The Mad Wolf's Daughter

by Diane Magras

  She dug her heels into the dirt, gave the boot a mighty heave, and almost fell backward when it slid free. She turned it upside down, and a gold ring fell out.

  The ring was dull but carved intricately. Turning it in her fingers, Drest could just make out the pattern of a tree.

  “That ring is worth a mighty sum,” Tig said, peering over Drest’s shoulder as she set it in Emerick’s hand.

  “It was my father’s.” Emerick fingered it. “I don’t want to give it up, but it will pay for the food we desperately need. And a horse. See, Drest, how eager I am to be traded for one of your brothers?”

  “I can fetch us food when it’s darker. You don’t have to sell your father’s ring.”

  Tig held out his hand toward Emerick. “Let me sell it. I know how to barter, how to outsmart anyone. I’ll find the goldsmith and trade it to him for everything we need.”

  Emerick dropped the ring in his hand. “Be careful, Tig.”

  The boy winked at Drest. “Lads on quests don’t need to be careful; we always escape true danger, thanks to our friends.”

  With the ring tight in his hand, he sauntered off.

  Drest eased herself beside Emerick and stretched out her legs. She didn’t like to see Tig disappear alone like that; worry tugged at her. “I’m sorry I didn’t think to fetch coins. We have plenty of them at the headland and I know all the spots where they’re hidden.”

  “They would have sunk to the bottom of the sea when our boat cracked open. But that doesn’t matter; my ring will buy us the best horse this town can offer and we’ll reach the castle in mere hours.”

  Drest scuffed the worn toe of one boot in the dirt. Thinking of rescuing her family now, it seemed impossible. What would she do in the castle with just one brother against a band of knights?

  “I know you said I could have one brother for you, but what about the rest of my family?” Drest said. “I can’t let them die.”

  “I can’t do anything about the rest of them. It will be difficult enough to free one. And there is to be a crowd. A celebration.” The young knight frowned. “For good reason, but still.”

  Drest sat up. “What about the knight who tried to murder you? He’ll be there, you know.”

  Emerick met her eyes. “You don’t need to worry about that,” he said coldly.

  “Nay, but if we free my whole family together, they’ll protect you. If you can lead me to where they’re being kept—”

  “Absolutely not.” Emerick’s voice changed back to the stern castle voice he had used on the headland. “Your father and brothers are murderers many times over. I shouldn’t even be talking about this.”

  Drest rose, her face burning. “I’m going to look for Tig. Selling a ring shouldn’t take this long.”

  She expected a protest, a warning to be careful, or at least a nod. But Emerick didn’t even raise his eyes as she turned away.

  * * *

  • • •

  Drest kept to the shadows and made her way toward a chorus of shouting voices in the market road. Someone there could surely tell her where the goldsmith’s house was, but the crowd’s clamor reminded her of the mob that had surrounded Merewen in Soggyweald.

  A sharp caw sounded above Drest’s head. Tig’s crow was clinging to a rooftop, distinct against the early night, her beak pointing to the throng.

  “I don’t like crowds,” Drest muttered. “If you’re teasing me, I’ll have one of your wings.”

  As if she could hear Drest, Mordag uttered a disgruntled creea.

  With a prickling sense of dread, Drest slipped among the people.

  Men and women were pushing one another and talking about getting close. Drest felt like a fly among them. She crawled through the spaces until she was near the front of the crowd.

  Grimbol had once told her about village stocks, a cruel form of humiliation. Drest had often wondered how two strips of wood could hold any man. But seeing the stocks of Launceford, she understood. They were like a pair of jaws that had closed upon their victim.

  And their victim in the center of the market square was Tig.

  24

  THE STOCKS

  Resentment and fear streaked Tig’s face. He hung limp in the stocks, his hands and head secured in the three wooden holes. Before him, a man in a green cloak was bellowing a charge:

  “And for this theft he shall spend two nights and two days in punishment. Let him learn the error of his ways.”

  The crowd grumbled. Drest, who had hated every person within it, was surprised. Were they so tenderhearted?

  But it turned out that the people in the crowd cared little for the boy: They were there to see what he had stolen. As if they were of one body, they followed the man in the green cloak as he strode away.

  Drest pulled back from the throng and waited until they were well down the road before she ran to Tig’s side. “What happened, lad?”

  Tig grimaced. “May he swallow that ring and choke on it. The goldsmith—the brute, the monster—he stole it from me. As soon as I held it out. I knew he’d try to trick me, but I never suspected he’d just take it! He took it and called the bailiff. I couldn’t escape.” Tig rattled the stocks. “I am not a thief! I never was!”

  Drest pulled at the wood. It didn’t budge. “We have to get you out. We can’t wait two days.”

  “Especially since they said they’ll hang me after that.” He gave her a grim smile. “It’s time for you to protect me.”

  Drest walked around the stocks, tracing every crack and line with her fingers. The pieces fit together as tight as stone, secured by wooden pegs shoved into metal clasps. Drest found a rock in the dust and pounded at the pegs and clasps. But she could move nothing.

  She sat back on her heels. There had to be a crack where she could slip in her sword, some place where the wood joined and would give. She saw only three such places: the holes that encircled Tig’s neck and wrists. It was dangerous, but Borawyn just might force that wood apart.

  “I shall break this open with my sword,” Drest said.

  “Is that wise?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure I can do it. Hold still.”

  The boy’s eyes had been following her as much as they could around the stocks, but at that moment, they widened.

  “Duck!” Tig cried.

  Drest ducked, and just in time.

  “Get away from the prisoner.” A man in a cabbage-shaped wool cap launched a blow at Drest’s face.

  She dodged, sprang past him, and scampered into an alley by the buildings around the square. The cabbage-headed man marched toward her, swinging a long staff.

  Drest tried to think. She needed Emerick to distract the guard. Why was the young knight so useless? Worse than useless.

  He’ll be useful enough when you reach the castle, said Gobin’s voice.

  Tig’s guard was heading toward her, his staff thumping.

  Drest circled around and went back to the road. Once there, she ran across, and waited in the shadows until Tig’s guard moved farther up the square.

  She glanced up to see if Mordag was still watching Tig. To Drest’s surprise, the crow was on a different roof, looking in a different direction.

  Where Emerick was waiting.

  Drest ran past the market road to the spot where she had left the wounded man.

  The ground was empty.

  She walked farther, but the houses became unfamiliar. She returned to the market road, then traced her way back until she was once more standing on the spot where Emerick had been lying on the ground.

  A flicker of movement appeared near the corner of a house, then was gone.

  Emerick, Drest thought, and ran around the corner.

  Emerick wasn’t alone. He was on his feet, his head forced back against Jupp’s shoulder. One of the bandit’s hands held him in place.
The other held a dagger to his throat.

  25

  JUPP’S REVENGE

  “Run,” Emerick’s lips and eyes both said, though he did not speak the word aloud.

  “I was wondering how long you’d take,” said Jupp. His voice was hard and low, no longer slippery. “Didn’t find a way to free the boy, did you? I was counting on seeing you draw that sword and chop those stocks in two.”

  Drest stood very still. Her hands longed to whip Borawyn free, but the bandit’s knife was firm against Emerick’s throat.

  “Your friend here claims he’s got nothing of value about his person,” Jupp went on, “and he certainly has nothing I can find. But you’re another matter.”

  “I’ve nothing on me, either, unless you want a smelly boot,” Drest said, trying to sound brave.

  “You lie.” Jupp’s tongue ran over his bottom lip. “Give me that sword, and I’ll free your friend.”

  Drest almost drew in her breath, but she knew better than to show surprise. “I don’t know why you care about this old thing,” she managed to get out. “It’s a piece of scrap.”

  “You showed it to me well enough before. Give it here.” Jupp set the knife against the center of Emerick’s throat and angled it to one side, as if he were about to slash.

  “Maybe it’s worth something,” Drest said quickly, “but it’s my brother Wulfric’s sword. He’s on my path to get it back and if he finds someone else has taken it, he’ll—”

  “Do you think I don’t know where your brothers are? Don’t lie to me again, girl. I can see right through it.”

  “Don’t give it to him,” Emerick said, his eyes burning into Drest. “Go away with Tig. Do it now.”

  The bandit laughed. “You don’t know? Your boy is in the stocks, put there for stealing a ring, they say.”

  There was a subtle change in Emerick’s face: a flash of despair, then nothing.

  “I don’t see that you have much of a choice.” Jupp dug his fingers into Emerick’s shoulder, which made the young knight gasp. “Wounded here too, are you?”

  She had no time to think of her brothers. Drest drew her sword and threw it to the ground. It landed in the dust with a muted clatter.

  “Pick it up,” Jupp said, “and hand it to me.”

  Without looking at Emerick, Drest obeyed. She held Borawyn out by the crossguard, the blade pointed down.

  Jupp reached forward, his knife still against Emerick’s throat, and snatched the sword from Drest’s grip.

  Then he flung it aside. He threw Emerick down and landed a kick in his ribs that made the young knight double up in pain. Before Drest could move, Jupp’s hands were upon her, twisting her arms back.

  “I made a mistake, pitying you, as if you needed pity.” The bandit shoved his knee into her spine and forced her to the ground. “You’re the whelp of a devil. When I saw you alone in the woods—there was my chance. To grab you. To show your father what it feels like to lose someone.”

  A net of frantic terror seized Drest. She struggled, and might have thrown him off, but the bandit grabbed his dagger from where he’d dropped it and whipped it beneath her chin.

  “Are you going to beg for mercy, you filthy worm? I haven’t decided if I’ll slay you now or sell you to the highest bidder—yes, there are many who would buy Grimbol’s daughter. Yet I should slay you. For my sister.”

  Drest couldn’t move.

  Nay, lass, whispered Gobin’s voice, faint in her mind. You can’t give up.

  Remember the code: Never accept defeat, murmured Nutkin.

  Do it, Drest, choked Uwen’s voice. Do it.

  Drest took a quick breath, then reared up.

  The bandit’s grip on her wrists slipped, but then he had her again and all his weight was on her back. His knife pressed under her chin. The blade was warm.

  “You don’t want to jostle me, girl. Steady now. I’ve one thing I need to do before I make my choice. Do you know what it is? I want your ear. I’ll put it on a rope and wear it round my neck.” He gave a strangled laugh. “A tale for the fireside: how I caught the Wolf’s daughter.”

  Blind panic rippled through Drest. Pressing her fingers into the packed dirt, she forced herself to be still.

  “Which shall it be? Left ear or right?”

  The knife stung her neck.

  “Steady,” hissed the bandit. With his fingers suddenly deep in her hair, he thrust her face against the dirt and moved the knife up her right cheek toward her ear.

  “Wait.” It was Emerick’s voice, his castle voice, low and strong. He was moving, dragging himself closer. “Was your sister a brave lass? Were you proud of her? Did she hold you when you were scared? Did you laugh with her when she teased you?” The young knight’s voice was like a whip. “The Mad Wolf murdered a girl I loved who did all those things with me. Yet I see what his daughter is: just a lass, nothing more. She could be your sister. She should be no part of your revenge.”

  Jupp let out a snarl. “She’s Grimbol’s daughter, not a lass but a demon like him.”

  But his knife lifted, just barely.

  “Did her hand poison your village’s well? I know it was not her sword that slew the lass I loved.”

  “Shut it.” But Jupp’s voice was weaker.

  “If you slay the Mad Wolf’s daughter, you’re living by his code, not your own,” Emerick said.

  “You’re a fool not to have slain her when you had the chance,” the bandit growled.

  Drest raised her eyes. She could barely see Emerick’s face. He was pale, but his gaze was firm.

  “I had few chances,” Emerick said. “I thought of it once, but I’ve been powerless with my wounds. She’s had every reason to slay me: I was with the knights who took her family.”

  “Then I have your men to thank,” muttered Jupp. But his knife moved farther from Drest’s cheek. “What were you thinking, you filthy grub? Why did you not slay this man? Haven’t you the vicious blood of your father coursing through your veins? Answer me.”

  Drest swallowed hard. “Nay,” she said, her voice thick, “I’m not a bloodthirsty villain. I only pretend to be.” Her voice broke on the final word.

  Silence. The bandit’s knee was driving a hollow point of pain into her back. Drest’s cheek was hot and damp against the ground. From the corner of her eye, she could see Jupp’s knife trembling.

  “Blast,” muttered the bandit.

  And then the pressure of his knee was gone, along with his weight from her back.

  Drest turned over as the bandit rose. He slunk into the shadows, his face contorted in despair.

  “This is my one act of mercy, you worm. I owe you nothing.” He gave a hollow gasp. “Look at me, loyal at the end. Tell your father what I’ve done. Tell him that I never—that I—that I’ve always been loyal.”

  With a strangled sob, the bandit crept away, and then was gone.

  Emerick began to rise, but stopped, caught by a spasm of pain. “Drest,” he asked through clenched teeth, “are you hurt?”

  She sprang to her feet and caught Emerick as he toppled. “You’ll open up all your wounds if you try to get up like that. What’s wrong with you? Haven’t you learned?”

  Wordlessly, he leaned against her, breathing hard. Drest was panting too, her mind in a fog. She had never been so close to harm, so helpless.

  “You are a brave, brave lass,” Emerick said. “Did he hurt you?”

  “I never—I thought—I was sure that only a sword would stop him,” Drest said. “He’s lucky you didn’t grab Borawyn and swing it at his head in that way you knights like to swing.”

  The young knight winced. “I’m lucky I didn’t try. Did he cut you?”

  “Nay, just a wee bit on my neck, but it’s no matter.” Drest paused. “How did you do that? I was sure I was going to die just then.”

 
Emerick smiled faintly. “He wanted to hurt your father, but he wasn’t a beast; or at least I was praying he wasn’t. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if it would work. Thank God it did. Will you help me get up?”

  Drest guided his arm around her shoulder and drew him to his feet.

  “Is it true that Tig is in the stocks?” the young knight asked once he could breathe again.

  “Aye, they stole your ring and put him there.”

  “Then let’s break him out. We’ll find out soon enough what monsters are lurking there, so take up your sword.”

  With shaking hands, Drest picked up Borawyn and slipped it into its scabbard.

  And with that, the two hobbled toward the market square.

  26

  ESCAPE

  “You seem to care a lot about your captive,” Emerick said as they crept into the street. “You were willing to give up your beloved sword for me.”

  “You seem to care a lot about your captor. You could have let him kill me.” Drest shivered.

  “That’s not the fate that should meet my captor. Someone else’s, perhaps.”

  They could see the stocks now. The marketplace stalls were abandoned and Tig stood silently in his imprisonment. Drest started toward him, but Emerick’s grip held her back.

  “We must decide what to do. Stocks don’t break easily.” Emerick sighed. “At least the marketplace is empty. It’s cruel to leave him here at night, but better that than start this in the day when people are likely to throw stones.”

  Drest set her hand on her sword, but her trembling fingers slipped off the wide pommel. “I’m too tired to hack it away. If I give you my sword—”

  “Drest, I can’t move without your help just now.”

  “What if I took you over there and—” She broke off.

  Two small figures had appeared across the street. They were creeping up toward the market square with frequent starts and stops.

  “Do you see them?” Emerick nodded in the children’s direction. “Apparently it’s not safe at night, either.”