Wolves of the Beyond: Shadow Wolf (14 page)

Quietly, he crept down from the tree. He looked up. The moon was very bright, so he worried he might be seen leaving. But he spotted an immense cloud rolling in from the east. He waited a few minutes, and when the cloud began to obscure the moon and the land darkened, he set off at a brisk pace.

HEEP HAD BECOME SUSPICIOUS
during the last moon, the Moon of the Cracking Ice, that Faolan was up to no good. As the close of the
gaddergnaw
approached, he was becoming more and more desperate. He knew in his marrow that his destiny was to be a wolf of the Watch. If the present king of Ga’Hoole died and a new monarch retrieved the Ember of Hoole, all the Watch wolves would be released from their duties, and, like Hamish, the great Fengo whose twisted leg turned around, their deformities would disappear. And finally, finally, Heep would have a tail.
What had been broken in their bodies was mended; what was twisted was made to grow straight; what was crippled gained strength.
This was no dream, this was no legend. This was true.

But Heep was worried and desperate, for despite Faolan’s low score, there was still a chance he might
redeem himself with his exquisite carving. Heep did not worry so much about the other gnaw wolves. He was a MacDuncan, after all. MacDuncans started the Watch, and every wolf knew they were favored, despite all the talk about all contenders being equally treated. It just wasn’t so.

Heep had to knock Faolan out of the competition for good, and an ingenious idea had come to him a few days before. Why had he never thought of it before? He watched Faolan slip off into the night. By the time Faolan came back, the game between himself and this loathsome wolf would be over. He watched that luxuriant silver tail, like a furry comet across the night, flag out behind Faolan. Heep felt the phantom pain where his own tail should have grown.
You’ll be done for by dawn
, he thought.

Heep raced some distance off in the opposite direction. There was a lone spot where three birch trees had grown together. Their trunks entwined, their roots entangled. The place where such trees grew was considered unlucky. Some said the seeds of the trees had been sown during moon rot, the time when the shadow of a previous night’s moon hung in the sky the next day. But Heep did not care. It was perfect for hiding his bone, the real bone that he had begun to carve, telling the story of the murder of a
malcadh
by a wolf. Not just any wolf but a
gnaw wolf! He had another bone as well. A bone of evidence.

“Wake up, Dearlea, wake up!” Mhairie nudged her sister’s shoulder, then gave a good hard shove to her jaw.

“What? What are you waking me up for? Get your face out of mine.”

“It’s about Faolan.”

“What about him?” Dearlea said wearily. “Did he carve another profane bone? I wish you’d stop worrying. The MacDuffs have always been suspicious of him. They’re suspicious of everyone.”

“It’s not about any bone.”

“What is it, then?”

“Faolan’s gone off in the middle of the night!”

“He has a right to. As long as he shows up for all the
gaddergnaw
activities, he can do whatever he pleases anytime.”

“In the middle of the night? It’s strange, you have to admit it.”

“Great Lupus, you’re getting to be a MacDuff!”

“No! I just worry. He’s tracking on thin ice with all these rumors. And he did it before when we were over at the Yellow Springs and I was running as outflanker.”

“You saw him go?”

Dearlea was now sitting up. She shook her head violently as if to clear her brain, and yawned, but not in boredom. She stared down at her paws. Then, in a gesture Mhairie knew well, Dearlea put one paw over the other and scratched. It was a habit of hers when she was thinking hard about something.

“I know what you mean,” Dearlea said. “I guess I worry, too. What is it about him that…that—”

“That makes us want to protect him?” Mhairie asked.

“Yes, I guess that’s it. For all his extraordinary strength, he seems…well, not weak, but vulnerable.”

“I know. And when he goes off like this, I just think he could get in trouble somehow.” She paused a moment. “He goes far, too.”

“How do you know?”

“I tried to follow him once. But I saw how far he was going, and I knew I couldn’t make it back in time to help you and mum with the pups by daybreak.”

“But
he
makes it!”

“Yes. He’s fast. I’ve seen him come back, and he’s pretty tired when he does. But tonight I thought I saw the shadow of a wolf off in the trees when he left.”

“Someone we know?”

“I couldn’t tell. It was only a shadow. That’s what really got me worried. If one wolf saw him and knows something and with all these rumors flying around…It’s kind of scary. Some wolves are just waiting for him to fail.”

“Or setting him up to fail,” Dearlea said.

FAOLAN STARED DOWN AT THE TINY
rib bone, and then at the fragment of jaw he had found. He crouched down, blinked several times, then tipped his head one way and another. He looked for the landscape of this bone, but it seemed to have been obliterated by the frenzy of teeth marks. He knew that every bone told a story, even the bone of such a young pup. But there seemed to be only one story here—that of violence, of murder. Parts of the bone had been crushed and the marrow had leaked out, leaving the rib as hollow as an owl’s. He looked at one of the pulverized edges and worked backward with his eyes toward the solid midsection of bone. Beneath the blizzard of marks, he saw something that froze his marrow. It was the first word of the uncompleted story—a nick. Not any nick, but
the
nick! The mark made by that broken tooth he had seen when Heep
opened his mouth wide just before the kill rush began. Once again, the splinterish sounds crackled in Faolan’s brain.

“Why? Why have I never seen this before?” He gasped. His marrow boiled.
Heep murdered that pup!

Every time Faolan had come to retrieve bones, he had been staring at the evidence, yet never realized it! Now dozens of nicks seemed to storm to the surface of the bone, as if to mock him in his blindness.

Taking as many of the tiny bones in his mouth as he could, Faolan set off from his encampment at attack speed. He knew he could keep up this pace all the way back, for his anger fueled him. Hillocks flew by. He leaped streams he had once swum. A grove of birches flashed past him in a white blur. The clouds overhead, pushed by a strong west wind, were slow as sap in comparison to the silver streak that was Faolan running with love and hatred in his heart. Love for the pup. Love for what it never had a chance to be. And a deep abhorrence for the absolute vileness of Heep. The pup’s story was about to end.

When Faolan was less than a league away from the encampment, he was caught by surprise by a
skreeleen
’s howl. “The gnaw wolf Faolan approaches!” Next came a
high-pitched shrilling from scores of wolves. He could catch threads of words—“Dim World…
vyrrwolf
…demon wolf…witch…murderer!”

Just then, two large wolves swept down on either side of him. One bit him viciously on his hip. Other wolves pulled the attacking wolf off. But within seconds, more wolves were on top of Faolan, crushing him so he could not speak.

A mass of wolves parted as if to make way. “Here he comes. Here he comes.”

Who is coming?
Faolan thought.
What is happening?
But the air was being squeezed out of him and he couldn’t lift his eyes to see.

“Most humbly I submit that this indeed is the murderer of the
malcadh
and I will again, with great humility since I am but a lowly gnaw wolf—a tailless gnaw wolf—submit the evidence to the
raghnaid
.”

Raghnaid?
Murderer? Evidence?
Faolan listened to these oily words in terror. What evidence could
Heep
possibly have? Faolan had brought the evidence. It had spilled from his mouth when the wolves ambushed him.

Adair stepped forward and ordered the wolves off so
Faolan could stand. “Faolan, you are to be brought to the
gadderheal
, where the
raghnaid
has assembled. You are to be charged with murder!”

“Murder?”

“The murder of a
malcadh
.”

“That’s impossible! NO!”

Gwynneth’s words came back to him.
They might try to blame you…. They are looking for reasons for you to fail.
And now it was all happening.

“Let the tearing begin!” A high-pitched howl went up.

“Not yet. Not yet! Wait for the judgment of the
raghnaid
!” someone barked.

Two more wolves appeared and pressed in on either side of Faolan. He felt himself carried along by a surge of flanking wolves.

“My bones! My bones!” he shouted.

“What bones?” Adair asked.

“The ones I dropped. They are MY evidence.” He thought he caught a glimpse of Adair picking up the little pup’s bones. But he could not be sure.

Those bones were his only hope.

When they entered the encampment, the silence was thick. Faolan was escorted immediately to the
gadderheal
. The path was choked with onlookers, and two wolves trotted ahead briskly and barked to clear the way. Faolan spotted Mhairie and Dearlea, weeping silently. He dared not catch their eyes. How had all this come about? He was in a daze as he was brought before Liam, son of Duncan MacDuncan. At Liam’s side was Cathmor, looking deeply angry. She nudged her son. “Get on with it.”

“Faolan, gnaw wolf of the MacDuncan clan, for the second time in less than a year, you have been brought before the
raghnaid
to answer for the accusations inscribed on a gnaw-bone.”

“Wait!” He looked around frantically for Adair. “Bring the bones that I carried!”

Adair came forward and dropped the small pile. Faolan felt a momentary relief as he looked down at the tiny fragments of white. “I ask you, my lord chieftain, to look, just look down at my feet. I brought you the bones of the
malcadh
as evidence of her murder. Murder by none other than Heep, gnaw wolf of the River Pack.”

“What is this?” Adair said. “Why would the murderer bring evidence of his own crime?”

“Because it’s not MY crime. It’s Heep who murdered this
malcadh
.”

“But it is Heep who has given us the evidence.”

“WHAT EVIDENCE?” Faolan roared. Two large wolves leaped on him from behind, lashing him about by his tail so that he rolled onto his back. He looked up at the wolves who stared down at him. His eyes were wild.

I must speak to them calmly. I must show some sense, exactly as Duncan MacDuncan told me.

“Let him rise,” the chieftain said. Faolan staggered to his feet. The chieftain looked at him fiercely. “It is Heep who gnawed the story bone that told of…” Liam MacDuncan’s voice dwindled off as his eyes wandered to the confusing pile of tiny bones.

“That’s exactly what it is—a story, lies, all of it!” Faolan barked out sharply. He shoved his ears forward and held his tail straight out and rigid, in a stance of aggression as far from submission as a wolf could get. By Lupus, if he was going down, he was not going down with his tail between his legs! A sergeant at arms for the
raghnaid
came up and body-slammed Faolan so that he fell over completely. But he rose up again.

“Did Heep bring you the bones of the
malcadh
? No!
Because that is where the real story is carved, carved by Heep! Right here.”

Liam MacDuncan stepped closer to Faolan and glared. “Heep brought us a bone that he will submit to the
raghnaid
momentarily—a bone carved by yourself!”

Impossible!
But then, Faolan remembered the bone he had begun to carve and that had disappeared. Heep! Heep had followed him to the ridge. And the partially carved bone was his damning evidence.

Liam MacDuncan turned his head. “Come forth, Heep, and read the story bone you have carved that details the murder of the
malcadh
.” Heep moved forward haltingly—bone in mouth, his eyes sliding nervously to one side as he tried to avoid Faolan’s gaze, which bore into him, straight to his marrow.

“On a day in the early crescent of the first snow moon, I was heading toward the range of hills, looking for bones in the runoff. It is a good place to find gnawing bones, of which there had been few near the river since its flooding during the previous moons.”

What a bunch of moose scat,
Faolan thought. He had found hundreds of bones since the floods.

“As I was scouring the north face of the slopes, I noticed the recent tracks of two wolves. One track was
older, and I immediately recognized it as the track of our clan’s esteemed Obea, Lael. I indeed recalled that I had seen her coming back across the river as I entered on the opposite side. The other track had the distinct print of a splay-pawed wolf.”

Faolan tried to protest that he knew how to run without leaving such a track. But two wolves slammed him to the ground before his first bark.

“One more outburst and I shall have you escorted out of these proceedings!” Liam shouted.

“As I continued up the slope,” Heep went on, “I heard the horrible shrieks of a pup being attacked. I prayed, humbly but with great passion, that its suffering would quickly end. I thought, of course, that an owl had taken it. But I now submit this bone.” He dropped the partially carved bone before the chieftain. “I ask you, has an owl ever carved such a bone?”

There was a murmuring at this last remark.

At this point, Heep began to sob uncontrollably. “Imagine my shock when upon hearing the murderer leave, I scrambled to the top and saw Faolan, his muzzle drenched in blood!” Heep, making a great effort to control his sobs, turned to the jurors of the
raghnaid
and, still gulping, continued, “Indeed, I most humbly suggest that
my fellow wolves will immediately recognize the carving of this bone as most exquisite—for we all know of the gnaw wolf Faolan’s extraordinary talent.”

“Only a demon could do that kind of work!”

“Only a
vyrrwolf
!”

“Tear him apart as the law of the
gaddernock
declares!”

The chieftain’s growl silenced the wolves. “And why did you not tell us sooner of this terrible crime, Heep?” he asked.

“I was frightened. He is a strange wolf. I believe he is an agent from the Dim World. The bones he carves are profane, but they have powers.”

There were murmuring assents from a few elders of the MacDuff clan.

“That is foolish nonsense!” Faolan growled.

Liam MacDuncan gave Faolan a sharp bite.

No one noticed a lone owl entering the
gadderheal
. Owls have the peculiar ability to hold perfectly still and, with a gesture known as wilfing, shrink themselves to half their normal size. Gwynneth was indistinguishable from the shadows of flames being cast on the walls from the
gadderheal
fire pit. She listened quietly, with one eye open just a slit.

“Faolan, are these all the bones of the slain pup?”

“No, my lord. There are more.”

“And where might they be?”

“I buried them.”

“You buried them? Are you completely
cag mag
? Where are they?”

“I told you,” Heep blurted out. “He is from the Dim World!”

“I buried the bones with those of my second Milk Giver, Thunderheart, on the north-facing slope of the salt lagoons.”

But the snarling of the wolves and the call for the tearing drowned out his words. “I wanted to honor the
malcadh
. I had planned to carve the bones!”

“The murderer carves the bones!” Cathmor shrieked. “You are sick!”

“Sick! Tear him apart. Let the slow tearing begin!”

Liam MacDuncan recovered his voice. “The murder of a
malcadh
by a wolf is indeed the most grievous crime a wolf can commit, and the punishment for such a crime is that the wolf be torn apart by all the packs of all the clans, led by the Obeas. It is to be a slow tearing, as we call it. You will not receive the grace of a quick slash to the life-pumping artery. There is no
lochinvyrr
for the victim, as this is not a worthy life, nor must the meat be touched, for it is not
morrin
and will not sustain our lives.
The bones are stripped and set out for the ravens, and the bones themselves are burned, never to be carved. Is that understood?”

“Why should I dignify this question with an answer when I did not commit the crime but rather brought you the bones of that poor
malcadh
that show beyond any doubt the true murderer?” Faolan said all this in a quiet voice. His tail did not lower one bit. His ears were still shoved forward. “There is a nick in those bones. You will see it if you look carefully. You will see it on the bones I have brought and the bone that Heep put forth as evidence, as well as his story bone. But that nick was not made by any of my teeth.”

A silence had fallen upon the
gadderheal
as Faolan spoke. The wolves were not sure what significance the nick held, but Faolan at least had caught their attention. Then came a rustling, and wind seemed to blow through the room. Hoarse whispers started up. “The Sark. The Sark. What’s she doing here?”

The Sark lurched through the ranks of lords and clan officers. She began pacing back and forth in front of the chieftain.

“It might pay to attend to the words of the gnaw wolf Faolan.” She swung her head abruptly around and stepped
close to Heep, who shrank back and sank into a posture of submission. “Your ‘evidence,’ Heep, is very interesting.”

It was only because of the mystique, the aura of unnatural power that always seemed to surround her, that the Sark was not instantly removed. The same sergeant who had body-slammed Faolan started to move forward, but Cathmor gave a silent signal and he immediately stepped back.

“Might you be so good, Heep, as to let me examine your story bone?” Heep was writhing in submissive gestures, which the Sark completely ignored.

“I offer this bone not only as art but as a testimony of a heinous crime,” Heep said in a somewhat strangled voice.

“Ah, yes, testimony. You know what the word means, I assume?” The Sark continued to walk back and forth, swishing her raggedy tail. Her ruff looked as if it were being lashed into a froth by its own private typhoon from the Sea of Vastness to the north. Her bad eye had settled into a slow spinning motion while the other held steady on the floor.

“Yes, I think so,” replied Heep. “I mean a humble wolf such as myself might not have the wits to appreciate the…the…”

“The subtler nuances, shadows, of the word? Is that what you were about to say?”

“Yes, yes, that’s it exactly.”

“Well, let me enlighten you. Testimony offers evidence of the truth. The truth, I repeat. The truth itself is not nuanced or shadowed, but evidence can be subtly altered if worked, gnawed, or manipulated.” The Sark paused dramatically and then, as if she had not a care in the world, said casually, “Might I see the bone—the story bone?”