Part 8 (1/2)

”They sing!” Faolan said.

”Now, how ever did you know that, Faolan? I'm surprised.”

Faolan looked startled.

”I think I heard one of the Watch wolves talking about it.”

Gwynneth looked at him with curiosity, but continued, ”They've become somewhat of a novelty. During ancient times in the northern kingdoms, there were countless gadfeathers. Recently, they've begun to come back. But very few have come into the Beyond, and that's why I was surprised when you said you'd heard of them.”

Faolan said nothing. For the truth was that he was as puzzled as Gwynneth that he knew about gadfeathers and their singing.

Later, back on watch, Faolan stood atop Stormfast's cairn, peering into a sky draped with stars and the tracery of hot red embers. Would he know a gadfeather song if he heard one? But it was not only gadfeathers he wondered about. Some of his odd thoughts made him grip the keybone of the cairn more tightly than ever. He wanted to spring high into the night, catch the hottest of the drafts, and lift above the embers to the stars, as if they held the sources of the strange wisps of knowledge that came to him.

The night was torn with flames, and the red silhouettes of the volcanoes played across the barren landscape of the Ring. The s.h.i.+fting shadows of the night were like a scrim. On the other side, something was waiting for him, if he could only see it. A fate? A destiny only dimly perceived? Faolan sprang high, higher than he'd ever jumped before. The draft was hot, but he did not feel its heat. What he felt was cold, icy cold. I am in a ring of fire, but I feel ice.

PART THREE.

THE CUB.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

OLD CAGS.

TOBY HEARD THE LOUD SNORES of his mother and the softer ones of his brother. It seemed to the young cub that his mum and his brother, Burney, spent all their time sleeping. Life was so boring. He wished that nice wolf with one eye were here. But he hadn't seen her since the day they'd played on the riverbank. She'd taught him a game a” hidey bone. He wanted to play it again, but Burney never thought of interesting places to hide the bone. And it was so exciting when the wolf ran with it. She was so fast, but then could skid to a stop and wheel about as quick as a wink. He decided to practice now: At least that would be more fun than sleeping. So he picked up a bone from a caribou his mum had taken down earlier and began running with it.

Run, jump, quick turn, roll and up onto all fours, jump again! Just as the little cub skidded to a stop, a gray she-wolf with black patches stepped out from behind a boulder.

”I can't believe it!” Toby cried with glee.

”Can't believe what, little one?”

”I was just hoping for a wolf to come play with me!”

”Well, how lucky we are, then.” The she-wolf c.o.c.ked her head to one side and regarded the cub. There was a hard glint in her eyes that stirred a pale shadow of unease in Toby, but he was so bored and eager to play.

”You like to play, don't you?” he asked.

”Oh, yes, most certainly,” the wolf answered.

”Do you know the game hidey bone?”

”Why, yes. Now, where did a cub like you learn such a game?”

”From this wonderful wolf.”

”Wonderful, she was? You don't say.” The wolf grinned.

Toby was feeling a tad uncertain now. ”Yes, wonderful. I just can't remember her name.”

”What's your name?” the wolf asked.

”I a I a” I shouldn't talk to strangers, Toby thought as his mother's admonition came back to him. Fear and dread flooded through him. Every bristle of his fur p.r.i.c.kled and stood up rigidly. Just then, four other wolves flashed out and surrounded him. Before Toby could even cry out, one of the wolves had clamped the cub's muzzle and lifted him off his feet.

”Think of this as a new game, dear.” Fretta's voice threaded into Toby's ear. He could feel her warm, fetid breath on his face.

”My mum's going to be mad, reallllly really mad!” the little cub cried out when the wolves finally released the grip on his muzzle and he could scream. But it did him little good. He already knew that his mum and brother would never hear him. They were too far away by now, asleep on the riverbank. Will they ever be sorry! he thought.

At first there had been only one wolf. And she looked nice enough and Toby had remembered how he and his brother, Burney, had played with the one-eyed wolf earlier in the summer. That wolf was much younger and so much fun. This wolf was fun for about one second, and then three others had charged from behind a large boulder. Before he could even squeal, something had clamped down on his muzzle. He'd felt as if he were being lifted up, and the ground was just a blur rus.h.i.+ng beneath him.

”All right, back off, Blyden,” Fretta commanded. ”You don't need to clamp his muzzle.”

”She'll tear off your heads!” Toby shrieked. ”That's easy for a grizzly. She'll rip out your heart and eat it! No, she'll just rip it out. She'd never eat such a foul heart.”

Toby was a bright little cub and quite proud of his use of a fine word like ”foul.” He was scared, but he kept talking. Sometimes his mom said he talked too much. Burney was quiet, quiet and thoughtful. Toby was thoughtful but, well, noisy and thoughtful. ”Would someone kindly answer me?” Kindly? he thought. What a poor choice of words with these thuggish wolves.

But at that moment, an owl swooped down with talons outstretched and started raking the wolves. Two of the wolves leaped up, taking swats at the owl, who quickly backed off. The wolves picked up Toby and streaked away.

They were transporting the cub by the scruff of his neck now. He hung down, his hind legs barely skimming the ground. He couldn't see the wolf carrying him, but four others ran alongside them. I was just trying to have fun. It was at that moment that he saw his own blood.

”Hey, I'm bleeding! You made me bleed.”

”Shut him up! It was hard enough getting down here with the wind against us. I swear his yapping is slowing us down as much as the wind.”

The she-wolf's jaws clamped down on Toby's muzzle. Everything within him turned dark with terror. He had to fight back somehow. They were bigger and stronger, but he had to do something even though he was scared. If he couldn't fight back with muscle, he would with words. He wriggled his muzzle free. ”It's not just my mum who's going to get you. It's all the bears of the Beyond!”

”Precisely!” one wolf answered him.

Unbelievably, the wolves began to laugh.

Toby growled. ”You think it's funny. It's not going to be funny, you p.o.o.p b.a.l.l.s!”

Toby was becoming more frightened by the minute. He had kept his eye on the sun as it sank toward the horizon and now his stomach clenched as they descended into a deep ravine that took a sudden plunge into a narrow pit. The wolf who had been carrying him dropped him in the middle of the pit and then scurried back to join the others, who stood on the embankment a fair distance off, watching with malicious antic.i.p.ation. What's going on here? Toby thought, and then from a crack in the stone walls, a wolf staggered out. Frothy bubbles dribbled from his jaws.

Urskadamus! Toby thought. A wolf with the foaming-mouth disease! They brought me to a wolf with the foaming-mouth disease!

He knew there was no hope now. He would die a maddened cub in the most painful death imaginable. It would go on for days. His muscles would lock, his eyes would roll up in his head. His fur would get so hot, it would steam. He knew all about this disease. One of the first things grizzlies taught their cubs was never, ever, to go near a foaming-mouth animal a” no matter what. Even if the sick animal were a grizzly, even if it were his own mother a” she wouldn't recognize him and, in her madness, would only want to attack. What could he do? What could he do?

”Have a pleasant stay in the Pit,” snarled one of his cubnappers.

”Shut your muzzle, Donaidh,” snapped the largest of the wolves, who appeared to be their leader. He was a savage-looking creature with a horrible scar running down his face all the way to his neck. ”I do the talking.” The scarred wolf turned toward Toby and said in a dangerously soft voice, ”What's your name, cubby?”