The hind with the manic eyes was gravidly pregnant. She moved with rolling, dangerous grace, as though even unbalanced by the life within her, she would attack without hesitation. The hart beside her, Sepheus, kept a hand on her arm, less to support her than to control where her wild eyes wandered.

The gremlaur who kept the rooming house eyed them both warily and then addressed all his comments to the hart. “We’re out of rooms.”

He shifted his grip on Haramia’s arm as the muscles tightened. “This is a challenge year. Thousands need the rooms.”

“Why do you think my house is full? We don’t regularly cram you animals more than four to a room either, and we have six in some now.”

 “She’s pregnant.”

The gremlaur eyed the hind with his large, distrustful, jewel-like eyes. “Another good reason to kick you out.”

She snarled silently and moved forward. The hart caught her by the shoulder and pulled her back. The two males met eyes. “We’ll take what you have,” Sepheus said.

“You think I should be afraid of you?”

“Maybe not me.”

The gremlaur looked at the hind again and a nervous movement of his face flashed his sharp, white teeth. “I’m not afraid of a pregnant deer.”

She swallowed and cleared her throat with a low grumble. “And if you think I hesitate to rip the throat from a smelly elf, you are mistaken. Give us a room.”

One spear-shaped ear twitched above the gremlaur’s childlike face. “I have a place in the shed, with the tools. Not comfortable but there’s a heat vent so the water doesn’t freeze. That’s all I have.”

“That will be fine,” the hart said.

The gremlaur led them through the early winter snowstorm to the shed. He knocked the ice off the bolts and pushed open the steel door.

The inside was cramped with old mining equipment, piled with hay. Rodents rustled in the corners. The warmth made the two Cervidae close their eyes in pleasure. Even the pregnant hind relaxed slightly.

“Thank you,” the hart said

“Keep quiet,” the gremlaur muttered. “I’ll see what bread I have. Or there’s always the rats.”

He laughed and shut the door hard enough to knock ice off the inner steal.

Haramia leaned on Sepheus’s shoulder. “Did he lock us in?”

The hart listened. “He closed the bolt, but I don’t think he put a lock on it.”

She turned away from him and looked around. “So the savior of our people will be born in a shack, during a challenge week.” She laughed. “Appropriate, don’t you think? That he should be born during that very week when each decade our people affirm their slavery to the Clawsyn Masters?”

He looked at her. “How close are you?”

She shrugged and the baby kicked against her stomach. “Possibly even tonight. Then our people will have a savior again.”

He looked back at the door.

She stepped closer to him and put a hand on his neck. “Don’t tell me that you don’t believe. You told me you had a dream.”

He looked at her. “And what did you have? We are in the heart of Borealis, and tomorrow every unregistered Cervidae will go before the Clawsyns and pledge their loyalty. My brothers will fight tomorrow for the glory of the Princess, that they may be a part of her Slay. And you stand here—“

She slammed him into the wall. “So help me, Sepheus, if you are a threat I will rip out your throat for the rats.”

He locked his hands around her bulging waist. “I dreamt you were the one, that you would lead us out of darkness with the child you have within you. But I am mortal. I doubt.”

“As long as your doubt remains in words and thoughts, I am—ah!” She threw back her head, eyes wide. Rage shone in them a moment before shifting into pain and then rabid glee. The first white glow of the Change crawled along her face as her jaw elongated. She arched her back and he felt the baby kicking through her skin. “He’s coming.”

Another contraction threw her into Sepheus and they sagged together to the ground, her breath coming more quickly, her claws digging into his legs. Even while Haramia’s body spasmed, her eyes glowed in delight.

“It’s your time?”

“Oh yes.” She jerked again and then snarled, joy in the sound. “He’s coming at last.”

 

Christosophia Princess-Clawsyn sat before the mirror, her long alabaster legs crossed, the blood red dressing gown hanging off her. She watched herself in the mirror and pulled an ivory comb her waist-length hair that was as white as the driven snow.

The gremlaur, her steward, stepped through the door and paused. She was not beautiful by human standards but she was like the ice queen out of his people’s legends. From her coal-black eyes to the grey-green chain piled like a sleeping serpent on her vanity table she was threat and power.

She saw him, and he stepped forward.

“Princess, there is a rumor.”

Her brush paused.

“A few of our elders were talking amongst themselves when a Cervidae heard and brought their words to my attention. Have you heard of a savior?”

One long hand moved involuntarily to the chain, and then away. “That is an old, old word, and I would be a fool not to understand it. What is this rumor?”

“They say that there will be one born. Soon. Within this moon.”

“Who are they?”

“Elders of the old clans. They rarely come to Borealis, but they came—“

“For the challenge week, because even the gremlaur must pledge their loyalty. I understand. They came talking of a savior? For the gremlaur, or the Cervidae?”

He licked his lips. “Both, Princess.”

Her eyes stared into nothing. They smoldered like burned down coals. “I will not tell my father of this yet.”

“Shall I have them killed?”

She lit a cigarette. “No. Release them.”

He jerked back in surprise. “Release them? But the idea of a savior promises the end—“

“Release them, and put three of my Slay to tracking them. Where ever they go, follow them.”

He nodded. “And when they find the savior—“

“There is no savior. There will never be any such being while the Clawsyn-Clan rules the Northern Reaches. But when they discover the pretender, they will kill it, and crush with it all rumors of such a thing and that word will be lost. Go. Do as I command.”

He bowed. “Or course, Princess. Always.”

When he solidly closed the door, she still stared into the mirror, smoke rising from her cupped hands.

 

Exhausted but radiant, the hind rested in the straw, the infant resting in her arms. She hummed a tuneless song over his sleeping head while the Sepheus stood guard.

He glanced at her. “Are you well?”

Haramia nodded, never looking up from the new life in her arms.

He looked back at the door. “We should be going soon.”

“Why so jumpy so suddenly?”

Sepheus shrugged his shoulders and she saw how close the Change lingered over his bones. The Change made the Cervidae stronger, faster, more vicious, able to withstand almost any force or enemy. Haramia had been very close to it during the labor, and now he stood inches from it.

“Is it because of the baby?”

“You mean the savior.”

She straightened and the infant cooed in his sleep. “You believe.”

“I had another dream.”

“What did it say?”

The strike of steel against steel made her wrap an arm around the infant’s head, and sent Sepheus to all fours, teeth bared at the sound. A snarl filled his throat, filled the shed, and made her shiver.

The sound hesitated, and then came again, more gently this time. A light voice called from the other side. “Might we come in, dam and sire of the savior?”

The hart and the hind looked at one another. She straightened. “And why would we allow you to enter?”

“Because the wind is very cold, and we bring gifts and warnings.”

Sepheus moved forward. “I will kill them if they try anything. Protect the infant.”

“Always. Come in, strangers, if you mean no harm.”

The door moved and three gremlaur, and a Cervidae entered. The gremlaur wore black enveloping cloaks against the icy wind and cutting snow. The Cervidae, a hart, looked at them through his brown eyes, closed the door behind the last of the gremlaur and shook the ice off his mottled brown and white pelt.

The lead gremlaur pulled his hood down. “Let me cut to the chase before you kill us all. The savior of your people and mine was born this night. Now, if I’m wrong, I’m sure the Princess would be please to have your testimony at my death.”

“Who are you?” the hind asked.

The gremlaur smiled, showing all his sharp teeth. The expression flooded into his sapphire eyes and they almost glowed. “I am Bailad. Before the Clawsyns, I would have been the king of my clan. This is Harnen, of a cousin clan, and Havara, also an elder.” He gestured gracefully at the male and female behind him. Their child’s faces and bodies were still, focused on the Cervidae. “We have come in search of the savior.” He looked at Sepheus and frowned. “And I would appreciate it if you would stop snarling. We come in peace. And you? Are you the mother of the savior prophesied?”

The hind straightened. “I am.” Her eyes shifted to the lone, silent Cervidae. “And who are you?”

He smiled bitterly. “I am a humble keeper. Call me, Wolfwatcher. I serve, but I have come to see if there is truth in the rumor.”

Haramia tossed her head. “And what do you see.”

“I see a hind with a baby, and a hart on the edge of his control. I see nothing here to give our people hope.”

She stood in a smooth movement. “This child will rise up against the human monsters that have enslaved us. This child will reach out and we will bring their throats to our teeth.”

“And would that child also free the clans?” Bailad’s voice was mild, his smile solid, his teeth very sharp.

She met his eyes. “I don’t give a damn what the elves do when the Clawsyns are frozen carrion. As long as they don’t get in my way.”

He bowed gracefully before her. When she stood, the baby’s head was at the same height as his eyes. “I believe your belief.” He met the eyes of his companions. “And I believe what our seers have seen. Therefore, we have brought you gifts.” He reached into his pack and pulled out a tarnished bracelet of silver with several scorched smoky stones. “This will give you light in darkness. And fire, if you have the gift. And it hurts like hell when you punch with it.”

The female gremlaur silently pulled a sword from her cloak. As long as her arm, it was little more than a long knife to the hind. “This cuts through stone. It cut through the spine of our last true dictator. May it do like work on the Clawsyns. If it is fond of you, it will remain through anything, even the Change. If not, it will come back to me.”

The last male gremlaur unstrapped a flask from his waist and threw it at the feet of the hind. “Snow will melt in it, and your strength will remain as long as your will does. Stops infections. Kills humans who drink of it.”

She looked at all the gift and then to them. “For his sake, I thank you.”

Bailad stepped forward. “Before we go, may we see him? To say that we have?”

Harnen laughed. The high sound made the Cervidae wince. “So that when we are executed we can die content.”

“So we will know him when he comes again,” Havara murmurred.

Haramia glanced at Sepheus, and then stepped forward. She gently removed the blanket from her child’s face. The three gremlaur craned their necks to see the baby.

“It just looks like another deer,” Harnen said.

Havara looked at him. “And Cole FirstKing-Clawsyn looked like just another weak mortal. Do not be deceived.” Her head snapped up and she drew a deep breath. “We should go now.”

Bailad tore his eyes from the baby’s still face. “Yes. Of course, you are right. Remember, the Masters have eyes everywhere. You are not safe here any longer, not on this darkest of nights.”

The hind pulled the infant close again and turned away from them. “Then you will be stopped from returning to your subterranean kingdoms. The Clawsyns hold the path to them. You will go to your deaths.”

They exchanged glances. “Then we will go home another way,” Bailad said. “Farewell, hind. I hope that your dream is a true one and that our gifts have not been in vain.”

They slipped out the door and closed it behind them.

The Cervidae remained.

 

“Princess, there is such a child.”

Christosophia paused in wrapping the cold grey-green chain around her waist. The spiked edges caressed her skirt. The female gremlaur around her also paused and looked at the steward with calculating eyes. In their gem-colored dresses, perched on ladders that they might braid and twist the princess’s hair, they looked like deadly little dolls with glittering eyes.

The woman turned. “You are certain?”

He bowed as a nod, because he was suddenly afraid of the cold in her voice. “Yes. The traitors went to a place where a hind and hart stayed. When they left, certain items they would not have left lightly were gone from their person.”

“I want to see their corpses.”

“Princess, they are not dead.”

She whirled. A dresser fell from her perch and landed like a cat. “What do you mean they are not dead? They should have walked right past your guards to return to the subterranean lands.”

“They took a route that my people did not expect.”

The Princess turned to the Cervidae leaning against the wall. “Dash, I want the best hunters of the Slay assembled. I want those gremlaur dead. The steward will tell you which ones. Go.”

The hart bowed. “Yes, Princess.”

He left and Christosophia looked around the room. “Get out. All of you.”

The dressers hopped from their chairs and ladders and drifted out the door.

When the Princess’s full attention returned to him, the steward straightened.

“We will not inform my father of these unfounded rumors. He is contented, and when all those involved are dead, the problem will no longer exist. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“The child will be dead soon?”

 “My Cervidae agent will have it strangled within the minute. He will return, and I will bring him to you.”

 She turned and began strapping on knives and weapons. She reached for her long, scarlet, fur-lined cloak last and swirled it over her shoulders. “Good. Send my dressers back in.” She looked in the mirror. “My father is expecting me shortly.”

He bowed and left.

 

When the gremlaur had left, the hind and the hart looked at the stranger.

“How did you even hear of this place?” Haramia demanded.

Wolfwatcher moved slowly toward her. “I am a humble keeper of animals. I heard them whispering and thought . . . I knew that if the words they said were true, I had to come.” His eyes locked on the hidden face of the infant. “Is it true? That is a savior you hold in your arms?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Do you even know the meaning of the word?”

“A savior comes and brings an end to the rule of the Clawsyns. A savior leads us against our rightful masters and sends us into the dark, nothing but animals.”

The hind stood and the hart moved forward, the first touch of fear and power glimmering in his eyes. “This one smells like roasted meats and fine wine and silk,” Sepheus said.

She pulled the child close. Her steps were still unsteady and weak from the birth, but her eyes were just as vicious and strong as before. “You have not come to follow him. Perhaps you have come to kill?”

Wolfwatcher looked at her for a second, and then the act melted away from him. He straightened, and the first light of the Change rippled over his skin. “You may be a mad hind, but you see well.”

Sepheus snarled and stepped between the enemy and the hind and child. “You will have to go through me.”

“Do you really think that will be a problem? I am Wolfwatcher, a second rank hunter of the Princess’s Slay.”

The hind laughed like the killing wind outside the shed. “She didn’t even send her first rank? I should feel insulted. Or perhaps should I feel pity for you, that you will die here?”

He bared his teeth. “I do not pity enemies of my Princess.”

Sepheus twisted his head and settled himself. “It is appropriate that we two should battle for the sake of our people’s future.”

“Really?”

“This is the challenge week where youngsters battle for the glory of the Clawsyns. But I will disembowel you for the savior.”

“Haha. I kill animals like you without the Change.”

Sepheus Changed and moved in the same moment. Pale, deathly light spread from him and his bones shifted and cracked, claws and teeth elongating as he moved for his enemy’s throat.

The other hart moved to the side and transformed as well, control resting over him even as the light spread like two wings. His eyes burned pale blue and the mottled colors of his coat became shadows that made him like a ghost. Neither the hart nor the hind saw more than a blur when he moved, the Change making him impossibly fast. Sepheus fell from the speed of his own charge and spun to catch the enemy that was coming behind him. But by that time, the other hart was to the side and gave him a light blow with the back of his hand.

Sepheus flew across the shed and yelped as he slammed into the padded machinery.

Woldwatcher grinned, and forced hissing words around his elongated teeth. “You ssssseeee how you cannot defeat me?” He turned his head, supernatural eyes searching for the infant. “Give me the savior.”

Haramia set the baby down and look at him out of the corner of her dark gleeful eyes. “Come get him.”

The hart moved.

She met him.

His momentum flew him into the opposite wall and his body left a dent in the steel.

He pulled himself up and snarled.

She popped her neck. “You are not the only one that understands how to use the Change.”

He dove again. Sepheus slammed into him from the side. They fell together, biting, snarling, clawing while she crouched, between them and the mumbling baby, watching for the moment.

When Sepheus began to weaken, she threw back her head and the Change wrapped her in its glowing strength. She hit her enemy and brought her teeth into his throat. He writhed and pulled away at the last moment, snapping and catching her ear, but Sepheus was there, pinning Wolfwatcher’s hand to the floor with a knife and the ripping into his chest. The enemy pulled up, roaring, and she ripped open his stomach with her claws.

They bit at his throat as he died and drank the steaming blood that bubbled out.

When it was done, the hart and the hind let go of the Change and twisted back into their bipedal, calm, controllable form. Haramia closed her eyes to the pain of bones realigning, and licked the blood off her lips.

Sepheus pulled himself to the infant and brushed his bloody fingers against the child’s mouth.

“Is he well?” she said.

He laughed weakly. “He has tasted of the blood of his enemies.”

She looked at the hart. “Will you survive?”

He looked down at himself. The his wounds dripped blood steadily into the hay. He laughed like there was gravel in his throat. “I would have gotten worse at the challenge grounds.” He rolled back a shoulder and winced.

She rested her hands across his back and snapped the shoulder back into the socket.

He rolled his head. “Thank you.” He looked at the dead enemy. “We must take the savior and leave this place. If her hunters are already here, the Princess must know.”

“Where can we go? The villages will be searched.”

He cocked a head and listened to the wind blow against the steel walls of the shed. “We must go into the Snows.”

“She will follow us.”

“But not for long, because we should die in such cold. But we will not.”

She licked his cheek, cleaning a wound. “Will we not die?”

“No, my mate, we have the savior.”

She smiled. “Of course.” She knelt and began pulling the clothes off the enemy.

Sepheus looked at the baby, cooing in his wrapping of rags, and smiled as well. Then he knelt to help her.

 

The steward stepped into the room slowly, praying she would not notice him. Christosophia stood in the cold stone ballroom, smiling emptily, surrounded by a dozen human merchants who had come to Borealis for the high-quality coal and mechanical toys that the Northern Kingdom offered. Santana King-Clawsyn sat on his thrown, a drunken smile on his face, a glass of red wine in his hand being refilled by a gremlaur girl. The merchants shivered in the huge ballroom, but they didn’t understand that part of the chill came from the King and the Princess.

Christosophia saw him, and the smile drained from her face. She forced it back on to smile at the merchants, and then moved away. “Excuse me, a small matter has come up. I shall return quickly.”

One of the men, drunker than the rest tried to catch her for a kiss.

She evaded him and moved toward the steward, hand caressing the long chain around her waist.

They left the ballroom and her smile remained fixed in place even as he carefully closed the door.

When it was securely closed, she struck like a snake, took him by the throat, lifted him to eyelevel. He struggled in her grip, and her arm shook from the weight, but she held him there while she rested the sharp end of the chain along his cheek. “Tell me that the infant is dead.”

“Can’t.”

“What the frozen winds do you mean you can’t tell me that the savior is dead!”

“Breathe.”

She dropped him like a pile of trash and stepped on his wrist to hold him down. “Tell me.”

“The hunter . . . found dead . . . no child. Gone.”

“Gone where.”

“Storm . . . obliterated all tracks.”

She ground his wrist bones into the floor. “Then you go to my kennels and you take my Cervidae and you find them.”

“Yes, Princess.”

“Even thought you have failed. Even though you have failed so badly I should feed you to my Slay. By now they are probably in the Snows, or hidden so deeply in the slums of Borealis that we will never find them. And, though they will most likely die there, we can take no chances, can we?”

“No, Princess. Princess, my hand.”

“You will order a cull of the Cervidae population. I want anything born this season to be butcher and burned. I want that false savior dead and all that support him in the mines.”

She released his hand and stepped away. He pulled himself up, trying to push the bones back into their proper positions. “Princess, what reason will I give the Cervidae?”

 “What reason do you usually give them?”

He hesitated. “None, Princess.”

“Then continue as you have gone. And get out of my sight.”

She pushed open the door and swept into the ballroom, the false smile tightening her face and blanketing her eyes.

He pushed himself up with one hand and went to give the orders.