Slight and Shadow (Fate's Forsaken: Book Two) (15 page)

Kael woke to a crash and a wave of muddy water that soaked him from head to toe. Apparently, the growing weight of the water had proven too much for the bowed-out roof: part of the beam had rotted and given way — raining chunks of wood and shingles down where Kael had been sleeping.

“Wasthat?” Brend’s head shot up. His eyes were half-shut and bits of straw clung to his face.

“The roof caved in,” Kael mumbled, trying to wring some of the moisture from his tunic.

Brend’s lip puffed out in a sleepy frown. “Then stop jumping on it,” he said groggily. His head sunk down, and soon he was breathing heavily once again.

Kael didn’t get to go back to sleep. He was far too wet and cold to be comfortable, and his neck ached from sitting up. The stall doors opened later than usual: the sun was actually a respectable distance from the horizon when Finks released them.

“I don’t know about you clodders, but I feel like I’ve had an extra hour of sleep!” Brend called, and the giants answered him with a yawning cheer.

Declan stepped around them and went to peer at the western sky. “More rain coming,” he said.

And he was right. No sooner did they finish their drinks than another wave of rain came pattering down. “Back in your cages, beasts!” Finks cried. His face looked miserable beneath his oilskin cloak: shadows hung under his eyes, and his lips were bared away from his long teeth in a grimace.

As Finks chased them into the barn, Kael couldn’t help but think that the spells coming off his whip were a little more potent than usual. “What’s he so upset about?”

Brend shrugged. “Oh, he’s probably just fussed over those long, lovely locks of his,” he said with a wicked glance back at Finks. “Either that, or Churl didn’t turn up to watch his barn last night. They hate it when he does that.”

The barn doors slammed shut, and Kael had a feeling that they might be stuck inside for the rest of the day. At least they weren’t trapped in their stalls: the doors stayed open, and they had the whole aisle to wander in.

“Why would Churl not turn up?”

Brend looked at him as if that was the most ridiculous question he’d ever heard asked. “Because he’s mad —
that’s
why! He doesn’t remember that he’s lord of Southbarn, so he doesn’t —”

“Southbarn?” Kael said.

“Ah, that’s right. We haven’t introduced you to our little Kingdom. Well, since you show no signs of perishing any time soon, I don’t suppose it’ll hurt to — oops.” Brend dropped his arm across Kael’s shoulders with such force that it knocked him off his feet. “Sorry about that. I’m not used to having little chicken-winged fellows to talk to.”

“You could be more careful,” Kael snapped as he pulled himself from the ground.

“Yeh, or
you
could fatten up,” Declan grunted.

Several of the giants chuckled at this. But before Kael could retort, Brend swept him under his arm. “Oh, don’t talk about my wee rodent friend like that,” he said, pawing roughly at Kael’s curls.

The stench coming from under Brend’s arm was so dense that it was practically a living thing. Kael slipped out from his hold and took in a breath of clean air. “What were you going to tell me about your Kingdom?” he said, before Brend could snatch him again.

Now that they had a free afternoon, Kael wanted to learn all he could about the plains. And Brend seemed to know a little bit about everything.

“Right. Well, we giants think of this as our own little Kingdom — we call it the Fields. Over that way is the Pens,” Brend added, jerking his thumb behind him. “And inside the Fields, we have four castles, ruled over by four bumbling, magical lords: you’ve got Hob of Northbarn, Bobbin of Eastbarn, Churl of Southbarn, and Finks of Westbarn — that’s where you live, in case you didn’t know it.”

“Surprisingly, I did,” Kael said. He thought the giants’ names were fairly straightforward and easy to remember. He tucked this information away and quickly pressed for more. “So if they’ve each got their own barn, why would the other mages care if Churl turns up or not?”

Brend bent down and pressed his hands to his knees, leaning over Kael as if he were a child asking after the color of the sky. “Well you see, wee thing — bolts and doors can’t hold a giant. Not the normal sort, anyways. So the mages have got all of these little spells cast to keep us in.” He pointed up to the ceiling, and his smile was so kind that Kael was almost certain he was being mocked. “Finks lives in that cottage above us, and every night, around the same time the fairies start sprinkling the dew, he locks us down — all magic-like. And if Churl isn’t in his cottage,” Brend spread his arms wide, “then the spells on
his
barn don’t get cast. Which means —”

“One of the others has to do it for him,” Kael finished, before Brend’s mocking could go on any longer. He thought about this for a moment. “I imagine it would tire the mages out, having to watch two barns at once. I don’t know much about magic —”

“Don’t you?” Declan said. He was sitting down the aisle from them, his arms propped up on his knees. There was no telling how long he’d been listening in. “Why are you so interested in the mages, rat?”

Kael wanted to tell him to mind his own business, but he managed to hold the words back. “I just thought I’d learn about these things — seeing as how I’m going to be stuck here for a while.”

Brend laughed so loudly that it drowned out anything Declan might’ve said. “That you are, wee rat. You’ll make it out of here the same day we do: in a
while
!”

Kael ignored the many guffaws aimed in his direction and instead made his way to the stall. It was mercifully empty. He crept to the back wall and lay down in the only dry strip left of his bedding.

Light drops of rain thumped steadily overhead, their rhythm halted every now and then by a break in the clouds. Water trickled down from the man-sized hole in the roof and pooled inside the shallow bowl, forming a little stream that ran under the wall and out into the fields. The noise of the rain relaxed him, and it wasn’t long before he began to think seriously about taking a nap …

A hawk’s screech rent the air and Kael’s eyes snapped open — just in time to nearly have them clawed out.

A barrage of feathers struck him in the head, knocking him blindly on his side. Two powerful wings beat him, talons tore at his shirt. He fell on his stomach and pulled his arms over his head — trying desperately to protect his eyes. Just when he thought he was in real danger of having an ear nipped off, the attack suddenly ended.

The hawk cried out again, though this time its voice sounded slightly strained. When Kael rolled over, he saw immediately why.

Declan stood before him. He had the hawk clamped tightly in his grip: one hand held it around the talons — the other held it around the throat. A large group of giants crowded the door behind him. Some popped their heads over the neighboring walls to watch. But none of them seemed keen to take a step inside.

The giants made a path for Brend, who paused in the doorway. “It’s a crazed little thing, isn’t it?” He bent closer to the hawk. “Mountain rat he may be, but he’s still too big for you to go carrying off. Better snap its neck, Declan.”

The hawk had gone quiet, its amber eyes slightly bugged out from the pressure of having Declan’s fingers wrapped around its neck. But at the mention of being snapped, it began struggling wildly — squawking and flapping its monstrous wings.

Brend leapt back with a yelp. Declan had to whip his head to the side to avoid being struck. The hawk’s talons squirmed against his grip, and that’s when Kael noticed something odd.

He caught a glint of some object wrapped around one of the hawk’s legs and he charged forward, bellowing for Declan to stop.

He looked surprised. When Kael reached for the hawk, he wrenched it away. “What are you doing? He’ll cut you up —”

“I don’t care — hold him still!”

The panic in Kael’s voice must’ve startled him, because Declan didn’t argue. He held the hawk steady, and Kael went to work.

Yes, there it was! A tiny shackle was clamped around one of the hawk’s talons. He could see the milky white film of a spell covering the iron. He bent his head forward, shielding what he was about to do from Declan’s searching eyes.

He took the talon in one hand and used the other to break the spell — pressing down with his thumbnail until the film broke. It was difficult because the shackle was so small, but he finally managed to peel the spell free. Then it was a simple matter of tearing the iron away.

He heard a soft
clink
as the shackle broke, and he stuffed it quickly into his pocket. Then several things happened at once:

Pain shot up Kael’s arm as he came out of his trance. The hawk had scored him deeply while he worked, leaving a vicious-looking gash on his right hand. He wrapped the wound hastily in his shirt, cringing when he heard the giants gasp.

He thought they must’ve seen him break the shackle, and he knew he’d have to come up with an explanation. He was thinking furiously when something heavy struck the floor. There was a flash of movement as Declan shot behind him.

Then he heard Brend bellowing over the top of everything else:

“Plains mother — it’s a barbarian!”

Chapter 14

By Way of a Giant

Kael looked up from his ravaged hand and saw that a boy had materialized in front of him. His eyes were the same solid amber the hawk’s had been. A patch of stormy gray feathers sprouted from each of his elbows.

For a moment, the boy sat on the ground with a dazed look on his face. His eyes widened when he saw the giants, and he scrambled back against the wall.

“Kill it,” Brend hissed, shoving Declan forward. “Don’t let it get us!”

Before he could even take a step, Kael stood in his path. Anger drowned out the throbbing pain in his hand. “Try to kill him, and you’ll have me to deal with.”

Brend’s face hardened. “It may wear a boy’s shape now, but that’s no human,” he said, jerking his chin at the halfhawk. “He’s a cursed monster, an empty vessel! Everybody knows about the barbarians: they’re wicked men who’ve traded their souls for power. There’s nothing but beast left in them —”

“You’re wrong,” Kael snapped back. He didn’t know how the shapechangers came by their power, but he was certain they weren’t beasts.

Declan stepped forward until there was hardly a hand’s breadth between them. When Kael didn’t budge, his face twisted into a scowl. “How can you be sure? How do you know that thing won’t murder us the second it gets a chance?”

The words left Kael’s mouth before he could think to stop them: “Because I knew one, once. We traveled together, fought together — she even saved my life. There was nothing but good in her. And she … she became a very … dear friend …”

Kael’s knees suddenly gave out. He felt strange, muddled — as if he’d just woken from a feverish sleep. His wounded hand was trapped beneath him, throbbing helplessly against his gut. When he tried to roll over, he found he couldn’t remember how to move his legs. He was numb and listless — hurting, but too tired to cry.

Just when he thought he could stand it no longer, the weakness relented. He shook the numb feeling from his limbs and took his strength back. Air whistled across his lungs as he breathed in. It was like the first breath from out of the sea.

“Don’t listen to him — he’s all clodded,” Brend said as Kael struggled to his feet. “The blood loss must have gotten to him.”

Kael wasn’t sure that was all there was too it. This was a different sort of weakness, one that frightened him even more than losing blood. For a moment, he thought he’d felt the black beast again. He thought he’d felt its jaws closing tight over his heart. He felt like it had almost killed him.

But even as he thought this, he shoved his fear stubbornly to the side. There were far more important matters at hand.

Though Brend tried to nudge him forward, Declan didn’t move. His snarl was gone and his face was a careful mask once again. It looked ridiculous to see a man as large as Brend hiding behind one as small as Declan. But Kael was in no mood to laugh.

He turned and saw that the halfhawk was still crouched against the wall. His pupils sharpened when Kael stepped closer, but he made no move to run. “Does anybody have a spare tunic?” Kael said.

The giants met him with icy glares. No one was going to give up a part of his bed for a shapechanger.

Kael was in real danger of losing his patience when Declan broke from the crowd. He went to his pallet and dug around for a moment. “Here,” he said, tossing a ragged tunic at the halfhawk.

His hand shot out with lightening speed, snagging the shirt between his curled fingers. Then he pulled it roughly over his head. The shirt must’ve been a giant’s: the hem stretched well past his knees.

“What’s your name?” Kael said, when the halfhawk made no effort to speak.

“Eveningwing,” he muttered. Then his head shot up, and Kael flinched when those strange, piercing eyes locked onto his. “Yours?”

“Kael,” he said, touching a hand to his chest. “What brings you to the plains?”

Eveningwing’s pupils dilated and shrank as they studied his face, flicking quickly over his every feature. “I came to kill you.”

The giants broke out in a chorus of mumbling. He thought he heard Brend hiss: “I told you so!”

But Kael wasn’t alarmed. “Yeah, I’m not surprised. The King has sent shapechangers after me before.”

His smile seemed to disarm Eveningwing, but only for a moment. He returned Kael’s smile with a sharp one of his own. “The King didn’t send me. I came here to kill you for myself — for my own reasons.”

“I knew it!” Brend stormed. “What did I tell you, eh? There’s no trusting them. We ought to have killed him when we had the chance.”

Kael was slightly surprised by Eveningwing’s confession. He was certain they’d never crossed paths before. What could he have possibly done to make the halfhawk his enemy?

“Why do you want to kill me?”

Eveningwing’s face betrayed nothing. So Kael had no idea what he was thinking until he said: “You killed Bloodfang.”

There was a jolt in Kael’s chest at the sound of that name, a pang that made him choke on his next breath. Bloodfang was another memory he’d been trying to bury. He told himself over and over again that Bloodfang had wanted to die — Kyleigh had even forgiven him for it. But the guilt still haunted his heart.

“You’re right,” he said, not taking his eyes off Eveningwing. “I did kill him. And I deserve to die for it.”

His black pupils sharpened into points, and Kael knew what was coming. He braced himself for the moment when Eveningwing would lunge at his throat … but it never came. In another blink, his pupils were wide again, and he slumped back against the wall.

“I never had a flock of my own. Bloodfang was kind to me. Wolves are often kind — as long as you aren’t hunting in their territory,” he added with a smirk. “Bloodfang taught me many things about our people. He taught me to fight honorably. He told me to seek wisdom.” Eveningwing sighed heavily. “Now I have found wisdom exactly when I didn’t want to. I cannot kill you.”

Kael had been trying to digest everything Eveningwing told him, but it was difficult: the halfhawk’s tongue moved every bit as quickly as his eyes. “Why can’t you kill me?”

Eveningwing rolled his head back, cracking his neck, and Kael saw that another patch of feathers sprouted from the base of his skull. “Because you saved my life. You’ve set me free. And by the laws of my people —”

“Stop.” Kael held his hand up quickly. “I know what you’re going to say, and I won’t hear it. The debt between us is already settled. You came here to kill me, I stopped
them
from killing you,” he waved to the giants — who, despite their suspicions, had begun crowding around in interest, “and then you decided not to kill me, after all. So everything balances out. There’s no life debt between us.”

Eveningwing blinked. “But there’s still the matter of the curse —”

“Curse? What curse?” Brend said. He’d begun to slink closer, but at the mention of a curse, he leapt back. “You better not have brought any curses around here —”

“It’s not that sort of curse,” Kael said.

“Then what sort is it?” Declan stood with his arms tensed at his side. His gaze narrowed to burn a point through the middle of Kael’s head.

He thought quickly. He couldn’t let the giants know that Eveningwing had been magicked — that would raise all of the wrong sorts of questions. “It’s … more of a figure of speech,” he said. An idea came to him, and he charged after it — hoping to mercy that Eveningwing would play along. “When a shapechanger loses a friend in battle, it hangs over him like a curse — um, plaguing him with grief. Until he can avenge his friend, that is. Then his grief is lifted.”

There was a mumbled chorus of
ahs
from the giants gathered around him. They nodded to each other, their eyes widened in understanding. Only Declan still seemed troubled: he blinked furiously and scratched at his ear, a confused look on his face. But after a moment, even
he
seemed to believe Kael’s story.

Or at least, he didn’t say any differently.

“So your
grief
is your curse,” Brend said. He watched for a moment as Eveningwing’s head bobbed up and down.

“Yes.” The halfhawk shot a look at Kael. “Though now I’m sad again because I have no way to repay you.” He seemed to have another thought — one that was in no way connected to the first. His amber eyes flicked around the stall, over the rafters, along the wall and out into the aisle. “This is different from the other human nests I’ve been in. Why do you live here?”

Brend snorted loudly and shook his head at the other giants.

“We’re stuck here,” Kael explained. “It’s like a prison.”

Eveningwing’s dark brows climbed high into the crop of his hair. Then for some reason, he began to squirm. “You’re prisoners?” When Kael nodded, he broke into a wild grin. “
That’s
how I’ll repay you! I can set you free —”

“No!” Brend roared, and it was no joke: his foot came down so hard that it shook the dust from the rafters. “Try to spring us out of here, and I swear I’ll kill you. I’ll tan the savage leather from your hide —”

“He’s only trying to help,” Kael cut in. “Or are you too proud to take help from a shapechanger?”

“Pride has nothing to do with it,” Declan said. He nodded to Brend. “Tell them.”

Brend took a deep breath. The red retreated from his face, but the furious glint never left his eyes. “Gilderick keeps our women locked up in his castle,” he said evenly. “We don’t know where, and we don’t have any way of finding out. But the important thing is this: if we try to rebel, Gilderick’s sworn to kill them. For every man that escapes, he’ll kill one of our sisters and hang her body in the Fields. That’s why we don’t care for outsiders — because outsiders don’t care for us. What’s it to them, if one of our sisters fall? They don’t mind hurting us … they’d do anything to save their own hides.”

He glared, and Kael realized that the glint in Brend’s eyes wasn’t anger at all:

It was fear.

“Gilderick wouldn’t really —” Kael began, but Declan cut him off.

“Oh, he certainly would. You weren’t here the day the plains fell, rat. You didn’t see how Titus’s army slaughtered our parents. You didn’t see how Gilderick sorted us out.” His eyes slipped dangerously beneath the shadow of his brow. “So you’ll just have to believe me when I say that he would — because he’s already done far worse.”

Kael’s mouth went dry. He could practically feel Brend’s anger burning behind his reddened face. All around him, the giants’ breath blew out sharply, their nostrils flared. Even the rain sounded more malicious than before: it drummed in his ears, warning him.

But he didn’t listen.

The giants might’ve thought that Kael didn’t care, but the truth was that he cared very much. He wouldn’t try to slip out now, not when it might cost the giants the lives of one of their sisters. But he also wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life in chains.

No, this was just another rut in the path — a problem that he would have to solve. Kael realized that he wouldn’t have a chance to go back to the seas. He wouldn’t be able to rely on the pirates for help. From this point on, he’d be on his own.

It wasn’t ideal, but he could do it. He’d
have
to do it. If he didn’t figure out a way to free the giants on his own, they might all very well rot in their stalls.

“I think you understand now, wee rat. So I won’t kill you outright. But know this: if I catch you trying to slip out of here,” Brend smiled widely, “well … we’ll just tell Finks that the lions got you.”

Kael shrugged. “All right. I won’t go anywhere.”

“Good,” Brend said. Then he straightened up to look around at the others. “If there’s going to be any plotting done, it’ll need to be done a giant’s way — and by way of a giant!”

There was a grunt of approval from the others. They crowded around at the door and poked their heads over the walls. Every pair of eyes was trained on Brend.

“Our Prince will have the answer. He’s been thinking hard these last many years, and I feel he’s close to making us a fine plan!”

Kael could hardly keep himself from gasping when the giants grunted in agreement:

Prince
?

He’d read a little about the giants’ government in the
Atlas
. They didn’t have a class of lords and ladies, but lived scattered about in family clans. The clans warred amongst each other constantly: bickering over land, water, cattle — just about any little thing they might use to start a fight.

The only person who had any manner of control over the clans was the Prince. He alone had the power to collect taxes and call the giants to battle. When outsiders invaded the plains, it was the Prince who rallied the clans to fight. Some historians believed that the giants put the Prince’s word even above the King’s.

Kael was surprised at first, but his excitement quickly wore off when he realized that it didn’t make any sense. “You mean to say that your Prince is
here
?” When the giants nodded, he still didn’t understand. He thought they might be trying to trick him. “I don’t believe you. Gilderick never would’ve let the Prince live — even as a slave.”