Foxheart Read online

  Voices came from the nearby trees. “Hello?” someone called out. “Don’t be afraid. We’re friends, and we only want to speak with you.”

  Quicksilver saw the fear and anger on Anastazia’s face and chose to do something about it. Urgency gave her mind a new focus. She sent an image to Fox: the four of them disappearing into a shell that, to others, would look exactly like the surrounding world.

  Good idea, Fox thought, and in a flash of soft golden light, he dissolved and circled round them all like a curtain—except the curtain was invisible, and soon so were they.

  “Move closer together,” Fox murmured, from somewhere behind Quicksilver’s left ear.

  “What just happened?” Sly Boots whispered.

  Quicksilver felt the touch of a rough hand on her own. “Excellent cloaking spell,” came Anastazia’s low voice. “Well done.”

  Quicksilver said nothing, though warmth blossomed inside her.

  A group of people entered the clearing, led by a young man perhaps three years older than Sly Boots. His hair was white as the glowing far moon, as was the owl monster on his shoulder.

  “Hello?” the young man called. “Is anyone there?”

  When silence greeted him, the young man raised his hands. “I promise, we’re not your enemies.”

  Anastazia snorted quietly. “But they would be, given the opportunity. I’ve seen it dozens of times. I’ve done it dozens of times. Witches can’t be trusted.”

  “Does that mean I shouldn’t trust you?” whispered Quicksilver.

  “Only fools lie to themselves.”

  “Hush, both of you,” Fox whispered.

  “We too flee the Wolf King,” said the young man. “We make for the western mountains.”

  “Hah!” Anastazia let out a single harsh laugh.

  The young man’s head whipped toward the sound. “Do you know, I think that might be the best cloaking spell I’ve ever seen? It’s too bad you forgot to cloak your sounds as well. I might’ve given up and left in a moment.”

  Fox groaned. Sorry, master. I tried my best.

  It’s all right, Fox. We’ll get better.

  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help laughing,” said Anastazia. “That anyone could flee the Wolf King, or be safe in the western mountains . . . it’s too senseless an idea to be tolerated.”

  Quicksilver sighed irritably. “Show us, Fox.”

  Fox shimmered into existence at their feet. “All things considered, I was actually quite enjoying that,” he said. “It felt like swimming.”

  “It felt like being strangled,” Sly Boots hissed, patting himself as if to make sure nothing was missing.

  The young man approached them with a smile. “Hello, sisters. My name is Olli—”

  “Oh, save your sisters bit for the idiot you find next,” Anastazia snarled. “We won’t fall for it.”

  “Fall for what, exactly?”

  Quicksilver stepped forward. “Who are you?” she demanded. “Speak clearly, or leave us be.”

  “Ah! A cooperative witchling! My name is Olli, and this is my coven.” He gestured to include the witches standing behind him. Their monsters gleamed like jewels on their hats, on their shoulders, peeking out of their pockets.

  “Coven?” Anastazia spat, but Quicksilver spoke over her.

  “What’s a coven?”

  “Dear child, a coven is a group of witches who live and fight together,” said Olli. “Surely you’ve heard the term?”

  “Oh, yes, I’ve heard the term,” Anastazia said. “I’ve heard of witches in covens turning on one another, falling prey to suspicion and jealousy, launching themselves and others into chaos, leaving many dead and wounded behind—including witches.” Anastazia drew herself up, her lip curling. “Don’t you understand what’s happening, boy? What’s beginning? The Wolf King won’t stop until he kills us all, and we’re doomed if we try to fight together. Witches who try to live together only ever end up destroying themselves. It’s our way. So make your covens, yes, go on and try it—and soon you’ll have done the Wolf King’s job for him.”

  Some of the witches in Olli’s coven shifted restlessly, glancing at one another. Some moved away from the group to stand glowering in the shadows, their monsters pacing at their feet.

  “But that’s exactly why we have to try this grand experiment!” Olli put his hands on his hips. “If we stand and fight together, we will not be so easy to hunt.”

  “When a wolf pack hunts,” Anastazia countered, “they corner a herd until it panics. Then they pick off the weakest. And these wolves will do this again, and again, and again, until we’ve been wiped clean from the world, because they never tire.” She added, low, “I’ve seen it hundreds of times.”

  Olli’s eyebrows shot up. “Hundreds of times?”

  Quicksilver’s heart jumped in fear. What would Olli do, if he figured out their secret?

  Anastazia froze, and then recovered.

  “Perhaps I was a little dramatic,” she said smoothly, “but you understand my meaning. The only way to survive is to hide, and hide alone. If you want to fight him, go ahead. Just don’t drag anyone else down with you.”

  “And is that the kind of life you would want for us?” Olli asked. “A lonely life in the shadows?” He turned to Quicksilver, his shock of white hair catching the sunlight. “What do you think, girl?”

  Quicksilver bristled. “My name’s Quicksilver. Don’t call me ‘girl.’”

  “My apologies, Quicksilver. I meant no offense. What do you think of our little coven? Will you travel with us, even if only for a time? To try it out? We’re stronger together. I truly believe that. And . . .” He glanced at Fox. “You’ve just started practicing, haven’t you? He seems only days old.”

  The hair on Fox’s neck stood up. “I’m six years old, thank you very much. That’s forty-two in dog years.”

  “I only meant your monstrous age.”

  Fox sniffed and said nothing.

  “Wouldn’t it be nice to learn from not just one witch, but many?” Olli asked. “And from witches who still have their monsters with them?”

  The clearing filled with silence, and Anastazia seemed to shrink where she stood. Fox trotted over to her, pressed himself against her leg, and licked her sleeve. Her gnarled hand shook as she petted his ears.

  She misses him, Quicksilver and Fox thought to each other at the same time.

  “I apologize, sister,” Olli said quietly. “I don’t mean to make light of your grief. The loss of a monster is a terrible thing.”

  “You know nothing about my grief,” said Anastazia in a deadly voice. “So speak nothing of it.”

  Olli nodded, stood with his head bowed for a moment, and then said, “So, Quicksilver? What do you think?”

  I think, Quicksilver thought to Fox, that these witches’ pockets look awfully full.

  I was thinking very much the same thing, answered Fox in a smug tone. Must be quite taxing for them, to travel with those heavy packs.

  Perhaps we should relieve them of their burdens?

  Master, I would be only too delighted to grant them such a courtesy.

  Quicksilver swallowed her smile. “If we do travel with you—when we decide to leave, you’ll allow us to do so with no trouble?”

  Olli put his hand over his heart. “That’s a promise, Quicksilver.”

  The sight of Olli smiling at her left Quicksilver feeling rather undone. She blushed and looked away.

  Anastazia shoved her way between them.

  “One moment, please,” she said through gritted teeth. “I need to speak with my student.”

  Anastazia guided Quicksilver toward the fence at the meadow’s edge. Then she bent down to meet Quicksilver’s eyes, her joints popping. “What do you think you’re doing?” she whispered. “You’ve never known witches as I have, we can’t trust—”

  “What we can’t do,” said Quicksilver, talking over her, “is practice in this field forever.” Even if we want to, she added silently. Even if w
e’re afraid.

  Fox sent her a wave of encouragement through their heart link. We’ve markets to rob and coin to steal, eh, master?

  Indeed we do, Fox. Quicksilver stood tall, forcing Anastazia to take a step back.

  “You don’t understand—” Anastazia began, shaking her head.

  “I understand perfectly,” said Quicksilver. “I’m the one with the magic now, so you can either come with us, or you can stay here.”

  Then, before Anastazia had the chance to reply, Quicksilver marched back over to where Olli stood waiting and held out her hand once more.

  He grinned and lightly slapped her palm. “Welcome to the coven, Quicksilver.”

  .17.

  A THOUSAND BATTLES

  For the next two days, Olli and his coven led Quicksilver, Fox, Anastazia, and Sly Boots through the meadows and woods west of Willow-on-the-River, staying clear of the road.

  They were a large group—Olli’s coven consisted of fifteen witches and their monsters—and they moved slowly, but no one seemed to mind the frequent stops to rest, talk, and eat. The sun was high but gentle, the wind soft; the cows grazing in field after field were placid and calm. The warm weather lulled everyone into a sense of peaceful contentment—everyone but Anastazia.

  She refused to speak to any of them, instead choosing to read a leather-bound journal she pulled from a large pocket inside her cloak and to communicate only through nasty faces or rude gestures.

  At first Quicksilver enjoyed the respite from Anastazia’s constant harping about magic, and how Quicksilver wasn’t doing it right. She and Fox worked without the old witch, practicing glamours, cloaking, and shifting under the guidance of Olli and his friends Lukaas and Freja.

  “Now, try it again, but this time, try to look like Freja,” instructed Olli on their second afternoon of traveling together. They had stopped for the night, to pitch their patched tents and start cooking fires. The smell of smoking sausages filled the air. Olli took a bite of a crisp red apple. “And remember—concentrate on the details. The slightest inaccuracy can ruin the whole illusion.”

  Quicksilver closed her eyes and pictured Freja—a witch around twenty years of age who sported a purple birthstone on her neck and wore her vivid fire-orange hair short and spiky. She had fifty-three freckles on her cheeks, and her left eye was slightly smaller than her right one.

  Change me, Quicksilver thought, keeping the image of Freja firmly in her mind and pushing the image toward Fox. Instantly she felt Fox receive the image, acknowledge it, and obey. He shifted into a shimmering gray swirl of fog, wrapped himself around her, and settled over her like a cool invisible cloak. And all of this happened in the time it took Olli to finish his apple and toss the core into the field for the cows.

  Quicksilver grinned, her body tingling with happiness. Fox was beginning to understand what she wanted before she had even finished forming an image herself. They were getting better, and faster. Why, they’d be seamlessly thieving together in no time at all!

  When Quicksilver opened her eyes, she looked down at her arms and saw Freja’s arms instead, freckled and strong.

  Olli applauded. Lukaas, his dark face framed with bouncing bright green curls, gave a sharp whistle and waved his faded patchwork cap like a flag. Freja admitted grudgingly, “Not bad.”

  “Not bad? It’s a job well done, very well done!” Olli chuffed Quicksilver on the shoulder. “You’re a natural at glamours, Quix.”

  Quicksilver grinned.

  Fox made a gagging sound in her head. Tell him to stop calling you that or I’ll mutiny.

  But Quicksilver would do nothing of the sort. So what if Olli had given her a nickname? It was only practical. Her full name was something of a mouthful. And she liked having a nickname. It meant that she was important to Olli and his coven, and well liked.

  Which meant they would never guess that she would rob them and abandon them, and the whole job would go off easy as stormberry pie.

  Fox reappeared, panting. He rolled over and showed the world his belly. “Please, oh please, can we be finished now? I’m absolutely starving and can’t possibly go on until I’ve had a sausage or twelve.”

  “Oh, you can do one more, can’t you, Fox?” said Quicksilver, scratching his tummy. “I’d like to try making an Olli glamour next.”

  “But could you ever hope to truly capture my magnificent physique?” Olli posed in the sunlight, flexing his muscles. Lukaas threw an apple at him.

  Quicksilver looked away, her cheeks burning, although she didn’t understand why. Olli’s smooth brown skin and bright smile were no concern of hers. He was a mark, not a friend.

  But a pleasing-to-look-at mark, Fox thought mischievously. Eh, master?

  Shut it, Fox!

  “Quicksilver!” called Anastazia, her voice crackling with impatience. “Come here at once.”

  Anastazia sat beneath a cluster of towering trees some distance away, thumbing through her journal. When Quicksilver stalked over to her, Anastazia didn’t even look up.

  “Have you finished playing games with your little friends?” Anastazia asked.

  “We weren’t playing games,” said Quicksilver. “We were practicing magic. They’re helping me, which is more than I can say about some people.”

  Sly Boots lay on the ground beside Anastazia, sniffing the air longingly. “I’ve been reading to you for hours, Anastazia. Can I go get lunch now, please?”

  “Go get lunch for all eternity, if you wish,” Anastazia snapped. “I’ve had enough of your whining.”

  Sly Boots sprang to his feet. “And I’ve had enough of your everything,” he grumbled, storming off to the cooking fire.

  Quicksilver smirked as she watched him leave. “What do you want, then?” she asked Anastazia.

  “Your help.” Anastazia patted the ground beside her. “Sit and look at this with me.”

  Reluctantly, Quicksilver joined Anastazia in the grass and looked at the map she’d unfolded from her journal. It was a map of the Star Lands, so covered with scribbled notes that Quicksilver could barely see the original lines marking the borders of the seven kingdoms.

  “We’ll have to head north soon,” muttered Anastazia. “I can’t believe I’ve let us linger for so long with these people. Must be losing hold of my senses at last.” She pointed at a black star in the kingdom of Menettsk. “That’s where I found the first skeleton when I was young—in the Burren Bogs of Menettsk. It’s as good a place as any to start.”

  Quicksilver crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not doing that.”

  Anastazia glared at Quicksilver, her eyes burning. “Have you forgotten why I brought you here, child? Oh, forgive me—Quix?”

  Fox trotted over, his mouth full of food. “If there has ever been a more repulsive nickname, I can’t imagine it,” he snorted.

  Fox, you’re not helping.

  Pardon me, O master Quix.

  “You brought me here to fight the Wolf King,” Quicksilver recited, “and to find the skeletons of the First Monsters, so that we can destroy them, because if the Wolf King finds them first, the First Ones will come back to life and kill everyone. And if we don’t find the skeletons, we’ll never be able to defeat the Wolf King, because the First Ones are working through him, and they’re too powerful. But if we destroy them, then we can destroy the Wolf King, and everyone will be saved, and the witches will not be hunted away into memory and nothingness.” Quicksilver glared back at Anastazia. “Have I got that all right?”

  Anastazia chewed expressionlessly on her candy—a fresh bag of her beloved mint-and-chocolate stars that Olli had given her as a peace offering, to no avail. “You’re remarkably flippant,” she said, “considering how serious the situation is.”

  “And you’re remarkably . . . annoying!” Quicksilver barely resisted the urge to knock the journal out of Anastazia’s hands. “I don’t know why you think I want to take part in any of this. Just because you did when you were my age doesn’t mean I want to. I’m diff
erent from you. We may be the same person, but we’re not the same person.”

  Anastazia lifted an eyebrow. “I’ve noticed as much.”

  Sly Boots stomped back and threw himself onto the ground with a half-eaten sausage in his hand. “Those monsters make my skin crawl. Animals aren’t supposed to look so smart.”

  “I’d take offense at that remark,” mumbled Fox, “if I weren’t enjoying my lunch so terribly much.”

  “I think they’re wonderful,” said Quicksilver. “They’re funny, and they like me.”

  “Are you talking about the monsters, or your precious Olli?” muttered Sly Boots.

  Quicksilver bristled. “I mean all of them. They’re certainly more pleasant to talk to than either of you.”

  “The Wolf King is pleasant too, if you catch him on a good day,” grumbled Anastazia. “But if you’re not careful, before you know it he’s talked you into a trance and slit your throat, and you’re left wondering what happened as you lie dying in the dirt.”

  “Such a cheerful person you are,” said Sly Boots. “I can see where Quixxy here gets her temper.”

  “Listen, Boots—” Quicksilver rolled up her sleeves.

  Then Anastazia began coughing—a terrible dry, hacking cough that made Quicksilver’s throat hurt just to hear it.

  Quicksilver and Sly Boots watched in horrified silence as Anastazia’s body spasmed. Black flecks flew out of her mouth, dotting her lips in slimy clumps.

  “What do we do?” Sly Boots whispered, his face pale.

  Quicksilver did not know how to answer him. She sat frozen in shock until Anastazia’s breathing turned steady again.

  “Anastazia?” Fox asked, his whiskers full of crumbs. He curled up beside her, put his snout in her lap. “What is it?”

  “Everything all right over there?” called Olli from the cooking fire.

  “Splendid,” Sly Boots answered. “Just leave us be for once in your life.”

  “As if we’ve been traveling with them for our entire lives,” spat Quicksilver.

  “Well, that’s certainly what it feels like!”