Nevermor (37 page)

The arrow hadn’t done much to the creature other than distract it,
but in that time, Henry became determined.  He clenched the sword a little
tighter in his fist and narrowed his eyes, ready to unleash all of his
aggression that had been pent-up for so long.  He was ready.

The creature remembered him and turned its head, recognizing him
as an intruder in its den – and potential prey – but Henry had already raised
the sword well before it snapped at him again.  He slashed it through its
mouth, cutting its jaws.

The rat-beast hissed and spat blood, but Henry was not done with
it.  He couldn’t wait for the monster to act on the pain that it felt.  He was
much smaller than it was.  He was angry – so
angry
!  He had to kill it
now!

Roaring for the rage he felt inside, Henry raised the sword and
sliced down.  His art was without finesse, but he did well to draw more blood. 
He slashed away at the creature, releasing all the frustration that had ever
been inside him, especially of late.

He would have to admit that something primal took over him in that
moment.  He felt what the very first men must have discovered when they founded
a new world, but it never occurred to Henry to doubt that he had that inside
him.  He’d always known that he could take care of himself.  He hadn’t lived a
day beyond his parents’ guardianship without relying on instincts.

When the beast was finally lying dead on the ground in front of
him, he knew he was not done.  Those others above were not his friends, and he
knew he needed more than the bronze sword to defend himself.  They might take
that away from him, but perhaps if he had a weapon that the rest of them didn’t
know about, he could stand against them.

Working quickly, Henry moved toward the dead beast’s maw and
showed no hesitation near its open mouth.  He took hold of one of the large
fangs inside and began to jar it back and forth, loosening it in the socket. 
He used the sword to slice away at the gums and finally the tooth was in hand.  It
was long and sharp, and would work as a small dagger that he could hide away in
case he needed its help later.

“You’d better come on,” he heard a voice say, sounding hollow in
the underground.  When he looked up, he could not see any of them.  “They live
in groups, you know.”

Was that some unspoken law?  All terrible creatures lived in
groups.  There couldn’t be only one.  There had to be a pack.

Just like them.

He tucked the fang away in the side of his pants and dashed to the
end of the tunnel where he could see the light.  He thought he heard more
disturbances in the earth around him, but he wondered if it was only his
imagination because they had planted that seed in his head.

Henry climbed up
the far bank, grunting and angry, his heart pounding.  He saw the ones who had
left him to the mercy of the creature below.  He focused on them, holding the
sword tightly in his hand, determined that they would not take it away from
him.

I’m going to get
them for this!

Henry emerged
from the pit as a newling, fully charged by his anger.  He moved toward them
with the sword in hand, ready to cut each and every one of them for putting him
down there, but he was met with a reaction he hadn’t expected.

As he seethed,
they were
cheering
for him.

“Great job,
mate!”

“You actually
took care of it faster than I expected.  Nice work!”

The wild boys
applauded and praised him, but Henry was so angry with them that he wanted to
jump on them with the blade and cut out their tongues.  When they approached,
he went on the defensive, but they all smacked him on the shoulders and told
him he had done well.  He was confused by them, not knowing how to react.  They
didn’t hate him anymore?  They were actually pleased?

They tried to
kill me!

But he hadn’t
died.  He had fought through it and survived.  That was what they’d wanted to
see.

“Look, he
already took his first trophy,” Finn said.  He had noticed the fang tucked away
and snatched it out to show the rest of them.  “He’s a natural!”

Henry stole it
back from him, feeling suddenly protective of it even though he still had the
sword, and that was when he understood.

I did it,
he thought then,
feeling proud in light of the revelation.
  I proved that I’m strong!

Holding the fang
that he’d taken from the beast he’d killed, he felt a sense of pride in
himself.  Henry began to smile.

Nix stepped in
front of him and reached out toward his neck.  The boy flinched and leaned
away, but Nix only put his finger in the blood that had splattered on him.  He
reached back in and drew a line down Henry’s nose before the boy could think to
block it.

“Welcome to the Pack,”
Nix said, and the others reacted.

They all lifted
up their heads and began to howl, and Henry found that once his confusion
slipped away, he was more exhilarated than he had been in his life.  He’d not
had true friends in years, and he’d not been praised for an accomplishment in
nearly as long.  They had found him worthy, and he wanted this.  He joined in
with them, letting himself be as loud as he pleased, and the rest were as rambunctious
as he was.

They left the
pit in a frenzy, moving back toward the tunnels but not caring if the woods
knew of their presence.  Henry was amazed at how their dispositions had changed
toward him just because of one kill.  They were no longer giving him evil
glares, but treated him like he belonged.

He knew then
that he was meant for this life.  They were what he had been looking for; he
just hadn’t known it.  He belonged in this family.

When they came
into the den, drunk off their violence, Henry was met with a surprise.  The
twins were there with Max, and there was blond hair all over the floor where
they had shaved the sides of the young boy’s head except for a strip down the
middle where it stood straight up – just like theirs.

The twins turned
toward the group with their identical smiles, and the child with them seemed
just as pleased with his new look, puffing himself up to make his smooth,
shirtless chest look more prominent.

The twins
grinned with impish smiles.

“We’ve adopted
him,” they announced.

I'm through with charts and maps.  I'm done with the stars.  This
is more important, and I have to record it so that I won't forget.  This island
has a habit of taking things away from me.  It eats my memories one by one, but
I cannot let it have all of me.  It seems that every time I go near the boy, I
lose something else, but I can't afford to forget how it all began.  I can't
forget the reason for my hatred.

I think back on it all the time, considering how I got here.  I
still don't know.  I can only guess that those memories of a former life were
taken from me as soon as I found myself here.  But I know what happened after
that.  It's as clear as day to me.

For
years, I have fought against him – that boy that I loathe.  I long to spill his
blood, to make the land drink it up so that it will know that he is not the
master of it any longer.  I have seen what he can do, but he is not the only
one with power over this place.

This
world should be mine, and he is the only thing in my way.

Not
even I can say which one of us was here first. That has always been debated by
the inhabitants of this world.  They know of us both – can tell when we are
near.  They say that the boy made this place, but how can they be sure?  I say
let them have their stories.  They only work to my benefit when they make me
out to be a monster.

Perhaps
it is impossible to say which of us birthed it all, but I know which one of us
needs to go.
 
Already, I've forgotten what happened the last time, but I won’t let that ruin
me again.  I will write down every detail that I can remember so that I can
look back on this when I forget.

Keeping this log,
perhaps I can find a way to end it.  I will learn how to destroy him for good. 
It’s only a matter of time, and that’s all we have in the world.

1

When Wren had
returned to the tunnels, she wasn’t aware that Henry and the others had even
been gone.  She didn’t know that any test had taken place – though she did
notice what the twins had done to Max’s hair, but she let that go after the
initial shock.  They all went to bed, but were up with the sun the next day. 
Rifter had plans for them.

They prepared
themselves for travel and set out across the world.  Wren saw more of the land
that day than she ever had on foot.  The boys pointed things out to her along
the trek, showing her birds and plants and other unusual things like she had
never seen.

Henry kept with
them, taking in everything that they said, and Wren was impressed with how they
had warmed to him.  Max was not able to walk the whole way before getting
tired, but they took turns carrying him, and they didn’t complain of him being
a burden.

Wren didn’t know
why they were traveling so far.  She hadn’t tried to ask where they were going
except in whispers to the others, but they only smiled in response and wouldn’t
say.  Once it started to get dark, they made camp and settled in for the night
in the midst of some trees and rocks, shielded by the fingers of the forest. 
Wren would have liked to be back at the hideaway in her little room with the
comfortable bed, but she supposed she could survive a night of sleeping on the
ground.

The group
huddled around a crackling fire, surrounded by the peaceful sounds of night. 
After eating some dried meat they had brought, the twins took to testing their
shadow mimics against the rocks, throwing up hand gestures to see if the
shadows could predict their move each time.  Not very many times – but a few –
the shadows would get confused, and the boys all found that very amusing. 
Soon, Finn joined in and then Henry, and the whole thing had turned into a
sporting event for the entertainment of the rest.

That’s the most
fun I’ve seen Henry have with his shadow since he was a child,
Wren thought,
hoping at least that they wouldn’t be so loud that they woke up Max, who had
fallen asleep beside her.

Rifter was
seated on her left, close, but not so close that he was touching her.  He was
watching the shadow puppetry, but she inched closer to have his attention.

“Where are we
going, Rifter?” she asked, nudging him playfully.

When he looked
at her, the light flickered across a sly smile that made her heart melt, but
she wondered if that was all she would get from him, just the same as the
others.

“We’re going
back to the beginning,” he answered finally.

“The
beginning?”  The thought of that sent a little thrill through her belly.  That,
to her, meant gaining new information about either him or this place, and she
was excited for that.  “What’s at the beginning?”

He leaned in closer
as if to tell her a secret, brushing her curls back to set his lips next to her
ear – and then he snapped back with a start.  She jumped, thinking that he had
spotted danger, but when she turned, there were only rocks behind them.

“Behave
yourself,” he scolded, and she didn’t know who he was talking to at first, but
then she noticed their shadows that were cast by the fire, reflected on the
rocks.  Hers and his.  They looked perfectly innocent to her, but their
movements had not quite matched their own for a moment.

Rifter shook his
head in disapproval, but he forgot about her question, and she had forgotten it
as well, for it was replaced with a new one.

“You never did
tell me much about the shadows.  I mean, the
mimics
, as you called
them.  What are they really?”

“One of the many
things that have come to this world from a different place,” he replied, giving
his attention back to the fire.  “They take the form of shadows but they have
to ride on our backs because they can’t survive on their own for long without
shape.  They want their own lives, however; and act out whenever they can. 
They mold to us with the intention of getting away, but they rarely do.”

Rifter looked at
her suggestively and she felt her face grow hot.  “I think yours has a very serious
attraction for mine,” he teased.

Wren tried to
look scandalized.  “How do you know it isn’t the other way around?”

“I can just
tell,” he said as if that was good enough.  He smiled and wouldn’t say anything
else.

She shook her
head, but wouldn’t humor him by complaining about it further.

Rifter had
looked past her, letting his eyes fall on Max, who was sleeping there with his
head on her leg.  He looked on at the young boy for a few moments before he
spoke.

“He’s awfully
young,” Rifter mused.  “Perhaps it would be better to let him grow up a bit
before taking the Vow.  I’ve never done that before, but it could be worth
trying.”