Raging Star

I scoop handfuls of water as I go. Swill my mouth clean an spit.

Jest ahead, a dead pine’s toppled. It bridges the river. Blocks my way. Nero lands on it an goes fer a bug. Stabbin the bark with his beak. I straddle the tree an grab him.

Find ’em, Nero, I whisper. Go find the dogs.

I launch him high to the air. He soars above the woods fer a bird’s-eye view an disappears from my sight. The grey sky’s smudged to palest pink. Dawn’s on the break. A new day.

I slide off my bow an nock a arrow. I slip back into the water. Armed an wary, I track upstream. Above the water’s chatter, the air hangs heavy. Intent. It’s a stalker’s silence. My heart ticks in my throat.

The river curves. I edge round the bend. A few strides on, it widens to a pool calm an peaceful. The woods huddle close. Tangled roots sprawl into the water. As I wade through the pool, it deepens. To my knees. Then my thighs.

Nero dives at me. From nowhere. The world explodes. A racket of howls an wails. The ghosthounds! There! White terror streakin through the woods straight at me. Here, they’ll be here any second. A wild glance around as I shoulder my bow. A sturdy big cedar sweeps low to the pool. I leap from the water. Grab a branch. Pull myself up an start to climb.

The ghosthounds blast from the woods. They land with a splash in the pool jest below an throw theirselfs up in the air at me. Their bodies twist. Fangs slash. Jaws snap. I snatch my foot away jest in time. I scramble higher, higher. Their hot rage blasts me. They snarl an slaver. Claw at the air. Crash back in the water an leap agin. They’re frantic to tear me apart.

I go high as I can. I crouch tight to the trunk. I cling to it, huddle among its thick boughs. I’m tremblin. Hand on my heart. My rackety heart, set to bust from my chest. The heartstone. It’s hot on my skin.

The heartstone? I grab it. Hot. That means Jack. But—Jack? My lips move, soundless, as I think his name. Jack’s leagues away. I don’t unnerstand.

Skoll! Hati! Down! A man’s voice commands the dogs. Come, he says. To me.

The ghosthounds hush. I can hear ’em splash from the pool. Hear ’em pantin fer breath. That voice. That voice.

Down, the man tells ’em agin.

There’s silence fer a moment. Then he laughs. A short, this-ain’t-funny kinda laugh.

Treed like a cat, he says. I was wondering when you’d show your hand. Come down, Saba. I know you’re there.

That voice. Deep an dark. Cold panic grips me.

It ain’t Jack. Oh no. It’s DeMalo.

DeMalo. It cain’t be. But it is. That means he was at the bridge. He must of bin with them Tonton at the rear. Ridin among his men, like he’s wont to. DeMalo. Here. I don’t believe it.

So, not dead after all, he says. Not that I ever thought you were. He’s outta breath from the chase. His anger’s leashed tight. You see, they brought me her body right away, he says. The girl in red. Your friend, the Free Hawk.

Maev. At Resurrection. Shot by the Tonton. Her hand pressed hard to her side. Her life drippin to the floor.

Gimme yer dress, she says. That’s all they seen, a girl in a red dress. Help me, Saba. Quick.

We’d rescued Emmi. Nearly got away clean. Jest me an Maev left in the fortress. Then I made a mistake. An we got found out. The Tonton gave chase an shot Maev. A mortal wound. She was done an she knew it. Her final act was to save our lives. All of our lives. By puttin on my dress.

Not a bad idea, says DeMalo, her wearing the dress I gave you. I’d think it was you who fought to the death. You who held off my men so your friends could escape.

Now git outta here, she tells me. As far as you can, as fast as you can. Go!

That was my last-ever sight of her this side of the stars. As I jumped to the lake far below, I glanced back. Her head held high, hair loose to her waist, a shooter gripped in each hand. Maev. The Free Hawk warrior queen. Frozen in that moment in my memory.

They said she was fearless, says DeMalo. That she fought with blazing courage. I laid her on the pyre myself. Honoured her with full warrior ceremony, in case you care. What a tribute to her sacrifice, Saba. You, cowering in a tree. She was worth a hundred of you. Whoever she was.

Blood slams to my head. I scramble down the tree an drop to the water. I face him. Bow drawn. Arrow nocked.

Her name was Maev, gawdamnn you, Maev, I says.

We’re ten foot apart. Me in the pool, thigh-deep. Him standin at the edge, the two ghosthounds eether side. They’re laid down all obedient, tongues drippin, their raw pink eyes fixed on DeMalo. He ain’t armed. Jest a shooter in his belt. He wears knee boots, britches an shirt. A black cloak draped over his shoulders. Slung across his chest is a worn leather bag. He holds my barksack in one hand.

Oh I see, he says. So I’m the one at fault here, am I? He dumps my sack, throws off his cloak an steps into the pool.

Come any closer, I kill you, dogs or no, I says.

He don’t pay no heed. He moves slowly towards me. Who left their wounded friend to die? he says. Who blew up that bridge? Who killed those people? Twelve at my count. What do you make it, Saba?

I pull my bowstring tighter. I mean it, stay there, I says.

But on he comes. Dark eyes fixed on me. Let me remind you what you said, he says. That night you came to my room. You said, there’s no point to this life if we don’t at least try to make things better. You do remember that?

Shut up, I says. I cain’t think fer the noise in my head. It’s screamin, Shoot! Finish this! What’s the matter with you? Shoot, fergawdsake! Shoot him!

He wades silent, intent, towards me. Do you remember what else you said? You said, I want to work with you, Seth. I want to make the world a better place.

His voice is rich brown earth.

We can’t go on as we are. We need to find a new way. That’s what you said, Saba. Is this your new way? Destroying? Killing? I’m creating something. I’m bringing order to chaos. I’m making a new world, one blade of grass at a time. Healing the earth and its people. I thought we wanted the same thing.

Shut up, would you? Jest shut up! I grip my bow tight. Tighter. C’mon, c’mon, I tell myself. One shot an this’ll all be over. Chop off the head of the snake. Do it an be done. Do it now.

He stops two foot away. He opens his arms wide. He’s givin me a clear shot to kill him.

His silver bracelet gleams on his wrist. His thin white shirt hangs damp. Through it, I can see his Tonton blood tattoo. The red risin sun over his heart. My skin tightens at the smell of him. Darkly green. Warmly juniper. The sun trickles shy through the trees. It trembles on his hair, thick an black as Nero’s feathers. His broad cheekbones. His smooth, unreadable face. His watchful, beautiful face.

I cain’t. I cain’t do it. Slowly, I lower my bow. I says, Gawdamnn you sonofabitch.

He brings his arms down. Another perfect chance wasted, he says. Just like that night in my room. Whatever you put in my wine to knock me out, another drop or two would have killed me. Isn’t that right? It would have been so easy. But you didn’t. Why is that, I wonder? He steps in close. Touches the heartstone. It burns in the hollow of my throat. Sweat trickles between my breasts.

He touches my bare skin. It shivers at his touch. His hand brushes aginst the heartstone. It’s hot, he says.

It’s a heartstone, I says. The closer you git to yer heart’s desire, the hotter it burns.

He says, Am I your heart’s desire?