The day dawned overcast and cool, with the taste of smoke heavy in the air and in Wilkes’s throat as well. His eyes felt as if he’d rubbed sand in them, and as he stretched and unwrapped himself and Odin from the cocoon-like hammock he’d fashioned late the night before in the great boughs of an ancient pine left untouched by the fire, Wilkes heard his cough echoed around him by his brother Warriors.
“Wilkes! You up there?”
Wilkes glanced below to see Claudia with her Shepherd, Mariah, peering up into the boughs of the pine, face ashen and expression grim.
He cleared his throat painfully and steeled himself for bad news.
“I’m here. Give us a minute. Odin and I will be right down.”
Claudia nodded and sat heavily beside her Shepherd, draping a slender, soot-smudged arm around the big canine as Wilkes quickly reworked his travel cloak into a sling, lowering Odin to the ground before he followed him more slowly, climbing down the broad tree trunk.
“Here, I brought this for you.” Claudia handed Wilkes a wooden cup filled with hot, honey-laced tea.
Wilkes nodded gratefully, blew on it, and then took a big gulp, savoring how the herbs soothed his smoke-abused throat. Then he met Claudia’s gaze. “Okay. Tell me.”
“We found Ethan.”
Wilkes’s stomach clenched with dread. His mate had been missing since the day before. He hadn’t made it to the Channel—Wilkes already knew that—but he’d hoped Ethan was one of the wounded who had lost their way in the smoke and fire and had begun straggling back to the Tribe since the blaze had been extinguished.
“Where is he? Is he hurt badly?”
Claudia stood and rested her hand on Wilkes’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Ethan’s dead. We found him not far from where the Council was killed.”
Wilkes bowed his head and let the grief wash over him. He and Ethan had been mated for a decade. Wilkes had liked to joke about how much Ethan nagged him, but the truth was that he counted on his partner to keep him grounded. And now—now Ethan was no more and Wilkes felt as if he’d lost his true north.
“What about Ginger? Was she with him?”
Claudia sighed sadly. “His Shepherd died with him. They were found together.”
“Where are they? I want to see them.”
Claudia’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “No, my friend. You do not. Ethan and Ginger were placed with the Council, their canines, and those who died on the way to the Channel. Some of the Hunters are building a pyre for them. It should be done around sunset.”
Wilkes wiped tears from his face with the back of his hand as Odin whined and pressed against his leg. “Did you see him?”
Claudia nodded wearily. “I did.”
“Do you think he suffered?”
“It happened fast and he wasn’t alone. Ginger was wrapped in his arms, and there were several other people beside them as well. Let that be a comfort to you,” she said.
Wilkes nodded sadly and dropped his hand to rest on his Shepherd’s head, finding comfort in his Companion’s nearness. I can’t think about Ethan and Ginger right now. I can’t mourn yet. There is too much to do—too many lives that might still be saved. He cleared his throat again and lifted his head.
“Were any Healers found alive?”
“No. Emma and Liam are the two apprenticed Healers Kathleen sent from the infirmary before the blaze destroyed it and everyone in it. A third trainee, Olivia, did find her way to the meditation platform late last night, but she almost didn’t make it through the fire and said the other three apprentices who were following her weren’t as lucky.”
“So, we have three half-trained Healers. Okay. Well, that’s better than none, but we’re going to have to get them some help.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted up into the boughs of the nearest trees, “Warriors! To me!” Instantly the tree limbs began to sway with the weight of humans and canines awakening from much-needed sleep. “Wait here for the Warriors to get themselves awake, and then bring them to the meditation platform. Have you seen Latrell? I need him to gather his Hunters, too.”
“Latrell is dead. Thaddeus has taken on the role of Lead Hunter.” Claudia’s frown clearly said what she thought of the change of Hunter leadership.
Wilkes ran a hand through his matted hair. “That news could be better.”
“Yeah, well, none of the Hunters challenged him. Not that I blame them. He’s mean. Almost as mean as that Terrier of his.”
“I thought after Odysseus was wounded Thaddeus might focus on his Companion,” Wilkes said.
“That’s a nice thought, but the wound seems to only have slowed Odysseus down—not Thaddeus,” Claudia said.
“Hopefully, when we ordain a new Council they’ll appoint someone more appropriate as Lead Hunter.” Wilkes shook his head, muttering, “I blame Thaddeus for this mess.”
“That bastard! Just the thought of him pisses me off. I don’t understand why he’s still free, let alone Lead Hunter. I can’t stand that he’s walking around like he didn’t cause—”
Wilkes made an abrupt motion. “Never mind. That was self-indulgent of me. There’s no time for blame or what-ifs right now. I’m heading to the platform.”
Claudia shook herself. “You’re right. Thaddeus can wait. I’ll follow you with the Warriors.”
Wilkes tried to smile his thanks, but his face felt cracked and broken. At that moment he wondered if he would ever smile again. So he simply nodded and began picking his way through the underbrush that peppered the forest floor around the old pines that were too ancient to hold the Tribe’s nests but still sturdy enough not to have been culled for wood and reseeded.
This was the part of the forest closest to Port City, and it had always seemed haunted to Wilkes. When their ancestors first found that they could survive with the help of the Mother Plant by living in the trees, it must have seemed logical to built their new city just outside the old one, but as generation after generation passed, the Tribe had chosen to expand away from the ruined city, moving farther to the north and west. The meditation platform had been the last of the usable relics, and the Tribe rarely went past that old sentinel. Wilkes looked uneasily around him, feeling as if the ghost of those first Tribesmen were watching him … judging him.
As the Tribe grew and the trees aged, they shifted the heart of the city into stronger trees that were just reaching their maturity, so the enormous old pines around him stood silent, abandoned, with remnants of nests and lift systems that had been cannibalized for anything of value to the ever-expanding Tribe.
Well, we used to be ever expanding, Wilkes thought morosely. Now we’re just trying to survive.
His feet felt heavy and he made himself finish the strong tea, hoping the honey it was laced with would give him a boost of energy. His stomach growled, surprising him. He’d been too busy to think about food before he and the Warriors who had taken the late shift with him had finally wrapped themselves in their cloaks and managed to steal a few hours of sleep. Odin whined and Wilkes patted his head.
“Okay, I hear you. We’ll eat soon.” Which reminded Wilkes to check and see if any of the rabbit warrens had survived. Damn, I hope so. Don’t know how we’re going to feed hungry canines with no rabbits. Wilkes’s shoulders slumped. There was just so much to deal with in the aftermath of the blaze. Sunfire! How he wished Sol were alive—or, at the very least, he wished Nik and his Healer had stayed. Nik’s presence would have given the Tribe a sense of safety, especially as Laru had chosen him. And Mari? Wilkes didn’t give a damn what idiots like Thaddeus thought—the girl was a gifted Healer who could wield sunfire. She belonged with the Tribe!
“He’ll be back,” Wilkes told Odin. “And this time I’ll do a better job about convincing him to stay.”
Wilkes trudged his way through the forest to the temporary infirmary they’d established on the meditation platform that served as border between the old, uninhabited section of the forest and the outskirts of what was left of their City in the Trees. He heard the sounds of the wounded before he got to the clearing that surrounded the old tree. He tried to prepare himself, but as he stepped from the forest and he took in the sight of the wounded lying in a wheel-like arrangement around the tree, spreading into the clearing and beyond, Wilkes knew nothing could have prepared him for the reality of the losses his Tribe had suffered.
Warriors and Hunters who were finishing their early shifts were staggering from the direction of their still-smoldering city. Wilkes knew they’d been combing the wreckage of the huge, blackened pines and the rubble of graceful nests and platforms that had, for generations, sheltered the Tribe of the Trees, looking for survivors and putting out any hot spots that might begin the blaze anew. One glance at them and he knew they had not found survivors.
“Here. Eat this. You look awful.” Wilkes blinked and refocused as Ralina, the Tribe’s Storyteller who seemed to have taken up permanent residence with the wounded, pressed into his hand a wooden bowl filled with porridge, almond milk, and more honey.
“Thank you,” his scratchy voice said. “I need to feed Odin, too.”
Ralina nodded. “The Carpenters built a temporary platform in that gnarled old oak about twenty yards over there.” She pointed toward the far side of the meditation platform. “Two of the rabbit warrens survived. We’re rationing food for the canines from there.”
“Only two warrens left?” Wilkes shook his head. There had been twelve major warrens where rabbits were bred and then distributed to the Tribe for food and pelts.
“Only two,” Ralina said. “And that was a close thing. But the Hunters are already setting traps for more breeder rabbits. Maybe they’ll manage to bring back a deer, or even a boar.” The Storyteller looked up at Wilkes, and he could see a world of misery in her eyes.
“I’m sorry. Two warrens are a lot better than none. And the rabbits can be replaced. Easily. How about you take a seat with me on that log and fill me in on everything else?”
“Okay. Yes.” Ralina began to walk with him the short distance to a singed log, but she staggered and almost fell.
Wilkes helped right her and kept a tight hold of her arm, easing her into sitting beside him. He noticed how pale she was and the terrible dark shadows under her eyes.
“Did you sleep at all?”
She shook her head.
“You have to,” Wilkes told her gently.
“I tried, but when I closed my eyes I saw nothing but fire and death. I—I don’t know if I’ll ever sleep again.” Her head bowed and her shoulders shook as she cried silently.
Wilkes put his arm around her. “Hey, we’ll get through this. Think about The Tale of Endings and Beginnings. Worse has happened to our ancestors and they survived and thrived. We will, too.”
“More than anything else I hope you’re right about that.” Ralina wiped her face with her sleeve as her Shepherd, Bear, padded up to her, whining his concern.
“It’s okay, Bear. I’m okay,” she murmured as he licked her face and she slipped from the log to sit on the ground beside him. It wasn’t long before she crossed her legs and leaned back, looking up at Wilkes. “I’m better now. What is it you need to know?”
“How are the Mother Plants?”
“They’re being tended. It’s too early to be sure, but Maeve says most will live. She transplanted them into the branches above the meditation platform, though they will soon need to be permanently planted in a new cluster of Mother Trees.”
Wilkes closed his eyes briefly in relief. “Maeve made it. How about her new pup? Fortina, right? Is she fine, too?”
“Both are well. And all of her assistants live, too. As soon as the fire broke out, Maeve ordered the Mother Plants moved.”
“That was wise of her.” He shoveled a couple more bites of porridge into his mouth, asking around it, “Do we have a death count yet?”
“We have an estimate. The count is almost two thousand Companions lost, but it’s probably low.”
“Sunfire! More than two thousand dead! But that’s almost half of the Tribe.”
Ralina nodded. “There are another five hundred plus wounded. Many of them will die, too. And that doesn’t take into account how many of us will perish later from the blight.”
The Storyteller looked down at her arms, and Wilkes followed her gaze. Her forearms were riddled with scratches he hadn’t noticed before through the sweat and soot that pretty much covered all of them, but now he saw the bloody wounds and he felt a terrible hollowness in his stomach that he knew no amount of porridge would ever fill. Her wounds were minor, but blight could infect any break in the skin, with a survival rate of less than five out of ten. He took quick stock of his own body. He was bruised and sore, though he didn’t think his skin had been broken anywhere. But Ralina’s right. How many of us who look healthy right now, who think they’ve come through this terrible fire safely, will die slowly of the blight because of scratches and cuts?
“Hey, we will get through this. One day at a time,” Wilkes said. “Someday you’ll be telling this tale to our rebuilt Tribe with a new generation of youngsters all big eyed over the story while we oldsters cheer and drink too much winter beer.”
Ralina was almost smiling when from the ancient, uninhabited forest behind them came the sounds of boisterous Tribesmen approaching. Wilkes thought he might be hearing things—that he might have been driven mad by death and the stress of the past days—because why would anyone be laughing and joking at a time like this?
Thaddeus and a small group of his Hunters burst through the underbrush. They were carrying big leather satchels—the kind used to strap supplies on Shepherds’ backs if they were on long forage trips with their Companions. And the Hunters were laughing and joking with one another.
The Hunters were laughing and joking with one another.
With Ralina beside him, Wilkes stood and turned slowly to meet the group, trying to keep a hold on his rising temper.
“Wilkes! Ha! There you are. Wait till you see what we found—medical supplies! A lot of them. Can you believe our luck?” Thaddeus said, tossing one of the satchels to Wilkes, who caught it, glanced at its contents, and handed it to a gray-faced Ralina.
“Bandages and salves,” Ralina said.
“Yeah! And there’s more in the rest of the satchels, as well as a fairly large amount of herbs and tinctures. See? Lucky find! Right, Storyteller? This would make a great tale, don’t you think?” Thaddeus’s men nodded with their Leader, but Wilkes noticed none of them were as animated as him.
“I’m not sure,” Ralina said, her voice hard and flat. “Great tales need heroism and heart.”
“Perfect! We have plenty of that!” Thaddeus spoke as if he were onstage, putting on a show for his men.
Ralina didn’t answer but turned her face from him in disgust.
“Of course there are a few supplies missing. I used them to pack Odysseus’s wound. He’ll be good as new soon! Won’t you, boy?” He bent to pat the little Terrier on the head, but the canine wasn’t by his side—which Thaddeus seemed to just notice. He stood and whistled sharply. A yip came from the trees behind the group of Hunters. “Odysseus! Come on! Hurry up!”
Wilkes watched the little Terrier limp into the clearing. He went to his Companion and collapsed by Thaddeus’s feet.
“Have you had one of the apprentice Healers check out Odysseus’s wound?” Ralina asked. “His limp looks pretty bad.”
“Ah, he’ll be fine—especially after I doctored him with those medicines.”
“Where did you find them? I thought the infirmary burned,” Wilkes said.
“It did! But the Healers loaded as much as they could onto their Shepherds, and then sent them out of the infirmary. We found them not far from here.”
Wilkes looked behind the group but saw nothing. He glanced at Odin and Bear, who weren’t giving any sign that there were Shepherds to greet. Feeling sick, he met Thaddeus’s gaze. “Where are the Shepherds now?”
“Back there where we found them. I was going to drop off the supplies at the meditation platform and then find you to see what you wanted to do about them,” Thaddeus said.
“But I don’t understand. Why didn’t they come with you?” Ralina asked.
“Because they are all dead,” Wilkes said.
Thaddeus nodded. “Yeah, you guessed it. Strangest thing I’ve ever seen. The Shepherds were curled up together. Thought they were sleeping at first. But they were already stiff. Been dead since last night, but they weren’t burned, and I didn’t see any wounds on them, either.”
Wilkes forced himself to control his anger. Slowly, he stepped over the log and approached Thaddeus. Wilkes could feel Odin by his side. He could also feel the rage that burned within his Companion, mirroring his own. He stopped a hand span from the Hunter. Wilkes noticed that even before he spoke the other Hunters had moved back and were watching him warily.
“How dare you come here laughing and joking. Those Shepherds—those heroes—willed themselves to die because they couldn’t bear the horror of the deaths of their Companions. They felt their Companions suffer and burn! Can you even imagine the agony of that? And still they brought medicine to us—still they thought of the Tribe, even in the immensity of their grief and pain. What is wrong with you, Thaddeus?” Wilkes said.
“What’s wrong with all of you?” Ralina’s red-eyed glare took in the group of the Hunters as she hurled words at the men. “They are the heroes! Not you! Their sacrifice is the stuff of legends and bittersweet tales, and you came here laughing and joking after discovering their bodies!” The Hunters behind Thaddeus looked away, unable to meet Ralina’s gaze.
Thaddeus had no such problem. “We found medicine! Things that will help our Tribe. That’s what we were celebrating. I didn’t realize we needed to check with the Tribe’s Storyteller or the Leader of the Warriors first!” Thaddeus puffed up his chest and balled his fists by his sides.
Wilkes stared at him in disgust. “You don’t get it at all, do you? Sunfire! You were truly not affected by the deaths of those canines.”
“They’re dead. Nothing can bring them back. I choose to focus on the living. So do my Hunters.”
“This isn’t the way of the Tribe. This is your way, Thaddeus,” Ralina said.
“And your way is disgusting,” Wilkes added.
“It’s a new time, Warrior. Get used to it,” Thaddeus said with a sneer.
He started to brush past Wilkes, bumping him hard with his shoulder, obviously trying to throw him off balance. In his hand a knife suddenly appeared, and he brandished it at Wilkes.
Ralina cried, “He has a blade!”
Wilkes moved with the instincts of a well-trained Warrior. In an instant he had Thaddeus’s arm bent behind his back, twisting it until the knife fell harmlessly to the ground. Then, with one quick kick, he knocked the Hunter’s legs out from under him, sending him to sprawl, face-first, on the forest floor.
Odysseus snarled, and as the Hunters gasped in shock the little Terrier launched himself at Wilkes. In a movement so swift that his body blurred, Odin intercepted the canine, knocking him over, rolling him, and then pinning him to the ground, his huge jaws open and ready to rip out the Terrier’s exposed underbelly.
“Submit!” Wilkes’s abused voice growled along with his Shepherd. “Or I will let Odin kill him.”
Wilkes watched Thaddeus’s anger-filled gaze flick to his downed Terrier, and for a moment he actually thought the Hunter would refuse and cause his Companion’s death—and as Wilkes realized that, he finally understood just how dangerous Thaddeus had become and how very badly he needed to be banished from the Tribe.
“Submit!” Wilkes repeated.
“Do it,” Thaddeus told his Terrier. “Submit to him.”
Odysseus struggled for a moment longer, and then the Terrier’s body relaxed and he stretched his neck back, ritualistically offering it to a canine who was Alpha over him. Odin sniffed at the littler canine’s neck and then the big Shepherd lifted his leg and relieved himself on the Terrier’s belly before allowing him to get up.
Ralina went to Thaddeus’s dropped knife and picked it up, tucking it into her leather belt. She gave the Hunter a disgusted look, saying, “This blade is forfeit because you raised it against a Tribesman. Consider yourself lucky that we have no ruling Council right now, as you would surely be banished, or worse, for what you just tried to do.”
Wilkes released Thaddeus. “You may still be banished. Tribal Law is Tribal Law, whether there is a Council or not. No Companion may take up arms against another—on pain of banishment or death. Consider yourself lucky if all you get is banishment. I’m the third Tribesman you’ve raised a weapon against.”
Thaddeus wiped dirt and moss from his clothes as he glared at Wilkes. “Don’t be so sure of yourself. In case you’re too bound by the past to notice, let me be the first to tell you—the old Tribe is no more! I have a feeling things are going to be a lot different in the future—the very near future. Watch yourself, Warrior. You’re right. I did raise my weapon against other Tribesmen—traitors—you would do well to remember how that went for them. One is dead. One is on the run.” Thaddeus made a sharp gesture to his men. “Let’s get these supplies to the wounded. Maybe they’ll appreciate them.” He turned his back on Wilkes and Ralina and stalked away, with Odysseus limping at his side and the Hunters following as they cast looks that ranged from apologetic to angry at Wilkes.
“That’s bad. Really bad,” Ralina said when the forest had swallowed the group. “There’s something incredibly wrong with that man. And I’ve never liked Odysseus—he’s always been too quick with his teeth—but Thaddeus doesn’t seem concerned at all that his Companion is wounded.”
“By his own hand,” Wilkes said. “But Thaddeus isn’t one for taking blame or cleaning up after his mistakes—ever.”
“Exactly.…” She paused and then added, “He was talking about Sol and Nik, wasn’t he? Tell me that bastard didn’t just brag about killing our Sun Priest and chasing away his son.”
“That’s exactly what he was doing.” Wilkes stared after the Hunters. “And I think it’s even worse than that. I think Thaddeus’s hatred has begun to spread to his men.”
“And from there, it could easily spread to the Tribe,” Ralina finished for Wilkes. “We can’t let that happen.”
“I’m afraid it already has,” Wilkes said. “Come on. Let’s gather the Warriors and see what we can do to help the wounded. They’re more important than Thaddeus’s hate right now. Let’s hope if we ignore him Thaddeus will fade into the background of the Tribe.”
“I can’t believe Companions will actually follow him. He’s mean, self-serving, and full of spite. Our people will see the truth about him.”
“I hope so, Ralina,” Wilkes said sadly.
Slowly, the two Companions began walking back to the meditation platform. Neither of them saw the two men, bodies painted with the camouflaging colors of the forest, rise from the concealment of a mound of forest debris and retreat silently back into the cover of the ancient trees.
* * *
Death could hardly contain His glee. It was happening just as He had intended! He tapped into Dead Eye’s memories and knew the Tribesman the Others called Thaddeus was the human who had been infected with the skin sloughing disease. Since canine flesh had merged with the human, Thaddeus had obviously grown stronger, angrier, and more discontented. It seemed he was even responsible for the death of a Leader and for the blaze that had decimated his people. And now that the Hunter’s Companion canine was wounded Death chuckled low in His throat.
“It is all going even better than I planned,” He said, more to Himself than to Iron Fist, who jogged beside Him.
“How so, my Lord?”
“I have divided the Others, and that division is going to be their undoing.” The God paused and chuckled again. “Well, that and a little help from Death.”
“Are we going to gather our men and attack now that they’re weak and wounded?”
Death held on to His patience, reminding Himself that Iron Fist was only a man, and not a very bright man at that. “No. We are not. You are my Blade. You must learn to think beyond your base emotions. Did you not hear the Warrior recount how many of the Others are dead?”
“I surely did, my Lord! Over two thousand. That is why I thought—”
“No!” The curt word silenced the God’s Blade instantly. “Did you not hear the rest of it?”
“That there are another five hundred wounded?”
Death stifled a sigh. “Yes, but beyond that the Warrior let it be known that there are still another two thousand of their people alive, many of them Warriors and Hunters. They vastly outnumber us.”
“Oh. Oh, I see. Then what are we to do?”
“We?” Death laughed again. “First, I am going to use the opening that little canine has provided and use it to draw Thaddeus closer to me.”
“My Lord, forgive me, but I do not understand,” Iron Fist said.
Because He enjoyed reasoning through His plan aloud, Death decided to enlighten His Blade. “It’s quite simple. I’ve already touched Thaddeus. He is primed to hear my voice. Imagine if he chooses me—even over his bonded Companion. Imagine the chaos he would cause within his Tribe.”
“You’re going to ask him to join us? To become a Reaper?”
“Not so blatantly, but yes,” Death said. “I am going to present him with a choice.”
“Do you want me to follow him? Perhaps take him captive again—with his canine—and bring him to You, my Lord?” Iron Fist asked.
“No, I have a better way to reach Thaddeus. His wounded Terrier has provided it for me.”
“I still don’t understand.”
Death blew out a long breath, wishing He had someone to talk with who wasn’t a complete dolt. “The creature—the canine—he is wounded. Badly enough that he is susceptible to my touch, even from a distance. And if he is susceptible to me, so his Companion will be. Watch and learn, my Blade. There is much for us to do.”
“Give me a task, my Lord! What would You have me do?”
“The next task is not yours. Lizard, though, is going to do everything.”
The God was pleased that Iron Fist asked no further questions, and He increased his speed so that the man would have to strain to keep up with Him. It wasn’t long before they came to the place they had left Lizard, hidden far enough from the Tribe that their sharp-nosed canines wouldn’t alert on the scent of rot that clung to the diseased man.
“My Lord!” Lizard went to his knees as the God and His Blade approached. “How is it with the Others?”
“It is even better than I hoped. The Tribe of the Trees is very close to self-destructing,” said the God. “All they need is a small gift from Death to complete the process.” He walked to the sick man and gently lifted him to his feet. “I need you to do something for me, Lizard.”
“Anything, my Lord!” he said without hesitation.
“Anything, even if it is unpleasant?” Death asked.
“Yes, my Lord.”
The God rested His hands on the man’s shoulders. “Your fidelity pleases me greatly, Lizard.” Death turned to Iron Fist and commanded his Blade, “Go. Find evidence of hog scat. We weren’t far from here the day the boar crossed the stream. There must be others about. I will wait here with Lizard.”
Iron Fist looked surprised but bowed and sprinted off.
“Come, sit.” The God gestured beside Him. “This shouldn’t take long. The fire has caused the beasts of the forest to be out of sorts.”
“And Iron Fist is our best Hunter,” Lizard said. With a groan he sat beside the God.
Death studied him. “Is your pain great?”
“It is nothing for You to be concerned about, my Lord,” Lizard said quickly.
“And yet I am. Answer my question truthfully.”
Lizard’s gaze fell to the forest floor. “My pain is great.”
“Are you weary of it?”
His eyes found the God. “I am.”
“Ah, I can see that. Your suffering will soon be over.”
Lizard’s pale face lit with hope. “Thank You, my Lord!”
“Rest now. You will need all of your strength for what is to come.”
Lizard did as the God commanded. He closed his eyes and slumped to his side, sighing wearily. As he fell into a fitful sleep, Death dismissed him from His thoughts. Instead, He meditated, entering a dreamlike state, searching … searching …
With little effort, the God found the bitter connection that linked Him to the small, wounded Terrier named Odysseus. He followed the thin thread of pain, feeling with the immortal sixth sense that had connected Him to humanity and the mortal world for countless ages.
The God could not see the creature. He could only feel Odysseus—his pain, his stress, and the heat that was building in his little body as it tried to fight off infection.
Hear me, small one, Death whispered to the wounded canine.
The canine’s attention shifted inward as the Terrier suddenly found the thread that connected him with Death.
Yes! That’s it! Hear me, small one. Open to me! Your wound has made us close! Now, let us grow even closer.…
Death could feel the canine’s consciousness retreating fearfully from Him, fleeing to Thaddeus as he sought comfort from his Companion.
And that was when Death struck.
The God followed the canine’s deep and mystical connection with his Companion directly to Thaddeus’s mind. Once there, Death carefully, gently, probed—and was instantly rewarded by the knowledge that this mortal’s mind hungered for one thing beyond all else: power. Which meant Thaddeus was ripe for Harvest.
You can have more, Death whispered to the Hunter. You deserve more. All you need is power.…
“We need more power!” Thaddeus’s sharp voice echoed back to the God as Death listened to Thaddeus lecture the men gathered around him. “If we’re going to build the Tribe back to what it used to be, we need more power.”
“What kind of power do you mean, Thaddeus?” a man asked.
“Leadership! The only kind of power that counts,” Thaddeus said.
“That’s already happened,” said another man. “You’re the Leader of us, your Hunters, now.”
“I’m not talking about just being Lead Hunter,” Thaddeus said. “I’m talking about Leading the Tribe.”
“Sounds good, but it’ll never happen,” said the first man. “Not as long as our Companions are Terriers and not Shepherds.”
Death felt the surge of anger that flooded Thaddeus. Yes, you should be angry, the God prodded. Embrace it! Accept it! Use it! And don’t let them tell you what you can’t do.
“Stop telling me what I can’t do!” Thaddeus’s anger exploded around him.
Into an uncomfortable silence, another Hunter spoke up.
“Uh, Thaddeus, I heard that some of the people are saying we need to do what that Scratcher girl said—swear that we won’t take captives anymore and grant her safe passage so that she can heal our wounded.”
“That bitch is the reason the fire started and the reason Odysseus is wounded. If she comes back here it should be at the end of a rope.” Thaddeus spit the words at them.
Yes, Death murmured.
“But she can wield sunfire. How do we force her to do anything?”
You can force her if you have more power, Death whispered.
“Let me figure that out—that’s what a leader does,” Thaddeus said.
That’s right, Death said. All you need is more power.
“She may have called down sunfire, but she’s a Scratcher. And a woman. I’ll take care of that bitch.”
Yes! Death goaded. Yes-s-s-s-s-s.…
The God quickly became bored as Thaddeus continued to bluster and pontificate, and His attention shifted, turning inward. Searching … searching … searching …
Always searching for his sleeping Consort.
He found her so swiftly that it surprised Him. She was there, just at the edge of His consciousness. The Great Earth Mother, giver of Life, His eternal lover, reclined on her side in the center of a moss-carpeted grove. Her naked skin was the color of moonlight. Her dark hair was a glistening river of silk that poured past her smooth shoulders to wash around her waist. Her breasts were full and perfect. Her eyes were closed in sleep, and her lips curved up, as if he’d caught her in the middle of a sweet dream.
My Consort! How I have missed you! Death said.
Ah, my love. I hear Your voice outside my mind, but cannot find You in my dreams. You no longer sleep?
No! I have taken a warrior’s body and, my Consort, I have found a body fit for you, as well. Soon I will ask you to awaken, to join me in the flesh so that we may rule the world of mortals side by side and be worshipped as we were worshipped too, too long ago!
The sleeping Goddess’s full, beautiful lips lost their smiling curve and her brow furrowed in distress.
My love, that cannot be. Do you not remember what happened when last You awakened? The world burned and was almost destroyed by Death.
But that was only because you refused to wake as well. With Life by my side, it will be much different.
No, my love, no. Death and Life cannot exist together except in our dreams. You know this—we know this. The sleeping Goddess stirred and languidly opened her arms. Leave the warrior’s body. Sleep again where we can forever be entwined.
Death reacted instinctively to Life’s invitation. He craved her—He would eternally crave her. She was everything He wasn’t. He had to have her. He had to possess her!
He reached for her, but His movement broke His trance and He shouted in grief and frustration as the lush Goddess faded into mist and He was jolted to consciousness.
“My Lord! I found sign of hog—”
Death moved quicker than the human eye could follow. His massive hand closed around Iron Fist’s throat and He lifted the man from the ground.
“Never wake me!”
Iron Fist sputtered and tried to speak, but his eyes rolled to show white and his body went limp. Disgusted at human weakness, Death dropped him, growling, “You are my Blade. You do not have permission to die!”
Iron Fist’s heart began to beat again. He gulped air and coughed, rubbing his throat with a trembling hand. “F-forgive me, my Lord,” he rasped.
“You are forgiven. Rise and report.”
Iron Fist staggered to his feet, gasping. “I-I found hogs. As You said, n-near the stream where You killed the boar.”
“Excellent! Lizard, your time is here.”
The sick man rolled over and then sat, looking blankly around as if he wasn’t sure where he was. Then his eyes found the God and he struggled to his feet.
“I am ready, my Lord.”
“Iron Fist, take us to the hogs. Remember to stay downwind. They must not scent Lizard.”
It didn’t take the three of them long to find the hog wallow. It was indeed close to the crossing point in the stream where Dead Eye had killed the enormous boar just the day before. There was a run-off area near a dam of flotsam that had created a muddy pool surrounded by dense brush. As they crept close, they could hear grunting and a few muffled squeals. The God went to His hands and knees, crawling the last few feet with the two men beside Him doing the same.
The God gazed through the brush to see one large red sow wallowing happily in the mud with two piglets at her side. He turned to Lizard and spoke fast and low. “She is exactly what we need. Stay here, but when I call for you, you must come to me with no hesitation. Stand behind me wherever I am—whatever is happening. Can you do that?”
“Yes, my Lord.” Lizard’s eyes were shining brightly with equal parts fever and excitement. “I cannot wait to be healed by the flesh of the beast, just as You healed my brothers.”
The God said nothing to Lizard. Instead, He commanded Iron Fist, “You remain here. No matter what—do not come to the wallow.”
“I understand, my Lord.”
The God began to crawl, moving with speed and stealth that shouldn’t have been possible for such a large man. Soon He was within arm’s distance of the wallow. There He paused, waiting in absolute stillness until the piglets wandered close to Him.
Death erupted from the ground, surging forward so quickly that He had no trouble snatching up each piglet. They squealed their terror as He held them aloft by their hind legs.
“Come to me, Lizard!” the God bellowed as the sow turned her massive head toward Him, roaring in anger.
Lizard did not hesitate. The diseased man ran toward his God as if his life depended on it, coming to a halt behind Death as he had been ordered.
The God dangled the piglets, swinging them around in front of Him, causing them to squeal deafeningly.
The sow responded immediately. She bared her teeth, lowered her head, and charged the God, but just before she reached Him Death lunged to the side.
Lizard, too sick—too human—to move with the God’s speed, could do nothing but scream as the sow rammed him. He fell backward, exposing his belly to the ferocious beast, who began shredding his stomach. His entrails spilled like fat, pink serpents from his body as he screamed over and over and over until the God cried “Enough!” and the sow’s body was lifted from behind and tossed to the other side of the wallow, where she got slowly to her feet, shaking her massive head, preparing to charge again.
“My Lord! Save me!” Lizard cried.
Death tossed the piglets into the brush behind Him. “Iron Fist! Do not let them get away!” Then He bent and took the Lizard’s face between His hands. “Know that you have helped save your People.”
“But I want to live!” he gurgled through bloody froth that spewed from his lips.
“Ah, but Death has called you. I honor and accept your sacrifice, your strength, your spirit.” The God kissed Lizard’s forehead softly. “Behold Death’s merciful blow!” In one motion the God twisted Lizard’s head, cleanly breaking his neck.
Then the God faced the charging sow, shaking out the rope He’d carried wrapped around His waist. She didn’t seem to notice He no longer held her babies. Her eyes were completely red with rage, just as her muzzle and teeth were red with Lizard’s diseased blood. She came at the God. Again He sidestepped easily, this time throwing a noose around her head, jerking it tight, and pulling the huge creature off her feet. Placing His knee on her neck, He pinned her to the mud, staring into her eyes.
Death smiled.
“I see myself already within you. The rest will happen quickly. I am sorry for your suffering but know it is not without reason.” He raised his voice, calling into the thicket above the squeals of the terrified piglets, “Do you have them, Iron Fist?”
“I do, my Lord!” Iron Fist stood, holding the struggling, squealing piglets tightly.
“Come closer, but only near enough for the sow to see that you have her young.”
Iron Fist obeyed. The God turned the sow’s head, lifting it so that she could see her screaming babies.
“When I release her, run toward the City in the Trees—lead the sow to the Others!”
Understanding flashed through Iron Fist’s eyes. “I will, my Lord.”
“Now!” the God shouted as He freed the sow. She surged to her feet. Roaring with rage, she ignored Death. Choosing her young instead of revenge, she charged after Iron Fist, who sprinted away.
Back as they had come.
Back to the hungry, wounded, waiting Tribe of the Trees.
Content, Death stepped over Lizard’s body, leaving it to sink into the blood and the mud as He went to the stream, washing Himself while he anticipated the return of Iron Fist and the beginning of His People’s new future.
“Four days,” He said to Himself. “In four days the disease will have fully infested the Others. Thaddeus will be completely mine. Then will be time to strike. Then I will lead the People from the ruins of the poisoned City and into the trees. And then I will awaken my Consort, who will rule beside me for eternity, whether She desires to be awakened or not!”