“Ah well, I see you know what I am,” said the Korahku, her beak poking through the bars.
Bo had never seen a Korahku before. He’d heard the villagers talk—The head of a bird! The body of a person! Monstrous wings with feathers like knives! Clawed feet to gouge out your intestines! So unnaturally tall and long-limbed! An abomination! A Shadow Creature!—but all he could see from his vantage point was the birdlike head with unblinking eyes, a beak that curved into a sharp point, and the lightly feathered hands gripping the bars. The rest of her—including her enormous wings—was hidden beneath the tattered blue robe Bo had mistaken for a pile of rags.
She dragged herself closer to the edge of the cage, bringing down a rainfall of mottled reddish-brown feathers. “But what sort of thing are you?”
Nix snapped at the flurry of feathers.
“Irin of course,” said Bo.
“Of course, of course.” The Korahku laughed, a hearty sound that almost—almost—hid the heavy way she slumped against the cage bars. “An entire village of superstitious oafs are quivering behind locked doors and you are playing hide-and-seek in the market square. So, I ask myself: What kind of Irin are you?”
Bo tugged at the hood obscuring his eyes. “The cursed kind,” he muttered.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” said the Korahku. “But I suppose every great story begins with a curse.”
Bo squinted at the Korahku. She didn’t seem evil but Bo knew Korahku ate their children, sharpened their beaks with Irin bones, and worshiped the Dark. At least that was what the villagers said. Perhaps he should use the spirit charm Galvin sold him? He kept his hand close to his pocket.
Bo craned his neck, trying to get a better look at the creature. “What did you do?”
“Do?”
“To be locked up. Why are you a prisoner?”
The Korahku chuckled softly. “Does an Irin need a reason to lock up a Korahku?”
Bo shrugged. “I’m not supposed to talk to you anyway. Come on, Nix.”
“Ah, very sensible,” said the Korahku. “And, of course, I shouldn’t be talking to you.”
“What?” Bo frowned. “Why shouldn’t you talk to me?”
“Do you mean to say those villagers and their dog are not searching for you? Oh yes.” The Korahku laughed at Bo’s wide eyes. “From up here, I have quite a view. I can see the whole village . . .”
Bo’s chest tightened; beside him, Nix whimpered.
“It’s a mistake is all.” Bo glanced at the stables. If he ran now . . .
“I have a deal for you, little Irin,” said the Korahku. “Release me and I will take you to safety.”
Release? A Korahku?
Bo snorted. “I don’t—”
“Come now, little Irin.” The Korahku glanced to the east, to dangers Bo couldn’t see. “How long until that dog sniffs you out?”
“I’ve got sneezewort.” Bo pulled the white flowers from his pocket; they were already limp and half-dead in his palm.
“Ah yes, dogs do not like it—you are right there.” The Korahku leaned forward. “But Irin do not care if it is sneezewort or lindberry beer you are smothered in. They will skin you alive either way.”
Bo sucked in a deep, shaky breath. He knew the Korahku was right. And now that he was closer, the stables looked huge and he had only three candles—how would he ever Light such a space and keep the Shadow Creatures from gobbling him up like one of Lucky Karl’s pigs?
“If this is a trick you’re playing on me . . .”
“No trick.”
Nix pressed his snout to Bo’s calf.
“I know,” murmured Bo. “But it’s not just villagers I have to worry about, is it? You heard what the wolf said.” You cannot. Escape me . . .
He squinted at the Light making its slow crawl across the sky. If he freed the Korahku, perhaps she would take Bo and Nix safely out of the village. But to where?
The Korahku’s hands strained around the bars.
“Promise,” said Bo. “Promise you’ll take us somewhere safe and . . . promise you won’t eat me.”
The Korahku snapped her beak—tsk! She held out an open palm and sliced it with the tip of her pointed beak, cutting deep into the flesh. She yanked a feather from somewhere beneath her robe, dipped it in the pooling blood, and tossed it through the bars. It floated down into Bo’s hands. “Blood bind,” said the Korahku. “Cannot be broken.”
Bo didn’t know what a blood bind was but he shoved the feather deep in his pocket. It was surprisingly soft—a delicate plume of reddish brown with creamy white spots, not a sharp edge to be found. Weren’t all Korahku feathers tipped with razor-sharp metal? Hadn’t the villagers said so?
Bo shook his head. There was an Irin dog with his scent, a wolf that wanted revenge, Shadow Creatures rampaging, a forest that was dying, and no Mads to keep him safe. He didn’t have a choice.
“What do I have to do?” said Bo.
* * *
Bo pulled and yanked and tugged until his palms were raw, but the chain holding the Fuglebur aloft wouldn’t budge.
“Pull,” said the Korahku. “Are you pulling?”
Bo muttered bad words as he tried again.
“What is ‘Skugs fud’?” asked the Korahku.
Bo let go, tears stinging his eyes. “Deal’s off. I can’t do it.”
“Typical Irin,” said the Korahku, snapping her beak. “Always complaining, thinking the world is against you. But are you in a cage?”
Bo grabbed the chain with both hands and pulled. Yes, he thought, a cage of trees and wolves and curses and Darkness. Twelve years in a cage with invisible bars.
Nix bit the cuff of Bo’s trousers, dug in his feet, and pulled too.
“You are not even trying,” said the Korahku.
Bo growled as he pulled so hard he thought his arms would snap off. “Always someone to boss me about,” he said through grinding teeth. “Always someone to tell me I’m wrong, that I’m not good enough.” He heaved, eyes scrunched. “Always someone to laugh at me. Call me names. Spit at me . . .” Bo felt ready to be torn apart and then . . .
Click!
“I did it!” But as the catch snapped free, the chain ripped through Bo’s hands and the cage came crashing down. It broke apart as it hit the ground, iron bars twanging as they clashed against the stones. The Korahku tumbled free, a rolling ball of feathers, arms, legs, and beak.
Bo blew on his stinging palms. “That hurt.”
“Arrows hurt more,” said the Korahku, climbing to her feet, rising and rising and . . . she was twice the height of Mads! Bo shrank back, legs wobbling, guts twisted with unease. Perhaps he had made a mistake . . .
“Arrows?” he asked.
The Korahku pointed to the far side of the square. Reluctantly, Bo wrenched his gaze away from the strange and terrifying creature in front of him to follow her outstretched arm and gasped when he saw a large group of villagers nearing the square. A very large group. Some had brooms and rocks; others gripped axes and bows and arrows.
“I do not know why they wanted you before,” said the Korahku, “but now they want you for setting a prisoner free.”
As the villagers reached the edge of the square, they raised their weapons with cries of Devil-child! Traitor! Shadow Creature! The Innkeeper’s dog barked and reared, desperate to escape his leash.
“Can you run?” asked the Korahku.
Bo looked at the giant bird-creature beside him. It was clear she had seen better days: she was hunched and molting and frail-looking. “Can you?” asked Bo.
The Korahku tilted her head. “Let us see,” she said.
And then she ran.
Bo and Nix ran too, followed by the roar of villagers, the howl of the Innkeeper’s dog, and the clatter of weapons. Bo could outrun the villagers with their bellies full of lindberry beer and jellied pig’s trotters. But the Innkeeper’s dog . . .
“This way.” The Korahku veered right. Bo glimpsed the dog racing out in front of the pack before he
rounded the corner.
They hurried up a steep path, huts too close on either side. Nix ran out front, looking behind again and again to make sure Bo was close.
He was.
But so was the Innkeeper’s dog.
A searing pain shot up Bo’s calf as the dog sank his fangs into his flesh. Bo howled as he flew forward, crashing to the ground.
His ears rang from the fall as he struggled to shake his leg free. But the beast had locked his jaws, fangs cutting deep.
Something flew overhead, colliding with the Innkeeper’s dog, sending him tumbling down the hill with a high-pitched yelp. Bo gasped for breath, winded with worry—had Nix jumped in to defend him? He was no match for the Innkeeper’s dog!
Bo struggled to sitting as a familiar wet nose pressed against his neck. “Nix? But you’re—” Bo looked up and saw the Korahku crouched in a battle pose between Bo and the dog. She had saved him!
The Innkeeper’s dog scrambled to his feet, baring his teeth with a growl.
“Silly beast,” said the Korahku, flicking the corners of her robe behind her. “You think you can scare me?”
The dog gnashed his teeth and then sprang into the air, but the Korahku kicked out, landing a swift, hard blow to the dog’s belly, enough to send him flying through the air again, and he landed with a thud and a whimper. Scrambling to his feet, the dog cowered, taking one look at the Korahku before scurrying away on unsteady legs.
“Quick. We must keep moving,” said the Korahku, hauling Bo to his feet.
The villagers appeared at the bottom of the hill, waving their weapons and shouting. The Innkeeper jostled to the front and howled at the sight of his limping dog. “What have you done? I’ll have your fox for dinner, Devil-child!”
Bo, Nix, and the Korahku turned and ran as fast as they could, shouts and curses growing louder behind them. Each time Bo planted his right foot, searing pain shot through his leg.
“The forest,” said the Korahku, pointing up the hill. This was a side of the village Bo had never seen before—it was all new and curious. “We’ll be safe in there.”
Bo looked over his shoulder at the village mob: so close. He turned back to the strange glimmer of forest at the top of the hill. Far, far away and so very unfamiliar. Fear gripped his stomach, an icy iron claw.
There was no way they could possibly make it.
Chapter Seven
The forest loomed ahead. Bo ran as fast as he could, though every step was agony, a lightning bolt of pain shooting up his leg. But when Bo took a hurried look over his shoulder, he saw that the villagers had stumbled to a standstill halfway up the hill.
“Go back, go back!” the Innkeeper was shouting, waving his arms. “They’re leading us into the Forest of Tid! It’s a trap!”
The villagers threw their weapons to the ground, a clatter of steel, wood, and iron. Bo ran on.
When the three of them were finally enveloped by the deathly quiet of the forest, Bo glimpsed the tangle of bronze, gold, and silver tree trunks as he rushed by. The air left a bitter, metallic sting on his tongue and the fallen leaves pinged, high and tinny, as Bo ran through them. The strangeness of it all made his head spin. Or perhaps that was because of the blood he felt trickling down his calf and into his shoe . . .
“Stop,” panted Bo, throwing down his rucksack and shaking off his cloak. He keeled over, pushing Nix away as his breakfast splattered over his toes.
Wiping his mouth clean, Bo crawled to the nearest tree and slumped to the ground with his back against the trunk, heart battering against his rib cage.
“You are hurt,” said the Korahku, doubling back to crouch in front of him. Nix growled quietly as she inspected Bo’s leg.
“Why aren’t they following us?” panted Bo. He blinked slowly, trying to clear his woozy head: instead of rough, woody trunks, the trees were smooth like metal and glistened in the mottled Light. Was he seeing things? He had never been to the east side of Squall’s End before, never known an entirely different forest from his own hugged the edge of the village.
“Lindberry, heldung, longthor leaf, and nokki paste,” muttered the Korahku, reaching into the folds of her robe. Underneath she wore a tunic and fitted trousers. She pulled out a small leather pouch. “Does your creature understand words?”
Bo shrugged. “Seems to. The villagers think it’s because he’s a Shadow Creature but he’s just always seemed to understand me. We understand each other.”
With the end of a feather plucked from somewhere under her robe, the Korahku drew a shape in the dirt, a leaf with five sharp points. “Are you listening to me, strange little dog? I need longthor leaf for his calf. Looks like this.” She jabbed at the dirt drawing. “Comes from a tree no bigger than your Irin friend here and just as scrawny. The color of half-Light in the Burning Season. Go!”
Nix sprinted off, his gold-red fur vanishing into the tangle of metal trees.
Bo tugged at the neck of his shirt. Despite the icy chill, the lack of a breeze was stifling, making the air feel thick and syrupy. “I asked you a question,” he said. He dared not look as the Korahku gently rolled up his trouser leg. “Why didn’t the villagers follow us?”
The Korahku mixed a foul-smelling paste from the berries, leaves, and potions in her pouch. She laughed. “You Irin. Scared of everything.” She waved a hand at the trees. “This is the Forest of Tid. Your friends think it is haunted. Ha!”
“Not my friends.” Bo cursed and balled his hands into fists, clenching his teeth as the Korahku slathered the paste on his calf.
“I think,” said the Korahku, “that this ‘Skugs fud’ you speak of is not nice.” She laughed all the same and Bo found he liked the sound—deep and rough and warm.
His brows drew together as he watched her work. She could have left him to be torn apart by the villagers and their dog but hadn’t. And now she was carefully tending to his injured leg. Bo let out a long, shuddering breath—his fists unclenched and the knot of worry in his chest began to untangle itself.
Perhaps I will be safe after all, he thought.
“But why do the villagers think it’s haunted?” he asked.
“You ask many questions, child. But I have one for you: How does an Irin boy know nothing of the Forest of Tid? Do not you live a hen’s peck from here?”
Bo frowned. “Yes, but . . .” The paste was already soothing his pain. “The villagers think I struck a deal with the Shadow Creatures because I was left in the forest as a baby and didn’t die. They think I cursed the land even though there’s been Dark and Shadow Creatures long before I was born. Bunch of trollheads. And my guardian, Mads, never told me about the Forest of Tid—I didn’t even know there was more than one forest here. He told me about cutting down trees and how to jelly pig’s trotters. That’s it. We never left our forest much—just into the village and back again to sell wood at market.”
The Korahku laughed as she packed her things away. “But you never asked? You walked from forest to village and village to forest time and again and you never say, ‘What is over there?’”
“At least I know the difference between a fox and a dog,” snapped Bo. The truth was he did ask questions. Mads just never answered them.
The Korahku considered him with unblinking eyes. With a sigh, she picked up her feather and drew more patterns in the dirt. “Listen, because I only do this once, yes?”
Bo watched as she drew a map, an island shaped like a wolf’s head—if you squinted. All throughout were villages, forests, mountains, lakes, and even a castle right where the wolf’s eye would be.
“This is the land of Ulv,” she said, retracing the outer edge of the island. “And this speck in the southwest here is your village. Your home is here.” The Korahku jabbed northwest of the village. “The Forest of Long Shadows.”
Bo didn’t admit he never knew his forest had a name. All he knew was that the villagers thought it was where Shadow Creatures came from.
“East of Squall’s End is the Forest of Tid.�
�� The Korahku jabbed the dirt. “Us. Right here. More Irin villages here, here, here, and here. Irin Un-Royal City is here.” She stabbed the earth where she had drawn a monstrous-looking tree on top of a hill, its multitude of branches reaching for the sky like waving arms. “There, you will find your Un-King.”
Un-King?
“And all the way over here is Korak, where the Korahku live.” She pointed to the opposite side of the island, jutting out her beak, haughty and proud. “Seven provinces in total. Nev’en.” She jabbed her finger in the center of the drawing. “And Lahesi. And Qirachi. And Rakoo. And Maledian.” Jab, jab, jab, jab . . . The unfamiliar words bounced awkwardly around Bo’s head, refusing to make sense. “The Seven Great Kin of Ulv.”
“The Seven Great what?”
The Korahku glared at him with beady black eyes. She sighed. “They really never told you anything, did they?”
Bo’s cheeks flushed—anger or embarrassment or both.
“Long ago there were two kin: the Elfvor and the Ulvians. Many years and conflicts and borders later, there are seven, but they are all related to one or both of the original two.”
“But who were the Elfvor and the Ulvians?”
“Ulvians were ordinary folk and Elfvor were . . . not.”
“What does that mean?”
The Korahku waved away Bo’s query with a sharp flick of her hand. “I thought you did not ask questions but you ask too many.”
“But what’s that?” Bo pointed to the castle.
The Korahku sighed. “Aud. The Sovereign State. Queen of Ulv lives there.”
“Queen? You said there was an Un-King.”
“The Queen of Ulv rules all,” she said. “But each province has its own ruler, who answers to her. Some are royal families, some are not. Irin had a royal family until my people beheaded them.”
Bo spluttered with shock. “You killed the entire Irin royal family?”
The Korahku’s shoulders stiffened. “Not me personally.”
Bo shivered, folding his arms across his chest. Perhaps he wasn’t so safe after all . . . “But what’s an Un-King?”
The Boy, the Wolf, and the Stars Page 5