Wolf Who Rules

by Wen Spencer

  "Now, you try it."

  She felt the magic resonance deep in her bones, and then it bloomed around her, enveloping her. Carefully she dismissed it.

  "Very good. Once you tap the stones, you are connected to them. That means you need to immediately use the power, or dismiss it. Casting a spell that you hold, like a shield, keeps the connection open until you end the spell. Casting a spell like a force strike breaks the link immediately."

  She nodded her understanding, trusting that when he taught her the various spells, he would tell which category they fell into.

  "The shielding spell I'm going to teach you is the most basic of all the spells, but it is very powerful. With the power that the spell stones tap, it is nearly impenetrable."

  "Nearly?"

  "I do not know anything that could breach it, but I am afraid that you might find something—so I put in a cautionary note."

  She stuck out her tongue at him. "You make me sound like a troublemaker."

  "You do not make trouble—it finds you. And it is always sorry when it does."

  She laughed. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

  He kissed her then, making her melt against his body. They spent a few pleasant minutes kissing, and then he set her firmly down.

  "You need to learn this, my love. You need to be able to protect yourself and your beholden."

  "Yeah, I know. Teach away. I'm all ears."

  "You summon the power and then shape it." He called forth the power, paused deliberately, and then changed the position of his hand and spoke a new command. The magic pulsing with potential changed, distorting the air around them so they stood inside a transparent sphere.

  He held his stance. "Nothing can get in unless you allow it. It will last as long as you desire—but you must be careful with your movements." He moved slowly around to demonstrate the range of motion desired to maintain the shield. "Notice you must keep your hand in the correct position. If you shift your fingers or move your hand too quickly, you lose the connection for the shield."

  He flapped his hands loosely and the shields vanished.

  "Ugh!" Tinker cried. "It seems dangerously easy to lose your shield when you least want to."

  "There are weaker shields that don't require you to hold your position. The sekasha spell, for example, allows them to continue fighting without disrupting their shield. The difference in strength is—" He paused to consider a comparison. "—an inch of steel versus a foot."

  "Oooh. I see." That messed with her head. She had assumed that sekasha provided protection to the domana during battle—keeping them safe as they called down lightning and such. It seemed that the truth was that the domana were heavy tanks during fighting. They were able to take massive damage as well as deal it. It seemed that the sekasha must be for day-to-day life, allowing the domana to sleep and eat without fear.

  Windwolf called up the shield again and this time showed her how to properly cancel the shield. "It is best for you to get into the habit of intentionally dropping the shield rather than just relaxing your position."

  It seemed easy enough, once you got past bending your fingers into pretzels. Tinker managed to initialize the resonance conduit, trigger the shield spell, hold it for a minute, and then cancel the shield spell.

  "What about air? If you keep up the shield, do you run out of air?"

  "No. Air slowly leaches in, as does heat and cold. The shield will protect you for a period of time in fire, but eventually the heat and smoke will overcome you."

  "Ah, good to know."

  "Someone comes," Stormsong murmured softly, looking east.

  The sekasha pulled in tight as they watched the eastern skyline.

  "Listen," Wraith Arrow said.

  After a moment, Tinker heard the low drone of engines in the distance.

  "It has to be the dreadnaught," Windwolf said.

  "They're coming," Tinker murmured, wondering who "they" might be.

  "Yes." Windwolf tugged on her wrist. "We need to return to the enclave."

  Tinker glanced at him in surprise. She would have thought they would stay to greet the newcomers.

  "I am not sure who the queen has sent," Windwolf explained. "I want to look our best. Can you change quickly?"

  She supposed it depended on your idea of quickly. "I think I can. What should I wear?"

  "The bronze gown, please."

  "That's not the most formal one I have."

  He smiled warmly at her. "Yes, but I love to see you in it."

  She blushed and tried not to worry about how she was going to get into the dress quickly.

  As they got into the Rolls, a shadow passed overhead accompanied by the low rumble of large engines. A dreadnaught slid out from behind the hill to hover near the treeline. She'd forgotten how massive the blend of airship and armored helicopter was; it dwarfed the ironwoods, its four massive rotor blades beating a storm of leaves out into the meadow. Barrels of heavy guns bristled from the black hull, like the spiked hide of a river shark. The gossamer moored at the clearing stirred nervously in the presence of the large predator-like craft. As they watched, the mooring lines were cast off and the gossamer gave way to the dreadnaught.

  The thumping of the rotors suddenly echoed into her memories of her dream. In the background, constantly, had been the same sound.

  She shivered at the foreknowledge, and wondered what her dream had been trying to warn her of.

  9: TRUE FLAME

  At Poppymeadow's enclave, she discovered one of the sekasha had called ahead. Half the females of Windwolf's staff ambushed her at the door and hurried her to her room. She tried not to mind as they clucked and fussed over her, pulling her out of clothes, washing her face, neck, and hands, and pulling the formal gown over her head. Certainly she wouldn't be able to dress quickly without them, but their nervousness infected her.

  At least she was confident about how she looked. The dress was a deep, rich, mottled bronze that looked lovely against her dusky skin. Over the bronze silk was another layer of fine, nearly invisible fabric with a green leaf design, so that when the bronze silk moved, it seemed like sunlight through forest leaves. Unfortunately, it still had long sleeves that ended in a fingerless glove arrangement and the dainty matching slippers.

  "Oh please, can I wear boots?"

  "You'll be outside, so the boots are appropriate," Lemonseed proclaimed, and her best suede ankle boots were produced, freshly brushed.

  Tinker stepped into the boots, the females fastened the row of tiny hooks and eyes made of cling vine and ironwood down the back of the gown, and she was dressed.

  Windwolf waited by the car, wearing the bronze tunic that matched her underdress and a duster of the leaf pattern of her overdress. His hair was unbound in a shimmering black cascade down his back.

  "Where is your jewelry?" he asked.

  "They wanted me to wear the diamonds." She held out both necklaces. "But I thought the pearls would look better. I told them I'd let you pick."

  "The pearls do look better." Windwolf took the diamond necklace and fastened it in place. "But the diamonds are for formal occasions such as this. The pearls would be for more intimate times, such as a private dinner party."

  Sighing, she surrendered the pearls to Lemonseed for safekeeping. "We're just going out to the clearing and saying 'howdy,' aren't we?"

  "We are greeting the queen's representatives who can strip us of everything if they deem us unable to protect what we hold. Appearance is everything."

  "They can't really take everything—can they?"

  "It is unlikely." Windwolf swept her into the Rolls. "Please, beloved, be on your best behavior. Keep to High Elvish—and forgive me, but speak as little as possible, since your High Elvish is still weak."

  Great, the queen's representatives hadn't even landed and already she was being made to feel like a scruffy junkyard dog. Her annoyance must have shown on her face, because Windwolf took her hand.

  "Beloved, please, promise me to keep t
hat cutting wit of yours sheathed."

  "I promise," she growled, but silently reserved the right to kick anyone who truly pissed her off.

  Tinker could see why Windwolf had opted to dress first. True, the dreadnought had landed and its many gangplanks were lowered. There was, however, no sign of the queen's representatives. A sea of Fire Clan red moved around the ship as the queen's Wyverns secured the area with slow thoroughness. Their Rolls was checked at the entrance to the clearing where Wyverns had already erected a barrier. After their identities were verified, the Rolls was directed to a shimmering white tent of fairy silk. An ornate rug already carpeted the tent. Servants were setting up a teak folding table, richly carved chairs, a map chest, and a tea service.

  Leave it to elves to do everything with elegance.

  The queen's Wyverns were tall, with hair the color of fire pulled back and braided into a thick cord. Like the Wind Clan sekasha, they wore vests of wyvern-scale armor, and permanent spell tattoos scrolled down their arms; both were done in shades of red that matched their hair.

  All of Windwolf's sekasha had come with them and formed two walls of blue in the sea of red. Seeing all the sekasha en masse, Tinker realized not only how much alike the Wyverns looked, but also how much the Wind Clan sekasha—slightly shorter with black hair—looked the same. Only Stormsong stood out with her short blue hair.

  "Are the sekasha of the various clans separate families?" Tinker whispered to Windwolf as she held out a hand to him, so he could help her out of the car. Experience had taught her that the long skirts loved to wrap tight around her ankles as she got in and out of cars and carriages—she had nearly gone face-first into the dirt several times.

  "Hmm?" Windwolf steadied her as she scrambled out.

  "They look alike." Once out, she twitched her skirts back into place.

  "The Skin Clan liked their sekasha to match—like coach horses. They would bioengineer a generation to suit them and then breed them one to another. They would kill all the children that didn't express the desired traits, weeding out stock until it bred true, like drowning litters of puppies when a mutt gets into a pure breed's kennel."

  "That's horrible!"

  "That's why we rebelled against them. Why we will have nothing to do with the oni who are so much like them."

  "This one has the domana genome?" Lord Tomtom had said when he held her prisoner. "Perhaps I'll get my own litter on her." Tinker shivered as she remembered Tomtom's clinical gaze on her. No wonder the elves hated and feared the oni so much.

  Alertness spread through the Wyverns, like ripples in a pool, moving outward. A figure in white and gold emerged from the dreadnaught. With the focus of every person on the field tight on him, the tall male strode across the meadow to join them at the tent. He wore a vest of gold scale, white leather pants, and a duster of white fairy silk that flared out behind him as he walked.

  He ducked into the tent and nodded to Windwolf. "Viceroy."

  Windwolf bowed. "Prince General."

  Prince? He had the queen's glorious beauty—the radiant white skin, the vivid blue eyes and oh-so-gold hair twisted into a sekasha-like braid.

  Tinker carefully followed Windwolf's suit as to how low to bow. Not that she needed to worry, for the elf prince didn't even glance in her direction. The duster settled around him, revealing that it had a delicate white-on-white design of wyverns and flames.

  "Well, it took a hundred and ten years." Surprisingly, the prince general used Low Elvish. He had a deep voice with a hint of rasp, as if he'd spent the day shouting. "But as I said, it was only a matter of time before you would be calling for help and then I would have to come save your sorry ass. Of course you never could do things small—you had to go find a nest of oni for me to wrestle."

  Windwolf grinned hugely. "True!"

  "Young pup!" The prince returned the smile and gave Windwolf a rough hug. "It is good to see you again. It has been too long."

  "I have been busy."

  "So I've heard."

  "True Flame, this is my domi, my beloved Tinker of the Wind Clan. Beloved, Prince General True Flame of the Fire Clan."

  The prince turned his vivid gaze onto her and his eyebrows arched up in surprise. "So this is your child-bride. They said she was little . . ."

  "Spare her your razor truth, please, True. I love her dearly and do not wish to see her hurt."

  True Flame snorted. "She better learn to guard her heart. Those vultures at court will rip her to shreds."

  "I don't plan to take her to court . . ."

  "Can we stop talking like I am not here?" Tinker matched True Flame's Low Elvish. A look from Windwolf told her that regardless of what True Flame did, she was expected to speak High Elvish.

  "Certainly, cousin," True Flame said.

  "Cousin?" Tinker glanced to Windwolf in confusion.

  "My mother is the youngest daughter of Ashfall," Windwolf said, and then, seeing Tinker's blank look, added. "Ashfall was our first king."

  True Flame gave Windwolf a look that clearly asked, "She doesn't know that?"

  "Grandfather has been dead for nae hae," Windwolf said.

  "We've only had three rulers," True Flame said. "Ashfall, Halo Dust, and Soulful Ember."

  "Yes, my knowledge of all things elfin is lacking," Tinker acknowledged and managed to bite down on "I'm sure, however, you're equally ignorant of buckyballs." Be nice to the male who can take everything away from you, she reminded herself, and managed to force her mouth into a slight smile. Thank gods, Windwolf seemed to be friends with him.

  True Flame took in the weak smile and turned back to Windwolf with a slight look of distaste.

  "Once you come to know her, True, you will see why I chose her."

  True Flame clicked his tongue and waved toward the table. "Time will tell. Most of your choices continue to mystify me. Sit. Let us discuss this mess you're in."

  He pulled a map from the chest and spread it on the table. It showed the city of Pittsburgh and the surrounding areas of Elfhome in detail.

  "First, what is happening here?" True Flame pointed at Turtle Creek on the map. "The whole area seems—wrong."

  Windwolf explained the events that had led to Tinker creating the Ghostlands.

  True Flame looked at Tinker with slight surprise, sweeping a look down over her, before saying, "She's surprisingly destructive for her size."

  "That's part of her appeal," Windwolf agreed.

  She kicked Windwolf under the table, which earned her another warning look. She gave the look back at him. Being nice was one thing, having them gang up on her was another.

  "Can the oni cross from their world to ours through this unstable area?" At least True Flame asked her directly.

  "I don't know," Tinker said. "I need to study the area more. In theory, there should not be enough energy to keep it unstable."

  "We think at least one creature has come through." Windwolf said. "My domi was attacked in the valley yesterday by what we believe is an oni dragon. It is unlikely that the oni could have smuggled such a creature across all the borders on Earth—so it stands to reason that it's a new arrival."

  "Then we will have to wait until this area is secure"—True Flame tapped Turtle Creek on the map—"before you can continue your study."

  "If the oni can come through, then we're in trouble," Tinker said. "They had an army poised to come through my pathway. With a few hours of study, I can—"

  "Child, you will stay out of this valley until I give you leave," True Flame said.

  "I am not a child," Tinker snapped.

  "You have learned your esva?" True Flame asked.

  Tinker didn't know the word. She glanced to Windwolf.

  "No, she hasn't," Windwolf said quietly, as if holding in anger. "You know it takes years of study."

  "A domi protects her warriors as they protect her," True Flame said. "Until we know the enemy's strength, we will not endanger any of our people by pushing them onto the front lines with a helpless child t
o protect."

  Windwolf put a hand to her shoulder as if he expected her to say something rude. Tinker, however, found herself glancing at Stormsong and Pony standing with the Wind Clan's sekasha. She hadn't been able to protect her people—she'd nearly gotten them killed. She looked away, embarrassed by True Flame's correct reading, and that she had failed Pony and the others so completely.

  True Flame took her silence as agreement and moved on. "Have you been able to determine any other oni stronghold?"