Hatam-Ile, 9th of Seventhmoon 3045

The starry skies stretched out cloudless over the desert when Hawk got up and dressed. He hadn’t managed to do more than nap since the afternoon, but he did not feel tired. There was something in those clear, cold nights that kept his mind restless all the way until the first hours of the morning, and there was a rush of relief when he pulled on the light suede boots. He grabbed the quiver and the bow and stepped out, the familiar call of the night singing in his blood.

He headed towards the river, following the sound of its gushing growing louder like a compass. He made no sound as he treaded through the undergrowth, choosing where to place his feet carefully. The moons had set below the horizon, taking their pale light with them, but against his retinas the shadows of the forest still stood out as sharp as ever. He heard the twittering of nocturnal birds in the treetops, the rustling of bark as squirrels and other small animals scuttled up trees, and the trembling of leaves in the whispering wind, which made him shiver.

He could already tell from afar than Onniar, Blueleaf and Silverbrook had crossed the river and stood waiting for him, dressed in all dark colours just like he was. Blueleaf had hidden their long black hair under a hood. Their face blended in with the shadows underneath it so thoroughly that it was hard to tell they were there at all. Silverbrook, too, had covered the silvery-gray hair after which she’d been named.

”You’re early,” Silverbrook said quietly. She didn’t stand up as straight as she used to and her face had grown thinner than Hawk ever recalled it being, but the usual excited gleam in her eyes was there again, just like everytime she carried a bow. It was a relief to see her back on her feet.

Hawk frowned. ”Why is the drawbridge down?”

”We’re getting some helping hands tonight. Let’s wait a while longer,” Onniar replied.

Hawk heard the silent scrape of footfalls on gravel, and knew at once that whoever was approaching was not akheri: an akheri would have had the sense to muffle their footsteps when leaving the inhabited area. Hawk gripped the bow tighter. Ren’i came striding through the city, flanked by Linnee and Yurau, in such laidback manner that he could have been on his way to a festival. All three were carrying Kishan longbows.

”You can’t be serious,” Hawk hissed.

”On the contrary, I am very serious,” Onniar said. He nodded to the newcomers. ”Morning. You’re right on time. We’ll take off together once Blueleaf has let the guard know that the bridge can be raised.”

Ren’i had anticipated passing through a perfectly silent town, but in the early hours of the morning Hatam-Ile was more full of life than it ever was during the day. Though the doors were shut, light filtered from the windows and between pulled curtains, and he’d heard sounds of music, laughter and small children at play emanating from the houses. Merchants’ stalls stood on the square waiting for the next day, and youngsters sat around the empty fountain, chatting with one another.

Ren’i hadn’t bothered mentioning the invitation to the captain – he’d had more than enough digesting to do with the huntsmaster’s suggestions – and had snuck out of the camp together with Linnee and Yurau, silent as shadows.

He couldn’t see as well in the dark as the akheris with their cat-like eyes, and it took a moment until he spotted them on the other side of the bridge. They were dressed head to toe in black. Ren’i had obeyed Onniar’s order to wear something dark, but was now privately regretting the one-sleeved top. The ground was covered in frost here and there, and the air turned white everytime anyone exhaled, a perfect contrast to the day’s heat.

”You all know how to shoot?” Onniar asked in a whisper. All three nodded. ”Good. Hawk, you go first. You three, follow me and keep your eyes peeled. Shoot nothing until I’ve given you permission.”

Hawk dissolved into the night like a ghost, not bothering to wait for them. The others headed for the dark forest at his heels.

Ren’i stayed firmly behind Onniar’s back, keeping the bow at the ready and trying to mimick the man’s half-crouched position as best as he could while they proceeded down narrow animal trails. He had no idea how the akheris could see past their noses: it was pitch dark in the woods, and Ren’i’s eyes caught nothing but the outlines of trunks and rocks. He almost walked into Onniar when the akheris paused to crouch behind large boulders after trekking in perfect silence for twenty minutes.

”Wait,” Onniar whispered and put his hand on Ren’i’s shoulder. Ren’i shuddered despite himself. He was still not accustomed to how casual akheris were with physical touch.

”What is it?” Ren’i asked in such low tones that it could have been just the breeze rustling the leaves.

Onniar grasped his shoulder and pointed. ”Watch carefully. Up there, do you see?”

Ren’i squinted, searching for the spot Onniar was pointing at. At first, all he could make out were nothing but shapeless shadows: treetops, rocks, the sharp edges of a rising cliff that jutted out towards the sky like a troll tusk. Something made one of the pine branches swing, something big and dark, and for an instant Ren’i thought of desert wolves and cougars and all other beasts that southern forests were presumably full of, at least according to his books. A pair of eyes gleamed in the dark and glanced in their direction, as though knowing they were there. Ren’i gripped the longbow in his hands until the figure moved, a long braid falling over one shoulder.

”Now I do,” he breathed, recognising Hawk. He sat at a fork in the tree and made a small hand gesture. ”What’s he doing?”

”Reporting,” Onniar replied. The grin he flashed Ren’i’s way was white and sharp in the dark. ”He’s got sharper eyes than anyone else in Hatam-Ile. Hence the name.”

Hawk crept down the branch in a crouch, his movements slow and steady. Ren’i held his breath as Hawk leapt, flew through the air, and landed on the cliff as silently as some great feline beast. Hawk stood still for a moment, observing the terrain below.

”Let’s go,” Onniar said when Hawk repeated the hand gesture.

Ren’i waited with his bow drawn for Linnee and Yurau to sneak past the rocks after the akheris before following them. He tried to force himself to see something in the dark. Though he’d walked the northern woods all his life, he felt constantly as though he was two paces behind. There was nothing familiar in the Hytherlands. No birches, no maples, no thousand-year-old oaks or willows of the old-growth forests. Noises of the night-time woodlands – the missing twittering of gold thrushes, the rustle of strange animals among branches and the vegetation – sounded odd, wrong. Even the wind in the leaves had them singing to a different melody entirely.

At least he’d finally escaped the sand. The soil was soft despite the frost and his feet at last found the correct rhythm, finding all the right places to step in without making a sound almost on their own. He felt clumsy, too small and stretched out in his own body on the unpredictable wasteland soil.

The cliff rose in a gentle slope, higher and higher, and Ren’i was out of breath when they reached the top. He didn’t need akheri eyes to see that the cliff ended abruptly, or the long drop towards the black maw of the forest waiting below. Hawk was sitting on the edge, staring unblinking into the darkness, as though waiting for something. Ren’i shivered, and it was not just the cold. Even in the dark Hawk’s eyes were strangely bright, and Ren’i knew he saw things that Ren’i’s own eyes never would.

Ren’i had never fully understood how akheris differed from the demon folk if you didn’t count their lifespans and the small, superficial physical differences between the two species. The understanding that hit him was like an abyss ripping open between them, deeper and more permanent than the drop right at his feet, and Ren’i couldn’t look away from it.

”Sit down,” Onniar said to him in a normal voice, suddenly pulling him back to reality.

”No need to keep whispering, then?” Ren’i asked.

Onniar shook his head. ”We can take it easy for now. There’s no game around, leastways not yet. We’ll stay above the wind and let the woods get accustomed to our presence.”

They sat in small groups and waited. The akheris pulled out provisions from their backpacks and Ren’i realised he hadn’t even thought about bringing anything. Onniar had likely prepared for this eventuality, for there was enough food for him, Linnee and Yurau as well. Ren’i accepted his pastry with some embarrassment and tried not to notice the huntsmaster’s amused look.

The cold of the night was biting even through his clothes, stiffening his fingers. He twirled the bow in his hands, checking the bowstring twice, thrice, five times, just to give his hands something to do and keep them warm. Yurau blew warm air into her hands, rubbing them together all the time. Next to her Linnee sat still as expressionless as ever, but even she had started to shiver.

”I thought you people would tolerate the cold a little better than that,” Silverbrook said, stuffing a piece of bread in her mouth. Light strands of hair had escaped her hood and frost had started forming on them.

Linnee didn’t so much as glance at her as she said coldly, ”we know that you’re not supposed to stay still in the cold, should you wish to stay alive.”

The tiny akheri woman chuckled. ”And we know that outdoors clothing should come with two sleeves.” She examined the tattoos on Ren’i’s bare arm curiously. ”Our stories say that Quan taught his demons to control fire. Can’t you just keep yourselves warm with willpower?”

Ren’i couldn’t help smiling. Yes, in his dreams he could feel the fire searing his skin, but it was just that – a dream. No matter how he tried in the waking world, he could not even light the lantern in his tent. He’d not dreamt of deserts and firestorms for the past couple of nights, which was a relief. The dream always woke him long before sunrise, and he was never able to go back to sleep again.

”Reality’s often less exciting than stories,” he said. He tapped the fresh tattoo on his shoulder. ”My father says that Quan’s fire still burns inside us, somewhere deep down. Our ashay is Quan’s gift to us.”

”Ashay?” Silverbrook asked.

Linnee looked stupefied. ”Don’t you know what that is?”

Silverbrook and Blueleaf glanced at each other. Linnee could only barely stop herself from rolling her eyes.

”Ashay, the spark, is the core of a taivashi’s lifeforce,” Ren’i explained. Instinctively, he placed a hand over his heart. ”It grants us our long lives – protects us from illnesses and aging. Every taivashi has it.”

”Oh. Well, doesn’t sound so special if you ask me,” Blueleaf said bluntly, narrow eyes narrowing even further. ”How on earth do you stay alive during those long northern winters if not with magic, then?”

The question was so sincere that Ren’i burst out laughing.

Onniar had joined Hawk at the other end of the cliff. He sat down next to Hawk and held out the last remaining pastry. ”Eat something.”

Hawk shook his head.

”Well, your loss. I’ll eat it myself, then,” Onniar said. The pastry disappeared in his mouth in one piece.

”Why did you bring them here?” Hawk growled between gritted teeth.

”They want to learn. Lose their lives at this rate, they will, if they don’t learn the ways of the desert, poor devils.”

”All the better for us.”

Onniar was silent for a long time. He sighed.

”I know what you’re thinking,” he said, lowering his voice so that the others couldn’t hear. ”But clinging to hate solves nothing. Nothing ever changes if we don’t try to do something ourselves. And if even one of them’s willing to learn, if even one’s ready to listen, isn’t that alone worth a shot?”

”They’re monsters,” Hawk hissed, voice quivering with rage. ”We’re nothing in their eyes. Nothing! They don’t even see us as living beings!”

”Maybe so. Maybe many of them do think that way,” Onniar admitted. ”But old Tamal used to say that every rain shower begins with a single drop. Maybe all it takes sometimes is just one person who’s ready to change.”

Hawk inhaled slowly through his nose and tried to force himself to calm down. It was a short-lived attempt. Ren’i’s laughter rang out in the night all of a sudden and broke the silence. The fluttering of wings from a nearby tree announced a pair of starlings taking off in fright. Despite himself Hawk glared at Ren’i, who was leaning towards Blueleaf at the moment, and found it impossible to tear his eyes off the man again. Hawk didn’t understand why: in all his irksomeness Ren’i seemed to beg for his attention, like a mosquite buzzing by his ear.

Taivashi, demon, full-blood. No matter what you called him, Hawk could almost give in to superstition and believe in the tales of yore when looking at him. The prince might have stepped out of infernal fire just seconds ago. His hair was a sea of flames, exactly like that of so many emperors and empresses before him, and he carried demonic symbols on his skin like jewelry. The air around the prince was steaming, the humidity forming crystals of ice in his hair.

”Even if he were ready, nothing’s going to change,” Hawk heard himself say, eyes still locked on Ren’i’s stupid face. ”He’s nothing but the empress’s ragdoll.”

”The empress won’t live forever, demon or not. One day that man sits the ruby throne,” Onniar said. ”He’ll be emperor, understand? An emperor who lost to an akheri and showed him respect.”

”A demon’s respect isn’t worth much.”

Onniar sighed again. He looked wearier than in ages. ”I give up. Do as you want.”

Hawk didn’t have the time to open his mouth to respond when he felt the rock vibrating faintly. The chatter ended and they all stared transfixed in the direction of approaching sounds. Hawk recognised what it was even before the animals came into view.

”Wild kooris,” he heard Ren’i whisper.

The herd was larger than any Hatam-Ile’s hunting patrols had seen in weeks. A great stallion, with some twenty mares gallopping after him. Most of them had foals.

”Yearlings,” Hawk mumbled. Dry moss rustled, and he saw Ren’i sneaking closer from the corner of his eye.

”Those would provide food for a while,” Ren’i whispered. ”Shall we?”

Onniar spared Hawk the trouble of answering. ”We don’t fell mares with such young foals. You have to let them mature enough, otherwise the herd won’t survive.”

Ren’i nodded his understanding. ”What are we going to do?”

”Wait. Something has frightened them,” Hawk replied quietly. The kooris cantered past the cliff without slowing down; not even the stallion stopped to check whether the rest of the herd was still following him. ”What, that’s what we’d best find out.”

”Wolves, perhaps?” Ren’i asked.

”No. It’s too quiet.”

Onniar watched as the herd stomped further into the woodlands, making the earth tremble in their wake. ”Hawk, you know what to do.” He glanced at Ren’i. ”You’re coming with me. We’ll take the others and set up an ambush.”

They climbed down, journeyd deeper into the shadowy woodlands, and took their places soundlessly, as if upon a wordless agreement. Blueleaf and Onniar with their backs against one another’s, hardly breathing, bows drawn. Silverbrook, on her knees in the shelter of a bush twenty meters away. Ren’i could only just make out her eyes gleaming in the twilight, but only because he knew to look for them. Linnee and Yurau nodded at Ren’i and set off in opposite directions until the night swallowed them both.

Ren’i felt his hands move on their own as he pulled out an arrow from the quiver, set it in place, then knelt behind a shrub a good distance from the others. Tension had his fingertips tingling. He still recalled the hunt five winters past, recalled the pressure at the other end of the spear as the metal tip pierced the boar’s chest. The animal had stopped a mere arm’s reach away from Ren’i, the snow at its feet red with its own blood, as if it hadn’t even felt the spear running through its body.

Ren’i had hunted bears and wolves, kooris, elks, and trolls larger than three adult taivashis whose horns were as immense as the roots of a fir tree, yet he’d never once feared them. During those long seconds when he and the boar had stared each other down a hint of fear had made its way underneath his skin and shattered something within him, something he’d trusted as firmly as the bedrock itself. There hadn’t been an ounce of fear in the beast’s eyes, just blazing, endless rage. Ren’i had clung to the spear for his dear life, and when the animal had at last stopped moving he hadn’t let go for a long time.

The same fear had gripped him once more as he’d ordered his soldiers in the burning houses of Galase in search of survivors, though the faces of their loved ones huddled nearby told him clearly that hope was long gone. The fear stayed with him when Hol Saro drowned under smoke and ashes, when he met the empty gazes of the homeless on the streets. It was present when the riots tore the city in two from Menushe to Mire, and he was once more at the other end of the spear, a mere arm’s reach from breaking. Facing him were the same eyes, the same rage that no pain nor the fear of death could stop.

He feared not the anger, he feared only who he was in front of it. There was no hunter, no prey, just the fear that was he himself, and the anger that was his people.

Ren’i closed his eyes and took a deep breath. For a moment the world was silent and still.

Only a couple of heartbeats later the silence was broken by growling, growling such as Ren’i had never heard in his life.

Three enormous figures came rushing out of the undergrowth on four feet, headed straight at them from the same direction the kooris had come from.

”Now!” Onniar bellowed. In an instant he’d fired the first arrow and rolled out of the way.

They were big, much bigger than any wolf Ren’i had ever felled. Enormous paws ending in sharp talons, two long thick tusks that jutted out from the lower jaw, curving upwards. He’d only ever read about the creatures, but recognised them at once: the hook-toothed lynx, an adult female with two almost mature cubs. Despite the name they bore only a vague resemblance to their small northern cousins.

An arrow came flying out of nowhere and sank in one cub’s side with a thud. Ren’i saw a pine bough bend as a dark figure landed on it, sending another lightning-fast arrow towards the cub. The gigantic animal did not even slow down, despite being clearly wounded.

Blueleaf shot an arrow, then another so fast that their hands were just a blur. The cub fell with a shrill shriek mid-sprint and moved no more.

The mother dug her claws in the ground and halted abruptly, letting out a noise unlike anything Ren’i had ever heard. It was partially rage, partially pain of an enormous loss. The other cub paused by its fallen sibling and gave it a headbutt, growling as if demanding it to get back up. The mother turned her eyes on the akheris who had stepped out of hiding and pounced out of the way, hissing, as Onniar’s arrow dived through the air towards her. The arrow hit the ground where she’d stood only seconds ago.

Both lynxes moved simultaneously. The cub headed roaring and spitting towards Blueleaf, who rolled out of the way at the last moment. An arrow came flying out of the shrubbery, its head sinking all the way between the animal’s shoulder blades. Ren’i felt the air quiver as Linnee and Yurau exchanged thoughts wordlessly, and a moment later Linnee materialised behind a stump, dagger in hand.

Silverbrook emerged from her hiding place and jumped in front of the mother, but the enormous beast leapt over her without a backwards glance. Ren’i had the fraction of a second to realise the animal was headed straight at him. He felt his hand draw the bow and loose the arrow, but all he saw were the lynx’s eyes boring into him. In the next moment he was sprawling on his back, the huge animal’s weight on him, and ten sharp claws were digging into his shoulders.

Ren’i tried to yell, but no sound left his throat. The force of the fall had pushed all air out of his lungs. He smelled the animal’s hot breath as it bared its teeth, and Ren’i pulled out the dagger hanging from his belt. Metal clinked against the tusks, and then needle-sharp teeth had already sunk into his arm.

The pain shot through him like a spike, so violently that it seemed to tear him in two. On pure instinct he tried to yank his arm free, which only made the animal bite down harder. He saw the lynx’s eyes staring down at him full of age-old hatred, and he saw himself behind the spear again, staring in the enemy’s eyes when one of them sped towards his end.

Ren’i held the dagger against the lynx’s throat with his uninjured hand, shoving with all his might. He saw nothing, heard nothing but the beast’s growling and its burning eyes.

What a stupid way to die, he thought. The dagger shook in his hand, the animal’s blood beading against the metal, its fur slowly growing darker, but Ren’i knew he didn’t have the arm strength to kill it before it tore his arm into shreds. All of a sudden the lynx jerked and something sharp protruded through its neck, splattering hot blood all over Ren’i’s face.

Arrow. Its throat had been pierced by an arrowhead.

Ren’i felt the teeth in his flesh bite down harder, ripping the already broken skin even deeper as the animal went limp. Its body was suddenly ten times heavier, its eyes turning glazed.

Ren’i’s hands trembled as he tried to push the beast off of himself, teeth grinding together when the pain rolled out in waves on the wounded arm.

”Your highness!” someone shouted. Yurau. It had to be Yurau, he realised with some difficulty. She wasn’t the only one. Ren’i could make out yells, alarmed noises, that were drawing closer.

”Don’t move,” a voice deeper and calmer than the others spoke from his right.

Ren’i started as fingers grasped his right arm and forced him to hold it still. The pain aggravated from the touch and he barely stopped himself from retching. He felt someone pry the dagger out of his grip, and finally recognised the face hovering above him.

Hawk handed the dagger to someone and said, ”you can’t lift her on your own. You two, take a hold of her hindlegs.”

Onniar swore. ”She’s still up to her gums in his arm.”

”She’ll let go,” Hawk replied. He bent over Ren’i and lifted the lynx’s upper lip with his free hand. It wasn’t a pretty sight. The teeth had sunk in deep and one of the tusks had gone all the way through the arm. He glanced at Ren’i, who was starting to look slightly cross-eyed, and slapped him across the face. ”You, stay awake!”

Ren’i stared at him as if unable to believe his eyes. For a moment Hawk thought he was too out of it from the blood loss to understand what was happening around him, but then Ren’i burst out in accusatory tones, ”you hit me!”

”Stay awake then, or I’m hitting you again. That’s an order.”

”Yes, sir,” Ren’i muttered. He sounded annoyed.

It was a good sign, Hawk thought.

Linnee and Blueleaf finally succeeded in pulling out the claws, and Ren’i sighed audibly as the worst of the animal’s weight was off him. Hawk squeezed his arm, took a hold of the animal’s muzzle with his other hand, and bent over Ren’i once more.

”Look at me,” he said sternly, and Ren’i obeyed. Hawk had brown eyes, Ren’i noted, brown like molten bronze, and Ren’i saw nothing more. ”Be prepared. This will hurt.”

”Huh?”

It was all Ren’i managed before Hawk forced the lynx’s maw open and tore an entire row of teeth off his arm. Ren’i shouted from the bottom of his lungs. He was shaking violently and felt something wet running down his cheeks.

”Hold him still,” Hawk commanded. Onniar and Yurau held Ren’i on both sides.

Hawk grabbed the animal’s lower jaw. Ren’i’s blood slicked his fingers when he pulled the tusk out, and the sound of Ren’i’s yelling made his ears ring. Ren’i’s face contorted with pain when the tusk finally came loose and the carcass was pulled off him. He was breathing erratically, chest rising and falling as if he’d ran a mile, and Hawk realised he was crying. Tears left dirt-stained streaks down his face.

”It’s over,” Hawk said. He wasn’t sure Ren’i could even hear him.

”For fuck’s sake, Hawk. Are you trying to kill him?” Silverbrook asked.

”They would have needed to pull it out anyway,” Hawk replied with a shrug.

Onniar squeezed Ren’i’s healthy arm. ”Try to stay awake, Ren’i. We’re taking you back to the city.”

Ren’i managed a nod. The movement made the world spin in his eyes and he forced them shut.

Hawk ripped Ren’i’s torn sleeve into strips of cloth and tied them tightly around his arm on both sides of the wound, disregarding the fact that he trembled all over during the procedure. Linnee and Yurau stared at Ren’i, frozen with shock, both looking like they’d just seen a ghost.

”Blueleaf and I will carry him,” Onniar said. ”Hawk, you go ahead. Alert Mineha.”

Hawk slung the quiver back over his shoulder, grabbed his fallen bow and started sprinting towards Hatam-Ile as fast as his legs would carry him.

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Author’s notes: Ouch. That probably stung.