Shadowborn

by Joseph DeVeau

  It had been Mareen’s first order: “Tear down the walls that have separated and segregated us for a thousand years and use the pieces to build a new one as a testament to our strength and unity.” When questioned on the latter part, Mareen had simply shrugged and said, “Give it time, it will come.”

  Jynx at her side, Aeryn turned and took her first step. Jynx still limped—and would for the rest of his life, just like her—but at least he could move. Even if he was not the same sleek draven he had once been. Fur mottled by two long, thick furrows crisscrossing his right flank and half again as many on his left, he looked the very picture of a soldier made more ferocious by battle scars.

  Had the draven not been there, Aeryn would not have been either. The price for changing Maerilin would have simply been too high. She had tried rationalizing it, tried examining it backwards and forwards, tried weighing the lives sacrificed so others’ could be forever changed for the better, but she always came right back to where she started: she would rather the Voices were still in power and ruling Maerilin with a shadowed, iron fist, than have Jynx be dead. She knew it was selfish and shortsighted. She knew it belittled the deaths of so many others. After all, Merek, Asher, and so many others had given their very lives to see this change occur. She did not care. That was simply the way she felt and could no sooner change it than prevent the sun from setting.

  As for that, the only reason Jynx was even alive was thanks to Gerald. With Raker and a half-dozen other hounds beyond saving by the time Gerald had limped back from Nameless’ castle, Katelyn’s lifeless body held in his arms, he had immediately set to work on Jynx. Gerald later claimed it was because he knew how close Aeryn was to the draven. Aeryn strongly suspected it had more to do with how close Gerald had been to Raker.

  Aeryn would have liked to say goodbye to the grizzled huntsman, who was standing well back from the small crowd of onlookers, hounds at his heel, Hedy at his side, but she knew it was not his way. He preferred things straight and to the point. So far, this parting had been anything but.

  Aeryn shook her head. Here she was trying to leave and she could not stop thinking about the past. Looking forward, moving forward, she set off at a determined pace. She would reach the first town later tonight, but after that. . .only the gods knew which way she would turn.

  An arrow slammed into the earth not a foot in front of her. On instinct, Aeryn whipped out her knife, tensed her shoulder so it would not wobble in its socket, and spun. Jynx growled, teeth reflecting the sun.

  No attack came. Aeryn turned her attention back to the arrow. Black scrawling on the shaft caught her eye. Sheathing her blade, Jynx’s razor line of fur dropping back to rest, Aeryn plucked the arrow from the ground. Carved into the shaft, its furrows meticulously lined with ink, was a message.

  “Wolves are pack animals.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” she said aloud. It hardly made any sense. Everyone knew wolves were pack animals. Turning the arrow in her hands, she realized there was another message on the opposing side.

  “Lone wolves always miss the pack.”

  Aeryn sighed. Only one person could have written that. She turned and sought out Gerald, now standing high on a pile of rubble, longbow in hand.

  Staring directly at him, and without so much as blinking, she brought her knee up and snapped the arrow in two. She tossed the pieces to the ground. Though the distance made it hard to tell, she could swear she saw him grin like a madman.

  Shaking her head once more, she spun on her heels. “Come on Jynx,” she said, “it’s time to move.”

  Striding away, Jynx brushed up against her leg. Aeryn patted his head and let the sun’s rays soak into every fiber of her being. She suddenly realized she knew exactly where she was going. Not where she was headed—no, not by a long shot; that mystery would unfold as she went—she only where she would begin.

  It was time to blaze her own trail.

  A Seattle transplant who was born and raised in Minnesota, Joe is an avid outdoorsman. You can usually find him and his black lab, Ranger, exploring nature and wilderness areas.