23. Blood for Blood

ENTIN

CHAPTER 23

Main Cave was nearly full. Night fell, but the flood of glowing, smoking doom pouring forth from the summit of the Slumbering God cast an eerie glow across the valley anyway. The orange-red light flickered along the walls of the cave, dancing across the images depicting Cascade's people as they ran from the Wolves the last time they'd encountered them.

He'd meant to take another look at the stories they conveyed, but now wasn't the time. And with the chaos spewing forth, he feared he never would. A part of him wondered if the gods were punishing them for their transgressions somehow—for the sin of mankind. He knew better than anyone the darkness it possessed. But there was light, too. He'd seen it shine in the moments he'd been one with Cascade. He'd seen it glimmer when Aiel had sat beside T'reer and mourned the loss of Sivek. And yet that earnest glow seemed to die when he looked at Harlak.

He was drunk and high on Dream Caps. He stumbled about the Great Fire, a clay jar in one hand and a hunk of meat in the other. Harlak was the only member of the tribe not preoccupied with the volcano erupting outside—it was difficult to know whether he had even noticed. Harlak dropped the jug to the ground, and it shattered to pieces. The red wine spilled out onto the cave floor. He cursed incoherently, then threw the meat to the ground as well.

"Harlak, what are we to do? The Slumbering God is spewing flames!" a man called out.

"Yes, what shall we do!" another pleaded.

Harlak grunted, then turned to the volcano and stared at it, emotionless.

"Return to your caves. The God will tire itself out. Tomorrow, we go to war." His speech was slurred, but his tone was resolute.

A disquiet sprawled out in the moments that followed. But then, to Entin's surprise, the others did as they were told. They filtered out in little groups, none looking away from the spectacle of the God.

"Come. In the morning, we run for it," Cascade whispered to their group.

T'reer, Aiel, Cascade, and Entin left Main Cave in a hurry. Outside, Entin almost imagined he could feel the heat roaring out of the volcano. The stars were entirely eclipsed in every direction by lampblack smoke. The light from the God's fire rippled across their ashen volume ominously.

The howls of what Entin presumed to be Wolf scouting parties occasionally called out from across the valley. Danger was everywhere now. Their world had become fire and fury. And while he once would have been crushed by fear with all of this pressing down on him, a part of him felt a thrill at the challenge of proving his resilience to himself again and again and again until he finally believed in it.

The volcano was a sign. Entin felt it in his soul. He knew now why the God had spoken to him. It had peered into his spirit and shown him the goodness within—but it had also shown him the shadow. And while he'd always shunned the darker side of himself in shame, he knew now he must unshackle it once and for all to save the rest of them from what he knew was coming.

But first, Harlak must die.

Entin waited until he was certain the others were asleep. More restless than usual, Cascade had been the last to fall into the quiet, rhythmic breathing of dreams. Even then, Entin had waited a long time just to be certain. Finally, he slipped out from under the furs, grabbed Cascade's leather satchel, and exited the cave.

The Slumbering God's fire burned even more furiously as the night passed, and lightning crackled high above in the smoke-filled sky. Ash had begun to fall—it looked almost like snow. He coughed on it as he made his way back down to Main Cave.

When he reached it, it was thankfully empty. The Great Fire had been extinguished, and the only light was the angry red-orange that filtered in from outside. Entin peered this way then that, hoping to spot Harlak within.

But it was Harlak who spotted him first.

"Sneaky little worm, aren't you? Did you come to steal some meat? Some wine? Are you planning on running? If you do, I'll have you killed. I might just kill you anyway. I'll have to decide if you're worth the effort. Why are you here?" Harlak snarled.

Entin spotted him at last. The chief was slumped against the wall, so deep in shadow that only the reflection of the God's flames in his eyes gave him away.

"Cascade told me you might like these," Entin said.

He pulled the satchel from his shoulder and opened it.

"What are they?" he growled.

"Dream Caps. Hundreds of them," Entin replied.

He dumped a few onto the floor and watched as Harlak scrambled to them. The pale white caps almost looked like they were glowing embers in the otherworldly light. Harlak ate them greedily, as Entin had known he would.

"More," Harlak commanded.

Entin obliged him. He dumped the rest onto the ground and watched Harlak devour them. In the moments he stopped eating, he'd look at Entin hatefully. It was a look Entin knew well. It was the look men like Harlak had given him his entire life. And for once, instead of shrinking from it, he stared it down like he was a sabertooth.

Harlak had made it nearly halfway through the mushrooms before he realized something was wrong. He tried to stand but couldn't. His legs gave way underneath him, and he collapsed with a thud to the cave floor. He wheeled out an arm at Entin with a gasp, but the attempt missed. His breathing was weak and labored.

"What… have… you… done…" Harlak wheezed.

"You can't move," Entin informed him.

He gently sat on the ground beside the chief and cocked his head to one side, watching as the paralytic set in. Most of the mushrooms in the bag had been Dream Caps. But not all of them. A few had been a variety called a Death Strand. The two looked almost identical, though one grew near fallen oak trees, whereas the other tended to spring up near where something had recently died. He'd picked them just that afternoon on the mountaintop when no one was looking. Entin knew that one bite of a Death Strand was more than enough to paralyze a person for hours. Harlak had eaten dozens.

Harlak's eyes grew wide with panic as his ability to move diminished and then ceased to exist altogether.

"I know you can hear me. So hear this: you're an evil man, Harlak. You've done terrible things out of selfishness and greed. And you failed your people when they needed you. Worse, you killed your kin in cold blood. Do you believe in the gods?" Entin asked.

But he knew Harlak couldn't answer him anymore. He rose, then crossed the cave to where a pile of the sleds Mountainhome had used to transport the trainees to the valley waited. He selected one for Harlak. It was lighter than he expected, and when he put it on the ground near him and then rolled him onto it, he felt totally at peace with what he was doing. The gods had a plan, and he was their instrument.

Harlak's eyes grew wide with fear as he cinched him down. Entin carefully put the rest of the mushrooms back in Cascade's bag. He slung it over his shoulder, then began pulling Harlak out of the cave.

Ascending Mount Storm for the second time that day with a body in tow pushed Entin to his physical limit. But he pressed onward anyway—because he knew he must. The thunder roared and crackled overhead as he reached the summit, and the wind began to whip and howl around him. He untied Harlak and dragged his limp body up alongside the others. He paused briefly and reflected that there would be no going back once he did what he was about to do.

But Entin was certain that the God had awakened a part of him that had been asleep for far too long: it had rekindled his animal instinct to survive. But it was more than that. He wanted to feel connected, as he always had. And he wanted to love like he'd always dreamed he might. But now he knew the universe cared about those things just as he did. What he'd always aspired to existed between him and Cascade if he could learn to trust it the way he wanted to. The bonfire that erupted in his soul at that realization pushed him ever onward.

There was no love in a man like Harlak. None whatsoever. He was a stain on mankind. Like so many others, he was cruel and broken and wicked. And so he must die. But it wouldn't be Entin's hand that dealt the killing blow. Entin knew Death Strands weren't fatal, even in the dose Harlak had ingested. His tribe used them during more complicated medical practices or, at times, to soothe young infants. Aside from their paralytic effects, they were relatively harmless.

He made sure that Harlak was set apart from the others, then turned his head so they could face one another and sat down on a stone nearby to await the dawn.

"You have done well, but you are not done."

Entin knew the God's voice at once, and he rose to meet it.

It lay before him, this time taking the form of the stag he had slain days ago. Its hide had been stripped from it, and the great creature lay in a pool of shimmering blood, watching him through the eyeless sockets of its skull. Behind it, the Slumbering God was a hazy abstraction, shrouded in darkness and shadow.

"Blood for blood."

"It is the oldest law there is. You did right by me, Entin, and now I will reward you. You must leave Mountainhome at dawn. The Wolves are coming for you. Seek shelter in the graveyard of the mastodons, and I will do the rest. But even then, Entin, I fear we won't be finished. Your journey is far from over."

Entin woke with a start. He couldn't believe he'd nodded off, but the memory of the stag and its words rang true. The world was mostly black and white now—a thick layer of silver-white ash covered everything, everywhere. Black clouds of smoke pressed lower and more suffocating each hour. He coughed, then wiped the ash that had accumulated across him while he slept to the ground.

It was then that he noticed the birds.

They were feasting on Harlak. What remained of the chieftain's body was covered in enormous black ravens. Some ripped at his face, while others pecked at his arms and legs. A trio sitting on his chest had already begun disemboweling him. Suddenly, a white raven with blood-red eyes landed on his face. It squawked once, then looked directly at Entin. And then it plucked out one of Harlak's eyeballs. Harlak screamed. He was somehow still alive. The bird turned to Entin with the detached organ held delicately in its beak and tilted its head. Entin stared into the uncanny creature's glittering red eyes and watched as it tossed back its head and swallowed Harlak's eyeball whole.

He rose, and the white raven stared at him knowingly for a moment, then flew away. Harlak had grown limp and still, and bit by bit, the birds ripped what remained of him from his bones. Entin was done with him. He knew that now he must return to Cascade's cave and lead the tribe from Mountainhome to the graveyard of the mastodons.

And so he began the descent down Mount Storm, still not fully understanding how the God could save any of them from the Wolves.