The Boy, the Wolf, and the Stars

by Shivaun Plozza

  Perhaps . . . perhaps Tam would win!

  But Bo’s hope was short-lived. Though Tam was fast—her claws and talons deadly sharp—the wolf was stronger and soon he had overpowered the Korahku. Tam roared with pain as the wolf sank his teeth into her already mangled wing and tore. Suddenly, Tam wasn’t moving at all.

  The wolf’s head jerked at the sound of Bo’s strangled cry.

  “Why are you doing this?” said Bo, stepping out from behind the tree, Nix by his side. There was no point hiding anymore. “What do you want from me?”

  “Answers,” said the wolf with a bloodstained grin.

  Bo shook his head. “But Mads never told me anything.” His eyes flicked to Tam on the ground—her chest rose and fell with shallow, labored breaths. She was alive. Alive! If only he could keep the wolf talking. Maybe he could distract him long enough for Tam to wake up. “But . . . but . . . I did overhear something,” he said. “About a wolf who ate the Stars.”

  Ranik towered over Tam’s inert body. He blinked slowly but did not interrupt; clearly, he was listening.

  “He’s locked in a cage. Don’t know where,” said Bo. “But I know there are three keys needed to open the cage. You said you were looking for your brother—is it him? Is he the wolf who ate the Stars?”

  The wolf inched forward. “Very good. Very smart.”

  “Then I can help you. You want to get your brother back. And I need to find him so I can set the Stars free. We can help each other.”

  The wolf shook his head.

  “We were tricked,” he said. “Were promised. All of Ulv. To rule. That Stars would. Give us power. But she lied.”

  “She?”

  “The Shadow Witch. She wants Stars. To destroy. No more good magic. Just chaos and Darkness. But Stars belong. To brother and me. So we can rule. Rule this land. Have our revenge. The Shadow Witch. Rises again. But I will. Get to Stars. First. You will not. Steal them.”

  Bo edged back. “I don’t know where your brother is and I don’t know anything about the witch,” he said. He collided with the tree trunk, trying to back away. “And I don’t want the Stars for myself. I just want to set them free.”

  “They will not. Go free. They belong. To brother. And to me. We will rule. With their power. Tell me. The truth. Or die.”

  “But I don’t know any more.”

  Ranik laughed. “I can. Make you. Tell me.” He inched closer. Beside Bo, Nix growled. “Or I can. Just kill you. And find brother. Myself.”

  Bo swallowed hard as he slid down the base of the trunk and pulled Nix in tight. Tam lay motionless on the ground and the wolf moved closer.

  This was it.

  This was the end.

  A spear of Light shot past Bo and hit the wolf full in the chest. The wolf spiraled through the air and tumbled—thump!—to the ground.

  Bo spun around and saw a girl his age, her hands held out in front, her eyes bulging, and a sled full of kindling beside her. Her long silver braids were like a bouquet of swords and her skin was a deep golden brown, the color of half-Light in the Burning Season.

  The girl hurried toward Bo but pulled up short when the wolf climbed to his feet and snarled.

  He pawed at the ground as if to charge, but the girl flung out her hands again and icy sparks shot from each of her fingers, piercing Ranik’s fur like knives. The giant wolf whimpered and backed away. The girl looked at her hands as though they didn’t belong to her.

  But Bo understood. He had seen it before.

  Magic.

  “What. Are. You?” said the wolf. His lips curled back as he tore his hate-filled gaze from the girl to Bo. “Soon,” he promised. “You will. Tell me. Answers. Soon.” He turned and raced down the hill, out of sight.

  Bo’s heart banged against his ribs, like desperate knocks at a locked door seconds before the Dark descended. He had so many questions for the girl but his eyes were drawn to Tam, bloodied and inert.

  “Help me,” he said to the girl before crawling to Tam’s side. He grabbed the Korahku’s hand and called her name—no response.

  “Don’t tell anyone,” said the girl as she collapsed to her knees beside Bo, breathing heavily.

  “What?”

  She blinked at Bo. “About the . . . magic.”

  Bo looked at her: her eyes were large and wide-set, her forehead high, her chin pointed. “If you promise to help me get Tam to safety, then okay.”

  She nodded. “Deal.”

  The True Histories of Ulv, Vol. IV

  How the Silent Sisters Lost Their Voices

  You are no doubt aware that the province of Nev’en is ruled by a religious order known as the Silent Sisters. (If you are not aware, then what on Ulv have you been doing instead of reading each volume of this illustrious collection with rapt attention? Tsk! Go back and see The True Histories of Ulv, Vol. III, “How a Lovesick King Lost His Throne.”) But do you know how this order came to be?

  Of course you don’t. Let me enlighten you.

  There once were three sisters. They were the kind of beautiful that made young men gather their cheese and jellied pig’s trotters and lindberry beer and hop to the highest ground. But wishes had no effect on the hearts of the sisters, and each time they refused offers of marriage, the men grew angry.

  One man decided to cast a spell to steal their voices. And when he came to ask for the eldest sister’s hand in marriage, she could not say no. She was dragged to church and forced to marry him.

  But on their wedding night she cut out his tongue and ran back to her sisters. The village men came for them with knives and fire and pitchforks, but the women of the village had formed a circle around the sisters’ hut and would not let them through.

  So the men left. And when the three sisters marched up Lunaris Mountain and carved a temple into the rockface, the women of the village followed them, devoting their lives to healing and prayer and philosophy.

  And so was born the Temple of the Silent Sisters. Each Sister takes a vow of silence and an oath to protect all citizens of Ulv in times of trouble. So, if you have an ailment—of the body or mind—the temple is the place for you.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A sheen of sweat glistened on the girl’s forehead as they hauled Tam in the sled over the craggy, windswept landscape. She was lankier than Bo, with limbs that dangled as if the screws that kept her together needed tightening.

  Nix trotted beside them, licking Tam’s limp hand that hung over the side and whimpering at the trail of blood behind them. My fault, thought Bo, hugging the Korahku’s blue robe to his chest. It’s all my fault.

  Tam had woken briefly, enough for the two children to help her into the sled, but had quickly slipped back into unconsciousness, despite Bo’s pleas. The girl had wrapped Tam’s wounds in an unfamiliar leaf before handing Bo a rope and ordering him to pull.

  Soon, they crested a rocky hill and Bo stumbled at the impossible sight looming ahead of him.

  There was a castle.

  There was a castle carved into the mountainside.

  There were other buildings too, clusters of villages circling the castle, all carved into the steep vertical rockface, their windows illuminated with flickering candle-Light.

  Bo’s mouth fell open. “What on Ulv?”

  “Temple City, capital of Nev’en,” explained the girl, cheeks puffed as she breathed in short, sharp, spluttering bursts. “The Sisters will help your friend, even though she’s a Korahku. We take an oath to help all peoples of Ulv, regardless of which province they’re from, and Sister Magrid is—”

  “Did you say Sisters?”

  “Of course! The castle you see there is the Temple of the Silent Sisters. Don’t you know anything?”

  Before Bo could respond, two tall women approached them, shimmering in orange robes patterned with golden teardrops. The girl bowed her head reverently but Bo stared up at them in awe—skin in shades of mellow brown and ochre and limbs that moved, soft and delicate, as though conducting great symphonie
s. Their gazes brushed over Bo and Nix and then Tam, and without a word, they scooped up the Korahku as if she weighed no more than a single feather and carried her away.

  “Wait!” cried Bo. “Where are you taking her?”

  “To see Sister Magrid, of course,” said the girl, dropping the sled rope at her feet. “Follow me.”

  They climbed the stone-carved stairs that zigzagged up the mountainside to the temple entrance, leaving the now-empty sled at the base. Already the two women were far ahead of them.

  “Do you know the Scribe?” Bo asked.

  The girl glanced over her shoulder at him, a frown troubling her brow. “No. There’s no Scribe here,” she said, and then doubled her pace. “Keep up, Irin boy!”

  Bo was breathless by the time they reached the stone entranceway, hands on knees and gasping for air. The two women had vanished.

  Was there really no Scribe? Had the Un-King lied? Bo’s disappointment knotted with his guilt and his fear for Tam and he felt sick. He would have to look elsewhere. But where?

  “Remember you promised,” said the girl. She tugged on his sleeve. “Say nothing about magic.” She screwed up her face, as though the word tasted bitter. “And don’t tell them I said a word. Sister Agnethe will have my tongue for a hat if she discovers I’ve been chitter-chatting when it’s not the Time of Speaking.”

  Though he didn’t understand a word she said, Bo nodded. He didn’t have the breath to speak anyway.

  “Well, I’m Selene,” she said.

  “Bo.” Bo nodded at Nix. “And Nix.”

  Selene’s answering grin was wonky. “Brace yourself, Bo.”

  Before Bo could ask, What for? Selene had shoved open the heavy stone door and he was hit with a wave of angry voices.

  “And now they bring a Korahku here. A Korahku!”

  “We’ll be murdered in our beds!”

  “We’ll be sacrificed to the Shadow Creatures!”

  Selene dragged Bo into a cavernous hall, so large it could fit a forest and the treetops would barely tickle the ceiling. It was overflowing with shouting, sneering, arm-waving Irin.

  Hundreds of makeshift tents were crammed into every nook and cranny as far as Bo could see—tatty blankets slung over washing lines, underneath them miserable-looking people huddled close for warmth. They were dressed in dirty rags, cheeks hollow with hunger.

  More women in orange robes drifted among them, offering food and water in silence.

  Selene bent close to his ear. “Shadow Creatures have run everyone out of their villages. The displaced Nev’en are being housed in the city, so the Irin are coming to the temple for safety but—”

  Selene jumped as a sour-faced Sister appeared in front of them—wide-set eyes, small mouth, reddish-brown skin like river rock. “Bring him, Selene.” Her voice was sharp enough to draw blood. “The Time of Speaking has started and he must explain himself to the High Sisters. After all, what sort of Irin consorts with a Korahku?”

  The crowd scattered, clearing a path as she marched away.

  “That’s Sister Agnethe,” whispered Selene, dragging Bo after the haughty woman. “Nastier than a grimboil on a pungpong, but she’s second in charge after the High Sisters, so you’d better listen to what she says.”

  Hundreds of eyes burned into Bo’s back as he was led through the crowd, their angry whispers chasing him: He brought the Korahku? Is he a witch? Will he kill us in our beds? It felt like being home again, having stale bread tossed at his head and hearing children told to “keep away from that boy—he’s cursed.” Nix growled but even that did not stop the chatter.

  They turned a corner into a room with a high ceiling and open arches. It was filled with orange-robed women sweeping back and forth like a flock of birds. They held scrolls and read aloud as they walked, their robes swooshing and arms sweeping in grand, graceful gestures.

  “What is happiness?” said a woman as she wafted past. “Is it the absence of sadness or something more?”

  “And if we add three drops of essence of trolldung to the mixture, then I am certain it will make an excellent tincture for the removal of boils,” said another.

  Sister Agnethe weaved through the sea of orange, marching toward the far side of the room, where Bo spied three women in elegant ruby-red robes perched on thrones carved from stone.

  Selene followed, dragging Bo with her.

  “What are your thoughts on the migration patterns of the yellow-breasted titter?” said a plump woman with glasses as Bo passed. A woman with bony fingers and a hawkish nose grabbed his arm—he almost dropped Tam’s robe. “Never mind that—how can you tell the difference between something and nothing?”

  Bo shook his head. “I don’t . . . I mean . . . I’m not . . .”

  Selene pulled him away, rolling her eyes. “It’s the Time of Speaking,” she explained. “We only get one hour a day and it’s hard to get it all out at once, you know?”

  When they reached the far side of the room, Sister Agnethe was waiting, flapping her hand. “Come here. Quickly. We haven’t got all day, child.” From their thrones, the three women in ruby-red robes watched him carefully. Bo’s eyes skittered over them and then behind to where several large tapestries depicted scenes of mountains and trees and people—was one woman holding a tongue?—and wolves and, oh, what were those tiny dots of bright Light all over the thick, black night sky?

  “The High Sisters,” whispered Selene, nudging him forward. “Sister Noora, Sister Ffion, and Sister Vela. Good luck!” She bowed and scurried away, instantly lost in the throng of babbling orange-robed women. Nix brushed against Bo’s calf with a low growl.

  Sister Noora and Sister Ffion watched him with cool interest but Sister Vela smiled warmly. Her hair was a wild tangle of gold, bronze, and silver, her skin a bluish black.

  “The Irin child who brought us the Korahku,” announced Sister Agnethe. She scowled at Bo as if he were a colossal spit-mouth slug that had just spat steaming sludge all over her shoes.

  Sister Vela stepped down from the dais, opening her arms wide. “Welcome,” she said. Her voice tinkled like wind chimes and Bo felt soothed by the warmth in her gaze.

  “Is my friend going to be okay?” he asked. “Tam? The Korahku?”

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” said Sister Vela. “Never you worry. We have the best healers in the land tending to her. Now come, you must tell us why you are here. Where is your family?”

  “I . . . I don’t have one,” he said, lowering his head. “My guardian was killed and my mother abandoned me when I was a baby. My father died before I was born.”

  Sister Vela laid a hand on Bo’s shoulder, sympathy twisting her mouth downward. “I am sorry to hear that, my child. But rest assured, you may stay here for as long as you need.”

  Bo thought back to the villagers in the cavernous hall, their mouths pressed thin and their eyes narrowed. But he nodded, thankful—he was unused to such kindness and it made his skin prickle. He would stay until Tam was better, of course, but then he would have to leave again. Where was the Scribe if she wasn’t here?

  Sister Vela smiled brightly at him, her perfectly white teeth like the little dots of Light on the tapestry behind her. He looked over her shoulder and frowned. There was something about them . . .

  “Excuse me, but what is that?” He pointed at the tapestry. Sister Vela turned to look.

  “Oh, don’t you know about the Stars? Not many people do, I suppose.” She guided him to the wall hanging despite Sister Agnethe’s cluck of disapproval. Up close the woven wool was thick and fuzzy and soft, and Bo longed to reach out and pluck the Stars from the sky before the leaping wolf could eat them. They were not at all like he had imagined—they were better.

  “You see, long ago there were thousands of Stars, but three shone brightest of all.” Sister Vela pointed to three Stars that were indeed bigger and brighter than the others. “And there was a Moon who was the mother of all Stars. She ruled the heavens, see?” She pointed to a large orb in the center of t
he tapestry. “The three bright Stars were named Elena the Protector, Mathias the Gift-Giver, and Freja the Magic-Maker. The people of Ulv prayed to them—to Elena for protection, to Mathias for wishes, and to Freja for magic. The more the people prayed, the brighter the three Stars shone. But that made the Moon angry—she wanted the people to pray to her. She wanted to shine brightest of all.”

  Bo leaned closer, practically squishing his nose against the fuzzy wool. He wondered which one was Mathias the Gift-Giver. Which one would have granted his wishes?

  “In a jealous rage the Moon cast the three Stars from the heavens. They fell to Ulv and into bodies—people like you and me. Freja was angry and wanted revenge but Elena refused to help; a war in the heavens would be catastrophic for the people of Ulv and it was her duty to protect us. So Freja used her Star-magic and turned Elena into a statue that is still in Aud to this day! But Mathias agreed to help, so together they bewitched two wolves, tricking them into believing that if they ate the Sun, Stars, and Moon, they would become all-powerful.”

  “Two wolves?”

  “Indeed. The Sun was saved—her powerful rays of Light burned one of the wolves, and he fell back to Ulv and disappeared forever, cursing all wolves to never walk in full Light again—but the remaining wolf managed to eat all the Stars in the sky before he became so sick he fell. The Moon was frightened, so she fled—no one knows where to.

  “But when Mathias saw that Freja had no intention of returning to the heavens, he knew he had to stop her—she had become the Shadow Witch, a hateful creature consumed by a desire to destroy the Stars and let Darkness rule. So, he locked away the wolf who ate the Stars and defeated the witch in battle.”

  “That’s . . .” Bo frowned at the tiny flecks of Light. “That’s a sad story.” Bo was a tangle of relief—Finally! Some answers! Some clarity!—and niggling confusion. Why didn’t Mads tell him the full story? Why did Tam refuse to talk about the Stars at all?

  The High Sister smiled. “It is. Most Ulvians have come to see the Stars as a myth, a bedtime story for children. But we here at the temple are different. We like truth and we love to ask questions.” She winked. “I think you might too.”