Daughter of the Moon (The Moon People, Book Two) (51 page)

They had no respite to stare in awe at the lights that now littered both sides of the valley like a swarm of fireflies. By the time Meadow tipped her last few coals into the final fire Netya's eyes were watering from the smoke, her ears straining to catch any sound of what might be happening down below. She rose to her feet and glanced back the way they had come, trying to make out the shapes of the largest caves above the den. The ones Adel had been headed to. Still they stood dark and empty.

Selo tugged at her clothing, urging her silently on. They had one more task to perform before they could rest. But as Netya turned away to follow her companions along the valleyside path, a dark shape moved in her peripheral vision. She froze, dropping to her knees with her spear clutched in both hands. Wolves. As she stared she made out more of them, meandering agitatedly like a colony of insects blinded by the sun. The smoke from the forest still clung to them, streaming from their fur in misty whorls. Any semblance of a hunting pack's tight rhythm seemed to have abandoned them as they loped around the lower valley slopes, some whining in confusion while others snapped and barked in anger. They moved with the listlessness of those lost in the spirit world, but Netya knew better than most that the spirit world was only a veil. It made the claws they walked upon and the fangs in their mouths no less sharp.

Keeping a hand on Selo's shoulder, she crept after her companion. Meadow scuttled a few paces ahead in the shape of her wolf, sticking low to the ground where the shadows would conceal her. The way they were headed took them back in the direction Miral's pack had come from, around the edge of the forest to the far end of the valley. A dangerous place to be, but perhaps less dangerous than being caught in the midst of a battle.

It was only then that Netya questioned whether Adel had entrusted her with this task not out of confidence in her ability, but because she wanted to give her apprentice the chance to escape should the worst happen. They would be far from the den. It would be easy to carry on going, skirt around the mountains and flee back into the rugged north. They could even seek out Alpha Turec's pack. He would surely be glad to take them in.

Netya cursed the bleak thoughts, screwing up her face as another gust of acrid smoke blew up the valleyside. If she was forced to run then that would mean Caspian and everyone else she loved was dead, or else claimed by a cruel alpha. Then what would be the point? She would rather join them in the spirit world than face the cold of winter alone.

A lump came to her throat as she crawled along the rocks behind Selo. She would not be alone. Even if she lost everything she cared for, there was still one duty that would bind her to this world. The girl from her vision. The small life growing inside her. It almost hurt more to realise she would never be able to give up. Not while she had a duty to her child. The daughter blessed by Syr's light.

The barking of wolves was growing distant behind them now, replaced by the thick scent of smoke as they skirted the edge of the forest atop a high rock shelf. They were almost there.

Netya cast one last look back over her shoulder before the caves above the den were lost to view, but all she could see was smoke rising from the silhouetted outline of the forest, the valley bathed in the ruddy orange glow of the witches' fires. The night was only just beginning, and already she longed for it to be over.

—34—

Adel's Guardians

Miral's followers were in disarray. The alpha had never seen them so confused, so robbed of their fighting spirit, infected by whatever dark magic Adel was working within her den. As soon as he emerged from the forest he almost tripped over the body of one of his warriors, an old, sinewy beast who had fought at Miral's side through many battles. There was barely a wound on his body, only a handful of broken wooden spikes from the traps peppering his foreleg. It was the kind of injury a wolf like him should have barely felt, and yet he was huddled over on his side, white bubbles of spittle frothing at the corner of his mouth as he twitched in the grass, eyes roving wildly from side to side. Miral snapped his teeth at his fallen follower, digging a forepaw into his shoulder, but the old warrior did not even flinch in response.

Curse the sorceress and her wicked ways. It was one thing to down a foe through noble combat, but quite another to steal his will; to strip away his resolve and reduce him to a shadow of what he was. A violation of everything that made a man a man. Adel would suffer for what she had wrought.

Miral threw his head back and howled to his scattered brethren, calling those who still had their wits about them to his side. Half a dozen answered, but the rest seemed either lost within their own personal nightmares or too frightened to respond. The alpha roared again, rearing up on his hind legs and reverting from the shape of his wolf.

"To your alpha's side, now!"

A few more of the skittish wolves began moving in his direction, red-eyed and panting as they struggled through the smoke.

"What is this spell they have cast upon us?" Nekare gasped, gripping his alpha's shoulder for support as he rose up on two legs beside him.

"The curse of the spirit world." Miral bared his teeth, jerking his head in the direction of the light that burned farther down the valley. "She sends it upon us from the safety of her den, like a coward."

"I saw dark spirits in the forest, the bones of animals
—"

"What will bones do to harm you? A man with the will to stand by my side can match the strength of any spirit. Crush them, tear this dark world of Adel's apart around her!"

A few more of the stragglers began to hurry in Miral's direction, drawn to the confidence in his voice. The light of the bonfires behind them seemed to have grown, illuminating more of the valley despite the thick smoke wafting across the grass like mist. Then Nekare turned his eyes upward, and with a silent finger he pointed to the ghostly lights shimmering above them. As they watched, more began to appear. To Miral's eyes it seemed that the stars themselves were falling, descending from the heavens to burn like tiny suns along the edges of the valley.

"How many warriors does the witch have at her side?" Nekare said.

"Warriors? Those are lights from the sky. Pay them no heed, they will not harm us."

Nekare stared at his alpha in confusion. A forlorn howl went up from one of the wolves who had been returning to Miral's side, and the beast turned tail and dashed back into the forest.

"Forward!" Miral urged. "You cannot run from spirits!"

He staggered a few paces away from the trees, clutching his head as it pounded with the ache of the cursed smoke. Every moment that passed changed the quality of the world around him. The earth beneath his feet seemed to move, rippling like the skin of a slumbering animal. The sky blazed like fire. Drawing in a heavy breath of the bitter air, he roared again, clenching his weathered palms into fists as he strode onward. He did not need his wolf. He would put an end to the sorceress's magic with his bare hands.

The strongest of his warriors followed on behind him, barely a third of their whole number, but more than enough to fight a handful of weak-willed women. They were not far from the light he had seen at the other end of the valley, though the dark made it difficult to judge exactly how far they had come. When he looked up to the sky he was blinded by light, and when he looked down again the grass beneath his feet seemed blacker than the darkest nightmare.

A tiny rushing sound pricked the air, and the shadows came alive and lashed out at him. The alpha jerked instinctively to one side as something hissed forward, long and sharp, like the fang of a giant cat. No, not a fang. A weapon of the Sun People. Miral stopped in his tracks as the thin throwing spear reverberated in the ground a few paces behind him. His followers broke apart, the one closest to the javelin barking in terror and bolting back the way he had come.

A second rush of air preceded another spear, this one burying itself in Nekare's flank. The man, now returned to his animal form, let out a throaty growl of pain, kicking his hind leg to try and work the pointed shaft loose as he staggered and blood ran down his side.

Miral snorted in frustration, leaping into the shape of his wolf and charging toward where the attack had come from. Spears of the Sun People were not thrown by demons. It was a trick, another deception, and even the reeling mind of his animal half could not distract him from the taste of flesh he now scented on the wind. Footfalls pattered up ahead. Hurried, panicked. The alpha growled with satisfaction, driving his paws against the ground as he closed the gap between them. Were his warriors still at his side? He cared not. His thoughts were fogged, able to focus on only one thing: the victory that awaited him up ahead.

Miral's surroundings began to take on more clarity now that the lights in the sky were behind him. Something was roaring to his left. A rush of water spilling down the valleyside? Or perhaps a torrent of blood. It had a strange tang in his muzzle, like everything in this forsaken place. His paws carried him uphill, over remnants of wood shavings and well-trodden grass. A great series of caves loomed out of the shadows on the valleyside, and at their foot stood the shapes of two men holding spears and an enormous wolf beside them, the beast so vast in size that it too must have been conjured from the spirit world.

Weak spirits
, Miral's thoughts raged,
fight me. Fight me!

A spear ripped through the air toward him, but he dodged to one side and the clumsy throw missed by several yards. The second man drew back to throw his spear, but by then Miral was almost on top of them. Before the weapon could leave his hand the alpha lunged, throwing himself upon the enormous wolf that barrelled forward to meet him without any thought for caution or grace. Something sharp dragged along his lower body, perhaps the beast's claws, but Miral barely felt it. He sunk his teeth through his adversary's neck fur and tore loose a piece of flesh, spitting out blood and hair as he kicked himself away from the crumpling wolf and set his eyes upon the two men.

"Eyan!" a female voice called, and a sandy-haired woman bolted from the darkness to rush to the fallen beast's side, a young girl trailing after her. Miral ignored them, snapping his jaws closed around the haft of the first man's spear before he could bring the point forward, crunching through the wood and driving the man down against the rocks. His forepaws hit his adversary's chest with a fleshy crack as the alpha's full weight slammed atop him, and the panicked wheeze of breath that left the man's throat signalled that his body was too broken to continue the fight.

Only one more remained, an overgrown boy by the looks of him, eyes filled with fear, a single streak of blonde hair quivering where it fell against his cheek.

Wild-eyed and with blood streaming from his muzzle, Miral lunged at him, expecting the young man to bolt. But the warrior stood his ground, taking the shape of his wolf and placing himself squarely between the alpha and the two women kneeling beside the fallen spirit beast.

Miral drew back his muzzle from his teeth, licking his jaws and he circled the small group, letting the bloodlust burn inside him, growing stronger, fuelling his body with the same otherworldly strength that had allowed him to defeat the spirit Octavia's seers had pitted against him. None of his warriors had kept up with him, that much was clear now, but it did not matter. He would kill these ones, then gather the rest of his pack to him. Once they were emboldened by their alpha's victory, there would be no man or spirit that could stop them.

But before Miral could lunge again, another brown-furred body streaked out of the darkness, a flash of teeth swiping at his muzzle so fast it almost drew blood. The alpha dodged back, turning to face his new attacker with a savage growl. He licked his muzzle again, tongue lolling ravenously as he panted for breath. He recognised the wolf facing him. One of those from the gathering. The male who had bested the son of Alpha Ulric.

At last, a true warrior.

Miral rose up on his hind paws, emptying his lungs in a roar so ferocious it made the young warrior protecting the others recoil in fear. Yet the alpha's opponent stood his ground, cunning eyes studying the dark-furred wolf as if he were a craftsman appraising a piece of flint, weighing exactly when and where he would strike his first blow.

But no blow came, neither from Miral nor his adversary. Before either one of them could act, a light the colour of violet flowers spilled through the darkness above them, casting long shadows upon the surrounding rocks as it flickered and danced. It was a familiar light. A kind he had seen only one woman conjure.

Where are you, Sorceress?

The alpha turned his eyes skyward, and before him the valleyside erupted in spirit fire, the dark caves up above filling with its glow as three great pyres blazed to life. No, not pyres. Eyes. The eyes of a demon the likes of which Miral had never conceived. They smouldered within sockets of stone, the creature's skull forcing its way out of the cliff like a skeleton stripped of flesh, sharp stalactite jaws cast into relief by the tongue of violet fire that spilled forth from its gaping maw. And standing between the monster's teeth, arms spread wide as if inviting it to devour her, was the shape of a woman wearing a fox-pelt headdress.

Such a demon. Such a power to summon this magic. It was only then that Miral understood the true breadth of Adel's skill. She was a sorceress without rival, a seer among seers, perhaps the most powerful woman ever born of their people. And the alpha knew he had to have her power. It would be his, or else it would be destroyed by his hand.