by Leanne Leeds
“In other words, he would not bend the knee?”
“He was a bear. He was expected to be on all fours, and he didn’t like that,” she replied.
“And the framing of Charlotte?” Fiona asked.
“Are you really that stupid, horse, that you need me to explain it?”
“Are you a member of the Witches' Council?” I asked her, cutting off Fiona’s next explosion.
“Me? Do you think the Witches' Council members would come to this dirty little corner of the paranormal world and get their hands dirty after their last embarrassment? Oh, that’s right, I forgot,” she sneered. “You and your little boy toy there are the newest members, so some of them clearly roll in the dirt.”
Charlotte, watch her hand.
My gaze dropped down, and I saw her fingers tapping against one another as if she was counting some random pattern. I stepped forward and grabbed her hands in both of mine tightly.
“What’s the meaning of this? Let go of me,” she snapped, tugging away from me.
“You know, I didn’t grow up in the paranormal world, so my first instinct isn’t to cast a magic spell. My first instinct is to knock someone’s teeth out or break their fingers. I can almost guarantee you that I can crush your fingers in my hands faster than you can tap out a spell to get yourself out of this,” I told her, squeezing. “So stop tapping and keep talking. What’s your name?”
“Alvah,” she said tightly.
“Okay, Alvah, you killed Chase Trout under the direction of the Witches' Council, yes?”
“So?”
“So that’s against their own law.”
“The Witches' Council makes the law. The Witches' Council doesn’t have to follow the law. Why do you think lawgiver powers don’t work against witches? And who would believe that they would do such a thing, anyway?”
“Why involve Bolt? Why not just keep the ring and do this without him?”
“The framing of you, for one. We needed to ensure that Wayland and Scout didn’t kill one another in a rage while Bolt ensured that no one could possibly be suspected for the murder other than you. Only elves and your mother can manipulate people’s emotions and feelings in such a way, so he was necessary.”
“Charlotte, please ask her to change back,” Anya said through angry tears. “I don’t know that I can contain myself if she continues to wear the face of my friend.”
I twisted the woman’s hands and grabbed the ring in my fingers. With a tug and a flash, Faleena Hobb disappeared. An ugly looking short woman stood in the center of my yurt where the werebear had been.
“That’s mine!” she shouted, her voice shaking with rage. Alvah clawed at my hands, and her fingers raked against me. The sound of nails against metal made a horrible screeching noise.
And then I got an idea.
I popped the ring in my mouth. Opening it, I showed her the ring sitting in the center of my tongue. She reached quickly to grab it and howled as her outstretched fingers slammed against the invisible metal barrier that encased me.
“You broke my hand!” she screamed.
I know, I know. It was juvenile.
But I enjoyed it.
I turned away from her and quickly spit the ring into my palm, pocketing it before she could see what I did with it. “I believe you did that to yourself,” I told her.
“You will pay for what you did! They will arrest you! Bolt and I are protected by the Witches' Council! No one will believe you even if you told them what happened. Not even witches are thought to have the power that I have!”
“Right,” Gunther said. “And you are right, Alvah, I can’t use my lawgiver powers on you. Even if I could, it’s not like I have anywhere to take you. I do, though, have this.”
Gunther held his palm up and whispered a word. Light streamed like a projector from his lawgiver ring replaying the entire scene we had witnessed from the moment he crossed his hands in front of him. The words spoken just moments ago bounced off the light.
My jaw dropped.
“Didn’t know it could do that, did you?” Gunther asked me and winked.
“You think you’ve won,” Alvah growled. “You haven’t won anything. The Witches' Council is determined to stop you and anyone else that questions their rightful leadership. They may have failed this time, but they, too, have their prophecies and I promise you will fail.”
“What do you know about prophecies?”
“Oh no,” Alvah said, walking backward toward the door. “Now that I know you are recording this, I will say no more. I’m sure the norn will be happy to guide you directly into your doom.”
“Are we just letting her leave?” Anya asked as she squirmed in Devana’s grasp.
“She’s right,” I told my friend. “We can’t hold her with the lawgiver power, and handing her over to the Witches' Council for prosecution would be a joke even if we could. Let her go. Let her run back to Impy and tell the Council how she failed.”
“We’ll bring the recording to Scout,” Gunther said as Alvah turned and fled from the yurt. “That should help the werebears and Wayland understand what happened to Chase, and clear Charlotte of any wrongdoing.”
“Maybe it will help the werebears understand that the Witches' Council is corrupt,” I added.
“If this doesn’t do it, I honestly don’t know what would,” Uncle Phil said.
It took some insistence on Devana’s part to get Scout Trout to sit with us and watch the images contained within Gunther’s ring. Once he did, though, I was a psychic witness to the most dramatic transformation of a sentient being I had ever sensed.
Scout Trout went into the meeting with us a playboy, a spoiled and angry hothead.
He emerged as a leader.
“I don’t understand,” Scout said as he looked to Devana. “You are working with them?”
“I came here because of a prophecy, Scout,” she told him gently. “While I have enjoyed our time together, I must admit that I had more than one agenda with regards to our relationship. I needed to ensure that you did not prevent what must come to pass for all of our people. Now that has been fulfilled, and I’m afraid our time must come to an end. I am needed elsewhere.”
The handsome werebear swallowed and nodded. Any hurt he felt over Devana’s confession was well hidden, and he handled it maturely and with no resentment. “Thank you for letting me know,” he told her quietly. “I wish you the luck of the bear on your journey.”
“Thank you, friend,” she nodded.
“I can’t say that I am surprised by what you have told me,” Scout said turning back to me. “I began to sense that the conspiracy surrounding my brother’s death was deeper than I first thought.”
Wayland snorted, and Scout’s eyes raised to look the huge paranormal directly in his eye. “You have something to say, Cyclops?”
“You know, he was killed because they thought you would be more pliable,” Wayland snapped at him. “If you weren’t such an idiot, maybe he would still be alive.”
“If I wasn’t such an idiot, we would probably both be dead,” Scout countered. “It doesn’t sound to me like the Witches’ Council is flippantly murdering in one-off’s. These women mean business.”
Wayland blinked his one big eye and shrugged.
“Where is Bolt? We may not be able to bring Alvah to justice, but surely we can arrest that elf,” Scout said.
“Arrest him for what?”
“He knew about the murder. He was a part of it, wasn’t he? For what he did to Ms. Astley? Surely there must be something.”
“Even if we did, where would we bring him?” Gunther asked Scout. “You hand all of your criminals over to the legal system in Impy, which is controlled entirely by the Witches’ Council. I doubt he’d make it five minutes after we dropped him off at the jail. They would release him, or they’d kill him because he knew too much.”
“Are you telling me that no one will pay for my brother’s murder?”
The question landed with a th
ud in the center of the group. Wayland and Scout both looked to Gunther, Devana and I for some way to balance the scales, some way to see justice done, but Gunther was right. I saw no way it was possible. At least not possible for now.
“This afternoon, you will become leader,” Wayland said, his voice gruff and thick with anger and regret. “You will stop being an idiot. You will grow up. You will not get yourself killed. And you’ll remember this. I have a feeling that you will be faced with a moment when you can get justice and honor your brother. Recognize it when it comes. And take it.”
“It’s not right,” Scout said.
“Nothing about this situation is right,” I told him gently.
“Why are you helping us?” Scout asked suddenly. “You’re witches. All three of you. Why are you going against your own?”
“The Witches’ Council are not my own,” I said.
“There is a corruption in the balance,” Devana said. “The prophecy says that it has a chance to be set right. We are a part of that.”
“The Witches’ Council says we get what they give us,” Scout responded.
“The Witches’ Council is wrong,” Gunther told him.
“That’s treason. You’re speaking treason,” Scout warned him quietly.
“Treason is killing. Violating the law of the land that you created, that you make everyone else follow. To me, that is treason. No leader should be above the law,” Gunther said with a faraway look. After a second, he refocused and looked Scout in the eye. “But yes, technically you’re right. What I just said is treason.”
“Then we stand with you in your rebellion,” Scout said.
“That, too, is a dangerous statement, friend,” Devana told him. “Are you sure? Are you sure that you wish to stand with us? Even saying this privately… truth has a way of traveling.”
“My brother died defending our clan from those witches,” Scout told her. “I will not dishonor him by doing less for my people.”
Wayland wiped a colossal tear from his sizeable single eye.
“He would be proud,” Wayland told Scout.
15
The clearing on top of Big Bear Mesa seemed filled with clusters of werebears as far as the eye could see. Gunther, Devana and I hung toward the back. We were honored that we had been invited to witness this event, but we didn’t want to intrude.
A ten by ten cut tree trunk served as the small stage. Scout made his way toward it quietly, and those witnessing quieted as he drew closer. Some people wiped tears away, others frowned. Some people looked angry.
“Is he crowned?” I whispered to Gunther.
“No,” he whispered back. “Watch.”
Scout stepped up onto the trunk stage with some assistance from his guards, stepping to the front and facing the crowd. He smiled at them and then bowed.
To my surprise, he dropped to one knee before all those gathered, and only then did he speak.
“I honor all the bears of our clan,” Scout said clearly. “Whether black bears or brown bears, panda bears or polar bears, sloth or spectacled or sun bears, we are all of the same clan. We are bear!”
“We are bear!” the crowd called back, raising their fists in the air. He bowed his head at their call and then continued.
“Whether we walk on four legs or two, whether we live in skin or fur, whether we roam the forests or the streets, we are bear!”
“We are bear!” the crowd roared as he bowed.
“We honor where we came from, we honor what we are, we honor and protect our brothers and sisters that can shift no more. We are bear!”
“We are bear!” the crowd shouted. A mix of close and distant roars echoed up and over the mesa to wash over all those gathered in the clearing. As the bellows surrounding us quieted, those assembled shimmered into their bear forms and roared back in response. It sent chills down my spine.
“Are those people that couldn’t fit up here?” I asked Gunther.
“No, Charlotte,” Gunther smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Those are non-paranormal bears. The bears in this forest have gathered to witness and acknowledge the new leader.”
I glanced toward the edges of the forest and realized that dark faces with shining eyes stared out from the trees. There were hundreds of them hiding within the leaves.
A tall man stepped forward to stand next to Scout. “Our bear brothers have accepted the new leader,” he shouted to the silent crowd. “Our bear sisters have called out their approval. It is now up to the shifter clan to accept the oath of the one who wants to lead. He may rise and make his case.”
The man placed his hand on Scout’s shoulder, and the werebear rose. He scanned the faces in the crowd, nodding as he recognized friends or family members. Then, with a deep breathe, he began.
“I am not worthy,” he said. “My brother was a better leader than me. I know that. I know that I am not the first choice of many here. I also can’t blame you at all for having your doubts about me. I have been selfish, a royal brat that enjoyed my privilege as my brother did the work to maintain us as the strong clan we are. He worked hard for you. He died drawing a line in the sand,” Scout said as his voice trailed off.
“I can’t be my brother. But I can honor my brother’s sacrifice by oathing to you that I will spend the rest of my days fighting for our clan. Protecting our cubs, and defending our way of life,” he shouted angrily.
“We are bears! We are not witches, we are not paranormals, we are bears! We have been as long as the forests have been, and we will be as long as they stand. Like the trees that shelter us, we are an evergreen people. We change to evolve, not to lose who and what we are!”
Those listening to Scout nodded in agreement.
“I ask you to allow me to ascend to Cavemaster, to guard our hearth, to keep safe our home, and to judge when we must emerge and defend it from those that would collapse it around us. May I serve you? Will you allow me to take up my brother’s right?” Scout shouted, jumping to the front of the trunk and holding his arms out to his people.
A howl went up as drums beat and rattles shook. The werebears accepted Scout, and he bowed to them on his knees in thanks.
“I thank you,” Scout said as the tall man extended his hand and placed a ring upon Scout’s finger. He raised his hand high in the air, and golden beams of light shot out in every direction bathing the celebrants in a warm glow. Trees shook as the bears banged against them.
“That,” I said, exhaling. “Was amazing.”
“It’s not over yet,” Gunther said and pointed to Scout.
Scout jumped off the stage and was walking directly toward us as people shook his hand and pounded his shoulder in congratulations. He took nearly five minutes to make his way across the clearing as he picked through the crowd, but he finally made it and faced us.
“Thank you for waiting,” Scout said to the three of us.
“No problem, I caught the signal,” Gunther said. “Congratulations, by the way. That was an incredible ceremony.”
“Thank you,” Scout nodded. “As my first act as Cavemaster, I wish to extend honorary membership in the bear clan. You and Gunther and Devana. I don’t know if I would have ever known the truth of my brother’s murder if it wasn’t for you.”
“We would be honored, Cavemaster,” Devana said as she bowed her head. Gunther and I bowed as well.
Without a speech or ceremony, Scout placed his hand upon each of our foreheads, starting with me. A spark of golden light flashed for just a moment as he touched me, and a golden warmth spread across my skin.
“You will always have safety in our caves,” he said. Scratching his head, he leaned forward looking regretful. “Normally, that ceremony is a bit longer and a bit more formal, but now that we have a Cavemaster, my brother and Faleena must be honored without any more delay.”
“I understand,” I told him.
“Even so, I wanted to start my service off with something more positive. I couldn’t think of anything my brother would appreciate more
than honoring those that honored him,” Scout said as he brushed away an escaped tear. “You’ll join us for the memorial?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I said.
Scout left and walked toward the tall man, and the three of us walked back toward the Magical Midway.
“It feels unfinished,” I told Gunther and Devana as we walked.
“People have died, and no one of the living has paid the price other than those that loved them,” Devana said. “It is unbalanced. The justice that should have been? It tugs at you, Ringmaster. You can sense the imbalance.”
“Please, call me Charlotte,” I told the fierce woman.
“Perhaps I will,” Devana said and smiled.
Chase Trout couldn’t be laid to rest until his brother had taken his place as Cavemaster. Although Chase had been the leader of the bear clan, he and Faleena shared a memorial service in honor of their sacrifice for their people.
Many people, both bear shifters and Magical Midway citizens, attended to honor them both.
Anya was as upset as I’d ever seen her. The naiad was wracked with guilt that she hadn’t recognized a stranger looking out from her friend’s eyes. Coming so fast on the heels of her sister Alexa’s betrayal of the Magical Midway, it was yet another blow to the tough woman.
Her gentle friend, Avalon, stood beside her as she wept.
“I think Anya may have the most trouble getting over this,” Gunther told me. “All of the major events that have happened since you arrived touched her deeply.”
“Is that so?” Devana asked, turning to gaze at Anya’s retreat. “How well do you know her?”
“Well enough,” I told Devana.
“Perhaps,” she answered.
“You seem to say that a lot,” I said as the three of us walked slowly back to the Magical Midway. “I feel like every time you say that there are a hundred things in your head that you’re choosing not to tell us.”