clan."
Queasy with morbid curiosity, Netya's feet carried her along in the wake of the others. If Kin was to suffer for his actions, then she at least felt obliged to stand witness to it. The evening was cold, flecks of icy rain adding a sting to the wind as they walked past the painted stag skull upon its cairn. Adel stepped out in front of the others and led them to the trees, taking them a short ways into the undergrowth until the distant glow of the den was lost from view, but not deep enough to risk walking over the poisoned spike traps that guarded the valley's entrance. Someone up ahead had brought a single guttering torch, and by its intermittent light Netya saw the den mother walk from tree to tree, before coming to a halt in front of a small but sturdy oak and gesturing to its base with her knife.
"Bind him here."
Kin dragged his feet, but he did not struggle as Eyan and Hari hefted him forward and turned the young man around, forcing him to kneel at the base of the tree Adel had indicated. His knuckles were white as his two captors pulled his shaking arms behind the trunk and bound his wrists together, using not weak cords woven from grass, but strong and valuable ones made of animal sinew. For whatever reason, Adel had deemed it wise to ensure that he could not tear himself free.
Perspiration beaded upon Kin's brow, his streak of blonde hair hanging across the side of his face as he stared down into the grass. "Den Mother," he murmured through a jaw that had been clenched tight to stop it from shaking, "I know I have been foolish."
"Do not speak," Adel replied, hooking the blade of her knife beneath his chin and forcing his head up to look at her. "You have betrayed me, boy, and so you have betrayed your pack. Exile or death would not be unjust punishments for what your actions have wrought. Had Pera lost his life, there would be no place left for you among my clan. Understand that this is a great mercy I am about to show you."
Kin's eyes flitted back and forth, trying to settle anywhere but upon the den mother's frighteningly beautiful face. His throat bobbed, but he said nothing.
"You will answer to the spirits this night," Adel continued. "Theirs is the punishment you must endure, not mine. Let us hope they put an end to the boy who brought such grave danger upon his pack, and send back to us a man tempered with their wisdom. For if you ever disobey me again, Kin, it will be for the last time."
Netya flinched as the den mother gripped him by the hair and pulled his head back, bringing her knife to his forehead as smoothly as if she had been cutting herbs. With her thumb braced against the back of the blade, she drew it across the area just above Kin's left eye in a single sharp stroke. The cords binding his wrists creaked as the young man flinched, his brow contorting with pain.
"Yenna," Adel said, and the elder seer stepped forward to pass the den mother a handful of grass to clean her blade. Then, from within her own gowns, she produced a small pouch and tipped the contents into her palm. The strong scent of the sickly-smelling herbs that grew in abundance up and down the valley hit Netya's nostrils a moment later, slightly charred and powdered to increase their potency. Ignoring the blood running down the side of Kin's face, Adel used her thumb to press the herbs into the gash she had just made, before scattering the rest upon his lips. Netya knew from experience that healing medicines worked best when used upon open wounds, but she had never seen the same done with spirit herbs before. The effect was quick. No sooner had Adel wiped her hands clean and motioned for the others to leave than Kin's eyes started to take on a hazy quality, his shoulders straining against his bonds as he jolted in shock at the sudden rattle of a bone chime nearby.
"What is this?" He whispered, running his tongue over his lips and spitting, eyes snapping open and shut as if he had just awoken from a dream.
Netya lingered, wanting to go to him, to reassure the man that there was nothing for him to fear in the spirit world. But she knew this was not what Adel wanted. To Kin, everything he saw that night would be real, and he would have no mentor to guide him through it. Alone with the dark spirits summoned by the clan's totems, he would face all the nightmares the forest had to show him.
"Come," Caspian said quietly, tugging her away from the chilling scene. "We will take care of him in the morning."
"Netya," Kin groaned, and to her regret she looked back one last time to see him staring wide-eyed at one of the bird skull totems hanging from the trees. She had no way of knowing what he was seeing, but his damp face was marred with terror. "What are its feathers... why does its skin..?"
She forced herself to turn away, trying to shut out the pleading cries that echoed after her, mingling with the tinkle and tap of the chimes and the creaking sound of Kin's arms straining against their bonds.
—32—
Daughter of the Moon
Netya was a quick-witted young woman, but that, Caspian realised, was not what made her a good seer. At least, he did not think so. A seer was not just a guardian of spiritual knowledge or a keeper of herbs and healing secrets; she was a caregiver to her clan. It was why the head of their order had always been referred to as mother, after all.
No, it was Netya's capacity for kindness that made her so well suited to her calling. Caspian was not one to hold grudges, but even he had been unable to suppress a faint surge of vindication at Kin's punishment. And yet Netya, the very one who had been wounded by him, had been the first to hurry down from the den as soon as dawn k
issed the peaks of the valley. She could not bear to sit idle while others suffered, and before anyone else had so much as passed a word of gossip about Kin she had reappeared leading the shaken young man back home by the arm.
Caspian could not help but smile, letting out a long, contented breath as they hove into view. Even in the darkest of times she had a habit of appealing to the best parts of him. After seeing her show such compassion for the fool who had wounded her, Caspian could not in good conscience hold on to his ill will toward Kin either. He rose from his seat by the communal fire and went to meet them, giving the other man a reproachful, but good-humoured look as he approached.
"You survived your night in the spirit world, then?" he said.
Kin nodded absently, his usual careless confidence in short supply that morning. His eyes had a hazy look to them, jittery and distant. The paleness of his face and the quivering of his hands spoke of a troubled night indeed. He had scraped his wrists raw against their bonds.
"The things you see in the spirit world cannot harm you, not physically," Netya tried to reassure him. "They are the same as your dreams."
"They were more real than my dreams," Kin replied in a dry voice.
"But no more dangerous. You will start feeling better once you have something to eat and get a little rest."
The young man shook his head abruptly. "No. I can't sleep. The spirits will be there. Those birds."
"You have to sleep eventually. Come and sit with us, it will all feel like nothing more than a bad dream before long."
Caspian offered Kin an arm to lean on and helped him to a warm spot at the edge of the fire. "Your brothers will be awake soon. I am sure they will all want to know what demons you battled in the forest last night."
A sickly look passed over Kin's face. "They will think me a weak coward. Bad enough they see me as a fool. Even Eyan has no respect for me any more."
"Then now is the time to start earning it back," Caspian replied. "Great men are not born from nothing, they are made by the trials they face. From the looks of you, you faced a trial greater than anything your brothers have ever endured last night. Whether they see you as a coward or not will depend on how you let it shape you."
Caspian's words finally seemed to break through Kin's hazy-eyed fear. He blinked a few times, then nodded.
"I thought fear was something I had grown beyond," the young man said. "But now I understand why even the mightiest warriors are scared of witches."
"No one is beyond fear," Caspian said. "Only the crazed or the ignorant believe that. A coward is not a man who feels fear, only one who lets it control him. And a wise man knows that fear can make him strong. Stronger, perhaps, than anything else."
Kin continued to bob his head. Perhaps he only wanted to be left alone, or perhaps he was finally allowing Caspian's advice to sink in. He accepted the parcel of leaf-wrapped mushrooms and meat that Netya passed to him silently, taking slow bites, as if he feared his stomach was about to turn at any moment.
By the time Kin's brothers awoke and came to sit with him some of the colour had returned to his cheeks, and he managed to muster the energy to greet them with a smile and at least a shade of his usual spirit. It was as Netya had said, Caspian reflected. Kin was not wicked or ill-intentioned. In some ways he was quite like Khelt. Brash and quick to act, and sometimes too driven by his ideas of courage and honour to see his actions for what they truly were. There was hope for him yet.
Caspian withdrew from his place by the fire and gravitated back toward Netya, who was hovering at the edge of the group as if she had something else on her mind. None of the others seemed to have noticed, but Caspian knew when she was preoccupied.
"If you were a wolf, your tail would be wagging," he said, taking her by the hand and drawing her in close so that he could check on her healing wound.
Netya shook her head slightly, working her lower lip back and forth between her teeth. "It is only an idea. A worry, really. Miral's warriors may be here within a day now."
Caspian nodded, his expression falling at the grim reminder of what was to come. He had spent much time dwelling on his own words about courage ever since Netya had returned. "Yes, if the man you spoke to is to be believed. After tonight no one will sleep lightly."
"I have been thinking, the seers are used to their herbs," Netya continued, "but after seeing what they did to Kin... They could steal away the strength of even the bravest warriors."
"Lyucia says the poison on the traps we laid will do even worse than that. Many of Miral's warriors might be rendered helpless by it."
"Yes," Netya said tersely, "many. And they might. But not all. And not for certain."
Caspian gave her a curious look. "You are thinking of a way we could afflict all of them with the same visions? At the same time?"
"I do not know. The herbs Adel used on Kin grow everywhere here. We would have enough for as many traps as Briar could make. They may not be as strong as the poison, but they might still work."
A spark of excitement flared at the back of Caspian's mind. The preparations they had been making had been helpful, yes, but nothing to convince him that they would survive an attack by Miral without a great deal of blood being spilled. It was too optimistic to hope for anything else. Too optimistic, and yet Netya seemed to have stumbled upon an answer.
"Why would we need traps?" he said. "The seers make use of those herbs by burning them and breathing the smoke."
Netya's eyes widened, and she clutched his hand tight. "Yes! We could gather enough of them to build great bonfires! Big enough to fill the whole valley with smoke, like the fronds we burn for the summer celebration!"
"Perhaps not the entire valley, but at least the forest at the western end. Between the smoke and the traps, Miral's whole pack would be afflicted if they came through that way."
"They might even turn back in fear before they reach the den!"
Caspian held her hand firmly, trying to temper her excitement even though he could feel it threatening to surge up inside him as well. "We must still be ready to fight. Miral is cunning, and the fates can be cruel. But this idea—it may save many lives."
Netya nodded, her excitement refusing to dim. "Come, let us tell the den mother! We could fill the entire forest with fires if everyone helped!"
A grin finally slipped past Caspian's lips as Netya dragged him up the slope toward Adel's cave. Perhaps the spirits really did protect this place. He did not want to lose his good sense to hope, but Netya's plan was an idea the likes of which he had never heard before. Magic powerful enough to cast an entire rival clan into the spirit world at once. Truly, it would be the work of a great sorceress to see such a thing done.
* * *
As soon as the den mother heard Netya's idea she wasted no time in setting the clan to work. Only a few who were carrying out other duties, and Pera, who was still recovering from his wounds, were excused from the task of picking the valley clean of its abundant crop of leafy herbs. Even the men, who would surely rather have been training with their weapons, seemed to grasp the importance of Netya's plan after seeing how shaken Kin's brush with the spirit world had left him.
There was no time to dry out the plants properly, so instead several pyres of dry fuel had to be built at the base of each bonfire. A task that had first seemed so simple quickly became the effort of an entire day as groups were forced to venture out past the maze of traps to gather more wood and kindling. By the time dusk arrived Netya was aching from an afternoon spent bent over cutting plants. Her fingers were sticky with the scent of the spirit herbs, and she was thankful that they were not strong enough to affect her by smell alone.
After throwing the fruits of her labour atop one of the ever-growing piles of greenery next to the closest pyre, she tucked her knife into her waist wrap and headed back to the den. They had gathered more than enough herbs to burn, but it was better to be safe than sorry. As Adel had impressed upon them, there was no guarantee that Miral would turn tail and run af
ter a single attempt to enter the valley. They might need to keep the bonfires burning for many more nights if the alpha proved to be stubborn.
On her way back Netya came across Lyucia's mother chanting words in the tongue of the Sun People as she laid out a pattern of sticks upon the grass in front of the stag skull cairn, throwing her hands up to the sky and casting them down again every few moments.
"What magic is this, Mother?" Netya inquired, lingering just short of the sticks in case she disturbed whatever ritual the elder was performing.
"Shaman magic, from the North People," she replied, keeping her face turned to the west as she tossed another stick at her feet and threw her hands up to the sky again, her silvery blonde hair shining in the emergent light of the moon. "They know how to call the wind and rain to feed their crops. I learned their ways from Shaman Lutek, back when we were both young."
"I know little of shaman magic. Can they really do such things?"
The elder snorted with amusement in between her chants. "The den mother believes not, but what harm will it do? If the wind blows west when Miral and his wolves come, all the better to carry the smoke of our fires to him."
Netya watched for a little longer as Lyucia's mother continued her ritual, but soon the familiar words leaving her lips started to evoke feelings of melancholy rather than comfort. They reminded Netya of the songs and lullabies of her own kind. Songs that were still being sung somewhere far, far away, by a family that would never know what became of their lost daughter. She could have spent an eternity questioning where her life would have led if she returned home when she still had the chance. An eternity of which only the first moment had yet passed. Would she die here, defending this valley against the claws of Miral's warriors? It almost amused her to realise that even death had lost the terrifying sting it once held. A person could only face such a fear so many times before it grew numb and cold, like a deep and bottomless lake rather than a sharp blade of ice.