Ander - Part 6: Subchapter 70
70
Shadows upon shadows, birthing and dying inside the absolute blackness of the Cora's pass, their lives bookended by millions upon millions of flakes of snow. Ander stared into this chaotic mess, feeling like the pass was staring right back. Sometimes a shadow would grow darker than the others and his heart would skip a beat, but then it would fade away again, nothing more than an illusion.
"I keep thinking I can see faces out there," Kiana said, clinging to his arm. "Crazy, huh?"
"No," Ander replied. She shouldn't be out here, but he was grateful she had decided to stay just a little while longer. "I see them, too."
Hezzi suddenly gasped and pointed towards the centre of the pass. "I see something! There!"
Ander's breath caught in his throat and his stomach made a nauseating turn.
This is it. One way or another, this is where it ends.
He turned to Kiana. "You have to go. Now."
She clamped down on his hand, squeezing so hard he could feel the tips of her claws digging into his palm. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Dammit, Kiana, now is not the time!"
"If you want me to leave, you'll have to throw me off this wall yourself! And even if you do, I'll just climb right back up!"
"Kiana, please! You promised your parents, didn't you?"
She looked into his eyes, her face as set as stone. Not even the freezing gale could make her falter. "My parents will forgive me. I won't." She took him by the hand. "I will not let you do this alone, Ander. We're in this together."
I promise...
Ander squeezed back.
I will protect you...
"I love you, Kiana."
I will protect the valley...
She smiled.
I will protect our child.
"I love you, too."
Ander stared into the gaping jaws of the pass and the torrential shadows swirling inside. There was a shape in there, different from all the others. It did not break apart with the wind. It was solid. It was real.
It was coming.
Ander grasped the horn around his neck. How many lives was he holding in the palm of his hand right now? Whether he blew on it or not, hundreds, perhaps even thousands, would die.
It's your decision, Ander. It all rests with you.
Ander.
Different.
Andrew.
Strong.
Was he Ander, or was he Andrew? Was he different, or was he strong? Was he both?
Not so different, after all...
Or neither?
The first shape emerged from the chaos of the storm, black from white, flesh from shadow. It was -
A frown crept over Ander's face. This was not at all what he was expecting.
It was Dorin, and he was badly injured. Even from here, he could see the dry streaks of blood across his forehead. He was the new leader of the warriors, and yet he could barely stand? He had to lean on a she-wolf for support, and that she-wolf was -
No, it can't be. Is that Aisa!?
Ander blinked, but there was no mistaking the stern look on that face. It was definitely Aisa, struggling through the snow, fighting just to keep Dorin upright and walking. But what on earth was she doing here? She was no warrior. And why was she all beat up like that? It looked like someone had thrashed her to within an inch of her life.
More shadows emerged from the pass, solidifying into faces that were familiar, yet baffling.
Thoka appeared, huffing and panting, seemingly on the verge of collapse. Denko was riding on his back and his leg was streaked with blood.
Ivio came next, twitching as always. His head and upper chest were slathered in the reddish brownish mixture of clay and blood his people most often used for body paint, making him look even crazier than usual, but he was also covered in scratches and he had a giant cut along the side of his face. He looked up at the sheer walls of the pass and plucked a tuft of fur from beneath his chin, leaving a small bald patch behind. Actually, he was covered in those bald patches. From his hands and arms and even his face, they potmarked his body like some terrible disease.
What the hell has been going on over there? Ander thought. And where is Wardo?
Yannek, Vekka, and Seffer materialized next. They looked relatively normal compared to the others, but there was still something off about their demeanour. These weren't the bloodthirsty faces of Wolves on the warpath that Ander had been expecting. These were the faces of Wolves who would rather be _anywhere_but here.
They don't even have any weapons on them, Ander realized, absolutely shocked.
What was going on!?
The rest came all at once. One moment it was just this first smattering of Wolves, alone, confused, hurt, and the next it was all of them: a black line of shadows emerging from the darkness, a wall of Wolves stretching from one side of the pass to the other, their fur speckled with frost and snow. The stuttering light of the signal pyre, still shining weakly halfway up the mountain side, reflected off axe blades and spear heads and thousands of starving eyes, bouncing back as dim arcs of colour in the night.
The longer he looked, the more they came, far more than there was supposed to be. Ander was expecting several hundred to show up, the extent of their warriors, but this was almost the entire tribe! There were tent-wives, clinging to the arms of their mates. There were elders using spears and clubs as crutches just to stay upright. There were Wolves who had never so much as picked up a weapon their whole lives!
A deep fear unlike anything Ander had ever experienced took root inside his heart, sucking him dry, shrivelling him up from the inside. He took an involuntary step back, shaking his head in disbelief, unable to even comprehend the horror of what he was seeing.
There were _children_down there...
He tried to deny it. He tried to convince himself it was just a trick of his tired mind, but once he saw that first one, it was impossible to miss the others. They were down there, dozens of them, maybe even a hundred, their little faces painted with the symbols of war and bloodshed. They clung to their fathers with one hand while carrying weapons in the other. Some were incapable of walking through the thick snow and were being carried by their older brothers. They shied away from the lights of the wall and buried their faces against their brothers' backs, shivering in the extreme cold.
I can't do this... There is no way I can do this...
Sure you can. You've done it before, and you can do it again. Just put that horn to your mouth and blow. It's the easiest thing in the world.
I can't!
All right, then. Murder the Foxes instead.
I can't do that, either!
It's one way or the other, Andrew. Murder the Foxes through inaction, or murder the Wolves by your own hand.
There are children down there!
There are children in the valley, too. Probably a good deal more. Just looking at it from a numbers perspective, the choice should be easy. Why are you hesitating?
I'm not like you! I'm not like you!!
You made a promise, didn't you? Just look at her, Ander. Or Andrew, or whoever the hell you're trying to be.
Ander did look at her. She was frozen with fear, staring out at a sea of hostile faces, just like the moment he had first laid eyes on her.
Imagine her pretty face, torn wide open. Imagine your baby lying in the snow, its bloody umbilical cord still attached to her gaping womb. Imagine the steam rising off its dying body...
NO!
Then you've already made your decision. What are you waiting for?
You're not real! You're just a dead voice in my head!
Am I?
Yes!
Are you sure about that?
Yes!
I'm not just a voice, Ander. I'm part of you. The same part that killed your brother, the same part that killed Garten, and now, the same part that will kill a thousand more. It's you_, Ander! It's all you! It's always been you!_
Shut up! You're not me, and I'm not you! You're dead! You're dead!
Oh, Ander... I think you need to take a closer look...
So many faces, and even more coming in, more and more by the second, pouring in like river water. He recognised all of them. He knew each of them by name. They were his people, they were his family, they were...
The wind blew. Flakes of snow stuck to his fur. It was so cold, but none of it came close to the freezing hand of ice around his heart, squeezing and squeezing, crushing it between its fingers.
It was Mother. Her eyes were wide open: a dirty, vein-streaked whiteness amidst the purity of the snow. On her left shoulder were the symbols for "Hezzi" and on the right, the ones for "Banno". Father's old necklace hung from her skinny neck. She was holding the hand of a Wolf much larger than herself, much larger than any Wolf. Even larger than him.
"No..." Ander whispered, certain that he must be going insane.
Blacker than a moonless night and darker than any shadow, snow clung to the wet patches of his fur, stained red with blood.
To his left, Kiana clapped a hand over her mouth. She breathed hard and fast. Short plumes of mist burst out from between her fingers. Her eyes were wide, so wide he could almost see what was happening inside. A night almost as dark as this, pouring rain, crinkling leaves beneath their feet, and a monster emerging from the trees, speaking of life and death, hunger and ecstasy. Gnashing jaws and blood-streaked claws, metallic biters and the rattling of chains, the spray of muddy river water and the tears of the one she would come to love.
To his right, Hezzi had stopped breathing entirely. There was no mist coming from his mouth at all. His eyes were wide as well, but they were different from Kiana's. His seemed completely and totally blank, but Ander knew better. He knew exactly what was going on inside his little brother's stricken mind. The burning in his chest and the ache in his legs after a long chase, the satisfaction of a successful hunt and the smile of his eldest brother, the hardest smile to earn. A happy chuckle and a ruffle of the hair, an approving nod and a heartfelt compliment, a constant struggle for approval from this godly figure, larger than life, respected by all. His oldest brother. His biggest brother. His strongest brother.
A brother he loved with all his heart.
Ander knew how they felt. He knew because he loved them, cherished them, understood them. But... how was he supposed to feel? He knew the feelings of those around him, but in this moment, his own feelings were a complete mystery. It was as if he was feeling so much that he was feeling none of it at all, because if he allowed himself to feel all of it at once, it would surely kill him.
So instead there was this fading sense of unreality, as if he were watching all of it from outside himself, like in a dream. Only... no dream has ever produced a monster like this...
That face. That hideous, black face. He was dead. Ander knew him to be dead, and yet he was standing right there, head and shoulders above everyone else, wearing the most horrific smile he had ever seen; one side elongated to impossible proportions, showcasing a set of bloodred teeth.
How can he be alive? The thought raced through Ander's head like an insect desperately trying to find a way out, bashing itself to pieces inside his mind. I saw him die! I killed him with my own two hands! I watched the life bleed out of him! So how can he be alive!? How!?
Maybe he's not...
The dead voice of Banno rose up inside his head. What started as a chuckle slowly grew into a monstrous laugh reverberating through the halls of his memories, just laughing and laughing, pushing him over the edge of sanity.
In the real world, Banno's face split apart. Blood poured from his mouth in steady drips. His shoulders twitched, his chest heaved, and his head began to bob.
He was laughing. He was too far away and the wind was too strong and loud, but Ander could hear him nonetheless. He could hear the sound of his dead brother's laughter synchronizing with the dead voice inside his own mind, fusing together, becoming one.
He was dead.
He was alive.
He was neither, and he was both.
He was Banno.
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