A Melanie Dickerson Collection

by Melanie Dickerson

  She had cried most of the night. The cold feeling of moisture in her hairline and the tightness of the drying salt water on her cheeks kept her awake until a new thought or memory would start the tears afresh. Now, every step her horse took made her head pound.

  She could only hope the horses didn’t lose their footing in the snow, as sections of the rocky roads were steep and narrow leading down from the castle mount. And what about the wolves? Father God, let them stay far enough away to not spook the horses.

  Friedrich led them, and Irma was just in front of Avelina, as they made their way down the hill.

  No one spoke. Avelina was grateful for the fur robes, as she was not sure they could survive the cold and the snow without them. She had the protection of the hood of her cloak, but how long would it be before the snow soaked through to her scalp?

  Every time she thought of Lord Thornbeck or Magdalen, she felt like crying. And since she didn’t want her face turning to ice or her lashes freezing together, she forced them out of her thoughts and set her mind on her little brother and sister. But would they even be glad to see her when they found out that she was responsible for Plimmwald having no allies to help them defend themselves against Geitbart?

  If only she could numb her mind so she wouldn’t think of anything at all. If only she could sleep all the way to Plimmwald so she couldn’t think. Or perhaps she could stop in Thornbeck, find work and a place to sleep, and never go back to Plimmwald. But that was impossible. She could not abandon her family.

  They had made it down the castle mount and were on the narrow forest road that led to the walled town of Thornbeck. Dawn was beginning to spread a pale light over the snow-covered world around them. The whiteness made the ground brighter than the sky, and there was a special hush that came only with snow. Somehow it did create just that numbness she was longing for, at least for the moment.

  After they had been riding for quite some time, Irma broke the silence. “I am sorry for what I am about to do, Avelina. I made an agreement with Friedrich and Lady Fronicka.”

  The back of Avelina’s neck prickled. “What?”

  “Friedrich works for Lady Fronicka’s father. I can go and be with Friedrich in Geitbart if I do this one thing for Lady Fronicka.” Irma still had not looked at her.

  “What? Do what for Lady Fronicka? Irma?”

  Irma waited for Avelina to catch up to her. When their horses were side by side on the road, Irma reached out and snatched Avelina’s fur robe off. Then she lifted her leg and kicked Avelina in her side.

  Avelina tried to hang on to the reins, but her legs slipped right off the saddle. She hit the ground almost before she knew what was happening.

  Irma grabbed Avelina’s horse’s reins, slapped the horse’s rump, and galloped away with Friedrich down the road.

  Avelina jumped up off the snow-covered ground. “Irma!” How could she do this? How?

  Her heart lurched into her throat. What would she do? She was stranded. Wet snow clung to her clothing. She shook her skirts, brushing the snow off, but already it was soaking through and wetting her legs. And her feet. The cold immediately seeped through the thin little dancing shoes Lady Magdalen had given her the night before.

  She had no fur to keep her warm. She was probably about a half hour’s walk from the castle, and she suspected there was nothing but forest for miles in the other direction, so she turned around and started walking back to the castle. She wrapped the cloak tightly around herself, ignoring the cold, wet snow biting into her feet.

  Lady Fronicka obviously wanted Avelina to die out here in the cold. And suddenly she remembered what Fronicka had said on the balcony. She wanted to marry Lord Thornbeck because she wanted Thornbeck Castle. She would have killed the margrave had he married her. She believed it rightfully belonged to her father, and they wanted it.

  She needed to get back and warn Lord Thornbeck.

  But that did not explain why she still wanted to kill Avelina. Obviously, the margrave could not marry her now, so it wasn’t out of jealousy. It must be pure vindictiveness.

  She quickened her pace, walking as fast as she could up the hill. The rocks hurt her feet, but she walked faster, and soon her feet were too numb to feel much pain.

  Suddenly a howl, then another and another split the dark forest and sent a shiver across her shoulders. Wolves. White-hot fear stabbed through her middle.

  Avelina forced her shaking legs to run. She ran along the side of the road until she tripped over a fallen tree, hidden in the snow. She pushed herself up and kept moving. Her skirts were wet and clinging to her legs, but she held them up the best she could and continued running.

  Would she make it to the castle before the wolves reached her? She still could not even see the castle. How close were the wolves? If she screamed, would anyone hear her? But she would have to slow down to catch her breath enough to scream. She kept running.

  Some movement to her left made her turn her head. A wolf was trotting through the trees alongside her, about forty feet away. A second wolf trotted just behind him.

  She looked about for something she could use as a weapon, but everything was covered with snow. Up ahead on the road were some limbs their horses had stumbled over earlier. She ran, glancing back and forth between the limb ahead of her and the wolf beside her. Was he getting closer?

  She reached down and snatched up a limb that was just small enough to get her hand around. Thankfully, it was not too long or unwieldy. She had been told that a wolf would sometimes not attack if you faced him and refused to flee, and since she could never outrun a wolf, she stopped and turned toward him, trying to draw in a deep enough breath to scream.

  A third and fourth wolf appeared a few feet away from the first one. They all kept their eyes on her, their ears erect. They stalked toward her as a fifth wolf appeared from the edge of the trees.

  She forced a deep breath into her burning lungs and screamed. It didn’t sound very loud. She tried again. The screams seemed to have no effect on the wolves at all. She held up her stick, panting, her chest heaving. Fear seemed to be strangling her, stifling her breathing worse than running had.

  The wolves stopped too. They spread out in a semicircle around her. Their terrifying eyes and mouths seemed to be laughing at her, hating her with vicious intent.

  “Get away!” Avelina screamed. “Get away!” She shook the stick at them, but they just kept watching her.

  The wolves started moving closer, very slowly. The closest one suddenly bared its long, pointed teeth and growled.

  “Get away!” Avelina screamed, a deep, throaty sound. She could not let them know how terrified she was. She raised her stick over her head, yelled, and took a step toward them. The wolves stopped and eyed her, but they did not retreat.

  “Get out of here! Go!” She shook the stick, but the wolves started moving toward her again.

  Should she run toward the castle? If she did, they would chase her. If she ran toward them, they would probably attack her. All her life she’d heard stories of wolf attacks, of people being killed. The only time someone escaped was when they had help from other people, or had a weapon like a sword or bow and arrow. How could she possibly escape a pack of five wolves? God, help me. Please, help me.

  She backed away up the road, holding her stick in front of her. The wolves came toward her, twice as fast as she was moving. Now two of them were baring their teeth. Some movement in the trees showed there was a sixth wolf.

  She moved slower, and still the wolves stalked closer. “O Father God, if You don’t do something to save me . . . Jesus help me, please save me.” She began speaking randomly, not even knowing what she was saying, to keep herself from sobbing. “Jesus . . . holy saints . . . Save me, holy God,” she rambled, her voice growing more and more high-pitched. “Spirit of the living God, save me . . . save me.”

  Still the wolves stalked closer. She turned and yelled at the wolf behind her, raising her stick, but when she turned back around, the wolves h
ad stalked closer, so close she could see the yellowish color of their eyes.

  Suddenly something tugged at her skirt. She screamed and struggled to turn around, slamming the stick against the wolf’s head. The wolf grabbed the stick in its mouth, snarling. She tugged but could not pull it free.

  A second wolf moved stealthily forward. It bared its teeth and growled. The wolf let out a bone-chilling snarl. Then he suddenly sprang at her, its eyes locked on her neck.

  She let go of the stick and lifted her arm, crouching at the last moment. The wolf sailed by her shoulder, but its claws raked her forearm as he passed.

  The pain in her arm barely reached her consciousness. She was surrounded on every side. All six wolves were closing in, their movements as smooth and flowing as a river, snarling and baring their fangs, their hungry yellow eyes trained on her.

  This was the end. There was no mercy in their wolfish faces. She had no weapon with which to fight them. Still, she shook her skirts at them, then clapped her hands and yelled, which turned into a scream. They simply continued to stare and move ever so slowly toward her.

  Terror gripped her tighter, turning her blood to ice. She shook so hard she could barely stand upright. Would she die of the cold before the wolves decided to kill her? Soon they would go for her throat again, and then her blood would spill on the snow.

  Perhaps this was for the best. After all, she had no future. Everyone would hate her now. She had failed. But who would look after her father and little sister and brother? O God, You know. Provide for them.

  The wolf near her feet snarled and lunged forward. It sank its teeth into her ankle.

  Avelina screamed in fear and pain. The animal held her fast in its jaws.

  The animal to her left, the wolf that had already leapt for her throat, suddenly crouched, preparing for a second leap.

  Horse’s hooves sounded behind her. The wolf kept its eyes on her, but its ears flattened back against its head.

  The horse rode hard and fast. It neighed, high and loud, very close by, then stopped. A loud growl sounded behind her—a man’s growl this time.

  The wolf’s eyes bulged as it jumped, propelling itself toward Avelina.

  She closed her eyes and waited for the impact.

  20

  REINHART PLUNGED TOWARD the group of wolves surrounding Avelina. One of the wolves was crouched and ready to lunge.

  He unsheathed his sword and leapt off his horse. The wolf lunged at her throat and Reinhart brought the sword down on its head, knocking it to the ground.

  Reinhart dove at the wolf that was holding Avelina’s ankle in its jaws. He brought the blade’s edge down on the wolf’s neck, severing its head from its body.

  The other four wolves advanced on them. Reinhart stepped toward them, raising his sword. One animal leapt at his head. He stepped to the side and the wolf’s teeth latched on to his shoulder.

  Reinhart stabbed it with his sword and it fell to the ground.

  At the same time, another wolf caught his sword arm in its teeth. He switched his sword to his left hand and slashed the blade across the wolf’s belly and slung it to the ground.

  The remaining wolves backed away, whining, slinking into the trees.

  “You’re hurt,” Avelina said behind him.

  He turned around. Her ankle was still trapped inside the wolf’s jaws, even though it was dead, and blood surrounded her, bright red against the white snow. Her arm was also bleeding through her sleeve, but she was staring with wide, dazed eyes at his injured shoulder and arm.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  Reinhart dropped his sword in the snow and fell to his knees at her feet. He took the wolf’s jaws in his hands and pried them open, gently removing them from her ankle, then threw the head on the ground.

  More blood dribbled down her ankle. He grabbed a handful of snow and pressed it against the puncture wounds, and Avelina collapsed backward onto the ground. Her lips were blue and her face was deathly pale. His heart twisted inside him, as if it were being clenched inside a fist.

  “I have to get you out of here, out of the cold, and stop the bleeding. Put your arms around my neck.” He bent over her.

  She blinked up at him as if she did not hear.

  “You’re hurt,” she said again, reaching toward his shoulder.

  He slid his arms underneath her and picked her up, trying to ignore his own pain.

  Her teeth started chattering, just as they had after he pulled her up from the edge of the balcony, as he carried her to his horse.

  More horses topped the hill above them—Jorgen, Odette, and two guards. The guards reached him first and dismounted.

  Reinhart handed her to the first guard. “Hold her while I mount my horse.” He glanced at the others. “Jorgen, Odette, go after them. They went east, at least three.”

  Reinhart mounted his horse and reached for Avelina. The guard handed her back to him. He turned his horse toward the castle and started up the hill.

  He held her tightly in his arms. She was so pale. How much blood had she lost? She seemed to be losing consciousness. She needed to stay awake.

  “How did this happen?” he demanded. “What were you doing out here?”

  Her teeth slammed together so hard he wasn’t sure she could speak. She huddled against his chest. “Irma s-said w-we had to l-leave. Fronicka . . . sh-she t-told Irma t-to leave me . . . in the s-snow. Th-the wolves came.”

  She clung to his shirtfront, blood soaking through her sleeve, but he feared her ankle was her worst injury.

  “You’re hurt,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  She had that dazed look on her face, a dangerous symptom he had seen once before in a soldier who had been badly injured. And if she did not get warm . . .

  He urged the horse to go faster as they came to the steepest part of the road to the castle. The horse’s hooves slipped on the snow but kept fighting upward. They finally made it to the castle steps.

  Reinhart managed to hold her as he dismounted. He carried her toward the castle.

  A guard ran down the steps and took Avelina from his arms, several more guards behind him. He carried her into the castle, with Reinhart just behind them.

  “Fetch Frau Schwitzer. Send someone for the healer in the cottage in the forest. Fetch a bucket of hot water and clean cloths and bandages, and build up a fire in the front room.”

  A maidservant scurried into the room ahead of the guard who carried Avelina in. A fire was blazing in a small fireplace and the servant was already throwing more wood on it.

  “Put her on that couch next to the fire,” he said.

  Avelina sucked in a quick breath, as though a sudden pain struck her. The guard laid her on the couch in a sitting position, with her legs stretched out on the cushions. Reinhart grabbed a large fur and laid it over her, pulling it up to her chin, then he knelt at her feet and found them bare. She must have lost her shoes in the snow.

  Shoes. He told her he would get her some more shoes after the balcony incident. He’d forgotten.

  Her feet were like blocks of ice, and her toes were purple. He started rubbing her right foot between his hands. She inhaled another sharp breath. At least she was waking up and no longer had that dazed, vacant look in her eyes.

  Another woman servant came in. Reinhart ordered her to rub Avelina’s other foot.

  Avelina bit her lip, probably to keep from crying out.

  Two more women servants came in and he ordered them to take over the intense work of rubbing her feet between their hands.

  Frau Schwitzer hurried into the room. Reinhart ordered, “Go find some dry clothes for her.”

  Avelina’s teeth were chattering worse than ever as she huddled underneath the fur. It must be the wet clothing she was still wearing. He turned to the maidservants in the room.

  “Get those wet clothes off her, now. Frau Schwitzer is coming with some dry ones.” He left the room and waited outside.

  It wasn’t until that
moment he realized he did not know where his cane was, and his ankle was throbbing almost as bad as the wolf bites to his shoulder and arm.

  She had been so close to being killed . . . His stomach clenched again. Thank You, God, I got to her in time. Again.

  The maidservants were undressing her. Avelina was nearly helpless—stiff with cold and shaking uncontrollably. The women quickly and efficiently divested her of her clothing and pulled a new, thicker underdress over her head, followed by a rich velvet cotehardie. Then they covered her again with the fur robe. It was all over in a matter of moments.

  Avelina’s teeth still chattered. But at least the fog was finally clearing from her mind and she focused on the here and now and pushed away the terror and the attacking wolves from her mind.

  Lord Thornbeck came back in and he and another servant went back to rubbing her feet, a grim look on his face. He had come and rescued her from the wolves, risking his life in the process. Did he still care for her? She had been so dazed, she had not really understood what was happening during the attack. But now . . .

  O Lord God, let him not suffer any lasting effects from having saved me. Let his wounds heal and not fester. She could not bear it if any lasting harm came to him because of her.

  “S-someone m-must see to your w-wounds, my lord.”

  He looked at her with that unreadable but intense expression, as more people poured into the room.

  “I have sent for a healer. She will be here soon. But first we must get you warm.” He moved away from her and spoke to a guard at the door, while the maidservants were still taking turns rubbing her feet. The stabbing pain was beginning to subside to a sharp ache.

  An older woman came in dressed like a peasant. She carried a bag and set it beside Avelina and shooed the servants away. The woman touched Avelina’s toes, then squeezed them. She pushed Avelina’s skirt up enough to examine her ankle.

  Avelina jerked her feet out of the woman’s grasp, pulled them in, and covered them with her skirts. “I refuse to l-let you treat m-my injuries until you look at Lord Thornbeck’s wounds.” She tried to clamp her teeth together, but they just would not stop chattering, especially when she talked.