The Wolf On The Run (The Wolf of Corwick Castle Book 3)

by Terry Cloutier

  “Life is about pain and hurt, as well as love,” Jebido said. “She will get past it. She’s a sweet child, just a little young for all this.”

  “But what if she decides not to keep helping us?”

  “Then you will just have to find another way up that damn mountain,” Jebido said firmly.

  “There is no other way,” I said as Jebido guided me away from the tent.

  My friend slapped me on the back and grinned. “Now who is the one being the pessimist? There is always another way.”

  15: Topar

  The next morning began cold and dreary, with rain that fell in sheets and drenched everything it touched. My men and I had risen before daybreak, shivering and miserable, unable to sleep on the muddy ground. We stood pressed together near our tent, talking as we huddled against the rain while we waited. No soldiers had come for Sabina and me during the night, and other than a fight three tents down that had left a Pilgrim sightless in one eye, the evening had been mostly uneventful. Malo still hadn’t reappeared as people began to stir, and I finally decided to send Niko off to find him.

  “You’re going to have to go in there sooner or later,” Jebido said, motioning to the tent. He shook his head vigorously, sending water droplets spraying in all directions.

  “I know,” I muttered, glancing at the closed flap.

  “She’s had all night to get over it, my lord,” Putt offered with a shrug. “I’m sure she has come to her senses by now.”

  “Have you met her?” I said with a snort. “She is not the type to just get over things.”

  “What if she decides not to continue with this, my lord?” Tyris asked. “Then what do we do?”

  I took a deep breath, blinking the rain away. “Hopefully, it won’t come to that.” I wiped my eyes on my wet tunic. “We will have the answer soon enough, either way.” I squared my shoulders, then headed for the entrance. I pushed the flap aside and stuck my head inside. “Sabina? May I come in?”

  I heard a sound that might have been a grunt of permission and I stepped inside. The brazier fire was reduced to glowing coals now, giving off barely enough light to see.

  “Hadrack, you’re drenched!”

  Sabina stood off to one side of the entrance. She still wore the dress from the night before, though an open cloak was draped over her shoulders now. She had replaced her worn sandals for the heavy boots as well. Sabina’s voice had sounded pleasant and free of anger to me, and her face appeared calm, almost peaceful. I studied her cautiously, feeling a glimmer of hope that perhaps all was forgiven.

  “It’s raining quite heavily outside,” I said tentatively. I brushed at my tunic, trying to wick some of the water away. “I’m sorry to say that it won’t be an enjoyable climb today.”

  Sabina laughed cheerfully. “I hardly think a little rain will be enough to stop us now that we are so close.”

  I frowned, confused by her manner. “Sabina, is everything all right?”

  “Of course, silly,” Sabina said. “Why wouldn’t it be?” She pointed to the clothing that had been set aside for me. “You should get out of that wet thing and get dressed.”

  I could feel cold water running down my back as I stared at her. “You’re not mad?”

  “About what, Hadrack?”

  “About what I told you last night. About my getting married.”

  Sabina waved a hand casually in dismissal. “Of course not. I have no say in what you choose to do. You are a grown man, after all. Lady Shana is a wonderful choice from all that I have heard about her. I’m sure you and she will be quite happy together. I was just tired from the journey and took it out on you. I apologize.” She moved to the entrance and raised her hood, glancing back at me. “I’ll just step outside so that you can dress in private.”

  Then she was gone.

  I watched the canvas flick back and forth behind her. What had just happened? I wondered. I shook my head, forever mystified by women as I peeled off my soaked tunic and tossed it aside. I dressed quickly, relishing the feel of the dry trousers and boots. The tent flap opened behind me and Malo pushed his way inside as I pulled a thick woolen shirt over my head.

  “There you are,” I said. “Where have you been all this time?”

  “Waiting to see that priest from last night’s ceremony, Son Partal.”

  “All night?”

  “Yes,” Malo replied. “There was already a crowd of people waiting to speak with him in the morning. I wanted to make sure I got to him early.”

  “And did you see him?”

  “I did,” Malo confirmed. “I explained there was a mistake in the book and that you are really Rorian and Thera of Afrenia.”

  “And he believed you?”

  “Eventually,” Malo said. “It took some convincing. He made me swear on The Father’s name that I spoke true.”

  “Lying to a Son is a sin and will get you burned, Malo,” I grunted as I drew the heavy cloak left for me around my shoulders. I sighed in contentment at the warmth.

  “One more sin will hardly matter now,” Malo said with a shrug. “Son Partal had the Names Ledger corrected, so you are officially Rorian and Thera again. You shouldn’t encounter any more problems.”

  “That’s one less thing to worry about, then,” I said.

  Malo withdrew the leather sheath holding his short sword. He handed it to me. “Pilgrims aren’t allowed weapons, so be sure you hide this well. Hopefully, it won’t be needed.”

  “Thank you,” I said gratefully. I took off my cloak and hung the sword around my neck by the leather thong, settling it into the small of my back. I would have preferred Wolf’s Head or my father’s axe, of course, but it still felt good knowing that the sword was there.

  The House Agent held out his hand as I put my cloak back on. “Be well, Hadrack, and come back with the prize. The future of the kingdom depends on you.”

  We locked forearms. “I’ll find it, Malo. You can count on that.”

  We broke apart just as the sound of a shrill horn summoning the Pilgrims to the mountain cut through the morning stillness. I headed for the exit. The sky was brightening, I saw as I stepped outside, and the rain had lessened, though it still fell at a steady pace. My men were standing in a circle where I had left them, conversing in low tones. Sabina stood ten paces away, talking to an unhappy-looking Son-In-Waiting. Pilgrims were hurrying from their tents, speaking in hushed, excited voices as they flowed past me, heading north toward the imposing cliff face of Mount Halas.

  “There he is now,” Sabina said, smiling beneath her hood as I approached.

  “My name is Topar,” the Son-In-Waiting said, introducing himself to me in a clipped tone. He was tall and thin, with a weak cleft chin, and dark, heavy eyebrows that stood out starkly against his pale flesh. He shifted uncomfortably in his wet apprentice robe. It was apparent to me that he was far from pleased to be out in the rain. “I have been assigned to accompany you on the journey to Second Step.”

  I looked at the apprentice in surprise. Second Step, I knew, was a campsite halfway up the mountain where we would be stopping to rest and eat. “Is that normal?” I asked. “Does a Son-In-Waiting accompany all Pilgrim pairs?”

  Topar shook his head, looking wet and miserable. “No, it is quite unusual,” he admitted.

  I glanced at Sabina, and we both frowned in puzzlement. “Why us, then?” I asked.

  “How should I know?” Topar said with a sniff. He rubbed his nose, then sneezed loudly before pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger and blowing out briskly onto the ground. “I was shaken from my bed and told to seek out Rorian and Thera of Afrenia and take them ahead to the First Rank, and so, here I am.”

  “Told by who?” I asked.

  “Son Michan.”

  I frowned at the unfamiliar name as Malo came out of the tent to join us. “Did you speak with a Son Michan last night?” I asked the House Agent.

  Malo shook his head. “No. Just a Son-In-Waiting and then Son Partal. No o
ne else.”

  I gestured to Topar. “Son Michan sent this apprentice to watch over us,” I said. “The question is, why?”

  “What does it matter?” Topar said in exasperation. “You should feel grateful. Few commoners are afforded the honor of joining the First Rank.” The rain had weakened even more now and the apprentice turned, sweeping his hand toward the mountain. “Please, we must go. We are already late. You need to put aside your questions and follow me.”

  The tall apprentice headed away, his chin pressed tightly to his narrow chest as he focused on the ground, trying unsuccessfully to avoid the ankle-deep puddles.

  “What do you make of it?” I asked Malo uneasily. “Should we be worried?”

  “I’m not sure,” the House Agent said. His hard eyes studied the Son-In-Waiting’s receding back thoughtfully. “This must have something to do with the Cardians. Maybe it’s their way of protecting Rorian. Either way, be careful and don’t trust anyone.”

  I didn’t bother responding as I turned away. I had no intention of trusting anyone in this place except for Sabina. The garrison was alive with motion now, with more and more Pilgrims exiting their tents as the horn continued to summon them. Sons-In-Waiting lined the route as we walked, guiding us onward through the rain with forced smiles, hard biscuits, and mugs of hot ale. I wolfed down my biscuit, then drained my ale in one gulp. I could feel the heat warming my belly pleasantly as Topar led us through a vine-covered stone archway into a high-walled courtyard.

  Pilgrims dressed in their heavy cloaks were streaming up an incline to the north ahead of us, but Topar surprised me by turning right toward a narrow, wrought-iron gate. He opened it and gestured us inside, then closed the gate firmly behind us. We found ourselves standing in a well-maintained orchard of pear and plum trees ripe with rain-washed fruit hanging from drooping branches. Topar brushed past me, urging us to hurry as he scurried down an overgrown cobblestone pathway lined with neatly-trimmed, waist-high hedges.

  I looked through the bars of the gate at the Pilgrims passing by. “Why are we the only ones going this way?” I called out.

  Topar stopped and turned, looking back at me impatiently. “Because you are now in the First Rank, just as I told you earlier. This is the quickest route to get there from the courtyard.” He raised his bushy eyebrows. “Unless you would rather push your way through hundreds of unwashed Pilgrims instead?”

  I nodded, not satisfied with the answer, but motioning him to lead on just the same. The Son-In-Waiting—despite his obvious displeasure at being out in the rain—appeared guileless as far as I could tell. If something were amiss here, I knew it would present itself soon enough. I’d deal with it then.

  We walked for another few minutes, alone but for the sounds of birds chirping and our breathing. The rain suddenly stopped, and the sun came out as hundreds of orange and black butterflies appeared from the trees' protection, flitting around us in a dazzling display.

  “They’re so beautiful!” Sabina cried in wonder. She put out her hand and one of the butterflies landed almost immediately on her finger. Sabina giggled as the butterfly fanned its wings several times before darting away over our heads. “Did you see that?” she breathed, her eyes shining. “It tickled my skin.”

  I grunted, unmoved. A feeling of imminent danger had begun to settle over me and I scanned the path ahead. Nothing looked out of the ordinary to me, yet I knew instinctively that something was wrong. I considered reaching for the sword hanging down my back, but then I changed my mind. Patience, I told myself. It could be nothing. If I revealed that I was armed now and I was wrong, I would lose my only weapon before the trip up the mountain had even started.

  We finally reached a fountain overflowing with rainwater and Topar headed around it purposefully. The pathway on the other side of the fountain branched off three ways. One to the north. One straight ahead of us to the east. And one south. The Son-In-Waiting turned left, heading north as we followed several paces behind him. The hedges grew taller as we progressed, and before long, I could no longer see over them. The path took a sharp turn ahead and I knew if something were to happen, this would be a perfect spot. I put my hand on Sabina’s arm, stopping her just as Topar disappeared from our view.

  “What?” Sabina asked.

  I put a finger to my lips, listening. Had I just heard a muffled yelp of pain?

  “I’m not sure,” I whispered, straining my ears. No other sounds came from around the bend, but I noticed the butterflies were gone and the birds had stopped chirping, which added to my unease. I took off my cloak and let it fall to the ground. “I’m going to take a look. Stay right here.”

  I unsheathed Malo’s short sword and inched forward until I reached the bend. I peered cautiously around the hedges to see Topar lying sprawled out on the cobblestones, his bald head smeared wetly with blood. The path was empty except for the apprentice’s prone body. I took two steps forward and paused just as a form burst out from the foliage, knocking me to the ground. I twisted away instinctively, narrowly avoiding having my skull split in two as my attacker’s blade rang off the stones with a metallic clang.

  I rolled, coming up on the balls of my feet with my sword leveled as I whirled to face my assailant. The man was of medium height, but built wide. His beard and hair were tangled and dirty like a peasant’s, but he wore fine armor that bellied that impression. He waved his sword back and forth in front of him, his face set in determination as he advanced on me. I could see a second man running down the path toward us out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t know if he was coming to help my attacker or me, but the way my luck had been going lately, I had to assume it wasn’t me.

  “What do you want?” I demanded.

  “Tell us where the codex is and we’ll let you live.”

  I frowned. “Who are you?”

  My assailant grinned. “Someone who holds the lives of you and your wife in his hands.”

  I glanced at the longsword the other man held and shifted my grip on Malo’s short sword. If only I had Wolf’s Head with me. I flicked my eyes toward the second man, who was approaching quickly. I would have to make a move before he arrived.

  “We know who you are, Rorian,” my attacker added. “So, don’t try to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  I tried not to show my surprise at being mistaken for the scholar. Whoever these men were, they knew about the codex, but not that someone had taken Rorian’s place.

  “Who sent you?”

  “The True King, of course.”

  I had only a moment to digest that news before my assailant leaped at me, taking a vicious, two-handed slash at my midriff. I jumped back, then twisted, dropping to one knee as I spun around with my sword. The blade caught my attacker high on the thigh, lower than I had intended, yet effective, nonetheless. The wounded man retreated, bellowing in pain just as his companion arrived to take his place.

  This man was taller than the first, with long black hair and broken teeth. I ducked beneath his impatient swing, then powered hard into him with my shoulder, using the strength in my legs to propel him back into the hedges. The man fell with a cry amid the sounds of snapping branches and an outraged bird that squawked at us as it flapped away. The fallen man cursed at me as he struggled to gain his feet, and I kicked him hard in the stomach. The man sagged, his face reddening as he fought for air. I kicked him again for good measure, then slashed open his neck with a quick, efficient cross-stroke.

  I bent and dragged the dead man’s longsword out of the hedge, then waited for his wounded companion, who continued to limp stubbornly toward me along the path. That’s when I heard a scream from behind me. I cursed. I had forgotten about Sabina. I ran back the way that I had come and hurtled around the bend. Two men with drawn swords held Sabina as she struggled in their grasp. I roared and charged forward, lashing out with a foot at the closest man’s knee, feeling it snap with a satisfying crack. The man screamed, releasing Sabina as his companion swung his sword one-hand
ed at me. I easily parried it with the longsword in my right hand, then lashed upward with the butt of the short sword in my left, smashing the metal savagely into his face. The man fell back, clawing at his shattered nose as I dropped the short sword to the ground. I swung the longsword two-handed, severing one of his hands and his head as blood splattered the greenery around us.

  “Behind you!” Sabina screamed in warning.

  I ducked, feeling the whoosh of air over my head even as I reversed my sword and stabbed blindly over my shoulder. The tip somehow found the vulnerable flesh of the limping man and I felt it sink in deeply. He groaned and dropped his sword, then fell in a clatter of armor. I barely glanced at the body as I stalked toward the lone survivor lying on the ground. He was moaning loudly as he clutched at his shattered knee. The man’s weapon lay nearby, ignored for the moment. I kicked it away.

  I rested the point of my sword against the man’s injured leg. “How did you learn about us and the codex?” I demanded. The wounded man licked his lips, staring in fascination at the blade pressing against his flesh. “I asked you a question,” I growled. I prodded with the sword, eliciting a howl of pain from the fallen man.

  “I…I don’t know anything!”

  “Undoubtedly true regarding most things,” I said with a grimace. “But you do know something about this. Why did you try to kill us?”

  The fallen man shook his head vigorously as he glanced at Sabina. “We weren’t trying to kill you.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I swear it’s the truth. Our orders were to capture you alive.” He lowered his eyes. “It was supposed to be an easy job. Just a simple scholar and his wife.”

  “Nothing is ever what it seems,” I grunted. “Who hired you?”

  “The Advisor,” the man replied immediately.

  I frowned at the unfamiliar title. “Who?”

  The man looked surprised. “Everyone knows who Hervi Desh is.”