Daughter of the Moon (The Moon People, Book Two) (52 page)

Come out of your mountain, demon!
he tried to yell, the words emerging from his throat in a wild howl, the bloodcurdling sound echoing off the valley walls over the noise of the flames. In the violet light of the monster's features he saw women dressed in seers' garb standing on the valley slopes around him, and more wolves edging forward to join them. They suddenly seemed insignificant, paling in comparison to the burning beast Adel had wrenched from the spirit world to be her guardian. It was the only foe he cared for in that moment. He longed to fight it. No greater glory had ever befallen him. But even with his mind fogged by the bitter smoke, even burning with so much furious strength, the alpha knew that he faced more wolves than any one man could fight. So many of them, and yet none had the courage to attack him. The night was young still, and his warriors had yet to taste any blood of their own. They would fight Adel's followers for him, and then he would destroy the witch and her spirit demon himself.

He reverted from the shape of his wolf, teeth still bared in a challenging grin to his foes. Spreading his palms wide, he turned his back on them, inviting anyone with the courage to finish him where he stood. Not a single paw moved. Not even the demon had the bravery to attack Alpha Miral.

There was no urgency to his step as he walked back into the darkness, for why would he need it? A greater glory than he had ever known awaited him, and before long he would embrace it.

"To your alpha's side, my warriors!" he bellowed into the darkness. "Tonight your leader tastes the blood of a demon!"

* * *

The flare of violet light was so strong that Netya and her companions glimpsed it all the way from the end of the valley. They knew the den mother had been preparing more of her spirit fire ever since they returned from the gathering, but from the sight of it she looked to have ignited an entire pyre of the magic powder.

The anxious wails of Miral's wolves increased in volume, and Netya wished she could see exactly what kind of spectre Adel had conjured to frighten them. Surely now their enemies would turn and flee?

When the commotion near the centre of the valley reached their ears Selo put out a hand to stop Netya, tugging on Meadow's tail to make her come back as well.

"It may be too late now, anyway," she whispered.

Netya nodded her understanding. They did not want to continue down the slope to the valley floor if Miral and his followers were about to come back in their direction. She clutched her spear close to her chest, barely daring to breathe as she strained to pick out any signs of movement in the darkness below them. They had almost reached the end of the valley, past the thickest tangle of trees and undergrowth where the land began to open out again. With a little luck they would be safe upon their hidden perch in the rocks, but as soon as they ventured down they would be putting themselves directly in harm's way.

The moments passed, distant cries still echoing off the valley walls beyond the trees, but not a leaf on the near side stirred. The violet glow simmered in the distance, turning rapidly more orange as the spirit powder fuelling it burned away.

"It didn't work," Meadow said fearfully after reverting from the shape of her wolf. "I knew it was too much to hope for. We must go back—"

"Remember our task," Selo whispered, squeezing the older woman's shoulder.

"Ura was helping the den mother with her fires," Meadow continued to fret. "Do you think she will have time to flee?"

"The men will protect them," Netya replied, her mouth starting to feel very dry. "They would lay down their lives for the others."

Selo gave her a sympathetic look, but Meadow's gaze remained fixed on the distant glow of the fires, biting at her fingernails as she trembled on the spot.

"If Miral's wolves are still here then we should continue," Netya said. "Selo knows where to find the bear."

The other young seer nodded. "His den is close by, but perhaps the commotion has already roused him. Be quick on your feet."

Netya tucked her spear out of sight in their hiding place before following the others down the precarious climb to the valley floor. It was not a long distance, but it required the use of hands rather than paws to traverse the steep incline of the cracked rock. Once they were safely down all three of them took the shapes of their wolves, and immediately a wave of overpowering scents buffeted Netya's nostrils. Even from here the smoke from the burning herbs tasted bitter in the air, and it was overlaid with the smells of a great many unfamiliar wolves. Phantoms of musky fur and hot breath lingered in the wake of Miral's pack, so many distinct odours that Netya feared to try and count them. Beneath all of that, however, was a richer scent. One that felt like it had seeped into the surrounding land over a great many years.

Though she had become accustomed to tracking by smell, it was clear that Selo had far more experience than Netya by the way she instinctively latched on to the bear's scent, picking out the freshest trail and following it first to the beast's cave, then away toward the centre of the valley. It seemed he had been roused by the passing of Miral's pack after all, and it was not long before Selo froze, lowering her body to the ground and flicking her muzzle forward.

There, sniffing around the edge of the forest, Netya's night eyes made out the shape of the lumbering bear a moderate distance ahead of them. She had only glimpsed their valley's fellow occupant a few times from afar, and always with the intention of putting as much distance between him and herself as possible. Now that she planned on getting even closer, however, she realised how truly vast and intimidating the creature was. The forest bears near her old village had been smaller, and if they were hunted it was when they were still young and made for easy prey, before they grew large enough to kill a man with a single swipe of their claws.

This one was far from young. Shaggy and muscular, he dwarfed even the largest of the Moon People's oversized wolves with his bulk. Despite his slow, almost weary-looking movements, Netya had been warned many times that a bear could easily chase down a fleeing man. A man, but not a wolf.

Selo, who had been watching and luring the beast for many days now, edged forward and let out a low bark. The bear turned his head, slumping back down from the tree he had been sniffing at. He watched them in silence. Selo edged a few steps forward, and the bear let out a warning growl. Every inch of Netya's body itched for her to run, her wolf's instincts writhing like snakes beneath her skin, but she willed herself to be still. She had come a long way since the night she bolted from the flooding cave.

The bear regarded them with a look that almost reminded Netya of the intelligence seen in the wolves of her own kind. He was an old and cunning beast, that much was clear, the strange arrival of so many unfamiliar scents and sounds having made him cautious rather than aggressive. But he was still a wild animal, and after another taunting bark from Selo the bear roared and lunged toward her. Just as they had discussed when Selo explained their plan earlier that day, the three women broke apart and dashed in different directions, Meadow a tad slower and less steady on her paws than her companions.

The bear was quick, but even his sudden charge seemed almost half-hearted, as though the beast's apprehension was still holding him back. While at first Netya had been running full-out, she soon had to force herself to slow a little before she lost sight of the bear behind her. The three of them doubled back around the edges of the valley, pausing to provoke the bear again when it began to lose interest, leading it slowly into the forest.

Now the truly dangerous part of their task began, and only Netya's fear over what might be happening back at the den kept her resolve intact. The plan had been simply to lure the bear into the path of Miral's warriors if they were able, but the time for that had long since passed. If their enemies showed no sign of retreating back past the bear, then it seemed their only chance was to lead him directly to them.

This is madness,
Netya's breathless thoughts insisted in the back of her mind, but she paid them no heed. If Miral had not fled, then he must be fighting. And a fight with the powerful alpha was not a fight her clan could win. Not without the aid of something greater than any warrior in Miral's pack.

She could hear Selo running just out of sight to her left, making for one of the safe spots through which she could circumvent the stretch of forest filled with traps. Meadow was somewhere just behind them, the bear's rumbling growls following her.

Up ahead Netya glimpsed the glow of the bonfires, the smoky stench of burning herbs making it difficult to smell anything else. She tried to keep her muzzle close to the ground where the air was fresher, trying not to breathe in the fumes. Then Meadow shot past her, and the bear was chasing Selo once again. He was still a safe distance away, but as Netya slowed to navigate her own safe route through the area of poisoned spikes she caught sight of the brown-furred beast charging ahead of her, sticks splintering beneath his enormous paws as he crushed a pair of the already half-broken traps and sent them tumbling through the air in his wake.

Netya almost choked on her own breath as she caught sight of an unfamiliar wolf through the trees, the creature spitting and snarling as he rolled over in a fight with something. For an instant Netya panicked, moving closer to try and help whichever member of her pack the vicious warrior was wrestling with, but as he rolled over she saw that his jaws were latched around the wooden pole of one of their totems, spittle frothing from the corners of his muzzle as he tore frantically at the ornament of twine and bone.

Shaken, Netya darted away again before the oblivious wolf could notice her, trying to pick up on the sounds of the bear again. He had slowed, made hesitant by the smoke and heat of the nearby bonfires. Both Meadow and Selo were barking at him, trying to coax the creature through the gap between two of the blazing mounds. Surely this was far enough? If they went any farther they risked running into more of Miral's warriors.

Creeping up behind the bear, Netya shadowed his movements as he finally plucked up the courage to venture past the fires. Then, reverting from the shape of her wolf and hastily clutching a handful of clothing across her face, she ran to the nearest bonfire and scanned the area for the largest piece of unburned wood she could find. The damp base of the pyre had still not caught alight, and several sturdy branches poked out on one side of the flames. Tucking the end of a steaming bough beneath her free arm, she heaved with all her might, the scars left by Kin's claws protesting painfully at the sudden exertion. A cascade of burning foliage spilled across the forest floor, scattering the contents of the bonfire far and wide. Hoping that Meadow and Selo would realise what she was doing, she dropped the heavy branch and dashed to the next bonfire, repeating what she had done again as she fought against the ever-growing nausea of the smoke that threatened to steal away the clarity of her thoughts and cast her into the spirit world.

By the time she reached the third fire Meadow was already there, struggling to lift one of the branches at the base of the pyre to topple it. With Netya's aid, the weight of the bonfire shifted, spilling the heaped pile of foliage across the ground in a plume of sparks and smoke and fluttering leaves.

"Selo is coming back!" Meadow called over the roar of the collapsing fire, clinging to Netya's arm and pulling her away from the cloud of fumes as their companion's wolf emerged from the darkness and leaped over the trail of burning embers to join them. Without the eyes of her wolf Netya could no longer see the bear, but his agitated growling indicated that her idea had worked. With the contents of the bonfires scattered over twice as much ground as they had been previously, the animal suddenly seemed far less inclined to cross back over to his side of the forest.

"Come, we have done all we can," Netya panted, dizziness threatening to pull her off balance. "Let us hope he finds one of Miral's warriors to chase now."

Sticking close to one another to ensure than none of their trio wandered, the three women took the shapes of their wolves and retreated back to the far end of the valley, making for the safety of their hiding spot.

—35—

Broken Spirits

Not a single one of Miral's followers seemed to have endured the valley unscathed. Those who were not lost within the trance of the spirit world either cowered in fear or struggled to help fallen companions. Without their alpha to guide them, they had succumbed to the magic of the cursed place, some losing their will to fight while others grew too aggressive to listen to reason. Miral wrested a pair of his warriors apart with his bare hands as they struggled to tear out each other's throats, striking one to the ground with a hard blow to the muzzle before forcing the other to look him in the eyes. The alpha's wild gaze was enough to make the young man put his teeth away, overwhelming the compulsion of whatever spirit vision he was caught in.

One wolf at a time, he gathered his pack back to his side. He would have his victory. His blood pumped hot and thick in his veins, urging him to turn back and scale the valleyside to where the demon loomed over him. He would tear its skull apart with his claws. Eat the fire that spilled from its eye sockets. He could almost taste it filling him up, burning his body and tempering it with the power of the spirits. The witches only knew how to beckon such power, but they lacked the strength to crush it and take it for their own.