The Boy, the Wolf, and the Stars

by Shivaun Plozza

  Bo was breathing heavily as they trudged uphill, a windy tunnel that felt as if it would last forever. They had walked for hours and his mouth was parched; his stomach rumbled with hunger. They had been quiet for some time—the only sounds were their footfalls and labored breathing. They soon entered a large cavern with a handful of tunnels leading off in different directions. Bo held out the keys; they pulsed brighter for the tunnel on the far right. “That way,” he said, pointing. He shoved the keys back into his pocket.

  “This cave is humongous,” said Selene, glancing up at the high rocky walls around them. “You could swing an elkefant by the tail and still have room for a kizamutti.” The cave was almost as large as the Great Hall at the Temple of the Silent Sisters. Selene threw back her head and howled at the top of her lungs: Ah-woooo! The echo in the cave was earsplitting—the howl bounced back and forth, and Bo wondered if it might bounce all the way to the wolf’s cage and he would answer, but there was silence.

  Silence.

  Silence.

  Silence.

  And then . . .

  “If that’s the way you expect to find Hagen’s cage, then I am surprised you have made it this far,” said a voice from the shadows. It was a voice that reminded Bo of ice crystals dangling from tree branches in the White Season—the gentle tinkle, tinkle, tinkle as the wind fluttered through the boughs, clinking the crystals together.

  Bo’s head jerked up and he saw a figure emerging from the Dark surrounding them. A very tall, very familiar figure.

  Mads.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  No.

  The apparition looked like Mads but the voice was not Mads’s voice at all. Nix bared his teeth and growled, moving to stand in front of Bo.

  Bo clutched at the pendant beneath his shirt; it was burning with a sudden heat. He hissed at the contact. Why did it always do that when Mads appeared? Was it really a charm like Galvin said?

  “Poor child,” said Mads in a voice like . . . like a woman’s voice. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

  The apparition shimmered until it no longer looked like Mads, but instead it was a woman in a crown made of lightning, a woman with long silver hair and pale white skin and a cruel smile. Bo held back a cry of fear; the pendant seared his skin until he pulled it out, letting it hang on the outside of his cloak.

  “That is because you have seen a ghost,” said the woman, “just not the one you thought. My name is Freja. Perhaps you have heard of me?”

  Bo’s mouth fell open. He shook his head wildly, mumbling incoherent noises of disbelief. He didn’t understand. Where was Mads? He stumbled back, barely registering Tam’s hands on his shoulders. The only way Bo knew Tam was holding him was because he wasn’t falling, despite how boneless he suddenly felt.

  Freja glided toward them, her silver-white hair billowing like a cape of ice behind her. “How nice to run into you again,” she said, raking her nails against the cave wall as she approached. “And so much better that I can visit you in my true form now.”

  Bo buckled at the knees, his heart in his throat. It was as though every coherent idea had been picked up by a fierce wind and all he could do was jump about, clutching at his thoughts, trying to catch one but failing.

  “I don’t understand,” said Bo, finally finding his voice. “What happened to Mads?”

  Freja tilted her head, such hateful mirth in her eyes. “I’m afraid, little one, that there never was a ghost of Mads. Your dear guardian is long dead. I simply needed a form that would catch your attention, one whose advice you would listen to. And it worked, did it not? You have the three keys? I was too weak to find them myself but now that magic has grown stronger—so much destructive energy to draw from!—I am almost complete. I am almost strong enough to return for good. And I have you to thank for it. You’re setting me free!”

  The orb was shaking in Selene’s hand, throwing unsteady rays of Light throughout the cave. “Is this her?” she whispered. “Is this the Shadow Witch?”

  But Bo couldn’t wrap his head around anything right now. There was only one tangible thought able to push its way to the forefront of his tangled mind. “Mads isn’t coming back?” It was all a lie? Another lie?

  Freja clicked her tongue. “That time has passed. A wish can only be used to bring back a loved one within a single rotation of the Light.” For a moment Bo thought he detected genuine sympathy in her eyes. “I’m afraid you’ll never see him again.”

  The bottom dropped out of Bo’s stomach. He had been helping the Shadow Witch all this time. He had been fighting to save Mads—even after realizing how badly the old man had treated him—and it was all a lie. He had tried to make amends for his mistake and he had only made it so much worse. Was there any point in anything he had been through?

  “I am sorry to have given you false hope,” she said. “Truly I am. But there was no other way. You would not have helped me otherwise. You have all been corrupted against me. You call me the Shadow Witch. You say I only wanted to destroy the heavens to rule over this land. You say I created the Shadow Creatures. You call me evil.”

  She tilted her head, silver eyes running the length of Bo’s body before returning to meet him square in the eye.

  “But I only wanted to make my mother see me again,” she said. “She had turned her back on me. You know what that’s like, don’t you, Bo? You all know what that is like.”

  Bo curled his hands into fists, fingernails cutting into his skin, and he shoved them deep into his pockets, one hand holding the keys, the other empty. He had been manipulated again. He had messed up everything again.

  “I wanted her to see how angry I was with her, and I was so angry, Bo. So angry. Aren’t you angry, Bo?”

  Bo shook his head, but the fire inside him raged with such a force now that he knew—without a doubt he knew—that if he opened his mouth it would blast out of him and he would never be able to stop it. He was so angry he almost didn’t notice that something soft and ticklish brushed the back of his hand in his pocket. Almost.

  “I can feel your anger, Bo. We’re connected, you and I. Both abandoned by our mothers, both treated differently—hated because of things we cannot control, things others have done to us. Don’t you think that’s unfair, Bo? Don’t you want to make people pay for how they have treated you?”

  Bo felt Tam’s warm hands squeezing his shoulders tight enough to hurt, but it felt as if it were from a distance. Like there were miles and miles between them, and Bo was all alone, listening to this woman voice the thoughts he had tried to keep locked deep, deep in the Darkest corners of his heart.

  The truth was, he was angry.

  So very angry.

  Because Mads had lied to him.

  Because his mother hadn’t wanted him.

  Because the villagers blamed him for things that he couldn’t control.

  Because nobody trusted him with the truth.

  He was so angry. All that anger he tried to keep hidden deep inside was bursting into flames, trying to find a way out to destroy the world, to make it pay for how it had treated him.

  And he wanted to explode.

  But as he uncurled his fist and rubbed the soft, ticklish thing in his pocket, he realized it was Tam’s feather: the blood bind. Tam, who had wandered the land looking to ease her guilt with revenge, had instead offered friendship to an enemy, to Bo. Instead of taking lives, she chose to save them.

  That thought lodged itself in his head and wouldn’t budge. It soothed his burning anger, and reminded him that he had friends and he had come this far with them by his side, protecting him, supporting him, loving him.

  “Do you think the people of this land will celebrate you if you release the Stars and free them of the Dark?” said Freja, and laughed bitterly. “They will hate you just the same, Bo. They will always hate us.”

  Bo shook his head. “Perhaps,” he said. “But I won’t hate them.” He closed his hand around the feather. He knew what hate looked like, ho
w it twisted you—he had seen it in the Innkeeper, Sister Agnethe, Galvin, the green-eyed soldier, the baker’s cousin, and King Saros; he had felt that bitterness and rage turned against him too often. He didn’t want to be like that. It was okay to be angry but it wasn’t okay to take that anger out on other people; he didn’t want to fight hate with hate.

  “Doesn’t mean I’ll forget what they did and it doesn’t excuse it,” he said. “It means I won’t give them power over me anymore. Because that’s what hate does. It gets me all tangled up with people who don’t even care about me—trying to figure out why they treat me bad, what I did wrong, how I can get my revenge on them. But their hate isn’t my responsibility. I’ll do what I can to put things right but I won’t hate them; I won’t punish them like for like. I’ll fight back. I’ll make a difference. I might even forgive them one day, if they earn it. But I won’t let hate win.”

  Bo wasn’t sure if he believed all he was saying, but he felt certain that if he said it enough he might. Hate was a twisty, sticky, knotted thing that burrowed deep inside you—it couldn’t be released all at once but if you picked at those threads, unknotted them slowly, determinedly, then Bo was certain it could be untied.

  “You can earn forgiveness too, Freja,” he said. “If you give up this fight, if you let me release the Stars, and if you make amends for what you did.”

  The witch flexed her hands, eyes growing colder and Darker as she stared at Bo. Bo didn’t look away either.

  “I don’t need forgiveness,” she sneered. “I need revenge. Give me the keys.”

  Nix growled at the witch as Tam edged forward.

  “If it is the keys you are after,” said Tam, “then we are of no use to you. We do not have them.”

  “Is that so?” said Freja. “Then, might I ask, who does?”

  “The Irin trader,” said Tam. “Galvin. He stole them and ran away.”

  Freja tapped her nails against her thigh. “When people lie to me, Korahku, it makes me mad. And do you know what happens when I get mad?” Her icy stare ran the length of Tam up and down, and then she smiled. “Never mind. I’m sure I can think of ways to make one of you tell me the truth.”

  “No! Please!” Bo grabbed Tam’s arm.

  “It is fine, little one,” said Tam, crouching ever so slightly, ready to pounce. “I fear no witch.”

  “But—”

  Tam cried out as she was suddenly yanked through the air, as though Freja had thrown an invisible rope around her. Tam tried to dig her talons into the rocky walls, kicking up stones as she went, but still she was flung, up and down and all around. Finally, she was dumped on her knees before Freja.

  “You may think the Korahku have eyes and ears all over this land,” said Freja. “You may think the Scribe and her owls are all-seeing. But my reach is farther than them all. Think carefully before you lie to me again.”

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” said Tam, snapping her beak. “I have given your question further consideration and my answer is: We still do not have the keys.”

  Tam was hoisted to her feet by the invisible rope and lifted high. She dangled in the air, toes barely touching the ground.

  “If you don’t have the keys,” said Freja to Tam, “then what use are you to me?”

  Bo’s mouth opened and closed but no words came out. His bottom lip trembled. What could they do?

  “I thought so,” said Freja, and flung her across the cave. Bo gasped as Tam crashed hard against the rocky wall. She slid to the ground and rolled onto her side with a cry of pain. And then silence.

  Bo trembled, staring at Tam’s limp form. It felt as though an icy claw had clamped around his heart, the nails digging in.

  “Is she . . . ?”

  “Simply knocked out,” said Freja. “I will have more fun with her later. But for now, I have you two children to myself.”

  Nix barked, baring his teeth at the witch.

  “You’re not the only one with magic,” said Selene, eyes hard.

  “I am aware,” said Freja, “though I am afraid your limited, fumbling powers are no match for me, child.”

  Freja raised both hands above her head and a roar of black lightning shot from her fingertips; a giant Shadow Creature formed like a menacing rain cloud above her.

  The creature sprouted wings—one, two, three sets—and from its neck grew nine heads, each with a single eye, a long snout, and giant fangs. Spikes jutted up and down its spine and all along the end of its tail, needle-sharp.

  The creature flew in a circle above Freja, breathing noxious black fire and roaring.

  “By the Light,” breathed Bo. He ducked as the Shadow Creature swooped toward them, black sparks shooting from its mouth. Selene threw her hands up, and out shot a wall of ice, shielding them from the pitch-black flames. The beast’s tail swung, knocking Bo and Nix to the ground.

  “Leave the boy,” called Freja. “Kill the rest.”

  As the Shadow Creature circled for a second pass, its tail crashed against the cave wall, sending rocks flying. Selene shot ice arrows at the beast’s chest. The creature reared back, a blast of black flame searing the cave wall behind them. Selene threw a shield up but the creature’s fire bored into it. She fell to her knees, gritting her teeth, trying to hold the shield in place. The sweat poured from her.

  “I can’t hold it!” cried Selene. The shield was tearing, sparks spitting at them through the cracks. When it broke, Bo gathered rocks in his arms and began pelting them at the beast. With a wave of her hand, Freja laughed; each rock Bo threw turned into a white butterfly, then burned to ash in the Shadow Creature’s terrible black fire.

  The beast flew high, its tail swiping the sides of the cave; rocks tumbled, raining all over them. Bo heard Tam groan as she crawled to her knees, rubbing her head. He breathed a sigh of relief—at least Tam was conscious.

  And then he had an idea.

  The beast began another attack before Bo could tell Selene what to do. She threw up ropes of lightning that snapped around the beast’s wings and legs and held it in place. But that didn’t stop the creature from breathing swirling, shadow-black firebombs at them—bam, bam, bam! Nix grabbed Bo’s trouser leg between his jaws and pulled him out of the way seconds before a firebomb crashed right where he’d been standing.

  “Good boy,” said Bo. He turned to Selene. “The roof!” he shouted. “Aim for the roof!”

  Selene let go of the lightning ropes and the creature reared back. She threw balls of Light at the roof above the creature, catching on to Bo’s plan. The balls exploded, sending rocks flying down, bashing into the creature and knocking it to the ground.

  “Take that!” shouted Selene. She thrust more and more fireballs at the rocks behind the Shadow Creature, sending a mini avalanche tumbling all over the beast.

  But Freja cast her own fireballs toward the rocky roof above Selene. She cackled loudly, throwing back her head, content to watch Selene run for her life as half the roof caved in, driving down rocks and dust. The witch was toying with them.

  The Shadow Creature hurled itself at them again, its spiky tail knocking Bo off his feet. Nix charged at the tail and sank his teeth in, locking his jaw.

  “No!” screamed Bo. “Nix, let go!”

  The creature roared in pain, thrashing its tail side to side, whipping Nix through the air.

  Selene sent firebombs crashing into the other side of the cave. Freja was knocked over by a falling boulder, screaming out in surprise and pain. Her form shimmered.

  “No!” she cried. “I’m stronger than that now! I can hold on!”

  She began to fade, turning into liquid silver before being sucked up into a ball of Light that blinked once, twice, three times and then was gone.

  But the Shadow Creature was still alive.

  Very much alive and out for blood.

  And it had Nix.

  “Quickly,” shouted Tam, “get out of here!”

  But Bo could not run away, not when Nix was in danger. Instead, he stood his ground
. “Leave him alone!” he yelled. He picked up a rock, readying to throw it.

  The beast beat its giant wings and took off, its tail crashing against the cave walls as it flew, dragging Nix higher and higher until suddenly, Nix was falling.

  Falling, falling, falling like the ash and dust in the air, tumbling until he landed in a crumpled heap on the cold, hard ground.

  “Nix!” Bo charged toward the fox, dodging falling rocks and the beast’s thrashing tail. He didn’t care; he only had eyes for his best friend.

  He skidded to his knees beside the fox and shook him. “Wake up,” he cried. “Wake up!” Bo gripped the fox’s bloodstained fur in his fist and called his friend’s name over and over.

  But it was too late.

  The little fox was gone.

  The True Histories of Ulv, Vol. I

  Death

  It is a fact of life that everything dies.

  All peoples have their way of dealing with death. The Nev’en mourn with silence, the Korahku wrap their dead in yasunlehdet leaves, burn their bodies, and spread their ashes in the clouds, and the Irin bury their loved ones under blossom trees. Even animals have traditions. The svane, a large, graceful bird from Lahesi, mate for life. Should one die, the other will sit by its partner’s side and never rise again.

  But these traditions do little to lessen the pain of a loved one’s passing. While the Seven Great Kin have many differences, when faced with death we are all the same; we hurt just the same. And if there is one thing that we all share, it’s the overwhelming desire to do anything—anything—to bring a loved one back.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  There were no words.

  Time stopped.

  There was nothing but pain. It consumed every inch of Bo’s being, like a strangled cry that filled him from the inside out, threatening to break him apart, to shatter him like glass.

  Bo threw his arms over the still-warm body of his best friend and wept as the world fell apart around him.