Part 12 (1/2)

”How do you know she will not lead Faolan into it and leave him there?”

There was a gasp. But before anyone could think or stop what happened next, it was as if a silver comet streaked through the gadderheal. Faolan leaped upon the red wolf and rolled her, her ruff firmly clamped in his jaws. He then held her down with both paws. ”You know nothing! Edme is my dearest friend, and only a treacherous wolf would accuse her of such deceit.” The other wolves were mute with shock.

”Off! Off! Faolan, now!” the Fengo ordered.

Faolan released his grip and backed away.

”Faolan! Banja! Listen to me,” the Fengo commanded.

”Make her take it back,” Faolan gasped.

”Don't act like a puppy who just lost at a game of biliboo.” The Fengo wheeled around and then snapped at Banja. ”Banja, you of all wolves should know better. What has gotten into you? Where is your dignity? You are a wolf of the Watch!” He was breathing heavily, as if this kind of outburst and the reprimand it demanded taxed him.

”Banja has had it out for Edme from the start,” Faolan yowled.

”Stop whining!” The Fengo paused as if to catch his breath. ”Now, both of you listen to me! The war is not in this gadderheal!” Finbar tossed his head toward the entrance. ”It's out there. I will not tolerate such behavior. You go and make paw right a” this instant!”

Paw right was the traditional gesture of making amends, setting disagreements aside, and reconciling with one's adversary. Each wolf was required to take three steps toward his or her opponent, then lift a paw and touch the other's paw lightly.

The two wolves approached each other as was prescribed. But when Faolan lifted his splayed paw, Banja made no move at all. Her eyes clamped onto the pad with the spiraling marks. She seemed transfixed and began to tremble.

”Banja!” the Fengo said sharply.

”I can't touch it, honorable Fengo.”

”You can or you shall be dalach'd.”

The wolf swallowed and finally lifted her paw and fleetingly touched Faolan's, then turned and stumbled away.

Faolan and Edme left immediately. Arthur flew overhead. He seemed like a different owl from the one Faolan had s.n.a.t.c.hed out of the sky, mewling and frightened. It was as if he had grown up overnight, even acquired a slight measure of dignity. He took his job seriously, although he would not need to fly cover until they entered MacHeath territory. At the moment, Arthur was flying a quarter league ahead. But they saw him carve a turn and head back toward them as he sailed over a high ridge.

”He's flying fast!” Faolan observed. ”What do you think he's found? Certainly not MacHeaths yet.”

”No, not yet,” Edme replied.

Arthur landed. ”Bears, hundreds of them! You'll see them when you get to the top of the ridge.”

”Oh, Great Ursus!” Faolan whispered at they scrambled up the shale slope. It was as if a dark ocean were rolling in from the west. He had no idea that there were so many bears in the Beyond. ”They're marching on the Ring!”

”Let me find out,” Arthur said. The Spotted Owl spread his wings and lifted into flight.

This is my chance, Arthur thought. I'm tired of being bullied. Made fun of because of my wing tip. Had he been born a wolf rather than an owl, he would have been flung from the nest. But Faolan and Edme had returned stronger, braver than ever. He wasn't sure if he had it in him to be really brave. Courage was a strange thing. For some, it came easy. But could there really be courage without fear? Was it courage that had made him take the dare to dive for the ember? Or was it something else a” a poor imitation?

What had he hoped to gain? Respect? Glory? Not really. Just to be liked, accepted. How pitiful was that? Halfway through the prank, he began to realize how stupid it was. He had seen Faolan looking at him while he was cratering, and had begun to wonder if he could gather up his nerve to tell the wolves of the Watch about the cubnapping he'd witnessed. He'd been just about to fly down to Faolan's cairn, when suddenly that wolf was on him. He'd never seen a wolf jump so quicky or so high.

And what would he gain from his latest adventure? He wasn't sure, but he was certain that a war between the wolves and the bears would crack Faolan's gizzard. Of course, Arthur knew that Faolan didn't have a gizzarda. Marrow! That was it. The wolves were always swearing oaths by their marrow. But Arthur's own bones were hollow, so he swore by that organ most revered by owls. By my gizzard, I must help stop this war!

At that moment, Arthur knew he had crossed some invisible line. It was no longer simply about himself and his poor wing tip. His actions were on behalf of someone else and something larger than himself. There would be no glory, just hard work.

When Arthur drew close to the first line of bears, he swooped down low, swiveling his head one way, then another, to pick up conversation that might help. The words and language didn't differ that much among owls, bears, and wolves, but Arthur's ear was unaccustomed to the thick, rumbling brogue that ran through the bears' speech like the m.u.f.fled roar of an underground river. He turned his head toward the southwest, and in the glimmering light of the dawn, he spotted the first of the wolves from the western Beyond approaching a” a dark swagging line on the purpling horizon. ”Great Glaux!” Arthur murmured. ”They're coming from all over!”

Arthur was gone only briefly before Faolan and Edme saw him streaking his way toward them again.

”He came back,” Edme said. ”I thought he might fly away.”

”He certainly had every chance to.” Faolan paused. ”But I had a hunch he wouldn't.”

Arthur alighted on a flat rock, shoulder high to the wolves. ”The bears are heading south and east. Toward the Black Gla.s.s Desert. It's their rallying point, and there are wolves going, too. Something about a gaddergludder. Not sure what that means.”

Faolan and Edme looked at each other. ”A rally a” a wolves' rally before a hunt to raise the marrow and the taste for blood,” Faolan replied.

”It's war,” Edme said quietly.

”It must be. The Fengo and the raghnaid must a must a” He could barely utter the words. ”Must have failed in their parley.” The Fengo's voice echoed in their minds: Words are cheap!

”How long do the bears rally before they attack?” Edme asked.

”A day and a night, I think,” Faolan answered. He tried to remember stories that Thunderheart had told him about bear rallies. But of course, there had never been a rally for a war with the wolves. They'd only been for small fights over territory.

Faolan had one thought: No war. He had one speed a” attack speed, not press-paw. For Faolan, a war of sorts had already begun, a war between his wolf marrow and his bear heart. This was a war in which there would be no winners or losers. He would lose all, and win nothing.

So it was at attack speed that Faolan and Edme set out for the Pit, where the cub was held hostage by Old Cags. As they traveled, Edme explained as best she could about the peculiar torture chamber the MacHeaths had devised.

”I'm not sure why Old Cags never died of the foaming-mouth disease, but he didn't. The clan feeds on terror, brutality. Old Cags has become a” how should I describe it? a” their talisman, their charm, for young rebellious pups. They come out of the Pit with eyes like stone.”

”Moon blinked,” Arthur said.

”What?” Edme asked.

”Moon blinked. Before I was hatched, there was this bad place where some owls a” bad owls a” would take baby owls. It was called St. Aegolius Academy for Orphaned Owls. But the truth was, the owlets weren't orphaned, they were s.n.a.t.c.hed. The bad owls took the babies to a place in the canyonlands that sounds a lot like the Pit. It was a deep, deep canyon, and they made the babies walk around at night under a blazing full moon. It did something to their brains. They couldn't think. They could only do what they were told.”

”Moon blinked, you say,” Faolan said. And he quickened his pace.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.

THE PIT.

FAOLAN'S PLAN WAS TO RESCUE the cub and take him to the Black Gla.s.s Desert as quickly as possible. Surely, there was time. They had left shortly after midnight, and thankfully the wind was with them. At this speed, they could rescue the cub by the next dawn, and just possibly make it to the Black Gla.s.s Desert by evening.