Earth Called, page 26
“Ah, I see. You pause before a bridge.” Death spoke to the spirit of the bison who stood closest to the bridge. The God threw back His head and roared a parody of laughter. “Ignorant beast. It will not harm you. Cross. It is not that far to the other side.”
And then, as Ralina’s soul was filled with dread, Death turned His dark gaze from the spirit of the bison to the far end of the bridge. Even through the drifting snow, she saw Him startled in surprise.
The God of Death’s first response to seeing her shocked Ralina. His face, changed to something more bestial, more bull-like than the stag He had been becoming, radiated joy as He smiled beatifically at her.
“My Storyteller!”
His shout was joyous, too—though His happiness was short-lived. The smile slid from His face as rage furrowed His thick brow. His smile turned feral as He bared his teeth at her.
“My treacherous Storyteller!” This time His voice was filled with rage.
The need to flee blasted through Ralina’s body as the doe squealed and stomped her delicate hooves, thawing Ralina’s fear.
“Leave that side. The weight of the army will probably snap the rope anyway.” Ralina grabbed Renard’s shoulder, pulling him up and away from the last rope he and his father were still attempting to saw through.
“STORYTELLER!” Death bellowed, adding, “THADDEUS, WARRIORS, TO ME.”
Ralina’s frantic gaze went to Death as Thaddeus rushed up to the God on all fours. The disgusting little man crouched beside Death, staring across the gorge at her as his malicious laugh echoed around them.
“Renard, now! Kong, Bear, let’s go!” Whining pitifully, the canines trotted toward the doe, who was impatiently prancing in place just a few yards down the trail from them.
Daniel stood and turned to his son and Ralina. “Give me the good knife. Go. I’ll cut through the rest of the bridge and then join you.”
“No!” Ralina cried.
“We aren’t leaving you!” Renard said.
“Like Ralina said, the weight of the army will snap through the rest of the rope anyway,” said Daniel. “I’ll be fine, but you need to get out of here. Now.”
As he spoke the final word, “now,” Daniel staggered forward as a spear blossomed from the middle of his back.
“You got ’em!” Thaddeus shouted. Hunched, he danced around Death, more doglike than human.
Then from behind Death, Warriors Ralina barely recognized rushed to join the God, pulling their crossbows from slings across their backs.
Daniel dropped to his knees beside the bridge, a wicked-looking spear lodged in the middle of his back. His son knelt beside him.
“Go.” Daniel’s voice was weak, but edged with steel. “I stay willingly. I die willingly. The Goddess of Life will welcome me. I know it.” The older man’s gaze found the doe, who solemnly bowed her head to him.
Ralina didn’t know what to say, so she crouched beside Daniel and put her arms around him. “I will be sure stories of your bravery will be told for generations.”
There was the twanging sound of crossbows being fired, and all around them arrows began to clatter against the side of the gorge, the mountain beside them, and the snowy ground around them.
“Survive. Destroy Death. Love my son. That is all I ask,” Daniel whispered to her before he took her arms from around him and turned to his son. “I love you. I will always love you. Now—go!” With his waning strength Daniel took the knife from Renard and pushed him toward the doe. Then the older man returned to sawing through the last rope that held the bridge.
“No, Father! I cannot leave you!”
An arrow whizzed past Renard, missing him only by inches.
“STORYTELLER!” Death bellowed.
The bridge began to shake and Ralina tore her gaze from Daniel to see that a line of Milks had begun to trudge through the snow that blanketed the suspension bridge.
Daniel did not pause. He did not even look at his son. He simply said, “Go! This spear will kill me. If you do not leave now, my death will mean nothing. Let my last act as a father to be to save you. Go. Now. With my love.”
As arrows rained around them Ralina grabbed Renard’s arm again. This time he came as she pulled him, though he was sobbing brokenly.
“I love you, Father!” he called as he allowed Ralina to pull him with her while the doe sprinted down the path with their canine Companions padding after her.
“Hurry, we have to hurry!” Ralina panted as she continued to half drag, half lead her lover after the doe.
Renard came, but as he staggered with Ralina he kept craning his neck around, attempting to keep his father in view as long as the snow and mist would allow. He saw two arrows embed themselves into his father’s arm and thigh, but he didn’t appear to notice them. He kept sawing at the rope. And then the icy droplets swallowed Daniel and Renard could see him no more. Still sobbing, Renard turned his attention forward and ran with Ralina, their Companions, and the doe.
They had only run for just a few more minutes when they heard a sharp crack, like a tree snapping in a windstorm.
“He did it,” Ralina said as she wiped at the tears washing down her cheeks. “That’s the bridge breaking. Daniel did it.”
At that moment both canines paused, raised their muzzles to the gray sky, and howled with grief.
“He’s dead. My father. He’s dead,” said Renard.
Ralina threaded her arm through his and kept propelling him forward. She had no words to help his grief. All she could do was keep him moving and support him with her touch, her love, and her understanding.
Thank you, Daniel. I will never forget, and may the Goddess of Life welcome you into Her arms.
The doe’s head turned once to look back at them and Ralina saw that tears made icy tracks down her face.
CHAPTER 22
Well, at least we only lost a few of the Milks.” Beside Death, Thaddeus stared down at the bottomless gorge where just moments before a dozen or so Milks had fallen silently to their true deaths when that idiot old man had finally sawed through the rope holding up the bridge. That the old fool had lurched forward and tumbled into the gorge after the Milks was little consolation. Thaddeus had been looking forward to what Death would do to Daniel.
And then pain spiked through Thaddeus as Death backhanded him—though not hard enough to knock Thaddeus from the trail to join the doomed Milks and the stupid old man.
“Do not make light of losing soldiers!” He roared at Thaddeus, raining rancid spittle on his cringing face.
“Forgive me, my Lord. I simply was relieved that You did not fall, too.” Thaddeus wiped his face with the back of his sleeve and lied to the God.
Death scoffed, “I was never in danger. I am a God.”
Thaddeus badly wanted to roll his eyes and tell the god that with the stupid decisions He’d been making during the trip it wouldn’t have been surprising that Death had too little sense to keep from falling from the side of the mountain. But Thaddeus was a survivor, so he kept his true thoughts to himself, only sharing them with his beloved Odysseus. Instead, he spoke in a servile voice that nauseated him but kept him alive another day.
“My Lord, what now?”
Instead of answering, the God paced to where the spirit of their bison guide stood motionless by the entrance to the now-useless suspension bridge that flapped in the wind, beating against the side of the gorge like a dying bird.
Curious, Thaddeus moved close enough so that he could eavesdrop.
“Find another path,” Death commanded the bison spirit. “Now. I must reclaim My Storyteller.”
The glowing, transparent bison bull tossed his head and snorted soundlessly.
“Go. Now. Return when you have found another way across the gorge. And do not forget that you are bound to Me. You must return if you ever want to be granted peace.”
The bison bowed his huge head slightly, though his eyes glowed red with malice, and then he lumbered back along the winding trail that hugged the snowy mountainside. Thaddeus shivered as the bison brushed past him. It was perpetually cold on the damnable mountain, but the bison spirit caused the air around him to be preternaturally frigid. Even Death didn’t stride too close to the wraith, for when He did His thick black beard and the bison-like mane that had begun to frame His face, shoulders, and neck became matted with icicles.
Death’s shadow fell over Thaddeus, causing him to startle and hastily bow low.
“You asked what now, Hunter? You see My answer. My bison shall lead us. Meanwhile, slaughter the smallest of these bulls. Build a magnificent fire. We feast while we wait.” Death strode away, causing the army to press carefully against the side of the mountain to keep from being accidentally being thrown over the edge by their mercurial god.
“I hate Him, Odysseus.” Thaddeus punctuated the sentence with a very Terrier-like growl. Then, on all fours, he scrambled back along the line of bison, mutating soldiers, and empty-eyed Milks until he rejoined the small group of Hunters who were his favorites. They turned to him eagerly, though their Terriers remained curled together—their dark eyes that followed Thaddeus’s movements were the only evidence that they were awake and aware. I need to talk to the Hunters about their Terriers, Odysseus, Thaddeus thought as he glared at the pile of canines. They have not been showing their Companions or me proper respect. But his Hunters showed him respect and loyalty. They practically wriggled like puppies as he approached.
“What is it, Thaddeus?” said Wilson, the Hunter Thaddeus considered his right-hand man. “Why have we stopped?”
Before he responded Thaddeus peered down the trail to be sure Death wasn’t within hearing range. When he didn’t see the hulking form of the God, he allowed his voice to reflect the disdain he felt. “Seems that bitch of a Storyteller didn’t freeze. She and Daniel and Renard beat us to the bridge that crosses over the gorge—something we would have come to days ago had that damned god not been so lazy.”
The Hunters growled and nodded their shaggy heads, though they, too, kept nervously glancing around in case Death came within hearing.
“But if they beat us to the bridge, why have we not rushed across it to capture them?” asked Wilson.
“Because when Daniel was half-dead he somehow managed to cut the ropes that held the bridge over the gorge. He and the bridge fell—along with a bunch of Milks!” snarled Thaddeus.
“Milks … No loss there.” Wilson shuddered, and the other Hunters growled agreement. “Now what?”
“Exactly what I asked Him.” Thaddeus shrugged. “He sent the dead bison to scout another way across. Meanwhile, we’re to slaughter the smallest of the bulls and feast. Probably before we all freeze to death stuck up here on this mountain.”
“I will not freeze here,” Wilson grumbled as he squinted his small eyes against the pelting snow and searched back down the trail for the God. “We should leave. We should return to the Tribe of the Trees. The poison could be gone by now.”
“No!” Thaddeus snarled, and snapped his teeth at Wilson, who cringed and whined. “We will not quit so close to getting everything we deserve. We will get off this mountain and claim the rich land beyond. We will start our own Tribe far away from this blustering god and His army of dead things.”
The Hunters huffed and nodded and wriggled, which made Thaddeus bare his teeth in the only version of a smile his face was still capable of making. “Now, get your knives ready. Let us prepare to feast.”
* * *
The doe did not halt as dusk stained the sky dark. Instead, she shifted from the steady trot she’d been maintaining since the bridge to a brisk walk. She continued to hug the side of the mountain as the wide trail curved around it. The doe did glance back at Ralina and Renard frequently, as if to be sure they were still there—still following.
Ralina wished they could stop, but she didn’t think she could have rested anyway. Not after she’d seen Him. Not after she knew how close He was to them. She was grateful that the trail was wide and curved instead of going straight up or down. She was also grateful that it allowed her to walk beside Renard. She remained close to him, as did Kong and Bear. All they could do was lend Renard their love and strength through touch.
They trudged after the doe until the snow was so stinging and the night so black that even the magickal creature had trouble making their trail passable. Finally, she paused and then began to climb up the side of the mountain. She continued for so long Ralina had begun to stumble, and wondered if this would be it—their end—frozen here. At least Death didn’t capture us. At least we’re still free.
Then the doe stopped before a clump of prickly junipers stubbornly clinging to the mountainside. As she had all those many nights since their escape, the doe entered the little grove, her presence sweeping away snow to expose shoots of tender foliage on which she began grazing while Renard and Ralina used sticky juniper boughs to feed their precious fire, over which they roasted the two hares that had crossed their path earlier that day.
Dinner was mostly silent. Renard’s face was pale and tearstained. Both Shepherds remained close to him, using touch to comfort him. When he spoke, his voice was weary, but firm.
“Did you look at Him? Death? Did you see how He’d changed?” Renard said.
“Yeah, I saw Him and—” Ralina’s words broke off as she thought back. Until then she had tried not to think about how He looked. She’d only thought about keeping moving—staying ahead of Death and His army—and of Daniel’s courageous sacrifice. Now she replayed the scene where the God had bellowed her title across the gorge, studying the remembered image in her imaginative mind. Ralina sat up straighter and met Renard’s sad gaze. “He’s becoming more and more like the bison he killed.”
Renard nodded grimly. “His form is turning as monstrous as His rotted heart.”
Ralina shivered and nodded. “I’m going to make sure we beat Him. I’m going to make sure Daniel’s death—all the deaths that led us here—are avenged.”
“I know you will, and I will be right beside you to watch it happen. Father would want me to be there.”
Ralina curled up beneath Renard’s arm and snuggled against him. “He’ll know. I believe Daniel will know when Death is defeated.” Her gaze drifted to where the doe rested across the fire from them. Her compassionate brown eye met Ralina’s. Very slowly and distinctly, the doe nodded her head before closing her eyes to sleep.
* * *
Death feasted on the slaughtered bison, and then He paced. All night He paced back and forth, making a rut in the snow that blew and drifted around them and covered the wide path that ended at the broken bridge.
Thaddeus wouldn’t have cared what the God did, but in the absence of His other distractions—the Storyteller and the rabbit women who used to cater to His every whim—Death had taken to forcing Thaddeus to remain close to His side. This meant Thaddeus had to constantly be on alert, for the God’s moods were ever changing, and there was no easy way to predict when or why He would lose His temper.
“Odysseus,” Thaddeus whispered to the memory of his faithful Companion, “I hate to say it, but the Storyteller handled Him better than I do. She was good at keeping him calm.” The Hunter snorted. “Of course she was. Women can be good at calming men. It’s a shame He let those rabbit women freeze.”
Thaddeus had commandeered a pelt from one of the Milks. He’d taken it from the dead-eyed thing and then silently pushed it off the mountain path while Death’s back was turned. He placed the pelt on the snowy ground, sat on it, and then wrapped it, cloak-like, around himself as he pressed against the side of the mountain and watched Death pace.
“Did you say something, Thaddeus?” On all fours, Wilson scrambled up to him, pleasantly obsequious as always.
Thaddeus glanced behind Wilson where the rest of his Hunters clustered together between the huge, sleeping bison. A little way apart from the men their Terriers were curled around one another like puppies. “Why do your Terriers not sleep with you anymore?” Thaddeus surprised himself by asking Wilson.
Wilson shrugged his hunched shoulders and glanced behind where his blond Terrier, Spud, slept in the center of the canine pile. “Haven’t given it much thought. Didn’t really even notice it until you mentioned it.” He shrugged awkwardly again and jutted his chin back down the path. “Same with the Warriors and their Shepherds.”
“Do your Terriers still show you proper respect?” Thaddeus narrowed his small, dark eyes as he stared at the pile of sleeping Terriers.
“They hunt well. They come when called. What more is there?” Wilson said.
Thaddeus’s gaze went from the canines to Wilson. “Your connection. Do you still speak with Spud through your connection?”
Wilson paused and then barked what sounded like a canine laugh. “Spud has never been one for saying much, though I haven’t asked him much lately, either.”
“Interesting…,” Thaddeus said. Odysseus, something is happening between Companions and their canines. See how wise we were to change our relationship? You and I will never grow apart.
“Thaddeus, to Me!” Death bellowed. At the sound of the God’s voice Wilson flinched and scrambled back to join the other Hunters.
Thaddeus sighed and hurried to the God. “Yes, my Lord?”
“Build a fire. A roaring one. Here, near the entrance to the bridge. It will help Me think.”
“Yes, my Lord.” Thaddeus pulled out the tinderbox he had kept carefully packed with his things since the early days of their hellish journey. He brought it out and shouted at his group of Hunters, “Collect boughs! Our god wants a fire near the bridge!” Wearily, but without complaint, the Hunters scattered to find places down the trail where they could climb up the mountainside and strip any pines they found of their boughs. Early on the mountain they’d discovered that even green pine boughs would burn if they had enough sap. Soon Thaddeus had a fire burning high and bright. Flames licked the side of the cliff, creating bizarre shadows.
“Do not let the fire go out!” Death shouted at Thaddeus when his head had begun to nod sleepily in the warmth.
