Chapter 20: 20: The Consequences of Battle (Arc 1 Finale)

The rogue’s body crashed down the length of the tree, snapping branches and sending leaves fluttering to the floor. He hit the ground with a resounding thump, face-up with his limbs bent at odd angles, moaning a discordant caterwaul that made Ember shudder. It was a testament to his resilience that he was still alive, though he would not be recovering any time soon. 

Clouds passed over the moon again, hiding the body from view. Ember took an uneven breath and turned toward Carn, saying a prayer to whatever god might exist that he was still alive.

Cautiously, she crawled over to where he lay in the fork of the branches. He had been gravely injured: his right ear hung on by just a thread, and a long scratch ran over one eye. Still, when she brought her face next to his mouth, she could hear him softly exhale.

Her shoulders slumped as the knot in her chest unraveled. Yet, a new problem was emerging: both of them were in serious danger of bleeding out. Remembering what she’d learned in Hickory’s lectures, she pulled off her overshirt, wrapping it tightly around the wound near his shoulder. She left the head wound untouched, afraid of worsening it. 

When she was done, she leaned against the tree trunk, holding Carn’s hand gently. The heavy blanket of unconsciousness pushed at the back of her mind, but she staved it away by pinching the skin on her forearms. The mysterious headache and the sixth sense that had accompanied it had disappeared, leaving her blind to whatever other creatures—benign or otherwise—might be attracted to the scent of blood. 

Some time passed before the branches below began to rustle, startling Ember. She craned her neck to see a shadowy figure half-jumping, half-flying up the trunk. In her exhaustion, her scrambled brain struggled to make sense of the sight. 

“It’s you, sir,” Ember breathed as she recognized Corax. He was as uncanny as ever, angular and almost grotesque, yet she had never been so relieved to see anyone. She felt a burst of gratitude toward Naz, who must’ve run swiftly despite her injuries to track him down.

“You did well,” Corax rasped. “I’ll take the fox.”

Ember released Carn’s hand and shifted out of the way. “Will he be all right?”

“He’ll live, but with one less eye, I suspect.” When Ember grimaced, the headmaster shook his head slightly. “Do not pity him too much; perhaps it was a much-needed lesson.”

How cruel, Ember thought as he scooped Carn into his arms. He hopped down from the branch to the nearest burl, gripping the bark with his talons. Even with the extra weight, he appeared to glide rather than fall, unencumbered by his lack of real wings.  

“Ember!” someone called, diverting her attention from Corax. Below, Naz was running toward the tree, leading what must have been the rest of the rescue team. The combined light of their lanterns finally brought the world back into clarity, and suddenly Ember realized that she wanted nothing more than to be back on solid ground.

Corax passed Carn over to the team’s medic, who immediately set to work on binding his wounds. The others gathered around the rogue, tying his paws behind his back and pulling him to his feet. 

The headmaster briskly climbed back up the tree, settling next to Ember. “Come now,” he said. “Take hold of my cloak. I’ll get you down.”

Doing as she was told, Ember wrapped her arms around his waist, ignoring the feathers that poked at her through his clothing. He leaped from the branch, making her gasp as her stomach dropped out from underneath her. Before she could utter a word, he landed gracefully on a natural ledge and jumped again, reaching the forest floor in a matter of seconds. 

“Oof!” Ember exclaimed, stumbling as Naz hugged her from behind. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything,” the pisces whispered, her tears wetting Ember’s skin through her torn shirt. 

“You brought help, and we’re all safe. That’s what matters.” They both looked at Carn, who had been placed onto a temporary stretcher and hoisted between two of the officers. With the cloth bindings around his head already soaked in blood, he cut a worrisome figure. 

“Excuse me,” one of the rescuers interrupted, “we need to bring you to the infirmary. Would you like a stretcher?”

“No thanks,” Ember said, taking Naz by the arm. “I’ll walk.”

***

Ember stirred. Her body was sore and her eyes heavy. The bed was cool and comfortable, but it was not her own, and her brief rest had been feverish. As the reality of what had happened settled over her, she placed a hand over her heart as if to calm its beating. She had defied the rules, fought someone almost to the death, and watched as one of her closest friends was mauled. 

One step at a time, she told herself, sitting up in bed. She was laying on the last mattress in a long row that stretched across a dimly-lit room. Her torn and bloodstained shirt had been replaced by a simple cloth gown. Almost unconsciously, she touched the wound on her arm, remembering with a shudder how it had been numbed and sewn with black thread. 

A Linnaean with heavy, curled horns appeared in the doorway, inclining his head when he saw that Ember was awake. “How do you feel?”

She closed her eyes, ridding her mind of the last traces of sleep. “I’m okay, I think.” 

“Then, if it’s all right, the headmaster will see you now.” 

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Without waiting for permission, Corax emerged from behind the door, taking a seat on a stool next to Ember’s bed. “Forgive me for the disturbance, but I thought you might have some questions. Truthfully, I have some myself.”

Ember nodded, surprised by his bluntness. “How’s Carn?” 

“His wounds were serious, but he will recover. Thanks to you and the pisces.”

She looked down at her hands. “I’m glad. Even if he did bring this upon himself, Carn is the sort of person that you can’t help but root for.”

Corax’s dark eyes gleamed as he looked at her. “By sneaking out, you and Naz broke the rules and endangered yourselves.”

“I know-”

“However,” he interrupted, “you did Mendel—and me—a great service by incapacitating the rogue. May I ask how exactly you did it?”

A ghost of a smile flitted across Ember’s face. “Capsaicin oil. Naz and I crushed peppers from the kitchens before we went after Carn.”

Corax laughed. “How wonderfully simple.”

“What was he?” Ember asked. “The rogue, I mean.”

“A margay. It’s a small wild cat that mimics the call of other animals to draw in its prey. Since your friend was off the treatment, he was susceptible to deception. That said, this creature was particularly clever. I suspect that he hid amongst the herds of deer to conceal his heat footprint.”

Ember nodded, and the two fell into temporary silence. Corax picked at the tip of one talon, making a clacking sound that made Ember uneasy. “Is there something else?” 

She hesitated. “Yes… the rogue said something odd about my species. My symptoms have pointed toward cold-blooded animal, and during the fight, I experienced a sort of sixth sense. But I still have no idea what I am.”

The bird-man narrowed his eyes. “Ember, part of a Linnaean’s development is discovering and accepting these things for themselves. Reptiles—if that is what you are—hide changes to their body in times of uncertainty. What is your goal here in Mendel?”

Ember blinked, rubbing her knuckles absentmindedly. “Well, there are things I want to find out about my family… mysteries from my childhood. And I need to know that my father is alive.”

Corax tapped his talons together in disapproval, but his eyes twinkled again. “You must know that correspondence with the mainland is not allowed. However, if you were to journey to Ciradyl, whomever you brought with you would be in danger. Could you protect them?”

“I don’t understand,” Ember murmured, put off by his cryptic manner of speaking. Is he encouraging me to break the rules?

“When you want something, you need to take responsibility.”

“How should I do that?”

Corax leaned forward, casting a long and wraith-like shadow over the bed. “Strength, child. Strength and strategy. That will be the answer to everything.”

Ember’s brows knitted together as she considered his words. I’m certain that he has his own motives… but maybe what he’s saying is true. In the two months since she had been whisked away to Mendel, she had been passive, letting others dictate what she should do. In the end, only luck and a little bit of quick thinking had spared her from Ciradyl’s guards, the blood-lusted wolf, and the rogue. 

I am tired, she realized. Tired of waiting for answers… of being told no at every turn… 

She thought of the fighters in the hippodrome, powerful enough to shake the ground itself; the scientists in the lab, manipulating the laws of biology to their own will, and Corax with his spies, moving pieces on some invisible chessboard. 

If I climb the rungs of the hierarchy, will I be able to take control of the strings of my own fate?  

~Conclusion of Arc 1~