The True Confessions of a Nine-Tailed Fox

One moon later, I was perched on a tree branch between Bobo and Stripey, watching Steelfang and a wild boar demon circle each other below. This boar was even more mountain-like than Lord Magnissimus, although he appeared to lack the ability to freeze things. Or maybe he possessed it, but preferred to gore his enemies into submission.

Head lowered, he charged, accelerating faster than anything that size had a right to. His clans’ whoops echoed off the mountainside.

Not to be outdone, our “guests,” the children of chieftains we’d defeated already, raised a howl of their own. “Steel-FANG! Steel-FANG! Steel-FANG!”

Draped across her litter, with her tails going numb under her own weight, the self-proclaimed Empress of Serica viewed the proceedings with feigned indifference.

Steelfang leaped out of the way and sprang at the boar’s side. A bloody gash joined the collection already there. The boar roared and spun. One tusk scraped across Steelfang’s shoulder, and the wolf yipped and skipped backwards.

Doesn’t he remind you of Lord Magnissimus? I asked idly.

“Yes!” cried Bobo, at the same time that Stripey asked, Which one reminds you of him?

The oversized pig, obviously.

Nah. He’s not nearly as intimidating as Lord Magnissimus.

Isn’t he?

“No, because Lord Magnissimus thinks,” Den called up. “That’s what makes him so – ”

Steelfang jumped straight up and latched onto the boar’s throat. The demon bellowed and swung his head, trying to shake off the wolf, who clamped his jaws tight and hung on.

“Yield!” shouted Floridiana. “Yield, or he tears out your throat!”

“Tear it OUT! Tear it OUT!” chanted Dusty, echoed by our allies.

Forgetting her bored act, Sphaera giggled. “Defeat him, my valiant defender! Prove the righteousness of our cause!”

The watching boar demons let out a chorus of high-pitched war cries that pierced my ears. Their chieftain struck at Steelfang with his front feet, and the wolf had to drop to the ground before a hoof sliced open his belly. The demons’ war cries rose in both pitch and volume until I had to clap my wings over my ears.

Do they have to be so loud?

They are demons.

“Oh no! He nearly got him!” cried Bobo. She looped her body around the branch a few times and dropped her front half. “Sssteelfang! Watch out!”

The wolf snarled and latched onto the boar’s throat again. The demon lashed out with his hooves, but this time Steelfang raised his hind legs, curved his tail up to protect his belly, and hung on.

Eh, Steelfang’ll be fine. He’s nearly got this wrapped up, I assured Bobo. Then I asked Stripey, So who’s next?

As the boar’s motions began to slow, Stripey answered, The joro spider clan. They control the mountains north of here.

Spiders? They’ll be nothing. We’ll just let Dusty step on them.

Below, Dusty stamped and edged forward until Floridiana grabbed a fistful of his mane. “It’s called single combat for a reason, you overgrown pony!”

“Yes, and the Fox Queen should have picked me to challenge him.”

“No, she really shouldn’t have.”

At last, the boar collapsed. Steelfang released his jaws, threw back his head, and howled his victory. The rest of his pack picked it up and echoed it, nearly deafening the rest of us.

As for the boar demons, they huffed and shuffled. A few slowly approached their fallen chieftain, casting many nervous glances at us. When none of us objected, they used their snouts to heave him back onto his feet and braced him so he could stand for the surrender.

“Well done, Steelfang!” cried Sphaera, clapping her hands. She turned a sparkling smile on the demons. “Do you acknowledge our authority now? Will you swear fealty to us?”

“Ooooh,” groaned the chieftain. “Yes, we’ll swear.”

“You will address Her Most Radiant Imperial Majesty, the Empress Sphaera Algarum with the proper respect, knave!” snapped one of the rosefinch handmaidens.

Most radiant imperial majesty. What a ridiculous form of address. I swallowed a snort so I wouldn’t undermine the foxling’s gravitas, but I could not suppress an eye roll. (It was okay – none of the wild boars were looking up.)

Led by their stumbling chieftain, they formed an untidy line before the litter. One after another, they lowered their snouts to the ground and swore everlasting, immortal loyalty to the so-called empress, while I hopped from foot to foot and clamped my beak shut to avoid unleashing a stream of criticism.

After the smallest squeaker, wide-eyed and puzzled and so young that clear stripes still ran along her back and sides, had completed her oath, Sphaera moved to dismiss the boars. I shot down from the tree to land on her shoulder.

Village attacks, I hissed in her ear.

The look she gave me, as wide eyed and puzzled as that of the squeaker, made me want to peck her. But that would really undermine the authority she’d just established over these demons.

No more attacks on Flying Fish Village, remember?

“Oh! Right!” Lifting her chin, she stared down her nose at the boars. “Henceforth, my faithful vassals, you will neither attack human villagers, nor root up their fields, nor carry off their stores of dried fish!”

Dismayed “ukh ukh ukhs” rose from the boars.

“Are you my – I mean, our – faithful vassals or not? Did you just swear everlasting, immortal loyalty to us or not?” She cut a meaningful glance at Steelfang, who raised his hackles and bared his teeth. The blood that dripped off their points proved most convincing. The boars stopped whining.

Still, we had to give them something that would make them believe it behooved them to keep their oath. We couldn’t leave Steelfang to keep an eye on them all the time, and there was no guarantee that taking the youngest squeaker as a hostage – er, honored guest of the Imperial Court – would ensure the clan’s obedience once we left. I didn’t want an uprising behind us.

Borders, I reminded Sphaera. Seriously, did I have to do everything myself?

“Oh, right! Right. Loyal vassals all, we undertake to guarantee the borders of this fief against incursions by all others!”

The unhappy ukh’s turned into excited grunts. Not needing to guard their borders meant that the boars would have more time to hunt for food, which in turn meant that they wouldn’t have to come down from the mountains to attack villagers and carry off their food.

Satisfied with another successful conquest, I lifted off Sphaera’s shoulder and returned to Stripey and Bobo. Things are going well. By the time flying fish season ends, we’ll have pacified this whole area.

“Yep! We will!” agreed Bobo.

We’ll see, said Stripey.

Stop being such a pessimist! You’ll see.

Well, soon enough, we did see.

And what we saw were giant yellow (yellow?!) spider webs that surrounded the joro spiders’ territory. We circled their wall, because surely there had to be a gate or gap somewhere, but it meandered up the mountain and back down to close on itself.

“Golden spider webs!” enthused Floridiana, the only one who appreciated this development. “I’ve never seen golden spider webs before!”

(Yellow. Yellow. Yellow was entirely different from gold.)

While we stopped to rest and rethink our strategy, she ran around sketching the webs. At least she was enjoying herself?

After consulting our guests and gleaning what intelligence he could on the joro spiders, Steelfang ordered one of his pack forward. The younger wolf slunk up to the webs and snapped at a strand. The silk broke easily enough, but the free end stuck to her snout. When she recoiled, the motion ripped the web. More free ends waved in the wind, and everywhere they touched her, they stuck fast. She backed up, but that only tore the web further. Before the rest of us could react, countless threads bound her to the wall.

“AoooOOOooo! Get it off!” she howled.

“Don’t worry! I’m coming!” cried Bobo. She wrapped herself around the wolf’s hindquarters, braced her tail, and pulled as hard as she could. The threads went taut but didn’t break. “Help! I can’t get her loossse!”

Floridiana rushed forward with a dagger, already stamped and spelled for sharpness. “Hold still! I’ll cut you free!”

She sliced at, then sawed at, then hacked at the threads, but they only stretched under the pressure of the blade and stuck to it too. Before a loose thread could touch her hand, Den seized her collar and yanked her back, leaving the knife dangling midair.

The wolf howled and thrashed, and Bobo pulled harder, to no avail.

They’re going to know we’re here, Stripey warned over the howls of the one and the peppy encouragement of the other. This has to be an intruder detection system. They’re probably sending warriors right now.

“Good!” called Sphaera, who hadn’t budged from her litter through all the chaos. “Then I will speak to them and order them to let us in.”

All of a sudden, the threads snapped. Bobo and the wolf went tumbling.

“Oopsssie! Now let’s just get this sssilk off us – aaaah!”

At her yelp, our heads all jerked around – in time to see a gust of wind catch the loose threads. They were standing up and swaying back and forth like autumn silvergrass, and even as we watched, they lifted Bobo and the wolf off the ground.

“Like dandelion fluff,” breathed Floridiana.

“Like a dragon,” murmured Den.

Don’t stand there staring! I fluttered around Bobo helplessly. There was nothing I could bite on her sleek, scaly body to hang on to her. I latched onto a tuft of fur on the wolf’s tail with my beak instead and backwinged as hard as I could, which did absolutely nothing. Help! Help!

Stripey’s much larger beak closed on the wolf’s hind leg and he, too, backwinged with all his might, but the threads only bore us higher. We were nearly clear of the treetops now.

Letting go of the wolf’s tail, I shrieked down at the others, Do something!

A black-and-gold shape hurtled at us: Dusty, executing his Bound of the Tempestuous Blast, or whatever he called this move. Just now the name didn’t strike me as quite so ridiculous as usual, because if he could save us, I didn’t care how he styled himself. I’d even consider addressing him as “Your Highness”! Honestly, it wouldn’t be the worst thing I’d done.

Another gust of wind swept us out of the reach of Dusty’s front teeth.

“Come over here! Let me stamp you!” Floridiana was shouting at him.

Too late. The wind direction changed. The threads bore us sideways over the wall of webs and into the joro spiders’ domain.

Oh no! I attempted to fly away, but without my noticing, two threads had glued themselves to my back, and try as I might, I couldn’t break free.

Stripey! Help!

I’m stuck too! He beat his wings as hard as he could, but if even two spirits couldn’t break free, what could a mortal crane do?

Den! Den! Help! I cried.

“I’m so sorry!” I heard him call. “I can’t breach their airspace! It would be a diplomatic disaster!”

Since when did you start caring about diplomacy?!

“I’ll keep the others safe!” he yelled, which I was pretty sure was his real reason for not saving us.

“Hang on!” Floridiana’s shout drifted after us. “We’ll get you out! Just hang on!”

Then the wind dropped, and we were also dropping, down down down well inside the joro spiders’ territory.

The wolf howled and thrashed and fought to pull herself up the threads, which of course failed miserably.

We’re going to die we’re going to die we’re going to die –

Calm down and think! yelled Stripey.

“Owee!” Bobo cried as we hit the top of a tree.

Are you okay? Stripey called.

“Yep! I’m fine! I was jussst sssurprisssed – eek!”

Branches snapped under the weight of the wolf and Bobo, and then we were tumbling through the tree. Leaves and bark cut past me while I covered my face with my wings. At last, we thudded onto the grass. At the last minute, I scrambled out of the way so no one landed on and crushed me. We lay in a tangled heap, with Bobo’s back half trapped under the wolf’s rear end.

Leaving it there, she raised her long neck and swiveled to check on us. “Everybody okay?”

More or less, I answered.

I’m fine, reported Stripey from the wolf’s other side.

The wolf wheezed, caught her breath, and staggered to her paws. “They’re coming. On your feet, everybody,” she ordered, which was an absolutely inane thing to say to a snake.

I didn’t have time to point that out, though, because moments later, my mortal ears picked up the rustling too.

Then six spiders the size of Honeysuckle Croft emerged from the trees.