The Wild Rites Saga Omnibus 01 to 04

by Anna McIlwraith

  Emma was a hell of a lot fitter than she had been five months ago and she was keeping herself hydrated, but she’d also had less than six hours sleep in the last forty five. It was around midday when she started flagging. Fern, Red, and Ivan all sensed it and stopped at the same time. The others slowed, but Emma kept trudging along for a moment, oblivious to anything but putting one foot in front of the other.

  Leah snagged her wrist, pulling her to a halt. “Em, time for a break.”

  Emma looked up into Leah’s face. She still looked fresh, blond and gorgeous, not a bead of sweat on her or a hair out of place. “This doesn’t seem like a good place to stop,” Emma said, looking around. “Shouldn’t we keep going ‘til there’s more cover?”

  “This will do,” Leah said. “We need protein. I’m starving.”

  Emma very much doubted Leah was starving, given how much food she’d put away at breakfast, but Fern’s concern radiating through the merge was becoming insistent and uncomfortable so Emma acquiesced. And not a moment too soon. As she bent to shrug her pack off and plant herself on a nearby rock, she grayed out and then had to squeeze her eyes shut as her head pounded with the change in blood pressure.

  Fern and Red both caught her and guided her down onto the rock. Her head cleared, and the fiery throb of her thigh muscles began. She looked up at Fern and winced. So much for being better, faster and stronger. What’s the point of being a freak if I still can’t keep up with you guys. Like, at a walk.

  Leah handed her a protein bar, giving Fern a serious look that Emma couldn’t decipher before moving off to set her big pack down. Red squeezed Emma’s shoulder and left as well, pacing off to give Emma and Fern privacy. His brown eyes were hard and bright and he scanned their surroundings, as he’d been doing all day, but there was something more relaxed about the set of his shoulders than Emma was used to seeing. He’d packed away his leather jacket hours ago, the cold seeming not to affect him, and he moved with liquid grace and quiet energy. He looked at home here.

  What’s so bad about being a freak? Fern sent.

  Emma stripped her gloves off so she could get the wrapper of the protein bar open. I’m not talking about you, she sent, taking a bite of the bar. Apparently it was peanut butter truffle flavored, but whoever decided that clearly hadn’t eaten peanut butter anything in about a million years. Still, it was pretty good. You aren’t a freak, Emma sent, meeting Fern’s black, black eyes. None of you are. There are others like you. Nobody else exactly like you, or like Red, or like Shadi. But the same ballpark. I’m the freak here. Jesus this is hard to chew, she added, sighing around the everlasting mouthful of protein bar.

  “Here,” Fern said, handing her a little vacuum sealed packet of dried fruit. “You probably need the carbs more than anything.”

  She took the packet from him, managed to swallow the mouthful of protein bar, and got to work on the fruit. She wanted to lie down more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life. Well, maybe not anything, but still. But she dared not do it; for one, there were rocks, and for another, she’d probably try to kill whoever said she had to get up. Instead she propped her feet on another rock and leaned her back against Fern’s side. He had his elbows on his knees, and Emma could tilt her head back to rest on his shoulder, and he felt warm and solid and comforting against her. She watched a flock of birds pass high above, too high for her to identify them by species, and let herself just rest against Fern for a moment.

  Through the merge she knew he wasn’t exhausted or sore, and that for the moment, he was less worried about her safety than he had been in almost two days. He still felt guilty for the way he’d been for the last month, but it was tempered by the relief of being in her mind again, and eclipsed by the totality of their merged spirits. It was easy to drift on his thoughts and emotions while they were merged — the bond connected them mind to mind, but without the full merge, the contact was voluntary and the default setting on their link was “standby” although strong emotions and thoughts would break through. With the merge, it was an effort to keep things separate. Emma didn’t think they were at risk of losing themselves or losing their minds, as Fern had worried that morning, but Emma did wonder how she was going to feel when — if — they no longer needed the merge. She suspected the merge was the only thing keeping her from losing her shit after seeing the ranch burn, and losing Sefu only to gain Shadi, and being separated from Ricky and Anton and the maidens, and being worried sick to her soul for Alexi and Seshua…

  That’s not true, Fern sent, turning his head to the side to exhale against the top of her head. You don’t need me to keep your shit together. But they were merged, and Emma didn’t have to tell him that she knew he didn’t quite believe that.

  Emma didn’t recall dozing off, but when she started awake she knew two things: she really, really needed more sleep, and there hadn’t been a giant gray wolf with blue eyes padding around their resting spot before she fell asleep.

  The wolf lifted its head, nose working, and met her eyes. Ivan. There was nothing vicious in his face, but nothing human either. Emma couldn’t help the way her heart beat a little faster and her scalp crawled; even though she was accustomed to hanging out with real live wolves, because of Katenka and Rain, this was different. Ivan was an adult, and his beast didn’t have the soft, mischievous gleam in its eye that the cubs did. And although he was bound to her via the pledge, he was still a stranger.

  He changed so he could scout the trail ahead, Fern sent, shifting to help her sit up. Fatima went to investigate our backtrail, see if we’re being followed.

  Emma’s ass was numb and her lower back felt like concrete with sticks in it. “Can’t believe I slept. Can’t believe you let me.”

  Laughing under his breath, Fern unfolded to his feet and held out a hand for her. “Don’t have to grouch. Ivan and Fatima needed the time to go scouting.”

  “Yeah, well,” she tried out her voice; it was rough. “I get bossy when I’m tired. You know that.” She stood, hissing as her feet took her weight.

  There was a flash of white light, and then Ivan was human and pale and naked. “From what I have seen you are bossy all the time.” He caught the bundle of clothing Horne pitched to him and bent to step into his underwear. “It is good,” he said as she raised her brows. “It is as it should be. You are alpha wolf, with teeth to back it up.”

  Emma couldn’t believe he was just standing there in the biting cold, half naked and with bare feet, but then again, he was a wolf. “I’m not an alpha or a wolf,” she pointed out.

  “Yes,” Ivan said agreeably. He buckled his jeans and shrugged into his long sleeved t-shirt. “You are. You have wolf pack, and you are in charge.” He spread his hands, then bent down and reached for his socks and boots. “Fatima approaches,” he added.

  “You might have the nose, mister wolf,” Leah said, shouldering her pack, “But we’ve got the ears. We can hear the jackal priestess coming.”

  “Not her.” Ivan nodded at Emma.

  “Or me,” Fern added. His hearing was about as good as Emma’s.

  “Or me,” Shadi called over his shoulder from where he stood on an outcropping of rock, arms crossed and looking like something that had just stepped out of legend.

  “Guess you aren’t quite so outclassed as you thought,” Fern said to her, handing her backpack over. She smiled at him and wondered how she was going to make it through the next five hours of hiking. Then Fatima loped into view, tongue lolling and long ears up, and the sight lifted some of the exhaustion from Emma’s heart. Emma was bound to the jackals via Kahotep, and through him she still had the memory of a time when the jackals had been all but enslaved. It was good to see one of them running free and vital and wild.

  Fatima’s beast was tawny with dark marks on her face and ears, and she stood taller than Ivan’s wolf although she probably weighed half as much. Hers was a desert species, built lean and long to shuck heat — in contrast to her small, muscular human curves. She trotted into their r
est area, went to one of the big packs, and then disappeared in the light of the change.

  “Nothing on our backtrail,” she said, dressing quickly. “Yet.” Leah and Horne nodded with satisfaction, while over on his rock, Shadi stood stiff and staring in the opposite direction of Fatima. Not used to all the casual nudity, then. Emma sometimes forgot that she was used to it. Red stayed away until Fatima was finished dressing, for different reasons, and then came over to Emma.

  He glanced down at her before meeting Fern’s eyes. “Won’t let me take her backpack, will she?”

  “I’m right here,” Emma said.

  Red gave her a half smile. “And I don’t wanna argue with you.”

  “Then don’t!” She stomped away.

  The others caught up to her with their long easy strides and Leah gently corrected her course without a word. Fern was hanging back with Red Sun, the two of them likely commiserating over what a pain in the ass she was. She made sure that thought was loud enough to annoy Fern.

  Ivan fell into step with Leah and kept his eyes on the terrain; they were heading up a slow but steady incline, the land becoming more rugged. “There’s water ahead,” Ivan said. “And a decent stretch of forest. I’d say we’re coming up on a decently sized river. Another two, maybe three hours.”

  Emma peered around Leah at Ivan. “You can smell all that at this distance?”

  He gave her one of those inscrutable wolf looks. “I cannot smell that, literally, no. I smell the change in vegetation, and I smell the water. I smell the wind and how cold it is and how fast, and that tells me how many hours we have to walk.” His gaze darkened, and his mouth twisted like he’d tasted something bad. “I am a very fine hunter, milady.”

  Emma groaned. “Not you too. If one more person calls me ‘milady’ or ‘princess’ or ‘her majesty most fucking fancypants’ I swear, nobody is getting anything for Christmas.”

  Leah roared with laughter while Ivan looked at Emma like she’d grown another head. “I don’t think I’ve celebrated Christmas in over three centuries,” he said. “I do not see how this affects me.”

  With that comment, Red was done for. Ivan frowned over his shoulder, gray eyes wary, but when he faced front again there was the ghost of a smile creasing the corners of his eyes. Emma was still worried abut him — was he actually cured of the berserker sickness? It seemed so. Yevgeny wouldn’t have allowed him to accompany Emma otherwise. But she still didn’t know him. How much damage had it done to him, the centuries of being a monster? She thought he was going to be all right though. If he could laugh, he would be all right.

  Gradually the rocky plain began to fall away again, giving way to grass and low shrubs with the occasional windblasted stand of stunted trees. They saw fleeting glimpses of wildlife, mostly rodents and the ever-present flocks of birds flying lower, and everyone but Emma, Fern and Shadi confirmed there was a fox shadowing them. Emma knew all too well that there was no such thing as fox people, so they weren’t being tailed by any shapechangers. Yet, as Fatima had said.

  They’d been walking about an hour when Shadi moved up beside Emma. “Emma,” he said by way of greeting.

  She didn’t have the energy to do more than glance at him. “Hey Shadi. Using my name and everything.”

  “You expressed a wish to no longer be addressed by titles. I can do no other than oblige.”

  Emma laughed a little, focusing on her feet. “I know a few people who could learn a lot from you.”

  “That is what I wanted to talk about.” When she looked up and raised her eyebrows at him, he unslung his bow. “Learning from me, that is. If you still want to.”

  “Absolutely,” she said, pleased he’d remembered. “I don’t know if we’ll have time when we make camp, but I can ask Leah —”

  “Now,” Shadi interrupted, and held his bow out to her. “You can start now.”

  Emma slowed to a halt and then sped up again, not wanting to hold them all up. “But we don’t have time to stop. Shadi, this is very generous, but —”

  “No stopping.” His tone was still conversational, but his jaw was set. “You will learn as we walk. It is the best way. The body senses more in motion than at rest. Here.”

  Emma took the bow, still frowning at him. She noticed everyone put a little more distance between themselves and Shadi and her, and she could feel Fern through the merge, smiling inwardly and waiting to see what happened next.

  Thanks for the vote of confidence, she sent. He just laughed under his breath.

  “This is nuts,” she said to Shadi. “I’ve never shot a bow in my life.”

  He unbuckled the pouch of arrows from his belt. “And you shall not be shooting one now. Given what you told me of your people’s ways with the bow, it is a very good thing indeed that you are unschooled. It is harder to unlearn bad skills than to learn good new ones. Hmm. Best to get rid of your pack for now. Red can take it.”

  Damn him. Shrugging out of her pack, she narrowed her eyes at him. “I see what you did there.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about.” He took the pack from her and handed it back along the column to Red, who was a few paces behind. Then he handed her an arrow. “You do not know how to draw, aim, or loose,” he said as she took the arrow. “And you will not learn any of those things today. Here, see this.” He held out what looked like a misshapen leather ring. “It is the thumb guard. I will make you one of your own.” He set a relaxed pace that Emma fell into easier now that the ground wasn’t as treacherous. “You have no experience,” he lectured in his melodic voice, accent almost hypnotic. “So first you will simply become familiar with the bow, the way a child would with a toy.”

  Great. That was inspiring.

  “Here,” he gestured at the bow. “Your left hand wraps here. Start with the last finger, then the next, and the third — ah, but no more. The first finger and thumb do not grip, they rest — ah! Not like that.” Shadi said something short and probably not very sweet in Arabic.

  Emma tried again, watching as his hand mimed the action.

  “Good.” Shadi nodded. “The last three fingers grip, but the others are soft, so soft. This is vital. Nothing can occur without this. Good. Now let go.”

  She did.

  “Now grip again.”

  She did.

  “And again,” he said with a satisfied nod.

  Oh, how Emma came to hate those two little words.

  26

  For a couple of hours, Emma’s world narrowed down to the bow in her hands and Shadi’s voice. When he was happy with her grip on the bow, he showed her how to hold the string — pinched behind the thumb and index finger, not like she’d seen in the movies — and without bothering with drawing the bow or aiming the bow, he instructed her to lift the bow and begin the motion of knocking the arrow. With the pinched grip, that was exceedingly difficult to do. For most of those first infuriating couple of hours, nine times out of ten she dropped it. The upside was she got real good at catching the arrow before it hit the ground.

  She’d probably snatched the arrow out of the air almost a hundred times before she realized that was the point.

  They made their way through increasingly dense forest. The ground began to slope steeply downhill, and Leah confirmed they were heading into a vast valley, although Emma could only see trees and yet more trees. But she could hear the river that cut through the valley. Ivan assured her it was over an hour away, and she could still hear it.

  Handling the bow with her rudimentary ability was made even more challenging by the way her legs were turning to Jell O with the drastic change in terrain. Shadi didn’t seem to have a problem, despite having had human legs for less than two days. But Emma supposed before that, he’d had four legs that could walk for a hell of a lot longer than human legs could, so maybe that was why he still seemed fresh as a friggin’ daisy. Everyone did. Except for her. More, the shapechangers seemed energized, by the physical effort as much as the wilderness. Fern had slipped into a kind of m
editative alertness, his mind crisp and calm as his eyes and other senses filtered the surroundings. For long stretches he seemed content in a way Emma hadn’t felt in him since before Russia.

  By the time they first glimpsed the river through the dense trees, they’d been hearing its roar for an hour. It was another forty minutes or so of picking a path along the wooded ridge of riverbank until the river emptied out into the valley proper, banks wide enough for them to descend to the pebbled beach that led to the water.

  Ivan scouted ahead on four legs, and stayed that way as they reached the beach and Leah called a halt. Fatima dropped her big pack, shucked off her shoes, socks and jacket, and went back into the woods before returning on four legs with a bundle of clothing in her long jaws. She set her clothes down near her pack and then joined Ivan scouting.

  “We’ll stop for the night a ways farther down the river,” Leah told Emma, shrugging off her hiking pack. “But we’ll bathe and eat here for now. Breaks up our trail, so we don’t spread our scent around as much when we bed down for the night.”

  Emma could only nod; she dared not sit down for fear of never getting back up again. She also really needed to pee.

  Leah seemed to read her mind — or her pained expression. “C’mon,” she said quietly, digging in her pack for a toiletries kit before heading back towards the woods. When Emma fell into step beside her, she flashed a wide smile. “You’re doing great y’know. Keeping up. We’ve been setting a decent pace, I never would’ve been able to trek like this back when I was human.”