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

by Terry Cloutier

  Sabina’s green eyes lit up with excitement. “Really? You mean it?”

  “Of course,” I said. “I can’t wait to meet your brother.”

  Sabina grinned, her fears evaporating as she hurried toward the Tapeau. “Which one is mine?”

  “Pasfey,” the Tapeau said, indicating the smallest of the three animals. “She is fleet and sure of foot.” He looked at Sabina appraisingly. “A fair match, I would say.”

  “What do I do?” Sabina asked as the Tapeau drew her to the female Markhor’s side.

  “Grab her horns like so,” the Tapeau said, positioning Sabina’s hands on each of the curled horns. Pasfey stamped her right hoof, but otherwise, seemed unperturbed. “Now, jump and pull yourself up, much like a horse.”

  Sabina jumped nimbly onto the Markhor’s back, grinning at me. “It’s not that bad at all, Hadrack.”

  “Now you,” the Tapeau said, indicating me.

  I put my hands on the horns of my Markhor. They were covered in moss just like tree bark after a rain and felt strangely soft and hard at the same time. I glanced at the Tapeau for reassurance, then flung my leg over the Markhor, stifling a gasp of pain as I settled on the animal’s back. My feet were grazing the ground, but the beast seemed no worse for my weight.

  “Very good,” the Tapeau said, looking pleased. “There is just one last thing before we go.” He rummaged in his clothing and withdrew two lengths of bright red cloth. He handed one to each of us.

  “What are these for?” I asked, perplexed as I held up the thick cloth.

  “For your eyes,” the Tapeau said, motioning we should tie them around our heads.

  I frowned. “You don’t want us to see the path down, is that it? It’s a secret?”

  The Tapeau shook his head solemnly. “No. The Markhor go where no man can, so seeing the way down will matter little.”

  “Then, why do we need these?” I asked.

  “Because if you see where the Markhor go,” the Tapeau said, “then terror will take over your soul and you will fall.” He leaped atop his Markhor and kicked his heels against the animal’s flanks as he glanced back at us. “There will be things you do not wish to see on the descent. Put the blindfolds on. Never release your grip on your Markhor and trust it to do that which you cannot. Do this, and you will live to see the bottom.”

  Sabina and I hesitated for just a moment as our mounts began to follow the Tapeau, then we silently tied the cloths over our eyes.

  22: Middleglen

  I only lifted my blindfold once near the start of the journey, unable to resist the temptation. That was enough for me. The Tapeau had been right. The view was terrifying. All sky, pitiless rocks, and dizzying heights. I had quickly covered my eyes again and then spent the next few hours praying and holding on as the sturdy beast leaped and clattered down what to me felt like sheer cliff faces.

  It turned out that the Tapeau was called He-mes-nak. Something that he grudgingly told us when we finally stopped to eat around midday. I found the name impossible to pronounce, so I began thinking of him simply as, Nak. In my estimation, he was perhaps as much as seventy years old, but was spry and agile like a man half his age. We had dismounted to eat in a narrow, windswept ravine where once I believed a stream had flowed. Now, there nothing was left but sparse bushes and polished, rounded stones to mark the water’s route. I turned my face away from the cold northern wind that whistled along the rocks, grateful to finally be off Tabent, who had proven just as strong and durable as the Tapeau had promised. I rubbed the ache along my backside, which was competing throb for throb with the pain in my leg. My ride might be sturdy and sure of foot, but the beast’s spine was unquestionably boney and rigid.

  “How long until we reach the flatlands?” I asked Nak while we chewed on tasteless, shrunken dates.

  “Two hours,” Nak grunted as his long silver hair whipped around his head. He seemed unaffected by the cold. “There will be horses waiting for you.”

  The Markhor sniffed the date in Nak’s hand curiously, then snorted in distaste, sending out twin plumes of frosty mist from its nostrils. The Tapeau said something in that strange tongue of his as he stroked the Markhor’s beard affectionately. I was happy to hear about the horses, which meant we would reach Sabina’s village that much quicker. Once I was finally free of her, I would ride to Witbridge Manor, confident that Jebido and the others would have headed there after learning of our deaths.

  As for Malo, the House Agent undoubtedly went to Halhaven to report our failure to Daughter Gernet. I knew they would both be relieved to hear that I was alive, but also greatly disappointed to learn that the codex was gone. While Waldin’s scrolls were informative at times, they contained little that would help end the stalemate between the Houses. Should I tell them that I knew where Verica had taken the codex? That was a question that had been bothering me since I had recognized her drawing. I wasn’t sure what Daughter Gernet and the House Agent would do with that information, but I did know the thought of them turning their eyes on the Piths made me uncomfortable for some reason.

  I glanced at Sabina, who had been quiet since we’d dismounted. Her face was deathly pale as she ate her dates unenthusiastically. Paler even than usual, I thought, despite the coldness of the wind. I guessed she had made the same mistake that I did and lifted her blindfold at some point that morning. My anger toward Sabina had diminished somewhat as the day progressed, though I could feel it hovering in the background every time I thought about what she’d done. I had a sudden thought of Shana, wondering what I would tell her of my time spent with Sabina. What had happened in Waldin’s cave hadn’t been my choice, but even so, it would be no easy thing to try to explain. Women see things differently than men do, and I was afraid of Shana’s reaction when I told her the truth.

  A part of my mind whispered, “Why tell her at all?”

  “We go now,” Nak said, cutting into my thoughts. He jumped nimbly onto his Markhor and clucked, urging the animal forward.

  “How are you doing?” I asked Sabina as we mounted.

  She paused, her blindfold halfway over her eyes. “I’m trying not to think about where these beasts are taking us. I’m focusing on pleasant thoughts instead.”

  “That’s a good idea. That way, it will all be over before you know it.”

  Sabina smiled as she covered her eyes. “You will love Middleglen, Hadrack. I just know it!”

  I sighed, tying my blindfold tightly as Tabent followed eagerly after Nak and Sabina.

  Middleglen was Sabina’s village, where—according to her—I was to spend the rest of my days toiling in the fields and fathering as many children as possible. I wasn’t relishing telling her that wasn’t going to happen, but until we reached the village, it was best to just go along with her delusions.

  Tabent began to clamber downward as tiny rocks tumbled and clattered away beneath his hooves, forcing me to hold on to his horns tightly. Was not telling Sabina the truth right now wrong? I wondered as the sturdy beast moved sure-footed beneath me. I had done things in my past that I wasn’t proud of, I reflected as I leaned forward, my nostrils filled with the musty odor of the Markhor. Things that could even be called wrong, depending upon your point of view. But not telling Sabina until we reached her village seemed more of a kindness to me than anything else. At least, that’s what I told myself. Besides, if not telling her the truth was wrong, then what would the term be for what she’d done to me?

  I spent the rest of the descent worrying about what I should or should not tell Shana. The cold wind that I’d become familiar with had vanished at some point, replaced by a warmer, gentler breeze. I took my hand off one of Tabent’s horns to lower my hood, breathing in the heady scents of blooming flowers carried on the wind. Birds sang all around me and I heard the urgent thump of a rabbit signaling danger far off to my right. I cautiously lowered my blindfold to see that we were progressing down a gentle grade of flowing grasslands toward a thicket of pine that grew along the base of Mount Ha
las. I looked behind me at the mountain that towered impossibly high above me. It had taken almost two days to climb Mount Halas on foot, but on the Markhors, we had come down in less than a day.

  Sabina rode three lengths ahead of me and I called out to her, “You can take off the blindfold now.”

  Nak circled back to us as Sabina drew her blindfold down. A crow flapped slowly overhead, chased by several pecking purple martins as Nak dismounted and put his forehead against the head of his Markhor. He whispered something, his eyes closed, then the Markhor turned and trotted back the way we’d come. Tabent and Sabina’s Markhor began to stamp their hooves impatiently until we finally dismounted, then they followed after Nak’s mount, disappearing over the grassy ridge.

  “This is as good a place as any to part ways,” Nak said. He pointed to the trees less than two hundred yards away. “The horses await you in there. Good luck to you.” He turned and followed after the Markhors without another word.

  I focused on the trees, eager to keep moving. “Come on,” I said, motioning to Sabina. “There is still plenty of daylight left. The farther we get from here, the better I’ll feel.”

  The horses were where Nak had said they would be. Two black mares with their reins attached to tree branches. One horse had a white patch on her forehead, the other four white strips on her ankles. There was no one in sight, but I was sure I could feel eyes on us and I scanned the forest warily. Hopefully, those eyes belonged to the Tapeau who had brought our mounts here. The horse with the white patch stamped her hooves nervously as we approached. I stroked her muzzle to calm her, then swung up into the saddle as Sabina mounted her horse. We trotted out from the trees and then paused in the open.

  I looked at Sabina expectantly. “Which way to your village?” I asked.

  “East,” Sabina answered, taking the lead.

  We rode for the rest of the day, staying off the main roads and avoiding anyone who came close. I doubted the House Agents were looking for us this far from the mountain, but even so, there was still a war on, so any strangers passing through would be automatically viewed with suspicion. We camped that night in a sprawling forest and chewed on shrunken dates and sweet figs that the Tapeau had left in our saddlebags. I didn’t want to chance a fire, so we sat in the darkness eating, neither of us inclined to talk much.

  Finally, I stood. “I’ll take the first watch,” I said, moving off.

  “Do you really think that’s necessary?” Sabina asked. “There’s no one near for miles.”

  “Maybe,” I grunted. “But I’d rather not take the chance.”

  Sabina might be right, I knew, but a forest of this size would be an ideal hideout for outlaws. After all we had been through to get this far, now was not the time to let our guard down. Besides, the suspicious part of me feared Sabina would try to use the opportunity to get close to me. Perhaps I was acting foolish and she had no such plans, but friendship is built on trust, and whatever faith I’d had in Sabina was now gone.

  We were mounted and riding even as dawn broke the next morning. Sabina was in a gay mood, chatting and laughing while I rode stoically beside her, giving one or two-word responses. I studied her out of the corner of my eye as we passed under some giant elm trees. As always, I was surprised at her mood swings that could seemingly occur at a moments notice.

  “They say my brother will be elected reeve soon,” Sabina said. She’d been prattling on about her village and family for over an hour already. I had barely heard one word out of every ten, but if she realized that, she gave no indication.

  “Reeve?” I grunted, brought to awareness by the title. I had a sudden picture of the floating reeve with buttons on his face and thrust it aside. “Why your brother and not your father? Surely he’s earned the right?”

  Sabina laughed. “Father has little interest in that kind of responsibility,” she said.

  “And your Lord will allow this?”

  “He has no say in who we elect reeve.”

  I gaped at her. “No say?” I muttered. “How is that possible?”

  Sabina laughed. “You are living in the past, Hadrack. Where I come from, the reeve is elected by the people, not the lord. It used to be that he would elevate one of his own, who cared nothing for us villagers. But now, we elect a man who we know and trust to represent us at the lord’s court.”

  “Really?” I said in wonder. I shook my head, thinking how different my life would have turned out had that been the case in Corwick. “I’m still confused. If your village gets to choose the reeve, why would they not choose an older man like your father, rather than a youngster fresh from the war?”

  Sabina giggled. “Youngster?” She rolled her eyes. “Hadrack, my brother is thirty-four years old.”

  I stared at Sabina in surprise. While five or even ten years differences in ages weren’t that uncommon between siblings, I knew Sabina was sixteen, so having a brother more than twice her age seemed a little unusual. “I was a gift from the gods,” Sabina explained, reading my look correctly. “Mother told me so herself. She was too old to become pregnant. Everyone knew that. Yet, by the grace of the First Pair, she did anyway, with me.” Sabina smiled, looking off through the trees dreamily. “My mother told me I was special and would always be favored in my life because of it.” She looked back at me and I was surprised to see tears in her eyes. “Now that we have found each other, I know this to be true.”

  I looked away so that she couldn’t see the anger in my eyes and concentrated on where we were going. We reached a well-trodden road and Sabina cooed happily, pointing out a massive, gnarled tree sitting back in a field of wheat.

  “That’s the Hanging Tree,” she said. “They hung Rander the Bold from those very branches three years ago. I remember I snuck away from the village with some friends and we came to see him late at night.” Sabina made a face. “His tongue was hanging out, all swollen and purple, and his eyes had been plucked from his skull by ravens. It was ghastly, but oh so exciting.”

  “I’m sure it must have been,” I mumbled as we turned a bend and left the Hanging Tree behind.

  An old man leading an even older mule pulling a two-wheeled cart appeared on the road, heading our way. The man’s head was down, his eyes focused on his worn boots as he plodded along wearily. Sabina’s face lit up in recognition.

  “A good day to you, Old Barl,” Sabina cried, music in her voice.

  The old man looked up, squinting before his bushy eyebrows rose in surprise. “Why, if it isn’t Sabina of all people. Your father will be so relieved to see you safe, child.”

  Sabina’s smile wavered, replaced by a look of sudden hope. “My father? He’s here?”

  The old man nodded as he absently tugged at one of his drooping ears. “Arrived two days ago.” He paused to give me an appraising glance. “Brought your dear mother back to us, too, he did.”

  “Mother!” Sabina exclaimed, startling her horse. The girl fought to control the animal, hauling on the reins until it finally calmed. She peered down the road anxiously. “Please, tell me that she is well.”

  Old Barl grinned, showing us a single brown tooth surrounded by pink gums. “She is, child. She’s still bedridden, but is improving every day. Your father and brother are organizing a search party for you as we speak. So, were I you, I’d stop wasting your time talking to me and go see them.”

  “Thank you!” Sabina said in excitement. She glanced at me, the look filled with joy, then she slapped her horse into motion, racing down the road in a cloud of dust.

  Old Barl glared up at me after she had gone. One of his eyes was clouded and fixed, but the other held nothing but scorn. “You look like trouble,” he grunted.

  I urged my horse past him, not bothering to answer. What was there to say? The old man was right.

  I followed the road at a more leisurely pace than Sabina had, in no hurry to meet her family. I passed through a small stand of trees onto a ridge overlooking a valley, and there I paused, staring down at the village of M
iddleglen. I counted as many as thirty houses, all lined up neatly on either side of the road. The houses were built from heavy straw bales and supported by wooden frames, with roofs of weathered thatch. I had seen dwellings made that way before and knew they were impressively warm in winter, an advantage that was offset by how easily they caught fire.

  I could see a blacksmith shop at the near end of the village and hear the steady ring of the smith’s hammer as he worked. A good-sized Holy House stood overlooking the town, and the lord’s castle rose on the other side of the valley. Many people walked the street, with children playing and laughing as they chased one another. A peaceful looking, happy place, I thought as I guided my horse down the grade. Clearly, the war had not reached this town yet.

  A man carrying a bundle on his back nodded to me politely as I held up a hand to him. “I’m looking for—” I paused, realizing after all this time that I didn’t even know Sabina’s father’s name. “I’m a friend of Sabina,” I said instead. “Can you direct me to the home of her father?”

  The man turned, pointing to a house further down the street. I thanked him and moved on, approaching the building just as the front door crashed opened and Sabina came bustling out.

  “There you are!” she exclaimed. I dismounted, leading my mount behind the house where I saw Sabina’s mare was already tied. “I told them everything,” Sabina breathed happily as she hurried after me.

  I frowned at her in dismay. I’d briefly considered just riding away as fast as possible earlier, but that seemed like a cowardly thing to do. After everything we had been through together, I knew honor demanded that I tell Sabina face to face that I was leaving. Now that she had told her family about our supposed marriage, I knew things had just gotten a little more complicated. I hesitated with my horse’s reins in my hand, wondering if I was making a mistake by staying. I decided to reason with the girl now, before things got worse, and I tied the mare to the hitching post.