The Boy, the Wolf, and the Stars

by Shivaun Plozza

The wolf backed up, confusion twisting his snarl. “Not possible,” he said. “Killed you.”

  Mads was almost completely solid this time. Save for blurry edges, he looked whole and so alive. Bo’s mouth was suddenly dry; he slashed at the vines around Selene but it was hard to focus.

  “What . . . what is this?” said Tam, turning to Bo. The vines curled around her ankles but she was too stunned to react. “Who is this?”

  Bo’s mouth opened and closed but he could not find the words.

  Ranik pawed at the ground, tilting his head and sniffing the air. “You are. Familiar. But you. Are not.”

  Mads chuckled. “Smart wolf,” he said. “But are you smart enough to realize when you are already beaten?”

  The wolf growled, his hackles rising. His milky white eyes snapped from Bo to Mads and back again. “What can. You do. In this state?”

  Mads echoed the wolf’s growl, louder and deeper. “Let’s find out, shall we?” Mads drew both arms into the air, and with a spray of colorful sparks suddenly three tendrils of smoke rose from the shadows, morphing into Shadow Creatures.

  Bo almost fell over trying to back away, Nix right beside him. Bo couldn’t breathe, as if the vines had wrapped around his lungs and squeezed tight. How was it possible to create Shadow Creatures out of thin air? What kind of magic was that?

  Bo gasped as the Shadow Creatures flung themselves at Ranik, twisting and turning, obeying every one of Mads’s commands. With talons and teeth like knives, the creatures attacked; they moved like liquid Darkness as they slashed and clawed at the wolf. Bo knew that Mads had magic—he’d seen it himself the last time Mads had faced the wolf—but this was . . . Bo still didn’t have the words.

  Ranik shrank back with a whimper, batting at the Shadow Creatures and snapping with his powerful jaws. At full strength he might have fought off one creature, but he was so frail his ribs were showing and his sunburnt skin wept with sores from traveling in the Light, so he was no match for three of the magical beasts. Soon, several deep gashes adorned his chest and his sides and he was cowering, whimpering as the creatures dived for him again and again.

  Finally, with a strangled howl, the wolf leapt to his feet and ran away, whimpering until the sound faded completely.

  Despite the wolf’s leaving, Bo was still paralyzed by fear. The Shadow Creatures loomed above them, snarling and scratching at the air. But with a wave of his hands, Mads turned the creatures into puffs of smoke that floated away on the breeze.

  The old man turned, knocking Tam out of the way as he strode toward Bo.

  “How did—” Bo was shoved to the side too; he stumbled on a tree root and fell to the ground. “Oof!” Anger shot through him in blistering waves. He squeezed his hands into fists in his lap, biting his bottom lip to stop it from trembling. Why did the old man always treat him like dirt?

  Mads held out his hands and puffs of fire shot from each fingertip, burning the vines that had engulfed Selene. When the smoke cleared, Selene ripped the blackened vines off her, gasping for breath.

  “About time!” she snapped. “How come it took you—” Her eyes grew large as she noticed the tall stranger who had rescued her. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t—”

  Next, Mads shot magic at Tam’s legs; the vines that weren’t singed retreated quickly, hiding from the magical fire. Mads whirled around and leveled a gruff look at Bo. His eyes, normally a pale, watery gray, shone bright, as though a fire lit them from within. “Did you find the second key?” he demanded.

  Bo accepted the hand Tam held out for him. He stood, dusting off his pants and shirt. He nodded because he had found it; Mads just didn’t need to know Bo had also lost it.

  “Then hurry up and find the third key,” said Mads. “You have no excuse. Do not let me down.”

  Without sparing another look, Mads strode away. But he stopped when Tam’s voice cut through the shocked silence. “How did you do that? Command Shadow Creatures?”

  Mads’s shoulders tightened as he turned to face them. Bo expected a growl or a glare, but he shuddered with surprise when he saw Mads was smiling.

  “Magic,” said Mads, and laughed. “Just like this.” And then he was gone, vanishing in a flash of blinding Light.

  Bo puffed out a shaky breath. Nix barked at the now-empty space where Mads had been.

  “Well,” said Selene, “that was something. Anyone going to tell me who that was?”

  Bo grabbed the crystal pendant through his shirt, the delicate skin on his chest still smarting from the burning heat. “My guardian.”

  Selene arched a brow. “The ghost?”

  Bo nodded, chewing on his lip.

  “Well, he’s not very nice,” said Selene. “Quite rude, if you ask me. Keys, keys, keys! He didn’t even stop to ask if you were okay! Was he always that awful?”

  Bo shrugged—he didn’t know what to say. Unease crept up his spine like icy fingertips when he thought of Mads using magic in such a horrible way—it wasn’t the kind of magic that Selene used; it was the kind that turned the trees to ashes. The chill only grew stronger when he thought of the cold-blooded look in Mads’s eyes when he had demanded to know about the keys. A feeling of dread settled deep in Bo’s bones from where it could never truly be pried free. And something else. Something worse.

  It was doubt.

  Mads had lied to him, bullied him, said cruel things, but . . . was he evil? Bo had every reason to be angry with Mads but did he need to be afraid of him too?

  “We must go,” said Tam. She would not look at Bo. Instead, she stared, troubled, at the sword Bo was still holding. “Quickly. Before the vines return for us.” She grabbed the sword from Bo’s hand and hurried away.

  Bo turned to find Selene glaring at the charred vines at her feet. “Listen here, forest. If you try to tangle me up again I’ll zap you faster than a humminzinger in a snurre rundt.”

  She kicked the vines with a huff and strode away.

  Bo shared a worried look with Nix before he chased after Selene, shaking all thoughts of Mads from his head as best he could. “But how come they attacked you and Tam?” he asked Selene.

  “They’re evil, magical vines, Bo,” she said. “It’s what they do.”

  He panted as he jogged to keep up. “But they didn’t come for Nix and me. Tam mentioned something about this place being dangerous for dishonest folk. It is called the Labyrinth of Liars, like you said, and I just thought—”

  Selene spun around. “Are you calling me a liar?” She balled her hands into fists by her sides.

  Bo shook his head, backing up. He could see the telltale sparks raging in Selene’s pupils.

  “No,” he said. “Not at all. Definitely not.” His words tumbled over one another.

  “It’s because I have magic,” she said, lifting her chin. “That has to be it. Nothing more.”

  Selene didn’t wait for Bo to answer; she stalked after Tam with her head held high, her arms crossed.

  Nix rubbed against Bo’s legs, quietly growling.

  “I know,” Bo said. “If they came for magical people, then why did they come for Tam, too?”

  Bo didn’t have an answer, so he pushed all thoughts of liars deep, deep down with his feelings about Mads and magic and wolves and keys and Galvin.

  “Come on, Nix,” said Bo. “We don’t want to lose them.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A trickling stream separated the forest from a luscious tree-lined valley beyond. Bo collapsed on a rock and mopped his brow with his sleeve while Nix dived into the stream and splashed about, barking. Bo took a swig of water from his canteen, then passed it to Selene.

  Tam stood with her back to them, gazing into the valley. Bo attempted to read her feelings in the way she held herself, but the Korahku gave nothing away; what must it be like to see her home again? Could it ever be the same after so much had changed?

  “There are nests scattered across these lands,” she said, “refuge for Korahku caught too far from home by the Dark.” Instincti
vely, Bo glanced up; the Light had fallen low and the half-Light was fast approaching. “We make for one and set off for the Serpent River in the morning, yes?”

  Selene slouched by the edge of the forest, kicking the fallen leaves. She shrugged but didn’t say a word as she handed back Bo’s canteen. She had been uncharacteristically quiet since the vines had attacked her.

  “This is Korak?” asked Bo. It looked much the same as Irin: lush green grass, thick forests, rolling hills.

  Tam pointed to the babbling stream. “Northern border,” she said, a smile in her voice.

  Bo frowned. “There’s a wall big enough for giants to have built it between Nev’en and Irin. How come—”

  “We protect our borders in . . . other ways,” said Tam, her posture stiff; there was no smile in her voice now.

  “Other ways?”

  Tam cleared her throat but did not answer.

  Bo shifted uncomfortably on the rock. “You promise we can find the key and leave before they know we’re here?” he said.

  Tam kept her gaze on the quiet valley. “Yes.”

  Bo chewed on the inside of his cheek and frowned. His stomach felt strange, as though rocks had been his breakfast rather than rabbit. But all he could do was trust Tam. Surely she knew better than him?

  He stood. “Get out, Nix. We’re going.”

  The little fox jumped and kicked his feet, soaking Bo in water.

  Selene clapped a hand over her mouth to hold back a laugh. “You should see your face,” she said before giving in to the laughter, slapping her knee. “It’s redder than a boil on a witch’s nose!”

  “Well, at least she’s not in a huff anymore,” muttered Bo, wringing out his shirt. Nix leapt out of the water and nipped at Bo’s calf on his way past.

  Something black floating downstream caught Bo’s eye: a charred leaf. The rocks in Bo’s stomach churned as he looked over his shoulder at the forest behind him.

  It was not noticeable at first but when he peered closely, Bo saw a handful of leaves were curled and charred. They fell to the ground and Bo quickly turned away.

  “Come on, Nix,” whispered Bo. The water was freezing as he stepped into the stream and crossed to the other side.

  Tam led them into the valley, where the grass was soft underfoot and a cool breeze tickled Bo’s hair and skin.

  The tree trunks were wider than a hut and stretched high enough to breach the clouds. In their branches perched strange raven-like birds—hundreds of them. Thousands. Their feathers shimmered in the Light and their beaks were short and hooked to a razor-sharp point. They squawked—deep, throaty, rasping—the sound echoing throughout the valley.

  Bo shivered.

  “Do you think we’ll meet anyone on the road?” he asked. He thought back to Irin, to the villagers pushing their carts, fleeing for safety.

  Tam pointed overhead. “Korak roads are that way,” she said. “Down here we are safe.”

  Bo guessed that made sense. He looked up and saw one of the black birds flying above: Squawk, squawk, squawk. That was when Bo realized the birds had three eyes. One in the center of their head and one on the underside of each wing.

  After they had walked for a short while, Bo began to notice something strange.

  On a low-hanging branch, one black bird stretched out its wings so all three eyes could watch Bo and his companions pass. Other birds did the same. It happened over and over.

  “Is it my imagination or—” Bo peered closely at a tree and jumped back when he saw an eye in a trunk knot—it winked at him! “We’re being watched!”

  “Why do you think it’s called the Valley of Eyes?” whispered Selene. “The birds are cryven and the trees are knot-eyes. Have you noticed the butterflies?” One had just landed on the bud of a small yellow flower. Bo leaned down as the fluttering wings stilled; there was a colorful pattern on each wing that, when Bo peered closer, looked like a pair of amber eyes. The eyes blinked and Bo jerked back. “There are Korahku spies everywhere,” said Selene as the butterfly took off, fluttering away.

  “Spies? Tam, you said—”

  “It is fine, little Irin. The spies will not report you because you are with me. As far as they can see I am a Korahku and have every right to be on this land. They will assume you are my prisoners and leave us be. All is good.”

  At least Bo knew what “other ways” meant now—there wasn’t a giant wall because there were spies to guard the border.

  But Bo could not shake his unease; no matter where he turned, he felt eyes burning into his back. Squawk, squawk, squawk. A canopy of leaves rustled above them as several cryven took flight.

  Tam whistled a cheery tune as she walked.

  “But what if the spies recognize you?” said Bo, jogging to catch her. “You were second in line to the throne, so—”

  “There.” Tam pointed to a thick trunk, the bark deeply ridged like a crinkled shirt left to dry all scrunched up. “There are nests in this tree. We stay for the Dark.”

  Because Tam’s wings were clipped, they had to climb. Bo didn’t mind—he had been climbing trees since before he could walk—but Selene gave the trunk a weary look.

  With whispered reassurances, Bo strapped a whimpering Nix to Tam’s back and the three of them took off; Selene waved away Bo’s offer of help, gritting her teeth as she jumped for the closest branch and pulled herself up. It was a long climb but for once, Bo felt at home.

  Tam pointed them to the lowest-hanging nest, an oval, straw-woven thing with a round hatch for a door.

  Once inside, Selene slumped to the floor, putting her head between her knees. “I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

  As soon as Bo freed a squirming Nix from Tam’s back, the fox nipped Bo’s heel and barked.

  “Well, you couldn’t climb on your own, could you, Nix?” said Bo.

  Nix yapped and turned his back on everyone.

  Tam poked about the candlelit space and discovered plenty of supplies. The nest was a single round room with thick mud-and-straw walls, and no beds, only wooden perches.

  Bo sat down and soon found himself munching on some kind of pickled worm—he was too hungry to refuse the slimy critters and was pleasantly surprised by the nutty taste.

  Bo took the first shift on lookout so Tam would have to sleep at least some of the night. He was glad to be helping, but he didn’t like being alone with his thoughts and the sounds of Shadow Creatures howling in the distance.

  Nix whimpered, skulking over to Bo and pressing close to his thigh.

  “Friends again, are we?” said Bo with a hollow chuckle. He dropped a hand to the fox’s back, tangled his fingers into the soft fur, and blocked out his worries as best as he could.

  * * *

  “How much farther?”

  The day was hot, the air sticky and close. Bo could hardly hear himself think for all the cryven squawking and flapping. He was tired of the way his skin prickled from being constantly looked at, watched, followed.

  “A hair’s width less than the last time you asked,” answered Selene at the same time Tam said, “Not far.”

  After too few hours of restless, nightmare-filled sleep, Bo had been grumpy all morning. His head pounded, his belly ached, and his thoughts were twisted. Walking for hours on end was not improving his mood.

  They walked for miles before Bo heard the dull roar of the Serpent River ahead of them.

  “How big is it?” Bo asked, his worry weighing heavily in his heart. If the river was as big as it sounded, then how would they ever find the key in it? He had been hoping for something more like the trickling stream.

  Tam seemed to read Bo’s thoughts. “There is an island in the river called the Snake’s Eye. If I was going to hide a key, I would choose there, don’t you think?”

  Bo nodded, but when they rounded a bend in the valley and finally saw the Serpent River in all its glory, he sucked in a quick breath and swore.

  “What’s ‘Skugs fud’?” asked Selene.

  “Do not
ask,” said Tam.

  The river was wide, the other side a hazy, bluish-green blur. Bo wondered where the water went and why it seemed to be in such a hurry to get there; the current was strong, the choppy, foamy waves roaring as they charged downstream.

  They walked along the river’s edge with the flow of the current until Bo saw a rickety wooden bridge that connected the riverbank to a small island in the middle of the water.

  An island covered in cryven.

  “Oh,” said Bo, and Nix barked.

  “That’s a lot of birds,” said Selene.

  Tam said nothing.

  The island was bare of trees, so the cryven covered the ground like a blanket; the only gap in all the black was the occasional wink of gold from their eyes. The raspy squawk, squawk, squawk of the hundred or more cryven was loud enough to cut through the roar of the river.

  “How do we search that?” said Bo. He kept a nervous eye on the birds. He didn’t like the way they moved—sharp, purposeful, lingering. If a flock of piquee birds tried to steal his lunch, he would stomp his foot and shout until they flapped away in a tizzy. He doubted that would work on cryven.

  “Slowly,” said Tam. “No sudden movements. No loud noises.”

  “Or I could blast them with magic,” said Selene.

  Tam clicked her beak. “Thank you. But that will not be necessary. The cryven mean us no harm. They are safe so long as we do not spook them.”

  Tam stepped on the bridge; it creaked under her weight.

  “What happens if they’re spooked?” said Bo.

  “Then they will mean us harm,” she said, and started across the bridge in slow, purposeful steps.

  Selene shrugged and followed.

  Bo turned back to Nix. “Sorry, but I think you should stay behind.”

  Nix barked.

  “I know that, but they’re still birds, and if they see a fox trotting among them they’ll get spooked.”

  Nix whimpered, turning nervous circles.

  “You and me both,” said Bo. He stepped onto the bridge.

  The wood was fragile under his feet—how old was this thing? He glanced over his shoulder, glad to see that for once the fox had listened to him.