Kavio
Kavio camped alone again. He had more comfort this time, but less peace in his mind. Nilo and the others had tried to convince him to return to the Labyrinth. Instead, their strange talk had made him wonder—if going back would start a civil war, maybe it was better to stay away. So much for the freedom of exile. His responsibilities still followed him, like shadows.
Maybe real shadows followed him too. He heard a rustle nearby again, a soft crack in the leaves that made his body go stiff. It could be Nilo, or someone else who wanted to help him, still trying to follow. Or maybe it was an enemy, someone who wanted to make sure he never returned.
Kavio climbed higher into the mountains. The peaks met like clapped hands, splitting the rain of the world in two. All the water on the east side flowed into a dry land of strange stone shapes—stone rainbows, stone islands, stone waves. The rock showed stripes of color, like pepper and cayenne. On the west side, the water flowed through valleys fed by late summer storms. The land there was rich with oak trees and golden poppies, leading down to forests and finally the sea.
But in the high mountains, winter had already arrived. Snow covered the mountain pass. Kavio spent a day and a night to build a trap. He had to choose the place carefully. He thought about every move and countermove, planning a quiet spell without showing it to any watchers. The fresh snow was perfect for leaving fake footprints. By the next night, he was ready. He cast an illusion over a log to make it look like his sleeping body. Then he walked back over his own trail, climbed a tree, and waited, watching his camp.
The moon rose. No one came. At one point, he heard a noise above and looked up. A snow snake stared back. It looked like a patch of snow on the branch. He remembered their venom was deadly. He glared at it until it slid away to find another tree. To him, the snake was like a sign—this was not just paranoia. Someone really might be following him.
Close to midnight, a twig snapped below. Two masked Tavaedies crept into the camp. After a silent nod, they rushed at the sleeping roll and began chopping the log with their flint axes. When they saw the truth, they cursed like drunk men. In the dark, Kavio couldn't see their tribal marks. Maybe he wouldn't have known them anyway. They wore thick furs for the cold.
He followed them back to their camp. It was small and neat—two leather tents and seven canoes. The snow ended at the edge of a frozen river, where the ice covered tall grass. The grass was thick enough to hide him as he moved carefully forward. But something felt wrong. Two men had attacked his fake bedroll. There were seven boats.
Suddenly, five more men burst from the ice in a circle around him. They were human, not fae. He couldn't tell their tribe. Their bodies were covered with mud and fat for warmth, hidden under rushes. They looked like pieces of swamp. They had been hiding under a thin sheet of ice, breathing through long reeds, waiting for the right moment. Nets filled with stones pulled Kavio down while the men hit him with clubs. The pain was terrible, but it didn't knock him out. These warriors knew what they were doing. They stayed away from his head, hitting only to hurt and catch him alive. They tied his hands and feet and yanked his hair back to show his throat.
A huge man stepped forward. His arms and cheeks were covered with tattoos.
"The death blow is mine. For blame or fame. You are all witness," the leader told his men. They answered with grunts.
This man knew who Kavio was. Kavio didn't know him.
"I know why you want to kill me," Kavio said. Lies worked best when bold. "But the truth is the opposite."
The man's thick hand wrapped around Kavio's neck. "Don't waste my time."
"Let me prove it."
"How?"
That was the hard part. Kavio guessed this was not a group of simple bandits. The big man fought for his people, for pride and victory. But which tribe? What was his rank? He seemed too skilled to be just a group leader, but they were too deep in the wilds for him to be a full War Chief. Probably a war leader.
"Take me to your War Chief," Kavio said. "Let him hear my offer and decide."
"Why should I waste War Chief Nargano's ears on your begging?"
Nargano. War Chief of the Blue Waters tribe. They had once been allies of the Rainbow Labyrinth. Now, bitter enemies. To be fair, Kavio's father had a talent for making enemies.
"Did you know my father once gave me away as a slave to the War Chief of Yellow Bear?" Kavio asked. "Do you count Yellow Bear among your friends?"
The big man narrowed his eyes. Whatever he saw in Kavio's face gave him pause.
"Put him in the boat," he ordered.
"Gag him, Rthan?" another warrior asked.
Kavio searched his memory. The name meant nothing to him.
"No," Rthan said. "I want him to talk."
Slowly, he released Kavio's throat, one finger at a time.