by Jim Galford
The embrace lasted a long time in Estin’s mind, his heart racing as the seconds ticked away. Finally, she sat back, watching him carefully.
“Estin, since we are both far more foolish than my children,” she began, her voice shaking, “Pending Oria’s approval, will you agree to be my mate, with all the troubles that comes along with that and the pain of putting up with me? If my children back it, I can see no reason to continue as we are.”
Estin’s heart felt like it would beat out of his chest. He looked over at Atall, who was staring at him expectantly.
“Are you sure?” he asked the boy, rather than Feanne. “I don’t ever want to do anything that hurts you or your sister.”
Atall nodded vigorously, but said nothing. The boy stared at Estin intently, making him even more nervous than he already was.
“I accept,” Estin finally answered, closing his eyes. He had never felt such a burden leave him as he did in that moment.
Exhaling as though she had been holding her breath, Feanne answered, “I hereby declare you my chosen. Once I can be sure of Oria’s feelings and I am well again, pledges and challenges can be made. For now, if you will have me, I will pledge that I intend to be your mate.”
“What about Olis and his challenge to you?”
Feanne smiled up at him, placing a hand on his chest.
“Your potential life-mate was attacked. This was an attack on your would-be kin and your pack-leader. I will deal with him once I have healed. In the meantime, you will bring him in and Ulra will secure him until I am able to fight properly. You do not have my permission to kill him…if it is to be done, that is my duty, not yours. If his friends fight back, that is a different matter and you may act as you see fit.”
Estin started to stand, but Feanne grabbed his belt, holding tight.
“The weapons, Estin. They have no place in this conflict. Either leave them or do not go. His people will see it as a weakness if you bring them. Your weakness reflects on me as leader.”
He gave his swords one sad look, knowing that he was putting himself at a further disadvantage against a warrior who had grown up fighting for his life and place among his people. Though his claws had mostly grown back, they were a poor substitute for swords, especially against a seasoned warrior.
“As you wish,” he said, unbuckling his belt and setting the weapons beside her. “I will return as soon as I can.”
“Just be sure you return.”
Estin held her hand to his forehead briefly, then left the tent, shouldering past Ulra as he marched into the camp. As he went, a small crowd began following behind, whispering vigorously, though Estin refused to look back and see just how many were in that group. It felt good just knowing there were those who would back him—and anyone backing him was supporting Feanne’s claim to the leadership of the camp.
Halfway across the campsite, he crossed paths with Yoska, who staggered and stared blankly at the group following Estin, before hurrying to walk alongside him. The man reeked of alcohol and Estin wondered how he was even standing. Estin could pick out half a dozen different kinds of beverage that seemed to emanate from Yoska in a noxious blend.
“You know you have many people behind you, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Where do we head, my friend? You look less than happy.”
Estin held one of his hands out as he walked, showing Yoska the blood covering his palm.
“This…this is not your blood?”
“No. Feanne’s.”
“Oh. So a blood-feud it is. Who are we killing or maiming this night? Has been too long since I was involved in a good blood-feud.”
“You will just keep his friends off me. Other than that, no one here has a stake in this.”
“Estin, she is a friend to my people as well.”
“She will live,” he snapped, the distraction from his own thoughts frustrating him. “They challenged her as pack-leader, but attacked her by deception and surprise, which is not our way. This was not just another fight.”
Yoska nodded knowingly, walking a very short distance with Estin in silence.
“So why do you fight, if I cannot?”
“I am tasked with bringing him back for a proper challenge once she has healed.”
“And is nice to soundly beat the man that attacked Feanne, yes?”
Estin kept his mouth shut, as they approached his goal. The tents ahead of him were not much different from any of the other wildling structures—mostly haphazard and thrown together from the materials they could find. What made these particular tents special was the gap between them and their neighbors.
Olis and his friends—who he referred to as his own pack—had separated themselves when they had first arrived months earlier, but Feanne had long hoped that they would eventually integrate at least with the other wildlings. Instead, they had become more isolated, the seven wolves in this corner of the camp often threatening those who came near their area. They had even managed to pull in two other wolves who had been a part of the camp before their arrival. Feanne had dealt with their aggressive behavior towards the others in the past, but they had clearly ignored her.
Outside the three tents, two of the wolves sat in a casual watch near a fire, sitting up as Estin and his following approached. Ears perked and eyes bright, they seemed both alert and amused.
“What do we have here?” asked one particular male, grinning at Estin, showing off his sharp teeth. “You’re a long way from your pack-mistress, prey.”
“I’ve come for Olis.”
The two laughed and the one closest to the central tent gave a quick whistle.
“Hey Olis!” the second wolf called out, laughing again. “The fox’s pet just showed up. I think he’s upset about something.”
All three tents opened up, as the remaining wolves came out to meet him, though most hesitated when they saw how many people were backing Estin. Still, they looked to the largest of their group, then fanned out to keep anyone but Estin from approaching Olis.
Estin had not actually met Olis to this point, having left the negotiations with him to Feanne. Now, he wished he had been better prepared. The male wolf towered over him—a head or more taller than Estin—stretching to flex impressive muscles in a show of might as he came out of the tent. His brown, black, and white patterning was consistent with many of the mountain breeds of normal wolf and his cool blue eyes watched Estin with the same terrifying intensity he had encountered in those beasts.
“To what do I owe this visit?” Olis asked, walking calmly up to the group, then looked down at Estin. “Ah, there you are. Almost missed you.”
“You attacked our pack-leader.”
Olis grinned and hunkered down, making a show of putting himself at face-level with Estin.
“Yes. That I did. Where were you when I did it, little guard? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. You were not there when it happened and that’s all that matters. Your pack-leader—not mine—follows the old ways and won’t let you seek revenge on her behalf, will she? Awful shame that…you should have heard how she screamed when I pulled her intestines out.”
Estin glanced over at Yoska, who had sat down on the side of a tent near one of the other wolves, looking too drunk to focus on the situation. Despite this, Estin could see the man slip daggers into both of his palms, clearly not as far gone as he pretended.
“I have come to drag you back for the pack-leader to deal with,” he told Olis, trying to remain calm. His hands shook with the effort. Despite that, the wolf’s size made him think of Feanne’s change…and the way she tore her enemies apart. He wondered if Olis could do the same to him without the gifts from nature that Feanne possessed. “If you will not come willingly, I’ll do what I need to.”
“No thanks. Your pack-leader failed my challenge. Unless she’s going to come here and try again, I have no use for her. It’s time for a new leader. You touch me and you make her look even weaker than she already is…sending a guard who failed his dutie
s to attack someone who won a challenge.”
Estin braced himself, standing as tall and proud as he could manage. It felt so insufficient, facing this huge male.
“I’m not here to seek revenge. I am here at her request to bring you in for a proper challenge when she has recovered. You failed to kill her, after breaking what few rules we have about challenging a pack-leader. You need to face up to what you’ve done.”
Grinning, Olis shook his head.
“Not good enough, prey. I don’t take orders from…whatever you are…and you don’t belong in my part of the camp. If your master wants me, she can come herself. I will not give some unmated fruit-eater recognition as having any right to speak for the supposed pack-leader, even if she claims you as her personal guard. Now, run along, or the next time I rip into the fox, I’ll strangle you with her guts.”
The rustle through the crowd behind Estin made him wonder if they were as willing to back him as he had hoped. There was a general feeling of questioning coming from the group, as though they wondered if it was wise or safe to challenge Olis. He even heard some openly question whether it was time for Feanne to be put aside as leader.
“She remains our pack-leader until she is beaten by a challenger, not an ambush,” Estin insisted, as Olis laughed and turned his back to walk away. “Until then, she has asked me to speak for her…”
“You don’t get to speak for her,” roared Olis, throwing his hands in the air. “Do you not understand? You are a glorified babysitter for her children, nothing more. You have no standing to try and drag me back to her, if you were even able to do so. She should have sent the bear, not you. Stop wasting my time!”
Taking a deep breath, Estin raised his voice and replied, “As our pack-leader’s pledged, I speak for her by her request in this matter. Your attack on her was an attack on me. She will challenge you properly when she heals, but until then, I will have you brought before her as she has ordered.”
Estin felt the area cool, well beyond the chill brought on by winter. The whispers he could hear behind him were varied. The wildlings were angry, asking those around them how he dared make such a claim. The other races were less concerned, likely unaware of any significance in what he had said. He had no regret for making the announcement, but knew it did not make this situation any easier.
“So, this is how low your pack-leader has sunk?” asked Olis, turning on Estin again. “Not only can she not protect this pack, but she stoops to choosing a rodent as her bed-mate? I should have finished digging my claws around inside her when I had the chance, so I could put her out of her misery. Better it be my claws inside her than any half-bred runts of yours.”
He turned to one of his fellow wolves and added, “Make sure the next time we see her that the kits die, too. I don’t want her bloodline contaminating my pack.”
Estin attacked before he realized that he was even considering it. He leapt at Olis, his claws raking the taller wildling’s neck and tearing away a thick clump of fur. When he landed from his attack, he watched Olis stumble away, holding his throat.
“That was impressive,” Olis said, chuckling as he wiped the loose fur off of the four thin lines on his neck. “If you were more than prey, I might have lost some skin with all that fur.”
All around Estin, wildlings and even humans, elves, halflings, and others dove into the fray as the other wolves attempted to come to Olis’ aid. Weapons were drawn and soon the field had been secured, leaving only Estin and Olis near the campfire, while the other wolves were kept at the end of many sword tips.
“Is this just about me trying to kill your sad excuse for a pack-leader?” Olis taunted, eyeing Estin, clearly watching him for impatience or loss of control over this temper. “Or was it the kits? What made you so mad, little rodent? Maybe you are afraid that she would ask me to fight for her before you two are oath-bound? That my challenge might have aroused her…made her realize what she’s lacking in her current choice?”
Estin snarled at Olis, barely realizing he was doing it.
“That,” said Olis, pointing at Estin. “That right there is why I have no respect for you. You just don’t know what you are anymore. The rabbits, deer, rats…they all know they are prey and stay clear of me. I don’t hurt them because they know what they are. You think you’re one of us, don’t you? Would your own breed even recognize you anymore? Is that why you feel the need to bed someone who should know better?”
Walking slow circles around the campfire, with Olis doing the same on the far side, Estin fought to keep his temper under control. Feanne had taught him to let his anger go at a moment’s notice, but she had never taught him to control it. He had managed to contain the anger many times when he needed to for protecting others, such as the kits, but this was very different. Now, that was making the wait difficult for him. On one hand, his instincts demanded he run, while Feanne’s training told him that he needed to throw himself at his opponent, fighting for every drop of blood he could manage, even to the point of sacrificing himself to get atop the other wildling.
“Do you really think you can match me with your tiny claws?” chided Olis, shaking his head as he laughed.
“No, I really don’t.”
As Olis looked away, Estin let loose a spell that he had been waiting to use, knowing that opportunity was vital in this fight, as once he was within reach of Olis, he likely would not be able to get another spell off. This one caused airy straps to appear and wrap themselves around Olis, preventing him from moving his arms. Though Estin knew it would not hold, he ran at the fire, jumping through it and across, slamming into Olis and knocking him to the ground. With a roll, Estin got back out of Olis’ reach.
By the time Estin was back on his feet, Olis had broken free of the magic and growled loudly, rolling onto all fours as he glared angrily at Estin, blood running from shallow cuts along his chest. The calm hatred in his eyes was gone, replaced by a blind rage. His hands dug into the snow as he charged.
In that moment, Estin saw the wolf that Feanne had called to challenge him during his training. Kicking backwards, he rolled with Olis’ impact, digging his feet into the much larger wildling’s stomach and throwing him into the nearby tent, which collapsed as he tumbled into it.
At that point, one of Olis’ followers broke free of the crowd, rushing at Estin. This threat Estin dismissed immediately with a wave of his hand, using his magic to paralyze the younger wildling without so much as a glance. Estin remained where he was as the wolf was dragged away, unable to move any part of his body.
“Little spellcaster thinks he’s warrior now,” growled Olis, throwing aside pieces of cloth and wood as he stood back up. “Do you think your magic makes you better than me? The moment I get my hands on you, I’ll wring your neck and deliver your pelt to your precious pack-leader.”
Estin backed up until he could feel the campfire nearing his tail, as Olis moved slowly towards him.
“I could kill you where you stand, Olis,” he said, knowing he was telling the truth. The power to grant life came with the opposing power, which he had never even attempted to use. “I will not use my magic like that. Not for this and not for you.
“If you want to prove you’re tough enough to take this pack from Feanne, then you’d better be a lot stronger than I am. When you’ve failed to kill me, I’ll drag you to her, as ordered.”
Olis panted as he stood in the wreckage of the tent, his breath creating a white fog as he watched Estin carefully.
With a speed Estin could not have guessed at, Olis rushed him, his hands grabbing Estin’s shoulders before he could react, trying to drive him to the ground. Estin started to resist, but his legs would not hold him and he collapsed, feeling his face go numb as Olis raked his left side with his claws, blinding him in that eye as blood ran down his cheek.
Hitting the ground hard, Estin reached up and caught Olis by the skin of his neck, using it to maintain some leverage as he swept his foot into the larger male’s legs, taking them out from
under him. He only had a moment to act as Olis fell atop him, rolling using Olis’ throat as his pivot. The two rolled together, with Estin coming out on top as Olis fell into the fire.
Olis’ growls turned into screams as he tried to get himself out of the flames, but Estin fought to keep him from getting a firm grip on anything that might allow him to drag himself free. Soon, the fire died out under him, the flames smothered. At this point, Olis grabbed Estin’s ear and side of his head and swept him aside, dragging him to his feet as Olis stood fully upright.
“She taught you well,” growled Olis, picking Estin off the ground by his ear and part of his neck’s scruff. “If I close my eyes, I’d think I was just fighting a cub, rather than some rodent. You want to say anything before I rip your throat out?”
“Yeah,” he answered, squirming and trying to focus as his ear rang. “Why does everyone ignore the tail?”
Olis looked around frantically, as Estin hooked his tail around behind Olis, wrapping it around his throat as tightly as he could. Olis’ surprise gave Estin the brief opportunity to pull his head free, falling back to the ground alongside the dying fire.
Claws began to dig into Estin’s tail as he grabbed for a rock from the edge of the campfire, just before he was yanked off the ground by his tail.
“Enough of this!” bellowed Olis.
Estin swung as hard as he could with the rock, feeling Olis’ face practically explode with the impact, just before Estin fell yet again. Recoiling from where Olis stumbled around, Estin got as far away as he could, trying to get his bearings and ready himself for the next attack and wiping at the blood that ran freely down his face, hoping that he could somehow clear his vision.
Staggering, bent over double as he held his broken face, Olis tried to growl, but it just came out as a strangled choke. He took one step, then turned and ran from the area, the crowd letting him pass as he ran off into the woods.
