Chapter 1
Echoes
Isa watched from the mouth of the hidden cave system which overlooked the ivory sea, named for how the sunlight made the surface look as though a thousand white souls swam upon its surface. Its silver waves lapped against the rocky crescent shore, leaving deep grooves and whirls behind where her father’s small boat came ashore. Everyone inside the vessel wore black cloaks except him. He wore silver. The silver of a moon slayer, the silver of their foes. Anyone who brandished the crest upon their right breast—two chains curling around the head of a milky eyed wolf— were saviors sent by their mortal gods.
She had seen him execute many beasts but this time was different. These were in human flesh and they wouldn’t live to see their precious moon for the last time. Three women, two little boys, and one man were yanked from the boat—all hooded and bravely quiet as the Eastern tribe’s people gathered around. Age and vengeance hadn’t been kind to her father; his coppery face consisting of harsh lines and sharp edges which bore no sympathy, no remorse when he approached the guilty who now knelt awaiting their demise.
Her father’s bare feet left behind footprints in the black sand, reminding her that the prisoners were much like those grooves. One minute they’d be there then the next they’d be washed away by hightide.
“Our enemies think us ignorant savages,” Her father’s raspy tone echoed through the cold morning, wind lashing his fur cape in the air. “They think us weak,”
The villagers cried out, stamping the ends of their spears on the beach.
Her father—their people’s chieftain—bared his teeth, going down the line and snatching their hoods off. “And they are wrong. For five hundred years they pushed our people into the caves when they themselves should be the ones cold during the winters, living off fish and cowering away from us. Today is the first time you’ll see me killing them as they hide behind their masks of human flesh-”
“They’re just children!” Someone cried out from the crowd and her father’s charcoal gaze snapped towards them. Almost like they’d heard the thought Isa tucked away.
“Children?” He scoffed. “Do they think of your children when they leave them as ribbons in the forests? No. Children play with toys. Children’s whole worlds are filled with laughter. They do not tear people’s heads off and eat hearts and dance around the dead. You think these two innocent, cut them loose and let’s see how they pick your flesh from their teeth with your bones.”
The old woman swallowed, falling silent as her father yanked one of the beast children from their knees to their feet.
“I didn’t think so.” Her father barked out, wiping spit from his pepper-salt beard. The sun gleamed upon the bone dagger he held firmly in his grasp; its honed tip pressed to the young one’s throat. They all knew that wolves felt no real emotion but even dogs had a sense of loyalty to their master. Could it be that beyond the cruelty and rage that drove the creatures to torment humans, that there could be something similar? That in those cold beating hearts they could actually care for one another? Isa scoffed at the thought. More than likely they’d say whatever, show whatever façade they thought would gain them sympathy. Nothing would save them now though.
The bound man snarled, jerking forward, green eyes feral and bloodthirsty. “Don’t touch my son or I’ll tear your throat out where you stand.”
Her father seemed amused. “With what? Your bound hands or your humanoid teeth? Admit it. You’re weak in this form, and the illusion of emotion stirring in your eyes makes me sick. Don’t play human now that your pup, your lineage you wish to raise to kill more of us, is on the line.” He approached him, slinging the man down on his knees and yanking his head back by his wild tangled locks. “What are your last words, beast?”
The beast’s attention fell to his son. “Ignök Riüll.”
The boy’s lips trembled, the inky marks coiled around his arms and tattooed across his chest shone brightly before returning to ashen grey. Her father didn’t hesitate. He slid the wicked carved bone knife across their enemy’s throat, tearing through the flesh until white bloody gristle allowed the silver blood beneath to spurt all over the sand and her father’s bare feet.
The three women screamed, and the men who came along with her father silenced them by repeating what he had done moments ago. Their lifeless bodies plowed onto the beach one after another; from the three women to the two little boys and the last man. Whoops and cheers echoed around. Today they struck back harder than their enemies had weeks ago.
“Do you think you could do it?” Someone said from behind Isa, where the cave opened into endless darkness save for the ember glow flickering near its end.
She glanced over her shoulder at her older brother. “Of course. Killing is killing. No different than the fish we spear for dinner.” She stepped from the warmth of the sunlight and closer to her sibling. Already she missed the cool ocean spray against her skin.
He was doing his best to look impassive but she could tell by the tension in his face that something about the executions hadn’t set well with him. “Too much blood for you?” She smirked.
Ryze shook his head, running a hand through his dark spiky red hair. “Only if it was the same as ours. I wonder if you bleed the same colors as they do. I’ve heard you are an animal during training.” He nudged past her to get a better view of the bloodbath below. “We are supposed to get a terrible storm later, I wonder if your soon to be husband will arrive a few days later because of it.” Now he was the one smirking, leaning against the arched slate wall. Her brother was tall and lean, always wearing elegant dark furs and intricate designed jewelry twined in the long braid that descended from the nape of his neck to his mid back.
They looked nothing alike. They were nothing alike.
Isa was still surprised that her brother hadn’t been born with green eyes from the jealousy always lacing his words. Since they were younger he’d yearned for the approval of their father but always came short. Ryze wasn’t nearly as skilled as she was at fighting or hunting or anything that was truly valued by their people. It was why he constantly resorted to petty insults and antagonizing her. She almost felt pity. If their places were reversed and she knew she couldn’t win a fight against herself, well, maybe she’d be slinging around words too.
Did he really think the threat of marriage would rile her? “Nonsense. I have no husband and father hasn’t told me of any marriage proposals.” Still her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Then why do I have a letter from the southern tribe declaring a marriage must be had? It has their seal and our father’s seal of approval on it.” His gaze was calculating, taunt arms crossing his chest.
Her jaw clenched; she wouldn’t allow any other sign of her annoyance to show. The last thing she wanted was to give him reason to think that for once she might not agree with a decision made by their leader. “Probably because you’re a brown noser. If that’s really what he wants, who am I to tell him differently?” She spat. “Don’t you have better things to do other than being a layabout.”
“I was giving you a heads up. Next time I’ll let it be a surprise from our father instead. Maybe he’ll get to witness this outburst. And I was sent by the chieftain to retrieve you and have the ladies prepare you for dinner.” Ryze gripped her arm and yanked her forward, a shadow casting along half his face as he leered at her from beneath thick dark brows and curled lashes. “Don’t keep disrespecting me because you think you’re better. I am still first born, and I can still fight you. You’re better against those beasts but not me.”
She felt his hot breath against her ear. “We may have the same father but don’t forget your mother was some low life who willingly threw herself to the wolves.” her brother pushed her back, releasing her and heading deeper into the murky cave where she was to follow suit.
Out of respect for her father, she wouldn’t lay hands on his son and show him why the others considered her a beast. So her hands clenched into fists at her sides to keep the itch at bay. Disrespecting the dead who died for their cause made him lower than the stones they tread on, not even worth the discord.
The sound of steps scuffing against the ground only added to her irritation. There was no care or grace in his gait as if he was announcing his presence before he could even be seen. What she wouldn’t give to leave him in tears, bloodied and knowing his place.
They approached a wide guarded door that marked the entrance to their hidden lair. Iron serpent shaped sconces held torches on either side of the stone walls, said to have been carved by Armordius; the first hunter himself. In fact her father often said when a gentle breath breezed through the cave on a windless day it was him breathing as he continued to carve Mount Summergar with withered and worn hands. It was a holy place where their mortal gods constantly watched and protected them.
“Lady Isa. Sir Ryze.” The door guardian, Stephon, lowered his hooded head. He shifted an axe the length of his body from the threshold and allowed them entrance into the next room.
Diamond and gemstone chandeliers greeted them. They hung from the domed ceilings, casting rainbow hues all around. Their people liked to think just because they were pushed into caves didn’t mean they couldn’t partially have the luxurious lives they once had over five hundred years ago. Today these halls were filled with lively people, dressed in old-world shimmering lace gowns of all colors, and men wearing debonair suits. There was a feast going on, women lightly playing the drums while others swung down elegantly from above on crimson ropes half-naked. Their balance always left Isa in awe.
She found her father across the dining hall. He was seated at a long table, wearing his chieftain robe in the absence of his silver hunter cloak. Golden rings enclosing the braids hanging from his beard shone brightly; always the center of their attention. He lifted a hand, signing for her brother to send her to the seamstress. “Our father is too demanding for his own good.” Ryze whispered before jerking his chin towards the desolate hall that lead to a staircase.
She didn’t have a chance to even blink before her friend Kat came rushing over to her, throwing her arms around her neck and pulling her into a tight restrictive hug. “I’ve missed you so much,” Kat yelped gleefully. “The last time I’d seen you,” She paused, glancing down at Isa’s chest. “Your breasts were as flat as a washing board.”
Ryze rolled his eyes. “Please. Nobody wants to hear about my sister’s growth. Everything on her is hideous.”
Kat narrowed her eyes at him. “Yeah, and you’re just so handsome that’s the reason you haven’t gotten married yet?”
“You dare speak to your next chieftain that way?” Ryze’s upper lip curled back. “You should teach your southern friend her place. You know the laws. One who knows no respect can easily lose a finger or tongue. I’d hate to send that back to your grandmother after you’ve lost so much already.”
Isa managed to free an arm so she could steer her friend away from the pain she called a brother. “Don’t waste your breath on him when I haven’t seen you in so long. He’s just grumpy because his incompetence is showing.” She spoke loud enough for Ryze to hear as they made their way up the stairs and away from the feast.
“I’ve missed you so much. Things get dull without someone to keep my attention like you do.” The only good thing that came from the southern tribe was Kat. Her best friend since childhood. They’d learned to set traps together, how to scale trees together, they’d even gotten their first kills together. Isa laced her fingers through the other girl’s. “How long are you staying this time?”
Kat opened Isa’s bedroom door, then tugged her along inside. Warmth greeted them from a freshly lit fire, casting the room in an orange glow. Her room wasn’t heavily decorated. She had a single metal framed bed and a wooden dresser which sat in front of a mirror that was her mother’s. The seamstress stood there with her arms behind her back, hair golden like the streaks of yellow in the dancing flames within the hearth.
Her friend sighed, eyeing the woman cautiously. “I’m staying for three weeks. Your father sent word about you being betrothed. I thought he didn’t want marriage for you?”
So it was true. Ryze hadn’t been bluffing. “That was true as far as I knew. Has anything changed with your people recently?” Her arm slipped from around Kat’s shoulders. The poor seamstress had her work cut out for her. Isa spent most of her time outside training or helping her father. The many stains and holes showing glimpses of her dark skin beneath testament to her work.
Despite the rarest occasions Isa opted not to wear fancy dresses or gowns but now she would be made up to be a bride for some man.
“There’s something stronger and faster hunting our people.” Kat frowned and her brows creased with worry. This was the first time she’d ever seen her friend so distraught since the death of her parents. “The bodies we found weren’t even a day old but wreaked of decay. And then,” Her gaze darted to the hearth. “And then there were no canine marks. No scratches from a beast’s claws. Their eyes were completely white, skin as blue as the sky. I’ve never seen a wolf do that. I think that’s why the Eastern clan seeks marriage. He thinks the old saying from the first hunter is true. My grandmother agreed.”
Isa studied her friend quietly. Everyone knew the stories of the first Hunter although few still believed them to be true. The creatures from those tales were unnatural and used to fill her with a mixture of wonder and dread.
While the girl was faced the other way she stripped down to her small clothes so that the seamstress could set to work; taking measurements and fitting her. “Don’t worry. At least if I marry then we will be closer. You know there is no monster I can’t slay-”
She heard her friend whirl around. “I’m serious, Isa. The hunters only spoke of creatures. My grandmother was the only one who’s heard stories of things far worse than that. What if those bedtime stories she told me from the cradle is true? And if you marry, it is to my half brother. He isn’t kind. You think your brother harsh, but you’ll think him a Saint soon enough.”
“I’ll return with the fabrics. If your friend would like she can comb and decorate your hair.” The seamstress smiled before she left them alone. Kat steering her towards the chair sitting in front of Isa’s dresser.
She took a seat, pushing her hair behind her shoulders. “If the rumors hold any truth then still we have hope. Our people have survived this long, right? That means there’s a way to kill them or fix this problem.” Her eyes caught Kat’s in the mirror.
“You’re always so optimistic,” Kat mumbled as she ran an ivory bone comb through Isa’s silky dark hair. Her attention was on the various ornaments laid across the desk’s surface. There were colorful sea shells, butterfly clips posed mid-flight, and even half crescent moon pins. “I remember you told me these were your mother’s one night. They came from her very head after she was bathed to be set to sea. You said you’d never be half the woman she was. One of my favorite quotes you told me was, a woman can be beautiful and dangerous. So why don’t you ever take care of your image?” Her friend asked.
She studied her from the reflection. Wisps of curling smoke rose above the crystal incense burner beside her, creating white dancing streaks through the air. Kat was gentle as she braided her hair, weaving strands until they were coiffed with emerald and jade colored trinkets. “I do care about my image. I portray myself as fearsome and that’s how I’m seen. I’ve never really needed to worry about appealing to anyone. Except you but you love me either way.” Her full lips curled into a smile.
“It wasn’t your fault.” Kat told her, seeing straight through her guise just as the seamstress re-entered her rooms.
Her fingers knotted together in her lap to keep away the nervous tremble that happened anytime her mother was mentioned. It wasn’t something she liked to dwell on when she swore she’d never be so weak again. “We’ll be sisters soon. Can you imagine?” Isa quickly switched the subject, not ready to discuss the matter.
Kat gave her a half-hearted smile, then leaned down and kissed Isa’s cheek. “I’ll be waiting in the feasting hall.”
Isa couldn’t bring herself to return the smile this time as Kat left the room. Despite all of her optimism reserved only for her friend, she felt a foreboding sense of dread looming over her. The memories of her mother were wounds she intended to hide away from everyone. Yet Kat saw through her mask of self assurance and dredged up the past. Idly her fingers brushed over the accessories, the last few pieces of her mother she had left, before turning to the seamstress.
She wouldn’t allow herself to fixate on it. There was a feast to attend. “I’m ready.”
