The Korahku snapped her beak—tsk! She held out an open palm and sliced it with the tip of her pointed beak, cutting deep into the flesh. She yanked a feather from somewhere beneath her robe, dipped it in the pooling blood, and tossed it through the bars. It floated down into Bo’s hands. “Blood bind,” said the Korahku. “Cannot be broken.”
Bo didn’t know what a blood bind was but he shoved the feather deep in his pocket. It was surprisingly soft—a delicate plume of reddish brown with creamy white spots, not a sharp edge to be found. Weren’t all Korahku feathers tipped with razor-sharp metal? Hadn’t the villagers said so?
Bo shook his head. There was an Irin dog with his scent, a wolf that wanted revenge, Shadow Creatures rampaging, a forest that was dying, and no Mads to keep him safe. He didn’t have a choice.
“What do I have to do?” said Bo.
* * *
Bo pulled and yanked and tugged until his palms were raw, but the chain holding the Fuglebur aloft wouldn’t budge.
“Pull,” said the Korahku. “Are you pulling?”
Bo muttered bad words as he tried again.
“What is ‘Skugs fud’?” asked the Korahku.
Bo let go, tears stinging his eyes. “Deal’s off. I can’t do it.”
“Typical Irin,” said the Korahku, snapping her beak. “Always complaining, thinking the world is against you. But are you in a cage?”
Bo grabbed the chain with both hands and pulled. Yes, he thought, a cage of trees and wolves and curses and Darkness. Twelve years in a cage with invisible bars.
Nix bit the cuff of Bo’s trousers, dug in his feet, and pulled too.
“You are not even trying,” said the Korahku.
Bo growled as he pulled so hard he thought his arms would snap off. “Always someone to boss me about,” he said through grinding teeth. “Always someone to tell me I’m wrong, that I’m not good enough.” He heaved, eyes scrunched. “Always someone to laugh at me. Call me names. Spit at me . . .” Bo felt ready to be torn apart and then . . .
Click!
“I did it!” But as the catch snapped free, the chain ripped through Bo’s hands and the cage came crashing down. It broke apart as it hit the ground, iron bars twanging as they clashed against the stones. The Korahku tumbled free, a rolling ball of feathers, arms, legs, and beak.
Bo blew on his stinging palms. “That hurt.”
“Arrows hurt more,” said the Korahku, climbing to her feet, rising and rising and . . . she was twice the height of Mads! Bo shrank back, legs wobbling, guts twisted with unease. Perhaps he had made a mistake . . .
“Arrows?” he asked.
The Korahku pointed to the far side of the square. Reluctantly, Bo wrenched his gaze away from the strange and terrifying creature in front of him to follow her outstretched arm and gasped when he saw a large group of villagers nearing the square. A very large group. Some had brooms and rocks; others gripped axes and bows and arrows.
“I do not know why they wanted you before,” said the Korahku, “but now they want you for setting a prisoner free.”
As the villagers reached the edge of the square, they raised their weapons with cries of Devil-child! Traitor! Shadow Creature! The Innkeeper’s dog barked and reared, desperate to escape his leash.
“Can you run?” asked the Korahku.
Bo looked at the giant bird-creature beside him. It was clear she had seen better days: she was hunched and molting and frail-looking. “Can you?” asked Bo.
The Korahku tilted her head. “Let us see,” she said.
And then she ran.
Bo and Nix ran too, followed by the roar of villagers, the howl of the Innkeeper’s dog, and the clatter of weapons. Bo could outrun the villagers with their bellies full of lindberry beer and jellied pig’s trotters. But the Innkeeper’s dog . . .
“This way.” The Korahku veered right. Bo glimpsed the dog racing out in front of the pack before he rounded the corner.
They hurried up a steep path, huts too close on either side. Nix ran out front, looking behind again and again to make sure Bo was close.
He was.
But so was the Innkeeper’s dog.
A searing pain shot up Bo’s calf as the dog sank his fangs into his flesh. Bo howled as he flew forward, crashing to the ground.
His ears rang from the fall as he struggled to shake his leg free. But the beast had locked his jaws, fangs cutting deep.
Something flew overhead, colliding with the Innkeeper’s dog, sending him tumbling down the hill with a high-pitched yelp. Bo gasped for breath, winded with worry—had Nix jumped in to defend him? He was no match for the Innkeeper’s dog!
Bo struggled to sitting as a familiar wet nose pressed against his neck. “Nix? But you’re—” Bo looked up and saw the Korahku crouched in a battle pose between Bo and the dog. She had saved him!
The Innkeeper’s dog scrambled to his feet, baring his teeth with a growl.
“Silly beast,” said the Korahku, flicking the corners of her robe behind her. “You think you can scare me?”
The dog gnashed his teeth and then sprang into the air, but the Korahku kicked out, landing a swift, hard blow to the dog’s belly, enough to send him flying through the air again, and he landed with a thud and a whimper. Scrambling to his feet, the dog cowered, taking one look at the Korahku before scurrying away on unsteady legs.
“Quick. We must keep moving,” said the Korahku, hauling Bo to his feet.
The villagers appeared at the bottom of the hill, waving their weapons and shouting. The Innkeeper jostled to the front and howled at the sight of his limping dog. “What have you done? I’ll have your fox for dinner, Devil-child!”
Bo, Nix, and the Korahku turned and ran as fast as they could, shouts and curses growing louder behind them. Each time Bo planted his right foot, searing pain shot through his leg.
“The forest,” said the Korahku, pointing up the hill. This was a side of the village Bo had never seen before—it was all new and curious. “We’ll be safe in there.”
Bo looked over his shoulder at the village mob: so close. He turned back to the strange glimmer of forest at the top of the hill. Far, far away and so very unfamiliar. Fear gripped his stomach, an icy iron claw.
There was no way they could possibly make it.
Chapter Seven
The forest loomed ahead. Bo ran as fast as he could, though every step was agony, a lightning bolt of pain shooting up his leg. But when Bo took a hurried look over his shoulder, he saw that the villagers had stumbled to a standstill halfway up the hill.
“Go back, go back!” the Innkeeper was shouting, waving his arms. “They’re leading us into the Forest of Tid! It’s a trap!”
The villagers threw their weapons to the ground, a clatter of steel, wood, and iron. Bo ran on.
When the three of them were finally enveloped by the deathly quiet of the forest, Bo glimpsed the tangle of bronze, gold, and silver tree trunks as he rushed by. The air left a bitter, metallic sting on his tongue and the fallen leaves pinged, high and tinny, as Bo ran through them. The strangeness of it all made his head spin. Or perhaps that was because of the blood he felt trickling down his calf and into his shoe . . .
“Stop,” panted Bo, throwing down his rucksack and shaking off his cloak. He keeled over, pushing Nix away as his breakfast splattered over his toes.