Kuu
Kuu and Sivulu made their way through the moonless night knowing that time was not on their side.
Though most of the Wastes was desert, the land was rocky and rugged in the north, near the border of Derenar, especially in the east, by the foothills of the Spears, the great mountain range that climbed its way northeast to the faraway reaches of Khala Val’ur. The terrain made the passage of time seem slow, the years marked by the erosion of the rocks themselves and the moving of dunes over the great, wide desert. So it was his gut, not the passing of the stars above, that was telling Kuu that they should hurry.
“How are we looking, Aurik?” Sivulu boomed as he and Kuu approached the meeting place.
The brothers were meeting up near the only real landmark in the area: a strange reddish rock formation jutting from the ground, sand-worn and broad, standing nearly three times as tall as a man. The features of the great rock were arced and smooth, vaguely resembling a giant man on horseback holding a weapon. In fact, people long before Kuu had insisted that it was a man, once, and had given it the name Ja’ad Shiddeq, which, in ancient Khôl, meant, “the rider who throws a spear at the heavens.”
Ja’ad Shiddeq, “Rider’s Rock” to Kuu and his brothers, marked a crossroads where one could travel all the way from K’har in the west, straight on to Menat in the east. To the south, past Yelto’s stronghold in Khadje Kholam, even beyond the southern tribal city of R’haqa, lay the ancient city of Do’baradai. It had been a long, long time since anyone had lived there, Kuu knew. It wasn’t worth going that far south to try to recruit anyone. As far as he knew, nothing lived there.
“Better than a day ago,” came the reply from Aurik.
Older than his younger twin, Kaurik, by two minutes, Aurik was the more domineering of the two and had been waiting for them when they arrived at Rider’s Rock. His shaggy, dark brown hair was longer than Kaurik’s and was the only way that anyone but his brothers could tell them apart. He was lanky, like his younger brothers, but the three years he had on Kuu had made his deep green eyes seem like weathered gems set into his smooth brown skin. “The western tribes won’t be swayed,” he said. “Most of them are tired of paying tribute to Yelto, but they’re more afraid of what Yelto can do if they were to turn against him. I spoke to five Hedjetti, and all but one of them turned me down: Hedjetten Djosa of the Ohmati.”
Sivulu frowned and turned to the younger twin. “Any better news from the east?”
Kaurik—a spitting image of Aurik, but with short, messy hair—nodded. “A few Hedjetti from Menat said they would fight. All I had to say was ‘Yelto,’ and three of them promised their swords and those of their tribes: the Qozhen, Khuufi, and Elteri.”
Sivulu nodded, and scratched at his dark beard. “The Elteri are good fighters, though few in number, and the Khuufi have a few Farsteppers among them. I suppose it’s better than the ‘none’ we had before today . . . though we might need them sooner than we thought.”
The twins looked at him with confusion. As an answer, Siv turned to Kuu. “Tell them what you told me.”
“Yelto had a priest with him. I think they mean to awaken the Holder sooner than we thought.”
Aurik hammered a fist against the big red rock that stood beside them, and Kaurik uttered a few choice words in Khôl.
“Then we shouldn’t waste any more time planning,” said Aurik with a shrug.
Sivulu didn’t even pause for thought as he sliced a hand through the air. “Absolutely not. We’ve planned this for too long and invested too much to come up short now. Kuu,” he said, turning, “you were there. What do you think?”
Kuu looked into the eyes of each of his brothers; they were all looking back at him expectantly. How it suddenly fell upon him to be the decision maker for the family was beyond him, but he took a breath, and the responsibility. “He has the Wolfblade,” he said. “That’s all that matters.”
The words caught his brothers off guard, as the twins exchanged uncertain glances. They looked to Kuu to be their guide. “You saw it?” Kaurik asked. “How? Where?”
“He keeps it on a chain around his neck. The whole time we were his prisoners, he never took it off. It never left his sight.”
“Well,” Sivulu said, “at least we know where to look.”
Kuu nodded. “And with a big enough distraction, I think we can take it from him.”
“But what about the priests?” Aurik asked.
“They could have overpowered me and Rathma at any moment, but they didn’t. They had more than a few chances, too.” After a pause, he added, “I almost wondered if the stories were even true. I don’t know if they’re as powerful as they say.”
The twins scoffed at this, and Aurik crossed his arms over his dark, bare chest. “Your own brothers can turn into wolves, yet you’re skeptical of their power?” He looked at him as if Kuu’s hair were on fire. “Wagering that the priests can’t do what the stories say is as crazy as trusting Sivulu with a woman.” His words were met with a shot to the shoulder from Siv.
“I’m not saying I don’t believe the stories,” Kuu retorted. “I just wonder what stopped them. It was even nighttime, the time that they’re supposed to be strongest. But they didn’t so much as raise a hand against us. It was almost like they were waiting for something . . . or something was holding them back.”
Siv scratched his dark beard in thought. “Well, I don’t like it either way. But if a few Priests of the Holder are all that stands between us,” he said with a shrug, “I’d say it’s a risk worth taking.”
The twins grinned mischievously, and their green eyes shone with ambition. “I guess that settles it,” Kaurik said. “When do we move?”
Sivulu looked up to the night sky, littered with stars and a waxing white moon. “The sooner the better,” he replied. Looking back at his brothers, he said, “Aurik, you head back to K’har and gather the willing. Kaurik, I trust that you can rally the people of Menat—every one that we can count for our cause is a better chance of victory.” He turned his head to Kuu, who was busy counting stars. “And I’ll go south. We need the rest of the Wolfwalkers from R’haqa if we want to come out on top. Kuu, you’ll need to do whatever you can from here. Rider’s Rock will be the gathering place, and where we will make our initial movement to Khadje Kholam, and Djozen Yelto’s fortress.”
Kuu didn’t move his eyes from the sky; he was too busy wondering whether or not this plan actually had a chance of succeeding. They had poured a lot of time and thought into it, it was true, but they’d also had Rathma to help them plan and to help rally more Farsteppers to their cause. When Djozen Yelto began his conquest of the tribes, the only thing more surprising than how fast he did it was that he was doing it at all. It was almost like the Hedjetti and their tribes had wanted to be conquered. Like they didn’t value their freedom.
Maybe uniting the tribes under one banner is the answer, Kuu thought. But he would sooner die than see Yelto hoisting the crown.
His brother’s voice snapped him back to the present.
“Kuu, did you hear me?” Sivulu’s voice could carry when it needed to.
“Yes. Right.” He looked back to the twins, already making their transformation to the lupine bodies that would carry them across the sands. “I’ll just stay here then.”
His oldest brother moved over to him.
“You did your part, Kuu,” Sivulu replied. “And it was an important one. The information you gathered from inside Yelto’s stronghold is just as important as any number of tribesmen fighting for us. And you took a big risk to do it, too.” He placed a firm hand on Kuu’s shoulder and squeezed. “You’ve made this old wolf proud.”
Siv knelt down as he began his transformation.
Deep black fur erupted from his skin and blanketed him in a thick, dark coat. His fingers curled inward and became paws as his torso twisted, lurched, and changed; his mouth lengthened, filling out with fangs, and his limbs cracked and trembled as they broke and reformed. He was on his back as the change took over.
To an outside observer, it would have seemed an awful sight: a wolf writhing in pain, pawing at the air as it trembled. But to Kuu, it was a sight to behold. Siv was big enough as a man, but as a wolf, he had no equal. Watching him go from one imposing form to the other was like watching night turn into day. His muzzle, streaked with bits of gray, was nearly as high as Kuu’s chest when he stood.
With a silent shudder, Siv finished the change and bared his jagged, razing teeth.
A smile, thought Kuu. What a show-off.
Sivulu hadn’t made a sound, but Kuu knew that the transformation had been painful. That his brother could keep it in check, even smile, was a testament to his strength and his will. The only thing that remained of Sivulu the man was his eyes, gleaming green in the moonlight.
The telltale sign of a Wolfwalker, Kuu thought wryly. Even the great Sivulu can’t change that.
As if in answer to his thoughts, Sivulu the wolf gave a graceful bow of his head, winked, and was gone. The whispers of lupine legs racing across the desert faded slowly into the night as the brothers began their journeys, each with his own task and direction.
Kuu pressed his back against the rock and slid to the ground.
Bringing his knees to his chest, he looked up at the night sky again, the domain of Ahmaan Ka, and said a silent prayer to Lash’kun Yho, even though he didn’t believe that the old god was listening. Still, he hoped the Traveler was out there, somewhere, watching; if there was one person alive who knew what it meant to give up everything for a woman he loved, it was Lash’kun Yho.
And if there was another person alive who knew how much it hurt to lose her, it was Kuu Imha-khet.