Maggie Furey - Harp of Winds

Khanu had interfered in the battle of the Queens through bitterness toward Gristheena, who had humiliated him, through awe and respect for the legendary Shia, and her brave, hopeless challenge—and through a desperate desire to prove himself. He had never stopped to consider that his impulse would cost him his future within the Colony. Now he too had become Chuevah. The thought made him tremble.

“I won’t think about it—not now,” Khanu muttered to himself. He shook his heavy bronze-black mane, as if to dispel such terrifying thoughts. “Are you sure we’ve lost them?” he asked Hreeza, who dismissed him with a withering glance.

“Would I be stopping, else?” she snapped. “Keep your foolish kitten questions to yourself, youngster!.” Her eyes flashed anger. “Why did you follow us?”

Khanu had enough sense to realize that hunger and weariness were making Hreeza snappish, but he was weary too, and the old cat’s dismissive attitude stung him. Lifting his head, he returned her stare. “I came with you because that was my wish. I came because of Shia—because I want to help her.”

“You want to help her!” Hreeza sneered. “You? A male? What possible use will you be? Shia has no wish to mate—she has more important matters to attend to! Why should we burden ourselves with you? You cannot even hunt!”

Khanu’s teeth clenched down on a snarl. “I can learn,” he bristled.

“Pah!” Hreeza spat her contempt.

“Be silent, both of you!” With an effort, Shia unclenched her blistered jaws from the Staff. Laying the artifact down, she looked from Khanu to Hreeza. “It’s no use you fighting,” she told them in the firmest of mental tones, “because neither of you are coming with me.”

“What!” Hreeza looked thunderstruck,

“You heard me.”

For an instant, Khanu caught a glimpse of the stern and forceful will that had made Shia a leader and a legend among her people.

Hreeza, however, was less easily overawed. “Indeed?” The old cat’s tail flicked scornfully. “I say that I will come with you. If you would stop me, be prepared to fight!”

Shia’s regal pose collapsed abruptly. To Khanu’s astonishment, she sighed and laid her head on her paws. “Hreeza, I couldn’t fight a snow hare at the moment, as well you know! But you should hear my plans, before you decide.” She took a deep breath. “I go to Aerillia, with the Staff of Earth, to save the life of a human—and to confront our ancient enemies, the Winged Folk.”

It was as if a thunderbolt had hammered into the them. In the concussive silence that followed, Khanu, his mind almost paralyzed by horror, could only think that Shia had gone utterly mad during her long exile. To climb the unscalable Aerillia peak? To venture alone into the stronghold of their bitterest and most deadly foes? And all to aid a human? He saw Hreeza rub a paw across her face as though Shia had struck her. For once the old cat was bereft of speech, and Khanu was shocked to see the shadow of doubt in her eyes; she who had always been Shia’s most loyal supporter. Somehow, the old cat’s reservations stiffened his resolve.

Khanu sucked in the breath that he had forgotten to take. “I will go with you, Shia. My siblings were killed by those wingborne monsters—I have some interest in this matter.” Khanu twitched his whiskers forward in a feline grin, “I always wanted to taste Skyfolk meat,”

“You will not go, foolish cub! And neither will Shia!” The words exploded crimson in a blast of rage from Hreeza’s mind, “Aerillia! Humans! Never have I heard such moonstruck folly! You won’t even get past the foothills of Aerillia peak! You will not go! I’ll kill you first!”

Shia flicked her tail, the cat equivalent of a shrug. “Then you must kill me, Hreeza,” she said calmly, “But why go to the trouble? As you said, the Winged Folk will likely perform that task—why have it on your conscience when you can let the Skyfolk bear the burden of my death?”

Hreeza recoiled, hurt and confounded. “I just wish I understood!” she snapped, “What is this Staff of Earth? Who is this human, that you should risk yourself for it? Your exile has changed you, Shia, beyond all knowing, What happened to you, while you were so long away?”

“I will explain, old friend, while we rest and eat—-for though we are weary, eat we must. So in the meantime, if you have sufficient energy to fight me, it would be better spent on finding us some food!” Her eyes twinkled wickedly.

“That is, if you’re still up to it, Old One!”

“Pah!” said Hreeza, unabashed. “I’ll find more food than you will—I who was foraging and hunting before you were born!” The old cat wrinkled her nose and curled back her lips, tasting the air. “We must hasten, snow is coming.” She turned to Khanu. “Youngster, you had best come with us—if you truly wish to learn to hunt.”

As the cats crept through the stand of trees, Hreeza, still bristling, took the lead. Khanu, making the most of the opportunity, approached Shia. “She will go with you, you know,” he told her softly. “Hreeza will go, and so will I. Whatever you say won’t make me change my mind.”

Shia looked at him. “I know,” she said wearily. “And fine fools you are, for not listening to me!” Then her harsh thoughts softened, and took on a warming glow. “Shamefully selfish it may be—but in truth, I would be glad of your company. I have been far too long in exile, without the companionship of my own kind. But know this, Khanu—this matter is so urgent that if I must sacrifice you both to the Winged Folk, I will do so without hesitation, should the need arise.”

The hair on Khanu’s spine lifted, as a shiver passed through his frame. “The Winged Folk will have to catch me first,” he said stubbornly.

“I know Remana is worried about the girl, Yanis, but I don’t much like the notion of risking our ships so close to Nexis,” Idris grumbled.

Yanis looked across at Fional, and grimaced. The young leader of the Night-runners had never liked the pinch-faced, ill-tempered old captain, and it had been inevitable that Idris would be the one who tried to spike his plans to return to Nexis in secret and look for Zanna—and her father.

Yanis clenched his fists on the scrubbed, knife-scarred wood of the council table, which, being in the great kitchen cavern of the Nightrunners’ lair, was normally used for much less exalted purposes. The glowing cavern, with its row of great fires, was the warmest place in the smugglers’ hideout, and the meeting was being held there for the benefit of Fional, who was still trying to thaw out. The archer had come staggering, half frozen, out of a howling blizzard that morning, with the grim news that after all this time, neither Vannor nor Hargorn had returned to the Valley. Yanis glared at the bristling Idris. “Our ships?” the leader of the Nightrunners demanded. “Since when were they your ships, Idris?”

The wizened captain leapt to his feet and struck the table with his fist. “Don’t give me that, you young cur! I sailed with your father—aye, and your grandfather, tool Fine men, both of them, and they knew this was a community! Just because you’re your father’s son, it don’t mean you can’t be replaced—”

“Oh, and can he, now?” Remana spoke softly, but there was poisoned steel beneath her tones. Idris caught her eye and shut his mouth abruptly, before sinking back into his chair. No one, among the Nightrunners, would cross Remana—and the old captain knew it. To Yanis’s surprise, his mother winked at him, before turning back to the bowmen. “Fional,” she asked, “have you any idea what the situation is in Nexis now?”

Fional shook his head, and poured more taillin from the pot on the table. He took an appreciative sip of the steaming beverage before continuing. “It took me ages to get back here from the Valley, what with all the snow—and we were isolated for some time before that. I thought that your information would be more recent than ours.”