Too late, she remembered Theron and Mako’s conversation in the barn. “There are wolves in the area.”
Yes, and they’d found her.
˜ ˜ ˜
Once she realized the danger she was in, she stopped, listening. She couldn’t tell how many there were. More than two, surely. More than enough to kill her, and she really didn’t want to be dinner for a hungry pack. She had no weapon – the meager knife she owned was in her mother’s pack, still tied to the side of Chikara’s saddle.
She could hear them clearly now. They were very close. In fact, she was surprised they hadn’t yet come out in the open, through the brush along the bamboo forest’s edge. A rough stone caught her eye at the edge of the river bank, not yet worn smooth by the current. She snatched it up, knowing already the crude weapon meant she’d be closer than she ever wanted to be to a wolf.
It would have been better if she could climb something to wait them out. But she had been reckless in her rush, coming too close to the river. Now the wolves were between her and the forest. It was pointless, in any event. Even if she could outrun them to the bamboo, she doubted she could climb to a safe height on that smooth bark.
She tried anyway, stopping short when the first wolf stepped out of the bushes in front of her, black lips drawn up in a snarl. She backpedaled, her feet beginning to slip on the moss covered rocks nearest the stream.
Two more wolves joined the first, slipping from the forest like smoke, bristling fur as black as their leader’s. For a moment, she thought their eyes burned red. Another scene came to mind, of a man at the edge of a dry stream bed and the scream of a child echoing in the air.
The wolf jumped forward and she flinched hard, slipping and falling near the water’s edge. Her hands broke her fall, stinging on the rough gravel. Water seeped slowly through the cloth of her pants, cold against her legs. Letting out a wordless cry, she scrambled back. Teeth closed on her right leg, through loose fitting pants and biting into the leather of her homemade boot. She felt the scrape of the filthy things against her skin and yanked, but they found her calf. She cried out again, her other foot jerking around to kick at the snarling animal’s face. “Let go!” she snapped, knowing it wouldn’t have any effect, especially when the words were breathless with pain.
As unreal as it all seemed, she wasn’t dreaming. She’d better do something or the other wolves would find their courage. She had no hope of fending off three at once and she refused to die here. Still trying to shake the animal off her, she swung the stone she’d picked up earlier at the thing’s face. It pulled just out of reach, dragging her foot with it. Eyes stinging with tears from the pain, she cursed at the beast and swung again. She hit it this time. The wolf clenched its jaw, growling. She saw it and heard it, all the while trying to keep her eyes on the other two wolves. More cautious than the first, they were creeping forward, clearly waiting their opportunity.
Swinging the rock again, she wasn’t aware that she was still yelling at it. This time she hit it squarely on the nose. The wolf yelped and let go. Relief shot through her and she scrambled to her feet, swinging wildly at the still snarling face, her heart pounding so hard her chest hurt … and Theron burst out of the forest, dagger already drawn. He took in the scene in a glance, running forward. The first wolf was already backing up, yelping when the snap of its jaw missed her hand and the sharpest edge of the rock came down on the snarling face again. Apparently, it’d had enough. It turned tail and ran.
Theron turned to face the others, backing up towards her and the stream’s edge. Then he was in front of her, a barrier against the remaining two animals. They growled in concert, edging closer. “Are you alright?” His voice was low, tense and worried.
“Yes, I think so.” Carefully, she tested her foot. It hurt like fire, but bore her weight.
“If we had a torch, they’d run from the fire. I don’t think we’ll be that lucky, here. They look desperate.” His voice sounded rueful when he finished, “And my sword is at camp.”
She smiled wryly. “Yes, well, so is my knife.”
He huffed a laugh, shaking his head, “It seems you need a real weapon and,” he said, almost as an afterthought, “the training to use it.”
She wanted to be insulted by that, but the wolves had decided they’d heard enough. The closest breaking into a run, it darted in to snap at Theron’s legs. The other charged too, taking advantage of its partner’s distraction. The Protector anticipated it though, twisting to the right, reversing his hold on the dagger and sweeping his left arm behind him to pull Ria along, driving his blade into the animals throat. It let out a strangled sound, staggering, but Theron was already turning towards the other. He wasn’t quick enough. The Protector went down under mud matted fur, claws and teeth.
Ria jumped back, looking for a way to help and choking back a scream. This was too close, too real and too much like what she’d witnessed as a child. But Theron wasn’t losing this fight. His left hand gripping the animal’s throat, the muscles of his arm corded tight with strain. The Protector turned his head to the side, yellow-white teeth snapping at his face. With a desperate breath and pulling back from those jaws, he grimaced as the wolf’s saliva ran down his wrist, dripping onto his throat. Swallowing her heart back down and yelling, Ria grabbed at the rocks nearby, throwing them at the wolf. Maybe she could distract it, give Theron a chance to … but then, making a noise almost like the wolf’s snarl, Theron twisted underneath it. Finally able to get his arm up high enough, he drove his dagger into the wolf’s chest. Once and then, once more.
Abruptly the growling stopped and the life faded from the wolf’s yellow eyes. Finally, the only sound was the stream rushing by, and it felt like Ria could breathe again.
Groaning, Theron heaved, pushing the dead animal off him. He took a few breaths, closed his eyes for a heartbeat and pushed himself up. He looked her over, asking again, “Are you alright?”
She looked at him, covered in wolf blood and mud, his clothes saturated from landing at the edge of the water. “Yes,” she said, but she couldn’t stop shaking. She found herself laughing helplessly, looking at the corpses of the two wolves next to them.
“Hey,” he stepped closer, expression worried, but stopped short of putting his arms around her. “Ria. You’re okay.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “We’re okay.”
“For how long?” She blinked against the burn of tears, knowing she must sound hysterical, telling herself she wasn’t going to cry.
“Come, Ria.” He moved upstream, away from the wolves. He walked quickly, eyes alert to any other danger and looking back just to make sure she followed. When he finally stopped, he eyed her a moment. “Okay. Here, hold on.” She nodded numbly, but she was starting to calm. If only her hands would stop shaking. She watched him step up to the water, leaning down to wash the worst of the blood off, and when the water ran clear, taking a few scoops through his hair. He looked better when he turned back. “Here. Let me look at that leg.” He knelt, carefully peeling back the cloth and ruined leather.
She made an unhappy sound. “I made that boot. It’s ruined now.”
He glanced up, one side of his mouth twisted as if to say, “You’re worried about a boot?” When he reached her foot though, he sighed in relief. A lot of scrapes, a few deeper gouges. Otherwise, though, it was okay. It would hurt and probably itch while it healed, but it wasn’t bad. Holding out a hand to steady her, he pulled her towards the water. “You need to rinse this. Get it clean.”
She hissed when the water ran over it. “Stings,” she complained and he smiled.
“You didn’t hear me whine when you were sewing me like a garment, did you?” She stuck her tongue out at him. He chuckled, helping her slip her shoe back on. “You’ll have to bandage it better once we get back to camp.” He looked at the sky. “We should get back. The others will be worried.”
Reminded again of why she’d run out here, she nodded, teeth gnawing at her lower lip. It must have bothered him, b
ecause instead of turning towards camp, he turned to her, taking her hands and squeezing. She was briefly thankful that her hands had stopped trembling. “I never meant for you to worry over me, Ria.” He shook his head. “You can’t, because you understand, don’t you, that the lady will die if I don’t do this thing?”
She nodded, because she did. He was the Protector and he had a duty to her, Lady Lynea. Seemingly satisfied with Ria’s answer, he turned and they started the walk back.
Ria did understand. She’d seen the spell or curse or whatever it was on Lynea and knew what it meant. And she knew what his duty meant to him, but why didn’t his own life carry the same value?
His life was valuable to her. Didn’t that count for something?
The remaining ride that day was quiet and heavy with the weight of what needed to be done. They made good progress and found a convenient and unoccupied cave, thanks to the map they were depending on more and more. The shelter provided a much more comfortable night than usual. It didn’t mean Ria slept any better, with the irritating ache of the cuts on her calf and ankle, and the murmur of Lynea and the Protector talking near the campfire. The night passed eventually, leaving only one day of riding to the coast.
˜ ˜ ˜
In too short a time they reached their destination. The next evening’s fading sun saw them staring up at the face of a cliff. The sky was almost black with rolling clouds. A storm was coming. Ria tried not to see that as an omen. Looking up, she could see the small dark form of the Protector, half-way up, fingers finding every crevice in the rain worn stone. The girl’s eyes moved over to the ocean under him, churning and treacherous. Sharp stone jutted from the surface, gray against the deep blue, providing a helpful surface for the waves to shatter on, at the end of their race to shore.
She could feel the ground shudder with the strength of the water. Her eyes found the Protector again, watching his progress before a tug at her arm pulled her attention away. “Come on.” The former guard looked over her patchwork clothing. “You’re too colorful. We’d better get back to the camp before a patrol or something sees you.” He looked back over his shoulder in the direction of their camp. “Besides, we shouldn’t leave the lady alone for so long. “
“He’s going to be okay.” She said it like she meant it, but they both knew it was really a question.
“Of course,” Mako snorted, confidence nearly hiding the bite behind the words. “He’s the Mamoru. He’ll be okay.”
Looking sideways at her companion, she said, “Right. I guess we just wait.” She looked at the sky. The sun was low, nearly touching the horizon, ribbons of yellow, orange and purple coloring the approached dark. Theron had said his best chance to get into the temple would be late, after the moon had risen. And with these clouds as cover, he would be invisible. He would be all right.
He had to be.
Turning away, the two of them moved back into the bamboo and out of sight.
Chapter 21
The subtle scent of orange blossom wound into the incense rising in the air. Tatsuo breathed it in deeply, closing his eyes and concentrating.
Orange blossom symbolized purity. The irony of it wasn’t lost on him, thinking of the demon that used him as a vessel. But he needed the feeling it brought, the slightly sweet smell of citrus honing his focus to a point. The “tip of the spear” (as they said), to send where it needed to go.
He needed to see, and since he was unable to leave the palace right now, he couldn’t do that without looking through another’s eyes.
“This is taking too long.” The rumble of the Cold One’s displeasure echoed in the chamber, making the candles surrounding the Emperor shudder. The light from the tiny flames flickered, reflecting madly through the smoke curling in the room.
“Patience,” Tatsuo said, his voice showing none of it. His body was tired, a mirror to the guest of his spirit. He knew from experience it would be this way until after the solstice, until the beast was fed and sated. “Your interruption will only make it take longer.”
The other one fell silent, allowing Tatsuo to finish sharpening his focus. When he opened his eyes he no longer saw the room surrounding him.
His attendants had retired for the evening. It was just as well. Though they would rather die than betray him, he knew how uneasy their spirits were after seeing him do this.
Fear, taken too far, could be as dangerous as courage.
He turned his gaze inward and then out, the surface of both of his eyes darkening to an unreflecting black. If any of the lady’s companions were to look closely at her now, they might see Tatsuo’s golden gaze laid over her emerald green. Another sound from the Cold One vibrated the air, as information filtered from Tatsuo’s eyes into the greedy mind of the other.
The Mamoru had finally reached his destination. The campsite was hazy with rain, the fire guttering in the damp weather. He could see the village girl the guards had spoken of, who had been with the Mamoru when escaping the palace. She was unremarkable, sitting on a bundle of cloth under the dubious protection of a makeshift shelter.
“You should have sent your own men. You have no guarantee he will do as you’ve demanded.”
Tatsuo laughed darkly. “You know as well as I do, that would not have worked.”
“You have enough in your service to overwhelm any force.”
“Why even suggest that? You know only the mortal men could set foot on those grounds. The others burned at the warding runes. Even at full strength, you and I would not return unscathed.” The Emperor smiled, an unpleasant expression. “And only one of the Isao clan could hope to pass the final test to come away with the stone.”
“He is not an Isao.”
“You are right, he isn’t. Not quite. But as you said, something has allowed him success. He has escaped our grasp where others would not have.”
“You said yourself, he is ‘young’ and mortal. My ‘fears’ of what power he might have are baseless.”
“I was careless, saying that.”
Another growl, rattling the tray in front of the Emperor, knocking over one of the incense holders. “How can you be sure he can do this?”
The ruler didn’t reply right away, instead sweeping his stolen gaze around that far-away camp, taking everything in. The horses, the young village woman. The former Imperial Guard was on watch and it was clear now that the Mamoru was not with them.
It really was helpful that the Emerald Lady was still with the group. Tatsuo had half expected the young man would leave her with Kitsune, as he had left his father, Isao-sama. If he had, Tatsuo would have had to dispatch another of his pets to send his gaze into, instead of the woman. Which would have been risky, when so much seemed to be hidden from him the further he reached outside the palace. That was new, and he wondered, why now? It was either that witch or the monks’ doing, he was certain.
Thinking of the witch Kitsune made him angry. All of Kikino Woods was completely hidden from his view. He couldn’t even see into the shadows of shadows there. He couldn’t see anything past the flickering of the “lightning bugs” that flew thick in the shade of those ancient trees. His pets could not enter. Was it something the witch had done, or were the souls she sheltered in that forest creating a barrier against him?
It did not matter. They’d taken Kino into the Kikino Woods. He hadn’t left, while the rest of the party had. Anything else that happened at the witch’s cottage while he had not had access to the lady’s view, would not affect the outcome.
An ache was beginning to build behind his eyes, a pressure that threatened to split his skull. Taking one last look around the camp, he decided that the young Mamoru must already be making the attempt to steal the stone. Letting the lady’s eyes close, he released his focus and opened his own gaze to a blur of candle light and incense, coiling in the air. Instantly, the pain began to fade.
“How can I be sure?” He took a deep breath. “He loves her. She will die unless he succeeds. Love makes mortals do foolish things.”<
br />
“But he is still mortal. That is a weakness. He may not succeed.”
“Oh, but I know him. He won’t fail.”
˜ ˜ ˜
Theron crept carefully through the tall grasses along the edge of the compound. It was a painfully slow and tedious business, but it had to be. There were men patrolling. Until he was certain of their pattern it was too risky to move any faster. It was humid and damp here on the coast and swarms of tiny gnats made him happy for the mask he wore. Otherwise, he would be driven mad with the tiny bugs fluttering in his face, nose and mouth.
When he found as safe a place as possible, with an unobstructed view of the temple, he had to resist a low whistle of appreciation. The compound was magnificent. Around the center building was a courtyard that widened at the front to a large area framed by natural outcroppings of stone. There was a semi-circular rock wall that ended at either side of the building. A wall didn’t make sense at the “front.” The entrance faced the ocean and the edge of the plateau. Regardless of how Theron had come, there wouldn’t be an enemy force of any size attacking from that direction.
It seemed incredible that such a large building could be up here, perched on the cliff as if it had sprouted here. The main structure was constructed of stone blocks, yet it still managed to look graceful, with a sweeping terra cotta tiled roof line, reminiscent of the Imperial Palace. Graceful or not, impossibly placed or not, it was built like a fortress, with walls of stone. And, from what he’d been able to see while avoiding the watchful eyes of the patrol, there was only one visible entrance.
The uniforms worn by the patrols were a strange mix of martial and monk. The loose flowing garb for freedom of movement, bound close around the waist with a layered cloth belt, but there were additional accents of leather here and there. Forearms, chest and back, obvious protection to the body’s weak spots.
Splinter (Trapped Souls Book 1) Page 33
