Warlords, Witches and Wolves: A Fantasy Realms Anthology

by Michelle Diener

  But she knew she had seen the white monster bear kill a stag. The deer herd had panicked at the sight of it, too, so they'd known how dangerous it was.

  Therefore, she had little choice but to venture into the forest, kill the monster, and bring back its body as proof. Then, she might persuade someone in the village to turn the beast's hide into a warm winter cloak that she intended to wear everywhere.

  Even Father would have to take notice if she killed a monster. After all, wasn't that what his job entailed?

  Today, she carried her bow and a new quiver of arrows – the old one was lost in the forest somewhere – twice as many daggers as before, and she'd found a leather breastplate with a matching helm in the armoury that seemed about her size. Likely they'd belonged to the squire of a crusading knight, centuries ago, but they were hers now. Sure, she could conjure a magical shield, but it didn't hurt to have a little mundane protection, too. Especially when she'd seen how easily the bear had broken the buck's neck.

  She sent out a finding spell, the sort of thing Swanhild excelled at, and was not surprised to find the bear near the same clearing.

  Of course he was.

  There'd been no new snowfall, so what was left sat in patches beside the muddy trail, sometimes humped so high she'd wondered if what she saw was the bear, lying in wait.

  But she didn't see him at all.

  When she reached the clearing, she debated whether to walk right in, or climb a tree again. Then she cursed herself for a simpleton and scaled the nearest tree. She hoped her father never heard of her moment of stupidity. She was lucky it hadn't cost her her life.

  Today, the clearing was empty, much as it had been a week ago. Though there should be some sign of what had happened. The buck's body, or at least what remained of it. Yet…there was nothing, not even any visible blood.

  Her quiver sat in the tree she'd watched from before, leaning against the tree trunk like it was waiting for her. Cursing softly under her breath, Rossa wove her way through the branches to it. Better to have two quivers of arrows than one, especially when she still hadn't spotted the bear. She scanned the clearing, then turned to peer between the trees behind her, as well. Every snowdrift might be the bear hiding, plotting an ambush.

  She snorted softly. Bears did not plot ambushes. They were creatures of instinct, without the kind of foresight and planning a man might possess. All a bear thought about was food and fighting and…ah, mating. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. There were men back in Mirroten just like that, including her young nephew, Bruno.

  Something moved in the snow. No…sparkled, as it caught the sunlight, filtering through the leaves, before the shaft of light vanished, then returned again.

  Rossa moved closer, shifting from tree to tree until she stood over the object. It appeared to be a large brooch, with a dark stone that glittered red in the sun. It looked like one of the treasures Father brought home for Mother, when he came home from a mission. Except Rossa knew every item in Mother's jewellery chest, and this wasn't one of them.

  She dropped from the tree to the ground, and reached for the brooch. The moment her fingers closed around it, the ground dropped out from under her. Rossa opened her mouth to scream, but then her head collided with something, and the world went dark.

  Chapter 20

  Boris peered into the pit trap, searching for the brooch he'd used as bait to lure Igor in. Blasted boy, he'd managed to drag it into the hole with him. Thankfully, Boris was much taller than the boy, so he hooked his legs around the nearest tree and lowered himself over the lip of the hole. He'd have to move Igor's unconscious body to the side to get to it, though.

  Boris rolled the boy onto his side…only to find it wasn't Igor at all, but some girl he'd never seen before.

  He'd caught an innocent in his trap. Worse, she was bleeding from the blow to the head that had knocked her out.

  Only one thing to do, then. Boris climbed down into the hole, grabbed the brooch and the girl, then laid them on the lip before hauling himself out, too.

  What to do with her? He could hardly take her to the nearest healer – he had no idea who or where they might be, even if the healer didn't faint in terror at the sight of him.

  He should take her to his cave, lay her down beside the fire, and wait for her to wake up.

  And what if she didn't? He'd seen men take head wounds in war, from which they never recovered. Never woke…

  No, she would wake, beside his fire, and he'd make sure she got home safely.

  Somehow without letting her see him.

  Boris sighed. What were her family thinking, letting this slip of a girl wander alone in the woods?

  Chapter 21

  The ghost of a headache haunted Rossa when she woke, stiff from a longer sleep than she would have liked on a bed that was most certainly not her own. Heavens above, had she fallen asleep in that hole?

  No, she'd been knocked out, which is why her head still hurt, she told herself, touching the amulet she wore under her clothes at all times. She must have been bleeding, which activated the amulet's healing powers while she was unconscious. It must have been bad to still hurt, even a little, after so long.

  She sat up, scanning her surroundings. A fire burned to her left, and stone walls – formed, not made – curved around her. She'd fallen into a cave, then, she mused, glancing up to see how far she'd fallen. Yet the stone stretched above her, too, smooth except for the spiky teeth she'd seen hang from cave ceilings in some of Father's books.

  She hadn't fallen here, she'd been carried, and someone had lit that fire.

  She wasn't alone. She reached out with her magic, sensing a second heartbeat in the cave with her, hidden in the shadows, deeper inside.

  "Come out," she ordered. "I know you're there. There's no point hiding."

  Whoever it was had not taken her knives from her, and her bow lay on the ground within easy reach, along with her quivers. Either he was so strong he didn't fear her, weapons or no, or he was stupid.

  Whoever he was, she was going to make him regret trapping her and then kidnapping her. By the time she was done with him, there would be nothing left for her father to cut off. Killing him would be a mercy.

  Something moved in the dark, shuffling against the stone, but no one appeared.

  "I'm going to count to three, and if you don't come out on your own, I'm going to light this cave up as bright as day, and then I'm coming in after you to drag you out." Rossa took a deep breath. "All right. One…two…"

  Still he stayed in the dark. The man who'd made the path to the clearing, trudging through the snow, she decided, remembering the broken branches along the way. The size of his boot prints. He was huge, a giant even, but her magic was more than a match for any man, no matter how big.

  "Three," she finished, and conjured a ball of light that she threw at him.

  It splashed against the wall behind him, outlining him in blazing white for a moment before the magic sputtered out.

  Rossa let out the breath she hadn't even realised she was holding. She was in a cave with…the bear.

  Who was now moving toward her, stepping out of the shadows and into the flickering firelight. On two legs, like a man.

  No, he was a bear, not a man.

  "Where is your master? The man who brought me here?" she asked.

  The bear shook his head.

  "You don't know, or you can't tell me?" she pressed.

  The bear stared at her, something like frustration burning in his eyes. Slowly, he brought a mighty paw up to his chest, over where his heart might be. Then he bowed, the way her father did to her mother.

  "If you were a man, I'd imagine you mean to say something like, 'I am Sir Pompous Arse of Dead Deer Pond, at your service, my lady.'"

  The bear made a strange sound in his throat, while his eyes appeared to crinkle.

  "Yeah, I wouldn't like being called Sir Pompous Arse, either. Snow White the Bear, then, until you tell me otherwise." Rossa rose to her feet an
d dropped a sort of curtsy, spreading the edges of her cloak in place of a skirt. "Lady Rossa of Mirroten. But you can call me Rossa. Everyone else does. Well, if you could, I mean."

  She shook her head, which gave a twinge to remind her that she'd been hurt. "Look at me, talking to a bear. The monster bear which took down my deer a week ago. I know I hit my head but…"

  The bear leaned down, picked something up off the ground, and held it out to her. It was the brooch.

  Rossa sighed. "Yeah, if I'm going to dream up crazy things, of course I'd include jewellery worth a king's ransom. I don't know what things are like among bears, but you can't just give something so costly to a girl you barely know. Is it even yours?"

  The bear touched its head, at almost the same spot where hers hurt most. Then it held the brooch out again, insistence in its eyes.

  "Fine, I'll take it. In payment for the bump on the head, and for stealing my deer. That was my kill, not yours. It was already dead when you broke its neck."

  If bears had eyebrows, his would have risen. Maybe he did have eyebrows, as white as the rest of his fur, and she just couldn't see them. He pointed at the antlers lying in the corner of the cave, then at her.

  Antlers, but no other part of the deer. As if he'd butchered the carcass and buried it, like a man might.

  "I suppose for someone the size of you, a whole deer wouldn't last you more than a week," Rossa said. A memory pricked at her mind, and she searched through her things until she found the sack Sal had given her. "Here, I brought you some apples. The castle cook, who is also the innkeeper in the village, said I should give them to you." Honesty made her add, "Actually, she said I should give them to you to distract you, so I could get away."

  Surprise widened his eyes, before the bear bowed again, gesturing toward the cave entrance.

  "If I didn't know better, I'd think you're telling me I'm free to go," Rossa said, eyeing the bear as her hand closed around the knife at her hip.

  The bear inclined his head. Almost…regally.

  She dropped the sack of apples at his feet. "Well, enjoy them. There's plenty more back home, though I suspect if I'm not quick, someone will turn them into cider. Maybe I should ask the cook to set aside a barrel or two, so I can bring you some, if I come to visit you again." She'd definitely hit her head, if she was talking about paying visits to bears. "Nice to meet you, I guess."

  Her shoulders itched as she turned her back on the bear, and forced herself to stroll out of the cave, across the clearing, and all the way back to the castle, without pausing to look back.

  Chapter 22

  Boris followed the girl through the forest, surprised to find the village – and the castle where she was headed – weren't at all far from his cave. Perhaps it wasn't so strange her family allowed her to wander through the woods, when she was so close to home.

  She'd slipped the brooch into her pocket on her way home. Boris had wondered whether she'd wear it or sell it, until he saw the guards bow to her when she entered the castle. He'd known then that she wouldn't sell it, though he still wasn't sure whether she'd wear such a jewel. She lived in such an isolated castle, wearing men's clothes, instead of the silk gowns seen in court that befitted such a brooch.

  Then, of course, he wondered what she'd look like in a wine-coloured gown, her dark curls tamed only by a crown of such splendour it cast the brooch into the shade…

  In fact, he was certain he'd seen just such a crown in the sack he'd taken from the capital, encrusted with so many diamonds and rubies, you could scarcely see the silver metal beneath. So valuable it had been kept under lock and key in the capital, only being brought out to wear on the most momentous occasions.

  Hardly the sort of thing you gave to a girl chance met in the woods. Then again, that brooch wasn't, either, and he'd handed it to her without a thought.

  Silly bear with silly ideas. What had he been thinking?

  He hadn't been thinking, which was the problem.

  After swearing he would watch from the shadows, where she wouldn't see him when she woke, he'd definitely made a mess of things. Then again, he'd expected her to feel fear at the sight of him, and there'd been none whatsoever.

  Ah, but she'd fired the arrow at the buck that day, hadn't she? It hadn't been Igor shooting at him at all.

  A very strange girl, this Lady…Rose, is that what she'd said her name was? Whose eyes had glowed as red as the ruby brooch in the sun when she'd cast the spell which lit up the cave.

  She was a witch, then, with powers beyond those of normal men. Boris had heard of such women, but he'd never met one, and he could not deny she intrigued him. For a slip of a girl to feel no fear in the presence of a monstrous bear, when she'd seen him kill…she must be a powerful witch indeed.

  Perhaps she could break the spell that had made him into a bear. Or, failing that, cast some sort of enchantment that would keep Igor away from him, and help him find his way back to court, where he would see Sviatopolk pay for his crimes.

  If only he could ask her.

  Chapter 23

  Rossa tossed and turned all night, debating what to do about the white bear. A day earlier, she'd been certain she should kill him, but now she wasn't sure. He'd pulled her out of that trap, lit a fire, buried a deer, bowed, given her a priceless gift, and maybe even laughed…in every respect, more like a man than a bear.

  None of the villagers had seen him – they spoke only of brown bears, maybe as big as a man, and not a white one who stood head and shoulders above any man she'd ever met. Certainly not one who hunted deer.

  No one from the village had mysteriously gone missing, either, or in such a way that the bear might be blamed.

  That didn't mean anything, though. He might have only recently arrived in the area, so that he hadn't had the time to pose a danger to the village.

  For a bear who could master fire was very dangerous indeed…

  Which was why, as the first streaks of dawn lightened the sky, she stood at the mouth of the cave she'd woken up in yesterday. Inside, the bear was snoring beside a campfire that had burned down to glowing coals.

  If he was a danger to her mother's people, she should slaughter him and be done with it. Yet even now she hesitated.

  Was he a man or a beast?

  She sent a whisper of magic through him, searching for the answer. He was a magical beast, with the heart and soul of the man he'd once been before someone had cast a spell on him. The magic was not his own, for if it were, it would course through his blood as it did hers, yet it was still a part of him, bonded to his bones, somehow. It was no mere enchantment or glamour, to be dispelled with a wave of her hand. No, to remove this spell might kill him.

  While she'd been lost in thought, the snoring had stopped. The bear was awake.

  Yet he did not move to attack her, and she did him the same courtesy.

  "Did you want to be turned into a bear?" she said.

  The bear sat up, then shook his head.

  "Do you wish you were a man again?" she persisted.

  The bear cocked his head to the side, thoughtful. As if he didn't have a ready answer to give her without words.

  "Do you know if there is a way to break the curse? Did the witch tell you how you might become a man again?"

  Another shake of his head.

  Perhaps it was not possible. But animal transformations were usually curses, punishments for offending a witch in some way. It was dangerous to cast a curse that could not be broken. Usually the caster had to pay a high price, in her own blood, for her negligence. So either the witch had been playing a dangerous game…or the spell upon the bear was a blessing, not a curse, even if he had not asked for it.

  "Did this…did this happen to you because someone was trying to help you?" Rossa asked.

  His eyes regarded her, filled with yearning. Yearning for the words a bear could not say.

  "Do you know the witch who did this to you?"

  He shook his head.

  Wonderful. So som
e witch had likely cast a spell on him as he slept. She was lucky he hadn't attacked her for waking him.

  Rossa perched on a rock just inside the cave. "So now you're stuck as a bear, with no way of going back to the way you were."

  He inclined his head.

  She kept her eyes firmly fixed on his as she drawled, "Well, that's quite the problem, Snow. But I have a bigger one. Because I need to know if you're a danger to the people who live around here. My mother's people, in the village, and the monastery, and the castle. Are you going to hurt them, Snow?" With deliberate care, she conjured a fireball in her hand. The sort that gave off smoke and heat and definitely did damage when she threw it at someone. "Are you my enemy, Snow?"

  His gaze never left hers as he shook his head slowly.

  "Good." She turned the fireball into a ball of pure magic, then threw it at him.

  When the ball hit his chest, it exploded into a shower of sparkles. He blinked, then raised those eye ridges that definitely supported his invisible eyebrows.

  "If you meant to harm me, that spell would not have shattered harmlessly against you," she said.

  He snorted, then held up his enormous paws, claws extended.

  Rossa waved her hand, and a small shield encased his paws, so he could no longer move them. "Size doesn't matter as much when it comes to magic. My little magic hands are more than a match for your extra large ones, any day."

  His eyes crinkled, just as they had yesterday, and the same sound came from his throat.

  Laughter, Rossa realised.

  Not the response she was used to. Her father would have given her one of his opaque looks, and told her that skill or quickness of mind mattered far more than size or power, before telling her to repeat the training exercise.

  She pulled out the sack of food she'd taken from the kitchen. Bread, meat, cheese, fruit – even a handful of dried chestnuts that had been soaking in warm water overnight, and were now tender enough to eat.