Page 42 of Blacktail

“I’m sorry, who did you say?”

“The crow, Karakaa.” She looked at him expectantly.

“Should I have heard of him?”

She made a disapproving little sound. “In a just world, all beasts would know the name of Karakaa, and speak it with reverence. But this is not a just world.”

Blacktail licked his forepaw as he considered this. “Hrm,” he said. “Who is he?”

“Karakaa was a defender of the faith. For a thousand years—”

“What? I do not know that word.”

“A thousand is like a many-of-manys,” the Old Kitty Mother said. Her tone had grown a tad curt. “It does not matter. Let’s just say that it is a long time indeed. May I continue now?”

“Of course,” Blacktail said. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“Karakaa was the protector of these lands. He guarded the world tree that grows here. He kept the beasts of this land to the one true faith. He was very holy. His strength was such that until that time even the men hereabouts remained faithful to the hunt. At this time, in this place, the world is still as the God of Gods intended it to be.”

“Until that time? Was it another magic thing?”

“It is, yes. Or was, rather. Again, this was all long ago.”

“Another one of those thousand things?”

“Not so much as that. About half. Do you know of ‘half’? As when there are two wolves who catch one rabbit?”

Blacktail wagged his agreement.

“Very good. The moment you see took place about half of a thousand winters ago. I was little more than a kitten then. Around that time these new men from the far side of the sea, the land of my birth, arrived on Karakaa’s shores. He took little notice of their initial landing. Every so often a boat would show up from some distant land. Before long the ones in it would either die or flee. But Karakaa soon realized that the newcomers were not like the men he had known. The infection of reason was very strong in them. They did not answer to the language of the hunt, not even in their dreams. This troubled him.”

“So Karakaa sent his advisers to the place of the new men. They sought counsel among the slave beasts that arrived with them and learned much. The horses told them of a life treading the fields. The pigs told them of their pens. The dogs told them how in their former home even the strongest packs feared the power of gunshots, how wolves rarely ventured out of the deepest forest.

“Karakaa pondered on this. Each night he prayed to the Forest God. First through the summer, then the autumn and the winter. When spring came and he still had heard no answer, Karakaa became certain of something he had previously only suspected. He knew then that the Forest God was in deepest sleep, beyond the reach of any prayer.

“So Karakaa and his flock took up station outside the stronghold of the invaders. All through the spring and summer they watched. They saw that what the beasts had told them was so. Horses toiled in the fields. Pigs lived short lives in small cages and were slaughtered. Bear and wolf fell before gunshots.

“By the time the spring drew to a close, Karakaa knew the place for what it was. He named it for the word crows use when pronouncing sentence of death on the diseased, named it for the single pustule that will end the flock if the bird bearing it is allowed to live.

“That summer Karakaa looked for strength within himself and weighed his duty to the land. He still prayed each night, but he had come to know that his prayers would not be answered. In the end he realized that in order to fulfill his duty he must do something that was once unthinkable to him. On the night of the autumnal equinox, he surrendered the defense of the faith to his closest lieutenant. He banished himself from the flock. He flew alone to Yggdrasil, the world tree. There, in the sight of the moon, this devout beast who had lived many lifetimes in the service of the Forest God petitioned hell.”

Blacktail’s eyes widened at this, but he did not interrupt.

“Hell,” the Old Kitty Mother said dryly, “responded eagerly. The faith of Karakaa was known to them. His soul was considered a great prize. The demon Adzmodeus came to him, more promptly than was common. Together they struck a bargain. Karakaa renounced the Forest God. He entered the service of the demon. In full knowledge of what he was doing, he damned himself. Despite a lifetime of faithful service to the Forest God, now he would never see the Far Hill.

“But Karakaa was content. Hell had answered his petition in a most satisfactory manner. In exchange for his fealty, Adzmodeus granted Karakaa the power of life and death over men.” She looked out at the cloud of crows.

Blacktail followed her gaze.

“You see him now on the night after his apostasy. He has come to use the strength that he bought at such terrible cost. Karakaa believes that if this plague of men on his lands can be stamped out before it spreads, if each infidel who sets foot on these shores meets swift and certain death, that eventually they will stop coming. The eastern lands will be safe. He will have fulfilled his duty. Karakaa believes that this knowledge will be enough to sustain him for an eternity of damnation.” The Old Kitty Mother flinched a little as she said this. She had more experience of hell than did Karakaa. She knew this for the folly it was.

“Look up, Blacktail,” she said softly. “Bear witness to the deed of Karakaa the Great.”

Blacktail looked up. From the east came a mighty flock of crows, more than he had ever seen, blackening the sky like the clouds of a terrible storm. They followed in the wake of a single bird, and flew silently. Blacktail understood this to be a sign of greatest respect.

As the flock approached the place of men, they settled in the branches of the maples and ash and beech, now mostly barren of autumn leaves. High above them, Karakaa circled in the sky. The crows did not call out to him, though many wished to. He was infidel now. But the wolves did, and the bears and rabbits, and other creatures of the forest. They poured out the blessings of their heart, in hopes that Karakaa would hear them, and remember them in hell, and be comforted.

Karakaa soared over the place of men. Below him, the caged beasts looked up as he passed. When he flew over the heart of this plague on his land, Karakaa spoke the word that the demon had taught him. The town, which had been silent, grew more silent still. Then the walls of the cages fell away. The slave beasts roamed free. After a short time, some of the bolder dogs entered the dwellings of men, and found that House, which had teemed with men at sunset, now stood empty. Those who had been their masters were gone. No one could say where. The beasts who had gathered to watch called out in praise. The former slaves called up to him in gratitude.