The Rise of the Fire Moon

  10.

  Assessment

  “Sentinels are picked for their strength, and their ability to fight. Sentinels are the protectors of the pack; we must be more than capable of defending the redoubt if needed. Sentinels tend to be larger than those who are Hunters, as well as stronger…”

  Captain Leron was giving a speech, and Tir was half-listening. The sun had not even risen when he had been prodded out of his sleep by an excited Nerasa, and led away on his patrol assessment. Nerasa was now perched on a rock between Sirle and Xelind, both of whom were looking extremely bored. Leron was pacing to and fro in front of Tir, caught up in a speech which had the dull air of being well-rehearsed.

  “…Sentinels must know their surroundings, be alert in their surroundings; Sentinels must be their surroundings.”

  Tir looked at the rock Nerasa was sitting on. It would not be hard to be a rock, he decided. Rocks don’t do very much; they just sit there, perfectly still.

  “And are you listening to me, outsider?”

  Tir jumped. Leron was staring straight through him. He had stopped pacing.

  “I’m listening,” Tir said.

  Leron smiled and gave a small nod, as though Tir had said something polite.

  “As I was saying,” he continued, turning away. “Not just any wolf can be a Sentinel. Many are far too weak. A Sentinel must be able to hold his head high—”

  “Her,” Nerasa interrupted.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Her head high. I’m a Sentinel too, see.”

  Leron stared at her for a moment, blinking, and turned back to face Tir.

  “A Sentinel must be able to hold his or her head high in the face of pain and fear and manage to keep a level mind…”

  Well, that’s it then, Tir thought dully. I suppose I’m not a Sentinel because I didn’t keep a level head in the fire. I panicked and fell over the ridge. But whatever Leron said about pain and fear, Tir doubted the captain had ever been in a forest fire.

  “…because the pack depends on the Sentinels to be aware of the local dangers. That is why we do patrols, to know our territory further. If there is anything unusual or out of the ordinary, it must be reported to the alpha at once.”

  Like the white renegade. That was dangerous and out of the ordinary. Tir felt a bit proud; he had already proven himself of some value. Captain Leron hadn’t managed to report anything useful on the renegade. He licked a scar on his side where she had clawed him.

  “…As I said before, a Sentinel must be a strong and agile fighter. A Sentinel must not be afraid of the blood and fangs of battle, and he or she must know how to survive in battle. Therefore, as the first part of your assessment, I wish to evaluate your battle skills. Fight me.”

  Tir broke out of his thoughts. Captain Leron was still standing in front of him, but he had lowered himself down to a battle position, paws outstretched and grey eyes sharp and searching. Tir eyed him.

  “Er—what?”

  “I asked you to fight me. It is the first part of your assessment.”

  Tir stared. Attack him? Just like that? Surely this was some sort of a trick.

  “Are you going to stand there all day?” Leron said, laughing. The laugh did not reach his eyes. “We’re all waiting, outsider.”

  Feeling a bit foolish, Tir sprung at Leron’s crouched figure. He gave a half-hearted snarl, because he knew that was what wolves did when they attacked each other. But Leron didn’t even rise to meet his attack. He simply swept out an enormous paw and batted Tir away like an insect.

  Behind them, Sirle snickered and Xelind was watching with faint amusement. Tir picked himself up from the dusty ground, burning with embarrassment. He spat the grit out of his mouth and surveyed Leron from a different angle, bringing himself lower to the ground just as Leron was. Leron was smiling. The smile’s veneer was thinning now, in the fight, and Tir could see the ugliness of the expression behind it. Leron smiled like the wolves that smiled at Arwena, the ones that had raised curses behind her back. Tir felt hatred course through his veins like cold water.

  Tir crouched lower, feeling the power build up in his hind legs. He waited like that, feeling the tension rising inside of him until it had become a tangible presence that was burning to escape. Sensing the right time, he released that energy in a rush of power and his legs uncoiled, propelling himself at Captain Leron with deadly speed—

  He was knocked away again.

  “I’m afraid I was correct in saying that you need work. Any Sentinel must be able to do far bet—”

  Furious, Tir leapt at Leron before he had even finished talking. This time, no paw came to swat him away like a pesky fly. Caught off-guard, Leron stumbled backwards under the fury of Tir’s attack, but did not fall. He surged forwards again, throwing Tir before him as if Tir weighed nothing at all. Leron was trying to pin Tir to the ground again, but Tir twisted beneath him and tore, tasting blood in his mouth. His heart began to pound with feral excitement and he flew into a frenzied attack.

  But Tir’s exhilaration did not last long. Tir had never fought before, and Captain Leron’s larger size and weight soon prevailed. Within moments, Tir was crushed against the damp ground and feeling his mind flash back to the panic of the renegade’s forest.

  Again and again, Leron’s heavy paws snapped Tir across the face, and Tir knew he was being punished for catching him off-guard. Fireballs of white-hot pain exploded before his vision and he could feel cries of pain boiling up inside of him, but he was unable to make a sound. Blood spurted from his nose and ran into his eyes; he blinked, but everything had gone blurry and red. He writhed to escape, yelping, but it was in vain. Leron was too strong; Tir could only wait for the attack to stop.

  But with a terrible suddenness, something cold and sharp latched onto his throat. A cold wave swept over Tir. All at once, pain unlike anything he had felt before consumed him and Tir shook with the panic of an animal that knows it is going to die. This was no lesson—Leron was going to kill him.

  He struggled harder than ever, shoving at Leron with his weakening legs and thrashing his head around, trying to sink his fangs into something substantial. He couldn’t yelp or cry out; the only sound Tir could hear was the gurgling of blood in his throat. With an eerie calmness, the pain seemed to fade away into darkness and he knew that all he could do was wait for Leron to finish; then it would all be over.

  A sudden, swift movement disturbed the air above Tir, and Leron was thrown off of him to land in a dusty heap a few feet away. Tir didn’t move, in shock over the sudden weight removed from him.

  Nerasa was standing over him. Her yellow eyes—devoid of their usual mischievous glint—were deadly serious, watching Captain Leron. Her lips were drawn back to show her fangs, and behind her Tir could see Sirle looking disappointed. Xelind was staring impassively up at the sky.

  Leron picked himself up from the ground, spitting blood. He turned on Nerasa, tail stiff and bristling.

  “What are you doing?” he hissed.

  “Only trying to stop you from committing murder.”

  “Murder…? Don’t be ridiculous; I was—”

  “You were going for his throat.”

  “Don’t be—of course not; I slipped. It was an accident. An accident.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Leron sputtered, but did not seem to know what to say. He whipped around and stalked off with Sirle and Xelind following not far behind.

  Nerasa looked down at Tir.

  “Told you not to get on his bad side. Nasty temper, Captain has. C’mon, we’d better follow them.”

  She nudged Tir to his feet. He felt a bit shaky, but after a few moments he was able to stand. Now that he was thinking clearly, the full weight of what had happened hit him like a stone. Captain Leron had tried to kill him. He swayed, nausea rising in his throat.

  “You…you stopped him from…” Tir grasped for words, his voice beginning to rise in hysteria. He stumbled after Nerasa. “He tried to…he was going to?
??!”

  “Hush now, now, we’ve got to catch up with them before they disappear,” Nerasa said in what he guessed was supposed to be a soothing voice. She had not turned around to look at him, and was marching after the others as though nothing had happened. “Alpha won’t be at all happy if the Sentinel part of your Assessment is cut short.”

  “Alpha won’t be happy?” Tir repeated, outraged. He hurried to catch up with her, breath coming up in ragged gasps and his legs trembling with panic and anger. “But if she—we’ll tell her! I…I can tell Palva, and you—you’ll support me, won’t you? We can report him to Liyra!”

  “You could, but it wouldn’t surprise her. Captain hates strangers and she knows it.”

  Tir spat blood onto the ground, stupefied. “What?”

  “We’ve had a few pack squabbles. Back when everyone was a stranger.”

  “You mean Liyra knows that he—”

  Nerasa shook her head. “Well, Guidelights, Tir, you’re not the first! Why do you think I come to Sentinel Assessments? It isn’t because I like to hear Captain talk.”

  “He tried to kill me!”

  Nerasa turned to him with a low sigh. “I hear you,” she said in a more serious voice. “You’re taking this whole thing personally, and that’s not at all what you’re supposed to do. Captain doesn’t hate you; he hates strangers.”

  “ARE YOU TWO COMING?”

  They both started. Leron, just visible as a moving brown figure far ahead, had turned around. Nerasa glanced at him, groaned, and began to run. Tir followed, tripping over his legs in haste.

  When he got back to the redoubt, Tir headed straight for Palva’s hollow, feeling Leron’s lead-eyed stare burning into the back of his head. It chased him all the way down the grass tunnel.

  The Gatherer was sorting through a pile of pungent-smelling herbs when Tir arrived.

  “Back already, Tir?” she said without looking up. “How was your patrol assessment?”

  He swallowed, trembling, and settled down into the grass. “Educational,” he said. “And I need your help.”

  Palva didn’t turn around. “Help?” she said “My herbs are only good for more serious things, and if you’re to be in this pack, then I’m afraid you must learn to help yourself.”

  Tir did not move, so Palva turned to look at him. She dropped her herbs on the boulder with a sigh and padded over to him.

  “Well then, let me see.”

  Tir showed her his neck, and she hissed under her breath.

  “What under the sun…?”

  “Leron assessed my fighting,” Tir mumbled.

  “Of course he did,” Palva’s eyes narrowed. “So what did you learn today?”

  Tir looked at her, and could tell that she knew what had happened.

  “He tried to kill me,” he said, looking at the ground.

  Palva’s hiss became a low growl, and she whipped around towards her herb-boulder. She began sifting through them, extracting a bulb of garlic and padding back towards him.

  “You believe me?” Tir asked.

  “Of course I do,” Palva snapped. “I wouldn’t put anything past Leron. And I told—I told Liyra to watch him; the great fool, he doesn’t know how important—never mind that.”

  She began to squeeze the bitter juice out of the garlic, and dabbed it on Tir’s neck.

  “What stopped him?” she asked as she oarted through his neck fur.

  Tir squinted in the sting of the garlic. “Nerasa,” he gasped, and then breathed a sigh of relief as the sting faded.

  Palva nodded. “Yes, Nerasa may be a bit unhinged at times, but she’s a good wolf. She’s a good fighter, too, and a strong shoulder. Leron won’t get away with anything so long as someone like her is around.”

  “She told me she always goes to the Sentinel Assessments.”

  “I know.”

  Tir quieted. Of course Palva knew. He recalled the conversation he had overheard between Nerasa and Palva while he was feigning sleep, and realized with a jolt that the wolf they had been discussing in such dark tones had been Captain Leron. From their words, he could almost believe that they had expected such a thing to happen—that Leron would go so far as to attempt to kill him. And if Nerasa was to be believed, Alpha Liyra wouldn’t at all be surprised to hear of her Captain’s intentions, either. Tir’s skin was crawling beneath his fur. What kind of pack was this, that disputes were settled with quiet murder-games? Were he and Nerasa nothing more than pieces to be moved about according to Palva and the Alpha’s strategies?

  Captain Leron wanted him gone. Palva and Liyra wanted him to stay. He couldn’t fathom the motive of either force and the more he tried, the more he wished he had met a simple death in the claws of the fire, perhaps, or at the white renegade’s own fangs.

  Of course, he had been given his chance to escape. A chance from Leron’s side of the struggle, most likely, but the most merciful chance he had been given, nonetheless. And with a start, he remembered who had given it to him.

  “Palva?” Tir said. He hesitated. “I—I want to ask you about something.”

  Palva didn’t look up from her work. “What?” she muttered, pounding the garlic against a nearby boulder with unnecessary viciousness.

  “Nerasa told me about the strange wolf. The one with the blue eyes, the one who follows Leron around.”

  Palva dropped the bulb of garlic, and her eyes narrowed.

  “Xelind?” she said, her voice growing sharp. “What about him?”

  “She said he killed his sister.”

  “And you’re asking me if that’s true.”

  “Yes. Well, partly.” Tir hesitated. “He let me go, that night when you left guard. And Leron told him to do it, I suppose, but now that I see Leron’s willing to kill me to get rid of me, I can only wonder why he didn’t do it then, if he had the opportunity.”

  Palva was silent for a long time. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then opened them again. Tir swallowed. “Well,” she said. “If you’re asking whether or not Leron’s common solution to things is to have them killed, then the answer is yes, absolutely yes. But that’s a strategy left over from the nasty seasons with the thundersticks and the journey through the marsh—when, to be honest, that was the best solution for most problems. Leron’s aim is simple: He wants himself, and those under his control, to survive. Anything that endangers this aim must be eliminated, and you, unfortunately, have been seen as a danger.”

  “I—oh.”

  “If you’re asking whether or not Xelind killed his sister, then you must understand the reasons why he would or would not do such a thing. His sister was sickly, and a drain on resources. Arguably, she was a danger. Xelind may have been influenced by Leron’s own philosophy to do something despicable in response, but that doesn’t mean he would do the same in every case—which is why he spared you, maybe.”

  “So—so did he?”

  “Kill his sister?” Palva groaned. “I don’t know, Tir. Nerasa eavesdrops to amuse herself—a filthy trick, Tir, don’t you dare try it—so she knows things that most wolves don’t. No one could prove it, and Xelind denied it, of course, so Alpha Liyra couldn’t do anything to him. But that didn’t quite make him a likeable character in the rest of the pack’s eyes. It’s died down—it was one of many terrible things to happen in the marsh. Nobody talks about those things.”

  “But—”

  “But did he do it? I don’t know,” Palve snapped. She threw a spent bulb to the ground and crushed it beneath her paw. Tir cringed. “I don’t think it’s likely that he did, but no one knows for sure.” Palva growled deep in her throat, and then reached down to retrieve her fallen garlic. She shook her head. “I suppose there’s no way of keeping you out of the pack rumors, is there? Just don’t bother about it; it happened a long time ago. Liyra’s forgotten about it by now.”

  “Oh,” Tir said. He winced as she began dabbing more of the juice into his throat. “Well, I only wanted to know, and I reasoned you’d probably know mo
re than Nerasa about it.”

  “Most of what I know is what Nerasa’s told me—and that’s why I have my doubts. But don’t you go around talking about it. You don’t want to make Leron any angrier. Trying to bring Xelind to justice won’t get you anywhere—only in trouble.”

  “I wasn’t going to try,” Tir muttered. “It’s just—my sister was a runt, too. I hate it how wolves think they don’t deserve to live. My mother…” his voice trailed away into sadness as he thought about Arwena. Palva tactfully did not question him any further, and there was a long silence.

  “There,” Palva said after awhile, tossing another deflated garlic bulb into the grass. “That’s all I can do for you. And I can only tell you that the best thing to do is keep out of Leron’s way, and perhaps he’ll forget all about you. Lucky for him, if anyone notices your scars, they’ll think it was from the renegade. Very convenient indeed, not so much for you.” She sighed.

  “Can’t I say something to Alpha Liyra?” Tir asked, a hint of a plea creeping into his voice. He already knew the answer. “Nerasa said she wouldn’t listen, but—”

  “Nerasa is absolutely right,” Palva snapped. “Liyra knows perfectly well what Leron is—which unfortunately includes the fact that he is a good captain; he’s led this pack through the tough seasons, and Liyra would trust him with her life. He knows it, too. And believe me, this isn’t the first time he’s taken advantage of it. You shouldn’t take it personally.”

  “Thanks,” Tir said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “I’m trying not to.”

  Palva sighed again and closed her eyes, her anger evaporating. “Just stay out of his way for awhile, Tir,” she said. “That’s all I can say for you. Oh, and you’d better get along with the rest of the pack.”