Lupus Rex (26 page)

H
ARLEQUIN WAS LYING
beside the wolf. The man walked up to the gigantic gory form and kicked the dead beast, making a grunt of sorts as he watched it for a moment, then kicked it again. He paid no attention to the insignificant quail, as if he had not even perceived their presence. Satisfied, he reached down and took Asmod by the leg and, with some effort, dragged him to the edge of the field and out of sight.

Ysil went to her. “Harlequin, are you all right?”

For one horrifying moment Ysil thought her dead. She lay so still, eyes shut tight. Then Harlequin stirred. “What was that?”

“That was the end of the wolf,” answered Ysil. She pressed her head to his outstretched wing.

Then with a great gust Pitrin settled down nearby, and beside him landed Nascus and the other crows.

“You are brave, little quail,” said Nascus. “The murder has told me of your courageous flight with the hornets at your back. It was you who turned the tide of the battle. I had my spies within the tree as I sought out Pitrin. And now,” Nascus said, laughing a bit at this, “as the blind wolf attacked your friend, your tiny beak sent him screaming.”

“He is brave, certainly,” said Pitrin. “And he is my brother.” The hawk pulled Cotur Ada’s feather from his breast, laying it at the feet of Ysil. The crows looked at him in shock, but Nascus made no sign of surprise, his eyes sparkling.

Ysil looked up at the noble hawk in wonder. The massive bird took to wing, bearing his form high to his nest, and there he settled, disappearing into the tangle of branches.

T
HE NEXT DAY
Ysil went to the Murder’s Tree unannounced, and with him he brought the feather of Cotur Ada. Nascus was tending to the nest and had set the skulls in a row at its back. His father and father’s father watched, eyeless, as the quail settled into the nest.

Nascus looked up and smiled with amused astonishment.

“Well, little quail, you are a brave one,” he said. “I would say this is the first time a quail has ever set foot within this nest. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

Ysil was nervous, but within his heart he held a purpose that urged him on.

“I bring you this feather, King,” said Ysil. “I bring it to you in the hopes you will keep it in your nest. Keep it near, lest you forget the wisdom of my grandfather. For he warned of the wolf, but none would listen.”

Nascus smiled, and with that smile Ysil decided that Nascus would be a wise King. “I will keep it, little quail. I will always remember.”

The King Crow tucked the feather within his nest, then he reached down, and very carefully picked up a small thing. He pressed this thing into a space beside the skulls of the dead King Crows and stepped back. It was Cotur Ada’s tiny skull, in line beside Mellori’s.

Ysil stammered and cried, and he flew from the nest.

Behind him Nascus called out one last time, “I will always remember!”

Y
SIL WENT BACK
to the brush where he was born. And there were Harlequin and Cormo. As the day wore on, Ysil felt within him the gathering of a new order. And the nest in which he rested felt safer than before. As night descended once again on Murder’s Field and those who lived within and near it, Ysil and Harlequin nuzzled up to each other and slept the sleep of the free.

Epilogue

T
HE WINTER CAME
fast that season, ripping the leaves from the trees like a starving bear stripping a sapling. The pale blanket of snow draped across the field and the woods, confining the hibernating animals comfortably within their dens—the mice, woodchucks, and moles huddled together in a blissful, cozy sleep. The snow that had fallen during the night, as the moon above lit the clouded sky from horizon to horizon, continued to fall into the first hours of day. The grain was beneath the snow, and most animals that did not hibernate or go south were taken to eating from that which was stored away, or the rare dug hickory nut or an acorn pilfered from an empty den. And though the sun peeked through the occasional break in the clouds, the chill was deep and bitter that morning.

Ysil peered out from the brush and into the field as the fourth hour of day’s light crept toward the fifth. He watched as King Nascus flew in tight circles around the tree, with each revolution taking on more black screeching birds in his wake. Around the tree a thick cloud of crows developed. This was the wedding of the crows, and Cotur Ensis—now the eldest of the quail and successor to Cotur Mono—had told Ysil the day before to rise early and watch the wedding and departure. This was the time of year when the birds took mates and together, in pairs or in groups, left for Miscwa Tabik-kizi. Ensis had told Ysil the day of preparation for his eldership was at hand, that he would soon become Cotur Ysil. He wanted Ysil to see all he could in the next season, for Ysil had been chosen to one day become the leader of the quail.

In their circular flight the crows squawked and screamed in seeming chaos until finally Nascus went silent, and with him, all the rest of the birds. The sun shone brightly for the moment, and the crows made one last circle about the great tree, then embarked as a great mass to the north, with King Nascus in the lead.

Ysil watched the crow’s departure, the sound of their wings softening as they got farther away. Then settled a complete stillness over the snowy field, and with it came the force of a great sadness within Ysil’s heart. He thought of all that had come and gone in the past few moons. He thought of his grandfather, of watching him die. He thought of the loss of one of his dearest friends to the same creature who would eventually become his final savior. Was it worth the cost? And he thought of Harlequin, likely upon their nest now, feeling the steady beat of the hearts beneath her warm belly within the six eggs she kept. She was nesting early, but Ysil had a great hope for the chicks beneath her breast. The strength of their ancestors’ blood was strong.

With the thought of Harlequin and the eggs, he turned to go back to their nest. But without warning there came a great swoop of wings.
The hawk!
With fearful instinct, Ysil almost flushed, but his fear was subdued, seeing as the last time he had been in his presence, the hawk had called him brother.

But then he looked up, and his fear returned with a force. It was not the form of a hawk that was upon him, but the rare sunlit body of the great owl. Ysil froze in place with a great shock, and, as the bird bore down on him, he only had time to think to himself,
This must be how the owl gets his prey; he freezes them in fear.

Then the bird was upon him. Ysil fainted dead away.

Y
SIL WOKE AND
opened his eyes, and there just above him was the great beak of the owl, its very tongue red and so close he could smell the decay on its breath.

“Well, hello, little bird,” said Strix. “And so we meet at last.”

H
ARLEQUIN SAT IN
the nest, the round forms of the eggs beneath her reassuring and comforting. She had worried about Ysil when he left that morning and even asked him to stay, uncertain why she was concerned.

“All is fine,” he told her. “I’ll be back with a sprig of hackberries for you. I saw some yesterday near the rabbits’ dens.” He had smiled at her and nuzzled her neck warmly. She had smiled back, but since he left an uneasiness had settled on her like the powdery snow.

There came a flutter from the bush. She looked up in hopeful expectation. Then came another rustle and out stepped Cormo.

“Oh, I was hoping you were Ysil,” said Harlequin.

“Well,” he said with a smirk, “fine greeting for an old friend. Where
is
Ysil, by the way?”

“Cotur Ensis suggested he go watch the crows’ wedding and their departure, but I would have thought he would be back by now.”

“Well, I suppose I could go look for him,” said Cormo. “Did he say he was going to watch from the near corner of the field? He’s been foraging there a good bit lately.”

“I don’t think he was going that far,” she said. “He said he would be back quick—as soon as the crows left—so he should be close.”

“I’ll go look for him.” And with that Cormo took off to the brush.

The wind settled and the snow continued. Harlequin chilled a bit within the nest and settled down, her colors mixing perfectly with the grays and browns of the sleeping woods around her.

Then there came a quick rush of wind, and in a flash Ysil flew in and landed with a thud in the nest.

Though Harlequin was immediately relieved at the sight of her mate, she was taken aback by his appearance. He was disheveled and looked greatly shaken up.

“Are you okay?” they both asked each other at the same time.

Ysil made a nervous laugh in response and shook his head.

“I am fine,” she said. “But you, my love, are not.”

“No, no, I am perfectly fine also,” he said, still shaking his head. He seemed in a bit of a shock.

“You know,” he said, “when my grandfather left Monroth and me in the brush and confronted Banka, he told me something. He said, ‘You may find friends in unexpected places and with unsuspected faces . . . Take care whom you trust, as well as whom you do not.’ I didn’t know what he meant then, but now I do.”

“What are you talking about, Ysil?”

“It seems that when we were upon our journey, we had a guardian watching over us. I have just been paid a visit by Strix the owl.”

“Strix!” answered Harlequin in surprise. “Did he try to eat you? How did you get away?”

Ysil laughed. “How, indeed. It seems he was a friend of my grandfather’s. When we first heard of old King Crow Mellori’s death, Cotur Ada disappeared. He went to confer with Strix. He asked the owl to watch over the Reckoning while he was gone, and if it turned out badly, as Cotur Ada and Strix were both sure it would, the two planned to go to the hawk’s land to beg his return. When Cotur Ada died, he continued his charge and kept watch over Monroth and myself. He was even watching you when you found Cormo and Gomor. He saw the foxes sneaking through the woods to your bedding site beside the dead tree that night. He was rushing in to warn you when I flew in like a fool.”

“My
brave
fool!” said Harlequin.

“That night he listened to the foxes plan and decided to watch from on high. He followed us on our whole journey, but he waited on the bank of the river when we reached the hawk’s land.”

“This is so much to take in!” said Harlequin. “So we have a friend in the owl?”

“Well, that is why he came to me, you see.” Ysil was stammering a bit. “He came to tell of his past friendship and that he is relinquishing his commitment. He has been watching us closely for a while and has decided his hunger and his charge are beginning to interfere. He came to suggest that we change our nesting place.”

“Goodness! For what reason?”

“He said he feels he knows us very well now, and sees we are much like my grandfather. It seems that Cotur Ada pulled him from a nest as a chick when the wind had blown it from the tree. All the other chicks died. My grandfather had a rare and unusual love for all creatures, killer and prey alike. Strix said he had an understanding of the true order, far beyond that of the crows, quail, or his own for that matter.
The true order
. That’s what the owl said. Then he said that though he has learned to love us from watching us on high, there will come a night when he will awaken in the cold winter months to come and his hunger will drive him to our nest. He came to me of himself. What say you, my love? I feel we must leave.”

Harlequin sat for a long time, taking this all in. The snow was beginning to slow, but the winter’s silence was still deafening. Ysil did not speak, but waited for her to go through the process of making a decision on her own.

Finally, she replied: “Wherever you are, that is where I will nest. As you lead, I will follow. Let’s go away from here. We will never return. We will begin anew and form our own covey. But how will we move the eggs?”

“I can help with that,” came the voice of Cormo from the brush.

Harlequin and Ysil both looked up quickly. “So you’ve been listening, eh?” said Harlequin.

“Just checking in on my friends,” said Cormo, and behind him moved the form of another quail. It was Sylvil.

“We can help,” said the meek bird. She looked at Cormo with a great love, then back to Ysil and Harlequin. “We will both go with you.”

Without another word, Harlequin and Sylvil each took an egg, with Cormo and Ysil taking two, and tucked them carefully under their wings near to their bodies, and with the quiet of the snow around them, they made their way down the path that led away from the field and to the south.

And high in a pale sycamore, within the heights of the top branches, a great white bird watched them depart. When they were gone down the path, and their small forms disappeared beneath the folds of gray branches and clumps of snow, the owl took wing and flew in the opposite direction, back to a corner of the field, where he made his new nest within the sheltering green branches of the hemlock.