Scion of the Fox

by S. M. Beiko

  Phae sighed again as we barrelled down Grant Avenue, the Assiniboine Forest thick and dormant on either side of the four-lane road. “Okay,” she said, reluctant patience in her voice. “Okay.”

  We pulled into the small parking lot attached to the forest’s entrance. The Charleswood Rotary Club had closed the gate, but that wouldn’t stop anyone from going in and out. “Hopefully there aren’t too many cross-country skiers or dog walkers,” I muttered, noticing that we shared the lot with a couple of cars.

  I hesitated before opening the car door, and Phae noticed. “Well? What are we doing here? Are we meeting someone?”

  I brightened at the mention of “we”; maybe Phae was going to jump into the fray after all. I peered into the cluster of trees and the path that cut through them. It was a painfully bright winter’s day, and the mix of snow and leafless trees seemed to stretch into blinding infinity. “Maybe. Sort of. Not really. We have to go in and find them.”

  “Do you have their cell number? Calling or texting would probably be easiest . . .”

  Oh, Phae. So practical. Do I ever wish I could conjure some spirits with a phone call. Why couldn’t the Five Families and all involved leap into the twenty-first century, anyway?

  “Aside from that, how are we —”

  I popped the passenger door open before Phae could hold us up with any more questions, letting Sil out into the snow. I poked my head into the car again and grabbed the garnet sword. “Are you coming or not?”

  Sil padded several feet ahead, nose down. I kept my spirit eye open like a wide aperture, sword ready if anything came at us. And even though I felt calmer now that we were far away from the river, anything could be hiding in these trees.

  “Maybe you should put that thing away. People might think you’re —”

  “Nuts? I’d rather people thought I was crazy than be caught off guard. I have to be ready.” I blew a piece of hair out of my eyes, grumbling, “I always have to be ready.”

  Phae pulled her scarf in tighter and yanked up her hood. “So you’re the hero of this story, then? The predestined arbiter of justice?” When I looked her way, her face held a kind of frank curiosity, even if it was because she thought I believed in my fantasy enough to act it out with integrity.

  “Hey.” I pulled her to a stop. “I’m not a hero, okay? That’s not what any of this is about. I don’t want glory or to be some awesome, venerated Chosen One that everyone bows down to.” I tried to avoid her eyes, though they were drawn sharply on me. “People are getting — will get — hurt. All I want is to stop it from happening.”

  Her expression softened. Was it pity? Phae reached over and pulled my hood up for me, fastening the buttons at my throat. “And here I was thinking you’d want to be famous for your efforts.”

  I couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Come on, you know how antisocial I am.”

  We continued on the path for a few steps until Phae said, “Wait, where’d your fox go?”

  I stopped and looked around. How could we have lost her? The path opened into a wide field, a blank white snow canvas with nothing to obstruct the view. Maybe she had thought we were following close behind. Dammit. I jogged towards the trees and staggered when Sil materialized out of the thicket.

  “I thought we’d lost you,” I sniffed, collecting myself.

  “Then keep up,” she hissed back. “I’ve picked up a trail. This way.” She turned back into the web of trees. I waited for Phae to catch up, then signalled for silence with a finger to my lips, and we crunched our way off the path.

  The snow was up to midcalf. Trudging quietly, lifting our knees high and avoiding clawing birch branches, was mind-numbing. My legs burned and my exposed skin was raw. Sil was too far ahead for me to ask how much farther we’d have to go. Then I felt a hand yank me back by the arm. “What —”

  Phae slapped a gloved hand over my mouth and pointed to a place in the trees beside us. I squinted, but there she was: a big doe, staring at us with that blithe what kind of deer are you? expression, white tail flicking. How had we not seen her, not heard her? I exhaled, and she jerked backwards as if I’d fired a gun, vanishing into the woods.

  “It’s so hard to imagine they survive out here during the winter,” Phae murmured as we trekked along. I agreed, and wondered what had made the Deer Family think it was a good idea to reject being human for this place, for the uncertainty of their lives out here. Did their withdrawal from the human world stop Zabor from devouring them?

  Finally, we came out of the trees and into an opening hemmed in on all sides by the forest. It was remarkable how we were still inside the city, but I could barely hear any kind of car or urban noise. Sil was half buried in the snow, soaked up to her chest and sniffing the air. She really did look sick. I wanted to call out to her, but I wouldn’t dare break the silence. She kept circling and circling.

  “Is there something wrong with her?” Phae whispered, catching on right away. I clenched my jaw, not wanting to admit out loud that the creature I’d once thought invincible could get sick, or even die.

  “I don’t know, but —”

  I raised my blade and pushed past Phae to shield her. Hundreds of shapes had appeared in the thick group of aspens surrounding us and had done so without making a sound. Wet black eyes — but not the eyes of the hunters whose taste haunted my throat. Deer. Bucks pushed cautiously to the front, antlers sharp and new and yearning to be bloodied.

  “You said they were pacifists, right?” I hissed at Sil, whose hackles were cautiously up, though she made no sound. “Right?”

  The crowd multiplied, and the deer crept closer, closing in on us and what had suddenly become a narrow, open field.

  “Roan, what’s going on?” Phae and I stood with our backs pressed together like praying hands. “What’s happening?”

  The bucks were bigger than the does by at least a hundred pounds, and they moved with their heads low, ready to charge. I stood, primed to fight, but the last thing I wanted was to let the fire rise in me again, putting Phae, Sil, or even my own life at risk. And above all, I didn’t want more blood on my hands — or in my mouth.

  “Lower your sword!” Sil suddenly barked.

  “What?”

  She threw a devastating glare at me. “Throw it away!”

  “It’s all I’ve got if we end up like gored matadors!” The Deer had all stopped moving, but I could see their shoulders kneading. Great, a THIRD ambush in a day.

  Sil backed up into my legs, looking slightly rabid. “Do as I say, girl, or you’ll get your wish!”

  I squeezed the slate hilt, taking one last look at the assembled antler-firing-squad before throwing the sword to the side. It didn’t make more than a muffled perf as it landed in the snow, now too far away to reclaim if things reached battle levels.

  Phae jumped. “What are you doing? And who are you talking to? Roan, what’s going on?”

  I exhaled, dropping my protective stance and grabbing Phae’s hand. Startled, she tried to pull away, but I held on tight.

  “It’s going to be okay.” I smiled, though it faltered. “And if it isn’t, I’m sorry I dragged you out here.”

  She looked on the verge of tears, unable to consolidate the scene we’d found ourselves in with reality. But she squeezed my hand back. There was nothing else we could do now but stand strong, and face it together.

  I tried to speak loudly and clearly and keep the stammer out of my voice.

  “We mean you no harm,” I shouted, and I meant it. “Please. My name is Roan, and I’m a member of the Fox Family. There’s a Rabbit that has been attacked by the river hunters. I’ve come here looking for a healer. Can you help us?”

  Silence prevailed, my words lost in the white of the sky and the ground and the noiseless pocket we were sealed inside. The bucks raised their heads and stopped pawing the snow. The does looked carved from stone, t
he fawns they shielded with their legs sniffing the air and twitching with repressed energy. My memory flashed to the deer in my grandmother’s stone menagerie, and how I would ride them through imaginary forests, holding tight to their antlers like reins. My mother told me that if I ever needed them, I need only ask. Was that a tenet that the Deer had to abide by, giving aid when needed?

  “Please,” I repeated, “I know that you’ve rejected your human forms for the sake of peace, but Zabor’s carnage will continue even if you back away. I’ve come to unite all of the Families to stop her, and the dying boy is . . . key to that.”

  “We have heard this all before,” said an oaken voice. A buck with huge antlers stepped ahead of the throng, his coat flecked with grey. My spirit eye gave nothing away; he was a deer, and that was all. “This claim was not yours to begin with. We knew your mother, and we grieved her loss. And we are saddened that you have been marked. But we will not return to fight a losing battle.”

  My throat thickened, but I tried to dampen my rising frustration. “You’ve already made it a losing battle by refusing to help! If all Five can’t come together on this, then it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy!”

  “And the Owls?” questioned a honeyed voice, a doe raising her head. “How will you come together with they who work with Zabor, they who keep her pact from breaking?”

  Admittedly, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I didn’t say I knew what I was doing,” I said. “But at least I’m doing something, rather than hiding out here in the woods, waiting for the day I forget my human worries and die ignorant.”

  Another buck reared, shaking his head. “You Foxes! Always with your sharp words and empty promises. Our children die every day, Zabor or otherwise. What use is our Ancient Grace to humans or Denizens when they tear this world apart? Zabor is the product of human darkness, and the Denizens temporarily save themselves by throwing their kin to the beast. We will all die. The Deer are simply choosing to do so on our own terms.”

  I felt my face redden against the cold. “Then you’re as guilty as the river demon!” I cried. “If you won’t join me in this, fine. But you’re not going to stop me, and I didn’t come here to argue with you. Please. My friend is suffering because of me,” it hurt to say it out loud, “and if you have any humanity left, you’ll help me save him.”

  They had been so full of criticism before, so eloquent in decrying my cause, but now they were noiseless, empty-eyed prey animals again, looking ready to turn white-tail and vanish into the trees. My only reply was the sudden snowfall of heavy flakes drifting in the thicket.

  The crowd parted then, and an old doe came forward. Her ribs pushed delicately against her flesh as she ambled towards us, head lowered, eyes milky and crusted in yellow. At first, I thought it was a trick of the swirling, gently falling snow, but the image of a woman walked with her, as aged and hunched as the Deer before me. Younger does trailed in her wake, like attendants. When she reached us, she dipped her head down to Sil, who looked about ready to collapse in the snow at my feet. They sniffed each other, and the old Deer sighed.

  “It’s been many years, my friend. We look quite the pair, don’t we?”

  Sil nodded. “Yes, Geneve. It’s been a long life.”

  I held out my hand, and the Deer, Geneve, touched her wet nose to it. “I came to the woods to join my grandchildren after they came here with their parents. It was getting lonely, holding onto my ideals. I truly believed we could make a go of it, Denizens and humans. Some think it’s still a gesture in futility.”

  Phae stood stock-still, still unable to process, asking me questions I couldn’t fully answer. “Roan, what’s happening?”

  Geneve lifted her head and extended her long neck to Phae. She gave her a lengthy, meaningful sniff, then rested her old head against her chest. Phae just stood frozen, arms raised, looking uncertain and frightened.

  “A human heart free of judgment or dilemma, and alive with loyalty. She came here for you, child.” Geneve’s blind eyes shimmered. “The heart of a healer.”

  As the old Deer pulled away, Phae and I exchanged glances. I tried to convey my feelings of I have no idea what is going on, either through that look.

  “Don’t do this,” urged one of the does that had followed.

  Geneve didn’t turn her head, but her human outline grinned. “If we are asked for aid, we must give it. It is the oath that binds us to this world, and we cannot break that.”

  “Don’t give up your life for this Fox we don’t even know! Let her meet her fate!” another doe-attendant begged. I assumed these were her daughters or granddaughters, though I wouldn’t doubt that the entire gathering was dedicated to this Deer.

  “Wait, wait,” I held up my hands. “I didn’t ask anyone to give up their lives!”

  Geneve nosed her way into my chest now. “You ask for life, you must expect life to be lost. In this case, my life is over, but my Grace remains. I would rather pass it on so that it could be used, rather than letting it seep into nothingness like the rest of us.”

  I still didn’t understand. “Pass it on?”

  Sil piped up, seemingly using the last of her waning strength. “She wants to pass on her power. To your friend. To make her a healer. A Deer.”

  “In a matter of speaking,” Geneve muttered, nipping Sil gently to keep her from losing her balance. “We can’t go back with you now. But your friend can.”

  I knelt and lifted my Fox-familiar into my arms, holding her close to me. “Sil? What’s happening to you?”

  “She needs rest,” Geneve shook her old head slowly, as though it weighed the equivalent of her years. I saw her human outline reach out to touch Sil’s head, and for a moment she seemed revitalized, eyes wider, fur brightening, though she still rested heavily in my arms — a temporary revival. “Those we protect are a heavy burden to bear, child. Can you bear the weight of us all when we are dragged down by the flood?”

  I nodded automatically, even if I didn’t know the answer yet. “If I don’t, who will?”

  Both the doe and her human ghost smiled. “Your friends, perhaps. This one seems ready to follow you to the edge of the darkness. Will she?”

  I turned to Phae, who seemed to realize that every creature at this gathering was focusing on her now. “What? What’s wrong? Tell me we’re going to get out of this alive.”

  I lowered Sil gently and took Phae into my arms. “Phae. I know you always wanted to be a doctor, and that you love people enough to devote your life to healing them. And this is sort of a roundabout way to that, but . . . this Deer here wants to give you her healing powers. More or less.” Was I selling it? Not really.

  Phae tilted her head. “Listen, Roan, this is all very weird and troubling, what with the fox and the deer-based tribunal, but —”

  I cut her off. She had to commit to this. “This is real, Phae. This is real. I don’t know how else to say it. It’s real and I need your help. I should’ve asked for it before and, yes, it’s all hard to accept. I need you with me on this. Let’s be real — I’ve always needed you.” Don’t cry, don’t cry. “Please? Will you do this? Barton’s running out of time.”

  Geneve watched us with her blind gaze that seemed to penetrate our flesh and hearts, and Phae reached out to touch her bristled face with both hands.

  “How does it work?” she whispered, snowflakes stealing past us as a wind finally breached the thicket, whipping up the white.

  “We kneel,” Geneve said and, as though she could understand her, Phae dropped to her knees just as the old Deer did. Geneve’s head was still in Phae’s hands, and she pressed their foreheads together. “And we pray.”

  I watched, amazed, as every Deer gathered lowered their heads in reverence and knelt on their haunches, pressing their bodies into the snow as the wind grew fiercer. I kneeled beside Phae, putting my hands on her narrow, delicate shoulders, and we all shut our eyes again
st the world.

  “I call to the Spirit of Ancient, the Spirit we invoke to give life and remove it,” Geneve said. I heard it repeated amongst the throng, lower and undulating, like a wave. “I present this spirit in the corridor of time, the winter that suspends us all, under the gaze of Ancient and by the grace of the Five that came before.”

  The words and the wind blended now, and I felt it cutting a path in a circle — or maybe several? — that intertwined, passing through us and around us. Geneve was turning this thicket into a sort of summoning chamber, and I felt the snow shift with urgency.

  “I call now to my Family, that they might commend me to my rest in the heart of Ancient, from which we spring and to which we return. Rouse and separate me from this flesh, leaving only my Grace, to place on the name of this child.”

  The chanting from the Deer sounded more like a funeral dirge with Geneve’s words. She was asking them to help her die. I held tight to Phae; her breathing had been shaky and uneven until this point. I felt her small body press into and pull away from mine as I held on because I wanted her to feel I was here with her on this, as she was for me. But now she didn’t move and, afraid that something terrible had happened, I opened my eyes. Every Deer rippled with an icy light that pulsed through their bodies until it reached Geneve and Phae. Their eyes were open, but empty and clear and shining with that bright incandescence, and Geneve’s words started falling from Phae’s lips. “To the Spirit that is our conduit, the element that this house bears, yield to my name and pass this power forward. Spirit, heart, hand. Heal.”