Earth Called, page 10
“They sure are,” agreed April. “Here, let me help you and Dove down.” She offered a hand to stabilize Mari as she slid from Tulpar’s wide back.
“Thanks,” Mari said. “He really is big.” She stroked Tulpar. “Thank you for carrying me.”
“Dove?” April offered the same hand to her.
“Oh, that is kind of you, but I prefer to remain astride my Tulpar. He is my eyes, and I would very much like to see River awaken the crystal.”
“We can move closer,” April said.
“I would not want to weaken River’s concentration,” said Dove.
“Oh, you won’t. Well, not if you are quiet and don’t ask her a bunch of questions,” said April.
“Oh, I would not do that,” said Dove firmly.
“Nor would I,” said Mari.
“I’d like to watch as well. I have visited Herd Magenti before but have never witnessed anything like what River is attempting. I promise I won’t ask any—” Antreas broke off abruptly when Bast made a strange yowling sound as she stared back down the path they’d just traversed and then abruptly padded away from them.
“Is something wrong?” April asked.
“I don’t think so. Bast just caught a scent she can’t identify and is going to check it out.”
“Should you go with her? If Cleo took off, I’d definitely go after her. We can easily follow the path back,” said April.
Antreas shook his head and his long, shaggy, lynx-colored hair moved around his shoulders. “No. If she needs me, I’ll know it. Bast is a lot more independent than canines—not that I mean that as a slight toward little Cleo.” Rigel yipped, which caused Antreas to grin and ruffle the big Shepherd’s ears. “Or you.”
“April, is she starting?” Dove’s soft voice returned the group’s attention to River, who, even though she stood several paces away with her back turned to them, they could clearly see a bright light had begun to glow around.
“Yes, let’s join her,” April said.
As the mares chewed their grain peacefully and the puppies played around their hooves, the humans, Rigel, and Tulpar moved silently to stand close behind River.
She faced the mountain pass. Her head was bowed over the huge crystal she held firmly in both hands. River was whispering something to the crystal when Anjo suddenly trotted past them straight to her Rider.
Without speaking, April went quickly to Anjo, untied her feed bag, and patted the white mare affectionately before she stepped back to join Mari and Antreas. Then Anjo knelt and River mounted her. Mare and Rider faced the mountain. River raised the large crystal so that she held it against her forehead. To Mari it seemed Anjo had become a marble statue, glistening white and still in the cold midday, as the glow that had only touched the crystal and River engulfed the mare as well.
“My intent is to release from the clouds a flood.
My crystal is aglow.
Now, enhanced by the power of my blood,
make it snow, make it snow, make it snow!”
River raised the shining crystal and held it over her head, and as she did so the light that radiated from it shot straight up. Mari held her hand over her eyes to shield them from its brilliance as, arrow-like, it pierced the lazy, puffy clouds far above them that hung like the beard of an ancient giant on the mountainside.
There was a sharp, tearing sound and the pretty clouds began to roil and expand, changing color from pristine white to the gray of slate. They continued to billow and blow as the first fat snowflakes drifted down to coat River’s dark hair. She turned in her saddle, holding the now-dark crystal close to her breast. Her smile was fierce.
“The storm comes. We should get out of here.”
CHAPTER 8
The snow started gently when the sun was midway in the sky just a day after Ralina dreamed about the doe. One moment the weather was as it had been for weeks—clear and cold with just a few fluffy clouds drifting around the mountaintops—and the next the sky went from blue to gray, the clouds expanded to cover the sun, and thick, filigreed flakes drifted down on Death’s army of mutants and the walking dead.
Ralina’s heartbeat sped as she gazed upward at the snow-pregnant clouds and wondered …
“Keep moving! Why are you standing around staring as if you have never seen snow before?” Death’s voice bellowed. “We knew it would come eventually. Now we must get through these mountains. Move. Move. Move,” the god’s voice echoed from the front of the army. He strode down the path, and with each word “move” He knocked aside who- or whatever was within reach. “Storyteller, where are you?”
“The God calls for you.” Renard and his Companion, Kong, hurried toward her with his father, Daniel, close beside them. Between them they carried three newly skinned rabbits, and their supplies rolled neatly and strapped to their backs.
“It’s snowing.” Ralina spoke quickly and quietly. “I don’t know if my dream was sent by the Goddess of Life, or if it was just a figment of my hopeful imagination, but…” She moved her shoulders.
“But we are ready to follow you out of here should your white doe appear,” said Daniel firmly.
“Yes, absolutely. All morning Father and I have been secreting extra supplies into all three of our packs. We even managed to take a fire starter tin without being seen,” added Renard. “But we cannot follow you out of here if Death insists you travel at His side.”
“I’m going to make sure He doesn’t.” Ralina hefted her own pack to her back, bowing under its weight. “Stay together and keep me within your sight.”
“We shall.” Daniel touched her shoulder fondly. “Do not worry for us. We’re used to keeping you in sight.”
Ralina put her hand over Daniel’s. “The two of you, Bear and Kong, are all that have kept me going.”
“And you us,” said Renard. He hugged her tightly and whispered, “You have saved our lives many times over.”
“STORYTELLER.”
She disentangled herself from the young man who had become family—whom she had fallen in love with—and smiled briefly. “I hope the dream was sent by the Goddess, but if it wasn’t—”
“If it wasn’t then we continue on until you say it is time to rid ourselves of Death,” said Renard.
Ralina nodded and then she turned and jogged up the path toward the sound of Death, with Bear at her side. She rushed to the god as the fat, lazy flakes began to change to smaller, harder, icier droplets that had already intensified and shortened visibility.
“Ah, there you are. Storyteller, you know I do not like you to be far from Me.” The god gave her a dark look. “And now it is snowing. I will not lose you in this storm.”
Ralina fixed her expression into a smile before she answered him, “My Lord, You need not fear You will lose me. Even if I cannot see You, Bear’s nose can easily track You. Should we get separated he will lead me to You.”
The god’s face relaxed. “Noble Bear. I tend to forget the Shepherds can track as well as the Terriers.” Through thick brows Death peered down at the canine. “He would truly lead you to Me should you get lost?”
“Of course, my Lord.”
“That eases My mind. Though do try to stay close to the front of the army, where I shall be as soon as I get them moving. Their laziness is My burden to bear—but do not speak of it in your epic story chronicling our magnificent journey. I would rather that particular aspect of My victorious army not be known.”
Ralina nodded somberly. “I agree, my Lord.” She glanced behind Him at the spirit of the bison who was never far from His side. This spectral guide was much different from the sad little doe who had led Death through the pass until she’d unexpectedly disappeared the day before—only to be replaced by the bull bison, who had been bound to the God, but whose eyes blazed hatred at Death. Ralina’s gaze went from the spirit to the God and she felt a flutter of shock. The God of Death had eaten the creature’s still-warm heart only the day before, but already Ralina could see that Death had begun to change—again. His antlers were thickening and darkening, His facial features were becoming more animalistic, His nose flatter, more snoutlike, and His hair was also darkening. He’s rejecting the stag and becoming more bison-like.
“Do you approve of what you see, Storyteller?” Death’s voice was sly.
“Forgive me, my Lord. I did not mean to stare.” Ralina hastily cast her eyes down, noting as she did that the ground around them was already carpeted with snow.
“Oh, you may look. You must look. How else will you be able to fully describe My magnificence? I only wonder what you think of the changes happening within Me.”
Ralina lifted her gaze to meet Death’s. As always when speaking with the God, she chose to stay as close to the truth as possible. “I think You look even more powerful than before You ate the bison’s heart.”
He threw back His head and bellowed a bizarre laugh that was more roar than levity. “You are correct!” Then He shook Himself, and snow flew from His immense body. “It is a shame we cannot chat as we normally would, but I must move this army before we are trapped in the pass. Have a care, Storyteller. Keep your Bear close so that he can return you to Me should you become lost.” Then Death strode past her, cloven hooves biting the snow-covered ground as He shouted, “Thaddeus, Iron Fist, to Me!”
Ralina glanced over her shoulder to see Renard, Kong, and Daniel watching her from a distance. She motioned surreptitiously for them to follow her. Renard nodded, and then Ralina, with Bear by her side, walked along the path toward the front of the army. When Death stomped past her again, He hardly spared her a glance but was busy berating Thaddeus and His Blade—and insisting they force the army to move, move, move.
Ralina looked away to hide her disgust. The ridiculously slow pace that had them meandering through this frigid pass as if they were on a picnic outing was Death’s fault. He set the pace—and that pace had been plodding and self-indulgent. Everything about the God of Death is self-indulgent, Ralina thought.
She kept walking forward, purposefully lagging behind the suddenly swiftly moving mutant men and reanimated dead as the snow changed again. It now fell in tiny, icy flakes so thick that it felt as if the air had become a net of white that had trapped them all.
The army trudged forward as swiftly as possible into the blinding white. Heads bowed against the wind and snow. No one—not even the traitorous Companions who followed Thaddeus and who seemed to always be watching her—took any notice of Ralina as it was so difficult to distinguish individuals in the storm. All they could do was plod after whoever was directly in front of them. Death did not reappear. He did not march up and down His line of soldiers shouting encouragement or threats. Ralina imagined Him at the head of the army, unbothered by the storm, following the spirit of the beast shackled to Him. When she realized Death would probably not reappear, she motioned for Renard and his father to join her, and together they sloughed along with the army.
Then, through the pelting snow, Ralina’s attention was caught by a flash of ebony amidst the suffocating wall of white. She blinked, rubbed snow from her lashes, and peered off the path to her left and up into the tall pines and boulders that lined this part of the pass.
Ralina’s heartbeat increased so quickly it felt as if it would burst from her chest. Standing under a clump of snow-covered pines was a doe, so white she would’ve been impossible to see against the snow were it not for the bottomless black of her eyes, which were staring directly at Ralina. The doe tossed her delicate head and, still staring at Ralina, took several steps back into the surrounding forest. There she tossed her head again and waited, her dark gaze never leaving the Storyteller.
Ralina reached out and grabbed Renard’s hand, pulling him close to her. She whispered urgently, “Look! Do you see her, too?” and cut her eyes to the doe.
Renard blinked several times, clearing his vision. Through their joined hands Ralina felt him jerk in surprise. “Yes! Is that your doe?” He spoke low, though even Daniel, who walked on the other side of him, could not hear what they were saying over the whine of the wind.
“She looks exactly like the doe that came to me in my dream.”
Renard squeezed her hand. “Are we finally going to leave?”
“We are. Now. Tell your father. Follow me. If anyone tries to stop us, say that I need the privacy of one of the boulders. You and your father are going to stand guard for me.”
While Renard whispered urgently to his father, Ralina and Bear left the path and began to climb up rocks and between boulders, heading for the doe who had stepped back into the cover of the trees and was so camouflaged by the snow that had her dark eyes not shined like a still mountain lake at night Ralina would have completely lost sight of her.
After months of traveling with Death and fantasizing about escape Ralina was shocked at how ridiculously easy it was to leave the army. The Milks and mutant Companions were too busy trudging against the wall of white to notice three people and two canines leaving the path—and as soon as they were within the forest it was as if a curtain of white closed behind them. The snow swallowed everything—the three of them, their two canines, and even the sounds of the marching army.
Under the pines Ralina approached the doe, who offered her muzzle for the Storyteller to stroke.
“Thank you. I believe the Goddess of Life sent you. I will forever worship Her for leading me away from Death.” Ralina spoke to the doe as she marveled at the softness of her flawless coat. “I choose to believe in and serve the Goddess.”
“As do I,” said Renard from beside her.
“And I,” echoed his father.
The doe tossed her head and then allowed the men to touch her sleek neck reverently.
“Where you lead we will follow,” said Ralina. The doe blew gently against Ralina’s cheek before she turned and trotted farther into the forest with the three humans and two canines close behind.
They traveled up the side of the mountain, picking their way between trees, around boulders, and through snow-covered underbrush for so long that even though her body had been thoroughly conditioned by weeks of hiking the pass, Ralina’s legs began to ache with the strain of the constant uphill climb through increasingly deep snow. The pace the doe set was grueling, but Ralina understood it. They must put as much distance between themselves and Death as possible.
It was difficult to tell how much time had passed. The sun had been absent since midday. The world had turned gray and white. The wind was never-ending and the biting snow narrowed visibility to just a few yards around them.
The three humans tied scarves about their faces and bowed their heads against the snow-driven wind and kept moving.
The day had begun to shift to the deeper gray that signaled twilight when the doe made an abrupt turn to the right and Ralina was relieved to discover that she’d led them to a threadlike path, so slim that they had to walk it single file. It was much too narrow for a bulky army to traverse. It still wound up the mountains, but they were now also heading east. By this time the snow had become so deep that the doe was pulling away from them. When Ralina fell and struggled to get back to her feet, the deer returned to her immediately, encouraging her as Renard helped her up.
“We should stop! You must rest!” Renard shouted over the wind.
“We can’t.” Ralina wiped sweat from her face with her scarf. “This is it for us, Renard. If Death catches us He will kill the two of you—or worse—and I will be His prisoner. I cannot even think about what He would do to Bear and Kong. I would rather die out here in the snow than face Him.”
“We must keep going,” Daniel said bravely, though the older man looked as exhausted as Ralina felt.
“The snow is making it impossible to keep up with the doe,” Renard said as his gaze went to the magnificent deer who stood beside Ralina.
The doe tossed her beautiful head, nuzzled Ralina briefly, and then turned and, once more, led them into the east. Ralina stared wearily at her and then drew a deep breath and staggered after the doe—only to gasp in happy surprise. The snow parted for the doe! It was as if the deer radiated an energy that only the snow could feel. As she walked the slim path the wall of white fled from her. It swirled away in miniature tornados that exposed the dirt and rock under their feet.
“By the Sun, she’s clearing a path for us!” Renard said.
“Yes, hurry! We have to stay close to her, though.” Ralina pointed to a few feet behind Daniel, who brought up the rear of their group, where the funnels of white dissipated and snow once again covered the path, thick and wet.
With renewed energy, the three humans and two canines followed the doe until the last of the light drained away around them. Ralina was trying to decide whether she should call to the doe or just eternally follow her when the deer stopped, turned to meet Ralina’s gaze, and then led them off the path just a few paces to the maw of a snowy cave. The deer got close enough to the cave for the snow to be blown from the entrance; then she backed out and looked expectantly at Ralina.
“Get the tinderbox!” she called to Renard. With a groan he took off his backpack and then reached into it and brought out a priceless, ancient tin. Renard moved just far enough inside the mouth of the cave that there was a chance the wind would pull out the campfire smoke. His father and Ralina huddled around him as he crouched and took out the flint strikers, a handful of pine needles, and pine bark that had been smeared with highly flammable resin.
“I have some wood in my pack,” said Daniel, quickly taking his backpack off and laying out a thick blanket in which he’d rolled dry pine boughs. “I worried about what we’d do for fire if we were caught in the snow.”
“That was wise of you.” Ralina smiled wearily at him.
Just a few strikes of the flint and a spark easily lit the resin—and the resin in turn lit the boughs.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so beautiful,” said Ralina as she warmed her hands over the fire.
“Look behind you.” Daniel pointed to the rear of the cave. “Your deer has thought of everything.”
