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‘It’s all right,’ Onua whispered. ‘Nobody can hear us if we’re quiet.’
‘That’s some protection,’ Daine breathed. ‘With Ma’s circles, you couldn’t get in, but you knew it was there.’
The K’mir grinned. ‘Now you know how I can take the road with just my assistant and Tahoi.’ She curled up in her blankets. ‘’Night.’
The badger grumbled as Daine settled, and walked in her dreams.
‘It’s about time I found you,’ he said. ‘Do you know how long I’ve been looking? I actually had to come into the Human Realms to get a scent of you!’
‘I don’t wish to seem rude,’ she apologized, ‘but why were you looking for me? I don’t believe we’ve met – have we?’
‘Not exactly,’ he admitted with an embarrassed snort. ‘You see, I promised your father I’d keep an eye on you. So I looked in on you when you were a kit, pink and noisy. Then when I looked for you again, you were gone. I forgot time passes differently in the Human Realms.’
If she had been her waking self, his saying he knew her father would have made her unbearably excited. Now, though, her dream self asked – as if it weren’t too important – ’Have you met my da, then?’
‘Yes, yes, of course. Now, see here – I’m not coming to the Human Realms any more than I have to. If you’re going to wander, we must be connected in some way.’ He looked at a paw and sighed. ‘I know it barely hurts and it grows back and all, but I still hate it. So messy.’ He began to chew at the base of one of his claws.
‘No, don’t – please!’ she protested. ‘I can’t think—’
The claw came off. He spat it into her lap. ‘There. Hang on to it no matter what. This way I won’t lose track of time, and I’ll be able to find you. Understand?’
She nodded, then gulped. A silvery mist gathered around his paw, and vanished. A new claw had appeared in the bed of the old one.
‘Now go back to sleep.’
Cold air on her feet woke Daine in the morning. Her guest, working earlier to leave the bedroll, had pulled it apart entirely. She sat up with a yawn and a smile. To think she’d dreamed of a badger who knew her father …
Her hand was locked around something – a large animal’s claw, or a semblance of one. Complete and perfect, it was made of shiny silver.
‘Goddess,’ she whispered.
‘Daine?’ Onua was dressed and cooking breakfast. ‘Let’s go.’
No time to think about it now, she told herself, and scrambled out of her bedroll. Because if I do, I won’t know what to think.
Later that day, she wove a thong to grip the base of the claw tightly, and hung it around her neck. Just because she wasn’t entirely sure of where it came from was no reason not to keep it close by – just in case.
CHAPTER 2 (#ub0dabcd8-15f8-5912-8ce0-a78def693e0e)
THE HAWK (#ub0dabcd8-15f8-5912-8ce0-a78def693e0e)
A week later they crossed the River Drell into Tortall on a ferryboat. Watching the Gallan shore pull away, Daine searched her soul. I should tell Onua all the truth, she thought. (By then she had given her new friend the less painful details of her life, and had come to see Onua was right – it felt better to talk.) I should tell the rest – but won’t she turn on me, like they did? Maybe it’s best to keep shut. The madness, the scandal – it’s all back there. Maybe that’s where it should stay.
She went forward to look at Tortall as it moved closer. I could start fresh. It can’t be worse than home, with folk calling me ‘bastard’ and scorning me. Nobody here knows I’ve no father, and they don’t know about the other thing – the bad thing. They don’t need to know.
‘You worry too much.’ Onua ruffled the girl’s hair. ‘It’ll work out. You’ll see.’
Cloud butted Daine’s shoulder; Tahoi pawed her leg. Their concern and Onua’s gave her comfort. I’ll manage, she told herself as the ferry bumped the landing dock on the Tortallan shore. Silence is best.
The country beyond the crossing was a mixture of hills and wide valleys, some of it farmed and grazed, but most left to the woods. Towns here were back from the road, and traffic this early in the spring was thin. There was little to keep them from their usual routine of camp and march, riding the ponies, hunting for game birds or fishing for their supper.
The third day from the river brought rain, slowing them and the animals down before the sky cleared at day’s end. Both women were up late, getting mud out of shaggy coats and off their own skin and clothes.
It was the first time on that trip that no animal crawled in with Daine overnight. She slept badly, flipping back and forth, never quite waking or sleeping. Her dreams were thin and worrisome. She remembered only one:
The badger was in his lair, neatening up. ‘There you are. I’m glad to see the claw works so well.’
‘Excuse me, sir—’ she began.
‘No questions. Kits must listen, not ask. Pay attention.’ He squinted at her to make sure she was listening. ‘If you look hard and long, you can find us. If you listen hard and long, you can hear any of us, call any of us, that you want.’ Rolling onto his back, he added, ‘The madness was to teach you something. You should mind the lesson.’
She woke a little before dawn. The sky was grey and damp, the air sour.
‘Onua.’ When the woman only stirred and muttered, she went over and shook her. ‘I think trouble’s coming. Last time I felt this way, a rabid bear came out of the woods and killed the blacksmith.’
‘A rabid bear?’ The K’mir yanked on her clothes and Daine followed suit. ‘Goddess, how many of those do you see in a lifetime?’
‘One’s more than enough.’ She rolled up her bed and fixed it to her pack. The animals were restless and ill tempered. Tahoi paced the camp, his hackles up. He stopped often to look down the road, only to resume pacing.
‘Maybe it’s another storm?’ Onua suggested over breakfast.
‘I don’t think so.’ Daine gave her barely touched porridge to Cloud. ‘My head aches – not aches, exactly. It’s – itchy.’ She sniffed the breeze, but picked up only the scent of water and plants. ‘The wind’s not right, either.’
Onua looked at her thoughtfully, then doused the fire. ‘Let’s go.’ She hitched the ponies to lead reins while Daine secured the packs. ‘There’s a fief on the other side of this next valley, near a marsh. If need be, we’ll ask for shelter. I’d prefer not to.’ She strung her curved bow. ‘Lord Sinthya doesn’t like the queen; he loathes the Riders. Still, we can wait a storm out in his barns, particularly if no one tells him we’re there. If we’re caught in the marsh, we’re in trouble. I don’t have any marsh craft.’
Daine warmed her longbow and strung it. The quiver’s weight on her back made her feel better as they took the road. Past the next ridge she saw a wide, shallow valley filled with reeds and water, with nowhere to hide.
By the time they reached the centre of the green expanse, the hair was standing straight out on the back of her neck. Where are the frogs, and the birds? she wondered when they stopped for a breather. I don’t even see dragonflies.
Something made her glance at the wood that bordered the far edge of the marsh. ‘Onua!’ She pointed as a bird shot from the cover of the trees. It was black and hawk-shaped, flying crazily, as if drunk.
Shrieks, metallic and shrill, tore the air. Eight giant things – they looked like birds at first – chased the hawk out of the cover of the trees. Immense wings beat the air that reached the women and ponies, filling their noses with a stink so foul it made Daine retch. The ponies screamed in panic.
Daine tried to soothe them, though she wanted to scream too. These were monsters. No animal combined a human head and chest with a bird’s legs and wings. Sunlight bounded off talons and feathers that shone like steel. She counted five males, three females: one female wore a crown of black glass.
Onua gave a two-fingered whistle that could be heard the length of the valley. When the monsters turned to find the source of the noise, their quarry dropped into the cover of the reeds and vanished. The monsters swept the area, over and over, trying to find the black hawk, without success.
‘Look at them,’ Onua whispered. ‘They use a grid pattern to search by – they’re working that part of the marsh in squares. They’re intelligent.’
‘And they can’t land easy on level ground,’ Daine pointed out. ‘Those claws aren’t meant to flatten out. They have to fly – they can’t walk.’
When the creatures gave up, they turned on the women.
Daine watched them come, her bow – like Onua’s – ready to fire. The attackers were smeared with filth. When they spoke or smiled, she saw razor-sharp teeth caked with what she knew was old blood. Halting over the road, they fanned their wings to stay aloft. Their smell was suffocating.
‘We almost had the motherless spy,’ one of them snarled.
‘But you had to interfere,’ another said. ‘Never interfere with us.’ It lifted its wings above its head and stooped. The others followed.
‘Daine, fire!’ Onua shot: her arrow struck the first, hitting a wing with a sound of metal on metal, and bounced off. Daine struck a man-thing square in the throat. He dropped with a cry that brought sweat to her face.
Onua and Daine fired steadily, aiming for the flesh of heads and chests. A female almost grabbed Daine by the hair before Onua killed her. Cloud got one by a leg, and Tahoi seized its other foot. Together pony and dog tore the monster apart. Birds – herons, bitterns, plovers, larks – rose from hiding places to fight the creatures, blinding some, pecking others, clogging the air so the enemy couldn’t see. Many paid for their help with their lives.
The glass-crowned one was finally the only monster alive. She hovered just out of Onua’s range, one of the K’mir’s arrows lodged in her shoulder.
‘Pink pigs!’ she snarled. ‘How dare you defy me, maggots! You filth!’
‘Look who’s talking,’ Daine shouted, sliding an arrow onto her string. She lowered her bow, wanting the creature to think she was done. ‘Your ma was a leech with bad teeth,’ she taunted. Onua laughed in spite of herself. ‘Your da was a peahen. I know chickens with more brains than you!’
The queen screamed and dropped, claws extended. Daine brought the bow up, loosing as she reached the best point in her swing. Her arrow buried itself in the queen’s eye as Onua cheered.
Daine had another arrow on the string and in the air, but the queen pulled away. Blood dripped from her ruined eye. If she felt pain, she ignored it, hovering well out of bow-shot, her good eye furious.
‘Ohhh, I’ll remember you, girlie.’ The hate in her voice forced Daine back a step. ‘Your name is on my heart.’ She looked at Onua. ‘I’ll return for you two ground crawlers. You belong to Zhaneh Bitterclaws now.’ She launched herself into higher air and was gone.
‘I can’t believe it.’ Onua sounded as if she were talking to herself. ‘The rumours said there were monsters abroad, but these? Where did they come from?’ She went to examine the body of one of the creatures, the stink so bad she had to cover her nose to get close to it.
Limping, Daine followed. She was unhurt, but she felt battered and cut and torn in a thousand places.
A chickadee lay in the road. She picked it up, to find a wing was attached by only a bit of skin. Tears rolled down her cheeks to fall on the dying bird. All around her, birds lay in the rushes, bleeding, dead.
‘I’m sorry, little ones,’ she whispered. ‘You should’ve stayed hid.’ Her temples pounded. Stripes of black-and-yellow fire crossed her vision. Her ears filled with a roaring sound, and she fainted.
Onua saw her fall. The bird that had been in Daine’s hand jumped into the air and zipped past, nearly missing the K’mir’s nose. In the marsh, she heard a rush of song. Birds took off, clumsily at first, as if they were stiff. An owl that lay in the road moved, then flew away as she stared. She was positive that the bird’s head had been cut half off.
Shaking her head, she went to the fallen girl. As far as she could tell, Daine was unhurt. With a grunt the K’mir levered her onto a shoulder, surprised by how light she was. ‘You need to eat more,’ she told her burden as she carried her to the ponies. Cloud trotted over to nuzzle Daine, worry in every line of the pony’s body.
‘I don’t suppose you know a place where we can get off the road,’ Onua asked, half jesting, never thinking these animals would understand her as they did the girl. Cloud trotted into a nearby stand of reeds. Just beyond her, Onua saw a clearing, floored in solid ground.
This was food for thought. Onua followed Cloud. The remainder of the ponies followed her, Tahoi bringing up the rear.
Coarse hairs tickled Daine’s face. Opening her eyes, she saw nothing but Cloud’s nose.
‘Let me up.’ Her voice emerged as a croak. ‘I’m fine.’ She wasn’t really – her whole body ached – but the pain that had knocked her out was over.
‘Swallow this.’ Onua brought over a cup of water. Drinking it, Daine tasted herbs. A tingling filled her veins and left her feeling much improved. The only sign of the pain that had knocked her down was mild stiffness.
‘I didn’t faint ’cause I’m a baby or anything—’ she began, afraid the K’mir would be disgusted by her weakness. She struggled to sit up, and finished the water.
‘Don’t be silly.’ Onua gave her a silvery feather. ‘Don’t touch the edges,’ she warned. ‘They’re razor sharp.’
It was metal, etched and shaped like a feather. If it was steel, as it seemed to be, it was paper thin, impossible to bend. Moreover, it felt wrong, as the sight of the creatures had felt wrong. If she knew nothing else, she knew nature. Such creations did not belong in the world: seeing them made her feel wobbly and sick. ‘What were those things? Do you know?’
‘I’ve heard tales, but – they aren’t supposed to exist, not here. They’re called Stormwings.’ She heard awe and fear in Onua’s voice.
‘What are Stormwings?’
‘The Eaters.’ Onua wrapped the feather and put it away. ‘But they’re legends. No one’s seen them for three, four centuries. They lived on battlefields, desecrating bodies – eating them, fouling them, scattering the pieces.’ She crouched beside Daine again. ‘Listen – I need to leave you and the ponies for a while – I hope not too long. I can’t tell you why.’
‘Then I’ll follow.’ Daine was comfortable enough with her now to be blunt. ‘This is a marsh, remember? Quicksand, mud bogs, snakes – you told me you don’t know anything about marshes.’
‘I can’t help that. What I must do is important. You stay put—’
A picture of the Stormwings as they’d first seen them flashed into Daine’s mind. ‘It’s that hawk, isn’t it?’ she asked, and Onua looked away. ‘That black one. You tried to call him, but he couldn’t make it, so he hid in the reeds. Now you want to go after him. Why is a bird so important?’
Onua’s eyes glittered with annoyance. ‘Never you mind. He is, that’s all – he’s more important than you could imagine. If something happens to me, take the ponies to the Riders. Tell Buri or Sarge what happened—’
Daine saw how she might repay some of what she owed this woman for taking her in. ‘I’ll go.’
‘Out of the question.’
She retrieved her crossbow and quiver from the packs. ‘Don’t be silly. It’s only a few hundred yards out. How much trouble can I get into? Besides, I know about bogs. And I can find lost animals.’ If she waited, the K’mir would find a good reason to keep her back. She saw a game trail leading into the reeds and took it. ‘I’ll yell for Tahoi if I get stuck,’ she called.
‘Daine!’ There was no answer. ‘When I was that age, I listened to my elders,’ Onua muttered, conveniently forgetting she had done no such thing. She grabbed Cloud’s rein as the pony tried to follow her mistress. ‘No, you stay here. And don’t try to argue.’ She tied the mare’s rein into a string for the first time since they’d left the fair, and settled down to wait.
The trail took Daine to a pond. She skirted it, always making for the spot where the monsters had left the wood. A grouse darted out of the brush. Following it, she walked a trail that lay on firm ground to reach the trees at the marsh’s edge. There she sat on a rock, wondering what to do next. If the bird was alive, it had come down somewhere nearby to hide from the Stormwings.
It was nice, this green wilderness. The scents of growing things filled her nostrils; the sounds of animals and plants waking from their winter sleep filled her ears. What had the badger said, in her dream? If you listen hard and long, you can hear any of us, call any of us, that you want.
Surely listening wouldn’t bring on the madness. She wasn’t trying to be an animal; she just wanted to hear them. Definitely she’d taken advice from worse people than badgers in her time.
Besides, if the hawk was alive and hurt, it might be thrashing or crying its pain. She’d hear it, if she listened.
She’d have to be very quiet, then.
She settled herself and slowed her breathing. Her blouse itched; she eased it. A burn throbbed on a finger; she put it out of her mind.
A breeze fanned the tips of the reeds, making them sigh.
Two plops ahead: a pair of mating frogs. She had no interest in that.
A rustle to her left, some feet behind: a pair of nesting ducks. Didn’t people think of anything else?
A gritty noise at her side was a grass snake, coming up to sun. It was nice on the rock, the warmth just perfect on her face and on the snake.
There – left, closer to the trees. She frowned. It didn’t sound like a bird – like the hawks and falcons back home. She felt dizzy and befuddled, almost like the time she had swiped a drink of her mother’s home-brewed mead.
That yip was a fox, who had found a black bird. A large one.
Daine headed in his direction. The fox yipped again when she almost made a wrong turn. She found him next to a large, hollow log. The hawk had concealed itself inside.
‘Thank you,’ she said. The fox grinned at her and vanished into the reeds while Daine looked at her new patient. ‘Clever lad, to think of hiding there,’ she murmured. (And since when did hawks ever think of concealing themselves?) ‘Come on out – they’re gone.’ She put her hands into the log’s opening, praying she wasn’t about to get slashed.
The bird waddled forwards, easing himself onto her palms. Moving very slowly, she lifted him out and placed him on top of his hiding place.
He stared at her, beak open as he panted. One outspread wing seemed broken in two places, maybe even three. Her hair prickled at the back of her neck. Anyone less familiar with hawks might have taken this bird for one: she could not. He was too big, and hawks were not solid black. His colour was dull, like velvet—there was no gloss to his feathers at all. He wasn’t wrong as those Stormwings were wrong, but he was not right, either.
She cut reeds for splints. ‘I’m from Onua—Onua Chamtong of the K’miri Raadeh,’ she told him. ‘You recognize the name?’ She didn’t expect an answer, but she knew a kind voice was something any hurt creature responded to. ‘I have to splint that wing. It’s broken.’ She cursed herself for not having bandages of any kind, and cut strips out of a petticoat.
