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So Speaketh Death

Chapter 19

Asres didn't know what to do, and he wasn't used to not knowing what to do. Even when he was a boy living with his tribe, Taiga and even his parents had often looked to him for wisdom and guidance. He was their connection to Yfel and Maret, the chosen of She Who Cackles, the Tongue of the Gods, the Voice of Madness and Death. They looked to him because he had been chosen to succeed the old Seer and had been gifted with visions, powerful magical abilities, and the ability to read minds at depths only the eldest foxes could. He was an instrument of Maret and proudly so. But the dark day came when the earthquake took all he knew and loved, along with his gifts.

One moment, Asres was eating supper with his family and frostily ignoring Feven, the next moment, he was crushed beneath the impossible weight of the earth. He remembered the darkness swallowing him whole, Taiga's voice screaming for their parents, screaming for him. He remembered hearing Feven choking beside him and the tears that poured down his face when he felt what was clearly hot blood pooling under his cheek. It was Feven's blood. Feven was dying. Feven was being crushed. And Asres couldn't reach him, couldn't save him, couldn't even tell him he was sorry for everything that had passed between them. Asres couldn't even scream. The earth consumed him, filled his mouth, crushed his back. The screams of his tribe continued for hours. Eventually, Feven stopped gasping. Eventually, Taiga stopped screaming. Eventually, his tribe fell silent. Eventually, everyone was dead.

Asres thought he was going to die as well and wondered why Maret had not embraced him with her black wings. Why did he linger, broken and pained, while his tribe passed on to the Halfway Place? And then he saw them: eyes in the darkness. They were the eyes of a great bird, glittering like fire. He knew it was Maret, that she had sent the bird to reach down into the earth and pull him out. The soil roared in his ears as it fell away, as he was lifted to the stars and across the sky. He dangled in the bird's grasp, lifeless and limp, and when it set him down again, he knew where he was. It was the same shrine from which Etienne had teleported to Varimore only weeks before.

Asres didn't think he could move. He lay on the stone, his cheek pressed to the ground and rising up in his eye, his long black mane coming loose of its braid. His entire body felt crushed and numb. He couldn't feel his legs and it horrified him.

The great black bird perched on the nearby altar, peering down at Asres with its eyes like fire. He looked in those eyes and realized he was looking at an extension of Maret's being, a hulking beast through the eyes of which she could look upon the world. The bird wasn't real. It was a shapeless being formed of darkness, smoke, and starlight. And it was waiting.

What . . . do you wish? Asres managed to call telepathically. He hated himself for asking such a question on reflex. Was he so conditioned, so brainwashed to honor the gods that even on the brink of his death - which was likely their fault, no less - he was asking what they wanted? The worst part of it was, he knew beforehand that the earthquake was coming. He'd dreamt of it the night before but hadn't been able to make sense of the blurred images, the creatures fighting with wings of fire in the sky. Now he understood: the pivotal moment had come. The gods were at war, and their battle shook the earth until it caved. Maret had sent him the vision. He had been able to warn his tribe but had failed to do so. They could have evacuated the burrow. Now they were dead.

Your heart cries out in anger and pain, came a voice in Asres' mind, a voice at once husky and old, like the last rattling breath of the oldest fox. You ask what I wish, but I have brought you here to discover what you wish. All your life, I have demanded the entirety of what you are. Son of Maret, I have demanded your body and your spirit, your heart and your mind. Now I give you a choice. With death, I can set you free. I can leave you here to die or I can give you second life. But know that when the time comes, you must do my bidding. You only live now because I will it. The shadow of cold wings looms outstretched over you.

Asres closed his eyes. If he wanted to live, he had to obey her. It wasn't a choice. It was _blackmail._Couldn't she see that? Sometimes he wondered if the gods were even aware of how they manipulated them, controlled them, and dictated them. It made anger burn in his stomach like fire and he almost screamed for death. What was the point? Why go on? Everything he had ever loved was dead anyway.

Make your choice, the great bird whispered. Life or death.

Asres wasn't certain he could speak. His lips were cracked and hard with blood, but he managed to open them and choked up black earth. A glob of drool slipped through his fangs, quenching his dry mouth as he gathered breath to his lungs to scream. But what came out was barely a whisper, ". . . life."

Then live, my son. So speaketh Death, Maret replied and the black bird vanished.

When the goddess had gone, Asres could feel the strength and life restored to his crushed body. He staggered to his feet and brushed himself off, and as the tears rose in his eyes, he thought that even the goddess of life and death could not restore a broken heart.

Asres remembered staggering to the portal, which while inactivated was an archway devoid of light. He tried to touch the symbol for one of the shrines in Varimore, thinking that perhaps he'd find Etienne and be with him. He was afraid to be alone. And as he stared at the panel of symbols, he realized he had never been alone before in his life. Now he stood in the darkness, in the silence of a forest that was black and dying, in the midst of ghosts and their haunted eyes. Sometimes he glanced over his shoulder and thought he saw Feven, a silhouette, standing bloody and unseeing in the darkness. He wanted out. He wanted out of Idria desperately and his blood-soaked fingers slid slippery over the symbols. He cursed when he accidentally activated the portal for a shrine in Curith: Ayni's territory was the last place he wanted to go. The archway swirled with light, waiting for him to enter. He tried to activate another symbol but it was too late. Then he heard movement in the darkness, and terrified, he hurried through the portal.

Asres remembered fainting soon after he arrived in Curith, likely from exhaustion or despair or both. When he awoke, he was in the company of a young black dog and his white fox cub companion. He was lying on a spread of blankets beside a dwindling fire, in the dark warmth of what appeared to be an awkwardly dug burrow. The burrow was very small and was filled with little trinkets, cooking utensils, and clumsily made furniture and tools. Asres couldn't escape the feeling that the children had created the home for themselves. He looked at them and wondered where their parents were and how they, a dog and a fox, had come to be living together in the wild. Such an odd pairing they made, and yet they seemed at home with each other.

The little fox girl was white as snow, curious, and sweet, with brown eyes as dark as the wettest earth. She held Asres' paw as he lay in pain on the blankets and sang him songs of fire and blood that were most disturbing. It made Asres wonder what sort of life the girl had led prior to her life with the black dog. She sang of daggers and death and of the blank eyes of She of Madness, and Asres knew she had come from one of Yfel's wild tribes. No doubt the foxes of Yfel had sang the songs often in her presence, and she, in her desire to comfort Asres, was singing them now with a sweetness that warmed and saddened his heart all at once: they were the only songs she knew.

The black dog, meanwhile, was very protective of the girl and warned her away from Asres, saying sternly that they didn't yet know if he could be trusted. Asres knew what the dog was. He was a slave. His particular breed was Beauceron, and he had no doubt served a dog master before his life in the forest with the girl. Asres had seen the occasional Beauceron slave traveling with the dog merchants his tribe used to trade with in the forest. Such dogs were always black and sleek, well-groomed, beautiful, and submissive. They were fiercely protective of their masters, and the young dog kneeling over Asres when he awoke was no different. He was as devoted to the cub as if she held his leash, though she seemed to rule his heart not with a dog lord's will but with her sweetness and helplessness.

Asres would have placed the Beauceron at thirteen years old but was surprised to discover he was a bit older than that. He was very handsome and very young, somewhere near seventeen or eighteen years at most, while the child with him was only four or five years old. The girl's name was Yeneneshe, the dog's name was Gallus, and Asres didn't know it, but he'd just met his daughter and the love of his life.

In the years that followed, Asres lived with Gallus and Yeneneshe, helping them survive the forest and build their burrow from a humble hovel to an adequate home. Young as he was, Asres raised Yeneneshe like his own, and though he had lost his many gifts, he taught Yeneneshe to live in the ways of Maret: he taught her to respect life, to stand fearless in the face of death, and to wield her magical powers responsibly and skillfully.

Asres had never been much of a hunter, having always possessed strong magical abilities. Taiga and his other three sisters were the ones who provided meat for the family, while he and his mother cooked whatever spoils they brought home from the hunt. He had always been clumsy with a bow and was grateful when Gallus took up the task of hunting for them. But he also felt guilty. Gallus had about as much experience with hunting as Asres: he had none. But he still took up a bow and quiver and went out to the forest everyday to hunt. Over the years that passed, Gallus became rather good, and his black fur allowed him an invisibility that made hunting after nightfall all too easy.

For twenty years, Asres lived without need of his gifts. He lived without visions. He lived without voices. He lived without the fear of losing his eyesight. And it was wonderful. Now he was thirty-nine and the visions were coming back. He dreamt of fire in the sky, falling stars, dog-foxes, and now it seemed a dog-fox was in their midst. She fell like a star from the sky, burning with fire conjured of magic. She was his vision come to life. He didn't know what the gods were trying to tell him, but he had the feeling Maret was about to call in on her favor.

The dog-fox was not alone when she fell to the earth near their burrow. A pretty young vixen fell with her, and looking at her jewelry and torn white gown, Asres was quick to realize that the vixen was from S'pru. He glanced at Yeneneshe, terrified that she might develop renewed interested in the place and start asking questions. Yeneneshe had been fascinated by S'pru for years and had even spoken of leaving to see the world where foxes ruled. But she knew that going to S'pru meant going where Gallus could not, as the world in the sky was poison to dogs. She and Gallus had never been apart before. The thought of separating seemed to distress them both.

They took the dog-fox and the vixen inside their home, and after Asres soothed them with his healing magic, they left their charges in an adjoining bedroom and sat around the fire in the main room together, trying to decide what to do.

For the first time in his life, Asres didn't know what to do. Maret did not speak to him, though clearly, the dog-fox was of her making. He could sense the touch of Maret on the young girl, on her breath, on her fingertips. The dog-fox emanated_death_. It was intoxicating. And for some reason, looking at her gave Asres chills. He remembered how her eyes had slipped open as he was healing her. She looked at him sleepily, and her blue eyes . . . they were familiar. Her long golden mane, her black muzzle, all of it reminded Asres of Etienne. And the slow realization was coming to him that the dog-fox might have been Taiga's child.

"You know something," Yeneneshe accused Asres. "But you aren't telling us. It's about that dog creature, isn't it? The one with all the golden hair." She sat across from Asres, peering at him defiantly across the fire. Her arms were folded and her long white mane was loose around her shoulders. "What are you hiding, Asres!"

Gallus frowned reprovingly. "Yen," he softly scolded.

Yeneneshe glanced at the Beauceron guiltily and dropped her eyes. Asres couldn't decide why she was so upset, but then he remembered the loving and affectionate way in which he had cared for the dog-fox: Yeneneshe was jealous. She thought she was losing her father's affection to a complete stranger, and she wanted answers. Asres didn't know how to tell her that the stranger lying unconscious in the other room was likely his niece.

"What's important is that our guests are well," Asres said. "Perhaps in the morning they can tell us why they were falling."

Yeneneshe snorted. "Provided they don't kill us in the night."

Asres slowly frowned. "That is enough, child."

Yeneneshe's breasts heaved. "When are you and Gallus going to stop talking down me!" she cried, looking between them with wide eyes. She sprang up, her breasts bouncing. "In case_you haven't noticed, I am not a cub anymore! This is my home too. I should have a say who stays in it. That _thing is in my bed!"

Asres looked at the young vixen apologetically. The dog-fox was indeed sleeping in Yeneneshe's bed. He and Gallus had been so hasty to help her, they hadn't even realized. The red vixen was also in Yeneneshe's bed with the dog-fox. Asres had watched the females a moment as they were sleeping and had wondered if they weren't lovers.

"I'm sorry, Yennie," Asres said. "You can have our bed tonight. We'll sleep on the floor --"

"N-No," Yeneneshe said and swallowed hard. Asres could tell she was ashamed of her outburst. She'd always had such a nasty temper for such a sweet girl. He knew it had to do with her life before Gallus, and for that reason, had always been patient with her.

"I'll be back before dawn," Yeneneshe said darkly, and Asres watched unhappily as she took up her walking stick and ducked out the burrow.

Gallus placed a soothing paw on Asres' knee. "She'll be alright. She was fighting off bandits and bears long before we ever found you."

Asres laughed softly.

Gallus squeezed his knee. "Let's go to bed."

Asres and Gallus shared a small bedroom off the main room, barred by a curtain and containing a simple mattress that sat like a nest against the wall. A shelf was dug out in the wall, and candles littered the floor, stabbing pale yellow fingers of light to the earthen ceiling. They helped each other undress, and as Asres helped Gallus out of his pants, he smiled, remembering a time when Gallus had refused to wear clothing. If anything, Gallus seemed afraid of clothing. Having been a slave, the Beauceron had never worn clothes before and didn't seem inclined to, as if being naked were a comfortable habit, as if donning clothing would strip him of the identity he was struggling to cling to. But the years passed, the winters grew colder, Asres kept nagging, and eventually, Gallus realized he wasn't a slave anymore: it was time to wear clothes. Asres eventually coaxed Gallus to wear a shirt. Gallus couldn't get it on. Asres helped him . . . and then wound up helping him out of it again not long after. That night was the first night they made love.

As the years passed, Asres and Gallus grew closer, falling more deeply in love with every glance, kiss, and whisper. Gallus was a virgin and was uncertain the first time they made love. He trembled, shaping Asres with his big gentle paws as carefully as if he feared he would break him. His kisses were warm and fervent, pressing in Asres' neck and mane, trailing down his chest and to the rigid desire that stood in silent longing for him. Asres was patient, undemanding, and too swept away by his own feelings to notice if Gallus was clumsy and unsure. Their lovemaking was always intense, and there were many long nights when their black bodies rocked in steady rhythm until they lay spent in each other's arms.

Present-day Asres and Gallus climbed into bed together, and Asres snuggled against Gallus' chest, letting the worried thoughts chase each other around his head. He closed his eyes when Gallus started rubbing his back soothingly. Gallus had always been bigger and stronger than Asres, despite his somewhat younger age. They were only a few years apart, but Asres looked very young beside Gallus, even after twenty years. He supposed in only a few more decades, Gallus would look like his perverted older lover. Asres was a fox and would stay young and beautiful for a very long time, but Gallus was a dog and would age a lot faster. Asres didn't look forward to the day when he might outlive his lover. He rubbed the Beauceron's warm chest and pushed the thought away.

"She's right, you know," Gallus whispered after a while. "We treat her like a pup. I don't think she's even had sex before."

Asres squeezed his eyes shut. "Do we have to discuss . . ."

"Yes, Asres. We have to. Yen is unhappy. I think she's lonely."

"I know," Asres said heavily. "If I were raising her with my kin, I would have found her a good mate by now. She would have cubs, a husband who loved her, a home of her own. She would be a vixen. But she is without a tribe, so she is without its rites of passage, and so she feels like a cub still. Sometimes I think of asking one of the young merchants to take her . . ."

Gallus laughed tonelessly. "A dog? You know damn well that she hates dogs. She would never forgive you."

"She doesn't hate you," Asres pointed out and rubbed his lover's broad chest. "I know that merchant Finley, he would be gentle. And she likes him, I think. But she could have been with him already for all we know."

"No, I don't think she has. But she does wander the forest alone quite often lately. I think there is someone she wants, Asres. Only she's afraid to tell us. She wants to share her bed with this male."

Asres frowned. "What have you discovered? And why haven't you told me sooner?"

"I'm telling you now." Gallus smoothed his big paw up Asres' back.

Asres sighed. "I'm listening."

"One night she went out. She thought we were sleeping, but I could not sleep. I heard her leave and I followed her."

"Where did she go?"

"To the lake up north. She went there to bathe."

Asres sighed irritably. "I told her to stop bathing in the lake. Lakes are filthy."

"She was singing to someone in the water, Asres," Gallus pressed.

"So she's been scrying," Asres said darkly.

"Yes."

Asres fell silent, not knowing what to think. Scrying with water could be used for many purposes: seeing the future, seeing the past, communicating over long distances, or spying on others. It sounded like Yeneneshe was communicating with someone. But who? Asres hoped it wasn't some god trying to steal her away. The gods were known for snatching young and beautiful maidens, making love to them, and subsequently killing them in the process. It was especially common with Ti'uu and his children. A god might wish to steal Yeneneshe away to Skkye. The very thought filled his heart with dread.

"What do you think?" Gallus asked.

"I think we're going to have a talk with Yeneneshe when she returns," Asres said darkly. "We should probably follow her and see what she's doing right now, but we can't leave our guests alone."

"I could follow Yen and you could stay, but I don't like the idea of leaving you alone with them. They might have someone looking for them. Is that what you fear? Yen was right: there _is_something you're holding back, Asres."

Asres swallowed hard. "Gallus . . . I think the dog girl is Taiga's."

"What?"

"Taiga's child. Remember how I told you she was pregnant when she died? Our tribe captured King Etienne and held him for weeks with the demand that he give us a child. And he did."

Gallus slowly stopped rubbing Asres' back. "Oh."

Asres smiled, his cheek bulging against Gallus' chest. "Do you know what this means? It means that maybe Taiga is alive!"

"That's wonderful," Gallus whispered and kissed Asres' mane.

Asres' moon-shaped eyes crinkled up as he stared happily at the shelf in the wall. "There have been stories circling for years that Etienne keeps foxes in his court. Maybe Taiga is with him. Maybe she's been with him all this time."

"I hope she is," Gallus said, though Asres could hear the sadness in his voice: he didn't believe Taiga was alive, and he didn't want Asres getting his hopes up.

"If she's not, I'll be fine, I swear," Asres whispered and rubbed his lover's chest. "Gallus . . . I promise."

"It's alright if you're not fine. I'll be here either way."

Asres smiled when Gallus kissed his head again and held him tightly.

"What if she is Etienne's child?" Gallus wondered. "Are you saying we should take the girl back to him in Varimore? I made a vow never to take Yeneneshe back there. And I don't think she'd want to go. Something bad happened to her there."

Asres stared at the shelf uncertainly. Gallus had told him years before how Azrian made him swear never to return to Varimore, and like the typical Beauceron, Gallus took his orders very seriously. In his heart, he was still the slave of Azrian, still serving her in serving Yeneneshe. And it would pain him to break his promise.

"But . . ." Gallus sighed. "If it would make you happy to go there . . . I suppose . . ."

Asres smiled sadly, his cheek bulging against Gallus' strong chest. "Aren't we getting ahead of ourselves? I could be wrong. Maybe the girl isn't Taiga's at all. I'm sure she'll tell us tomorrow when she wakes." His eyes clouded. "I wish Yen would tell us who she_is." He lifted his face and looked down at Gallus. "You certain she's never told you _anything about her life before Varimore?"

"Pretty certain," Gallus answered heavily.

Asres dropped his cheek on his lover's chest again and frowned.

"She didn't speak much when she was little," Gallus went on, rubbing Asres' back again. "She just wept. All the time. Sometimes she screamed."

"We should find her someone. If anything happened to us, Gallus . . . I don't want her to be alone."

"She won't be, mi sihle. Go to sleep."

Asres smiled. Over the last twenty years, he and Yeneneshe had been slowly teaching Gallus to speak their language. He was very fluent but still spoke his own tongue for the most part and had in turn taught Yeneneshe to speak the tongue of the dogs.

"Goodnight, Gallus," Asres whispered and kissed Gallus on the lips.

"Goodnight, Asres," Gallus whispered back, his lips brushing his.

Asres snuggled against the Beauceron's chest and closed his eyes. But his dreams were feverish, swamped with shifting shadows and hissing whispers. He wrestled against the images, grunting, moaning, until it was all Gallus could do to hold him still.

"Asres!" Gallus cried. "Asres - wake up! You're having a nightmare!"

Asres sat bolt upright, as if propelled from the dream and its darkness. His black mane tumbled in his eyes and he panted desperately, his chest heaving, his gasps loud in the silence. He heard Gallus sit up beside him, felt his lover's big paw rubbing his back, but the cold clung to his fur, and he hugged himself, trying to push the whispers away.

"You're shaking," Gallus cried anxiously. "What happened? Another vision?"

"Y-Yes," Asres managed through trembling lips. "She of Death . . . she spoke to me, Gallus."

Gallus went still. "What did she say?"

Asres swallowed hard, his lips still trembling. He couldn't stop shaking. Death had come to him, and her shadow was so cold. "She s-said . . ." Asres swallowed again. "I must take Zeinara to Wychowl." He looked at Gallus. "That's her name." He smiled sadly. "Zeinara."

Yeneneshe stood in the front room, grimly listening as the fire lit her dark eyes until they glowed like embers. Her lip curled angrily to reveal a fang, "Zeinara."