by Shae Ford
While he watched, it wrapped its claw around the arrow and yanked it free. Hot blood poured out of the wound. Then with a snarl, it charged.
He dove out of the way and slammed the door behind him. The monster crashed into the cart and bounced backwards, giving him enough time to fire another arrow. It let out a furious howl as the shot buried itself in its shoulder. Then the monster lunged again, and this time Kael didn’t move fast enough.
Its claw clamped down on his leg and dragged him backwards, tearing through his boot, pants leg, and a layer of skin. He gasped as it pulled him in by his hooked flesh. Pain seized his whole leg, throbbing and stabbing and burning all at once. He groaned and the monster inhaled, feeding on his torment.
Then it arched its back and yelped in pain. It twisted around, claws scrabbling madly for the arrow lodged in its back. That’s when Kael saw Chaney over its shoulder, lowering his bow.
“No!”
But it was too late.
The monster forgot about him and barreled towards Chaney — whose eyes widened as he fumbled with his quiver. His hands shook too badly to knock an arrow. He couldn’t seem to get it locked. The monster leapt.
Kael bit his lip and forced his wounded leg to bend beneath him. Those dagger claws strained for Chaney at the creeping pace of a slug. The monster’s jaw opened like a chasm in the center of the earth — a chasm ringed by skull-crushing teeth. He felt nothing but the arrow under his chin as he found his target. Then his fingers slipped from the string.
He blinked, and the monster was dead.
The arrow stuck out from the base of its skull, having cleaved through layers of fur and skin and finally found its mark. It was an impossible shot. He would’ve marveled over it all day, if he hadn’t been so worried about Chaney. He hobbled closer, fearing the worse, and Chaney’s head popped out from beneath the monster’s torso. He looked shocked to be alive.
“I’m stuck,” he muttered, trying to haul the monster’s body off of him. Kael pulled while Chaney pushed. Together, they got absolutely nowhere.
“I’ll have to find help.”
Chaney’s face went white. “You can’t leave me here! What if another one tries to eat me?”
It was a very real concern. One of the carts was on fire — the tannery cart, by the smell of it. He could see Kyleigh fighting on the edge of the flames. “I won’t let you out of my sight, I promise. Just try to play dead.”
“Hurry!”
He sprinted for Kyleigh and stopped when he saw the creature she was fighting. Judging by its size alone, it looked to be the King of all wolf monsters. It stood on its hind legs and towered head and shoulders above her; its body was completely covered in slick black hair. It swung one massive claw but Kyleigh batted it away with the flat of her sword. It lunged for her, and she danced out of its reach.
Was she playing with it?
He didn’t have time to wait for her to finish her game. As soon as he got within range, he aimed an arrow at the monster’s head. He was just about to release when she spotted him.
“Don’t shoot!” she yelled.
The panic in her voice distracted him and his shot left the string wrong. The arrow grazed the tip of the monster’s pointed ear, clipping off the top. It swung its wolfish face in Kael’s direction and he got another arrow ready to fire. But when he saw the monster’s eyes, he froze.
Its eyes were not like the others: they were not black and mad, but brown, intelligent. For a moment he thought he was looking into the eyes of a human. And that thought made him hesitate.
Kyleigh waved Harbinger and the sword let out an eerie cry. “Kael, get out of here!”
Her voice agitated the beast. It turned around and swung at her head, but Harbinger flashed twice as fast. The monster fell on its knees, one of its great claws gripped the hairline cut across its torso and dark blood trickled out, matting its fur. It looked up at Kyleigh and whined, but she made no move to strike.
Why wouldn’t she kill it?
“There’s another one!”
Forest men charged at the monster from all directions, swords drawn. But it leapt out of their reach and scrambled up the side of the cliff on all fours. They threw rocks, but it was already gone.
No sooner did its tail disappear over the cliff than Kyleigh was upon him. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked him down to meet her eyes. “Just what were you thinking? How could you possibly —?”
“Chaney’s trapped,” he said quickly, before she could dismember him.
When they arrived, three men were struggling to pull the dead wolf monster off of Chaney. She stepped through the middle of them, grabbed the scruff of the monster’s neck and tossed it aside. She ignored the many open-mouthed stares as she pulled Chaney to his feet.
With the battle over, merchants appeared from all sides of the caravan. Several of them nursed head wounds or held cloths to ragged gashes. But so far, the only bodies Kael could see were of the wolf monsters.
“Where’s Aerilyn?” Kyleigh said.
The question made his heart jump into his throat. He’d completely forgotten about Aerilyn. She must have read it on his face, because they both turned at the same moment and sprinted for the jewelry cart.
The door was busted and swinging loosely on one hinge. Jewels winked from the dirt around it, and necklaces and rings were scattered across the floor. But Aerilyn was nowhere to be found.
Kyleigh turned on him. “How could you leave her?”
“It wasn’t my fault,” he snapped back. “You should’ve known better than to ask me to cringe and suck my thumb while the rest of the men were fighting.”
Her eyebrows slipped low. “I asked you to protect her. I asked you guard her with your life — to defend someone who was completely defenseless! I didn’t ask you to cringe,” her voice dropped to fit her glare, “I asked you to do the brave thing. And you couldn’t do it.”
Her final words lingered in the air — hot ash that singed a hole clear through his heart. If Aerilyn was dead, it would be all his fault. And he knew it. He dashed outside, determined to find her, but a scream from the front of the caravan stopped him short.
He recognized Aerilyn’s voice as she wailed: “Papa!”
Chapter 17
Iden and Quicklegs
Garron lay on the ground and looked past them all, staring at something they couldn’t see. His tunic was covered in smudges of dirt, his grass-green cap was torn and half the feather was missing. His gray hair, usually combed back and tidy, stuck out at odd angles. But he didn’t seem to care.
There was something in the distance that kept him staring. Perhaps he saw the gate to another realm — a doorway to a Hall where brave men reclined at a never-ending feast, untouched by the harsh edge of winter. Or perhaps his story simply ended. Perhaps he read the final sentence and smiled to know an infinite secret that the living were not yet a part of.
Kael didn’t know what he saw, he could only guess: because Garron’s eyes were the eyes of a dead man.
Here, the world was real. In this realm, Aerilyn wailed and collapsed in the dirt beside Garron. She threw the broken half of her spear aside and buried her face in his chest. Her hands shook and she gripped fistfuls of his tunic, as if she thought she could pull him back into the light.
A monster’s body lay next to Garron. Its wolfish head had been bludgeoned by Aerilyn’s spear and its back was peppered with arrows. The deep claw marks around Garron’s heart were the work of that monster. The dark stains around the wound stopped their advance, but the damage had already been done.
Aerilyn’s sobs were the only sound in the Pass. The rest of them stood in a circle around her, not knowing what to do. A few of them stared through reddened eyes, but all Kael felt was anger. The storm in his chest swelled to the point that his heart could barley hold it. Blood trickled into his boot from the wound on his leg as fury climbed to the top of his head.
When an animal took a man’s life in the mountains, there was only
one way the family could get revenge. Kael spat in the wolf monster’s face, watched as his spittle struck the dry tip of his snout and rolled down. He proved to the mountains that Garron was not afraid to meet his death: he still had comrades who would stand for him.
He could feel it in the breeze when the mountains heard him. Cold air glanced the back of his neck and he knew how they glared. The mountains couldn’t have Garron now — he’d live on in Kael.
Others spat behind him. Jonathan was next to contribute, followed by Chaney and Claude. Soon a line of merchants followed: spitting on the wolf monster and kneeling to touch Garron’s face.
They couldn’t have known what they did, they couldn’t have possibly understood the pact they made — but Kael didn’t stop them. Garron deserved every honor and more.
Kyleigh had Aerilyn in her arms throughout the whole procession. She held her tightly and whispered the comforting words that only women seemed to know. Aerilyn sobbed into her shoulder, choking out strings of nonsense between tearful gasps. But in time, her wails faded to quiet sniffles.
Horatio knelt to touch Garron’s face, then his brow creased in anguish as he closed his vacant eyes with the tips of his fingers. Next to Garron’s head lay his grass-green cap. Horatio picked it up from the ground and brushed the dirt off of it. He tucked it into his pocket.
“We shouldn’t stay here,” he said roughly. “There might be more of them, and in the Pass we’ve got no where to run.”
“What were those things?” one of the men asked, and the others murmured in agreement.
“I’m not sure,” Horatio admitted.
Jonathan stepped over to the thoroughly mangled body of the wolf monster and inspected the iron collar around its neck. “They’ve got His Majesty’s kiss on them,” he said, and Kael blanched when he saw the twisting black dragon stamped into the collar.
His announcement set off a furious buzz of whispers. “But what could the King possibly want with merchants?” someone asked.
Jonathan glanced at Kyleigh, but then dropped his eyes. Horatio seemed to be trying to keep his gaze purposefully in another direction.
Chaney finally piped up. “He’s a greedy piece of horse dung, so he probably wanted our gold.”
The men seemed to accept his answer. They clenched their fists, and veins popped out of their necks as they demanded a march on Midlan. It took Horatio several tries to calm them down. “Stop this! Stop this at once!” he barked. “Don’t let your hearts make off with your heads. The King may be a murderous scab,” and the men roared in agreement, “but we haven’t got the numbers to face him. March in looking for answers, and he’ll hang every one of you. Think of your children, think of your wives.”
The cold truth of what Horatio said took the battle out of their cries. Reluctantly, swords went back into sheaths and arrows returned to quivers.
“But what’ll we do?” Claude asked, his voice small compared to the others.
Horatio sighed. “We’ll go home. We’ll go back to the village and to the protection of Countess D’Mere. The Kingdom isn’t safe for merchants anymore.”
And with that, he gave the order to move out. Only three of the six carts were fit to roll on: two had their wheels smashed and the tannery cart was burned beyond recognition. To make matters worse, Garron’s horse stood stubbornly beside his master and refused to budge — which made Aerilyn break down in a fresh wave of tears.
“Someone take care of that beast,” Horatio muttered. He took Aerilyn under his arm and led her away. Chaney grabbed the horse’s reigns and pulled him forward.
The rest of the caravan moved out without a backwards glance, leaving Kyleigh and Kael behind. He really couldn’t blame them: Jonathan kept his promise and Horatio returned Kyleigh’s favor by not outing her to the men. Beyond that, they owed them nothing.
When they were gone, he watched Kyleigh place rocks over Garron’s body, sheltering it from the jaws of scavengers. She arranged them into a makeshift grave and then knelt beside it. He couldn’t hear what she murmured, and he was in too much pain to move closer.
At least with no one else around, he could heal his leg the fast way. He rolled up his pants and pulled off his boot, grimacing when the dried blood cracked and flowed anew. He pushed the gashes closed but didn’t heal it all the way: he left the scars. He didn’t want this to be a day he simply forgot.
When he looked up, he noticed that Kyleigh was building a second grave — and a monster’s curled claw stuck out from under it. He leapt up and stomped over to her without putting on his boot.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” She sat a slab of rock down and went to get another, but he blocked her way.
“I can’t believe you, I honestly can’t. You’re going to give those things the same respect you gave Garron?”
“Every man deserves a grave.” She tried to push past him, but he stepped in her way.
She’d have to kill him — or at least beat him senseless — before he let her by. “Are you blind? Those things aren’t men — they’re monsters!”
She made a disgusted noise. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Get out of my way.”
“No.”
The next thing he knew, his feet were off the ground and the sharp edges of the Pass wall were digging into his back.
“They were men once, whisperer,” she said, her voice shaking as she growled. “An ancient race of men with the power to take the shape of animals. They roamed the forests peacefully, long before the time of your Kings.” She spat the word. “And now Crevan has them pinned up like animals. He’s enslaved them by the magic in their blood, driven them mad with his own hate. He’s stolen their royalty and twisted their bodies into what you see here,” she grabbed him under the chin, forcing him to look at the nearest wolf, “into what you call monsters.”
It took him a few moments to wrap his mind around what she said. Then it struck him. “Wait — are you saying these things were … shapechangers?”
“Or barbarians, as your kind likes to call them,” she snapped, letting him drop back to the ground.
She knew nothing about his kind: shapechagers were revered in the Unforgivable Mountains. The elders believed they were the most blessed of all of Fate’s children. How many times had he heard Roland bemoan the fact that he was doomed forever to wander the woods on two legs? That his clumsy human form kept him from running wild, from knowing all the secrets of the forest?
Kael’s mind flicked back to the moment when he locked eyes with that final monster, the one he thought was the King of them all. He remembered its eyes, how they seemed to connect with his in intelligence and understanding. Impossible as it was, it all made sense.
“I had no idea, I swear I didn’t,” he said.
The fire in Kyleigh’s eyes died to embers, but her mouth remained curled in a snarl. “No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have expected you to care.”
“But I do care. I’ve always liked the stories about shapechangers.”
She went back to burying the wolf without a reply. He helped her move the rocks from the wall to the grave, but she still wouldn’t look at him. Her lips stuck in a frown and her eyes were unusually hard. How could he convince her that he was truly sorry?
“When I was younger, I used to imagine that I was one.” His face burned when he felt her eyes on him, but he pressed on. “I used to pretend that I could hear the animals talking, or that my senses were really sharp. I know it sounds foolish, but I always kind of wished that I was one.”
She was quiet for a moment. “And what animal did you pretend to be?”
“A deer.”
“Really?” She was smiling now, and he didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended. “I always thought of you as more of a badger.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, you’re stronger than you look — and famously cranky.”
He thought about that for a moment and decided he wou
ldn’t mind being a badger. Those long claws might come in handy. Then he looked down at the next wolf and his stomach twisted a little when he saw how misshapen its body was. “Do they all look like that?”
“After the King gets done with them, yes,” she said scornfully. “The curse the mages put on them forces their bodies to change shape against their will. It isn’t natural. And after a few years of that, they get stuck somewhere in between.”
He saw the iron collar around its neck and the black dragon stamped into it. “It’s a shackle.”
She nodded. “A cursed one.”
Anger swelled in his chest. He’d never met a shapechanger, but like Sir Gorigan, he’d read enough about them to feel close to them. And in his opinion, the Kingdom owed them a great debt.
He remembered Iden the Hale — the only knight brave enough to face the leviathan of the High Seas. The first time they met, the monster smashed his boat and sent him plummeting into depths of the violent waves. He washed up on shore three days later, barely alive. Had it not been for Quicklegs the sandpiper, he would have died. She pulled him from the surf and brought him to her flock — where she nursed him back to health.
Iden fell in love with her, but Quicklegs knew his love was doomed. So as soon as he was healed, she flew away — over the ocean and into the strange lands beyond the sea.
Though Iden lived, his heart was broken. He took to the waves once again and called up the leviathan. This time, he had nothing to lose: he dove into the monster’s mouth and down its throat. When he reached its heart, he cut it from its ties and sent it down into the fiery depths of the leviathan’s gut — where it was burned to nothing.
Had it not been for Quicklegs, Iden would never have killed the leviathan. The High Seas were safe for trade because he’d sacrificed himself so long ago.
“Do you think there might be a way to save them?” The words came out of his mouth without a thought.
Kyleigh shrugged. “Perhaps … though I’ve tried before and it didn’t quite turn out the way I’d planned.”