THE WAY OF THE WOLF:
THE NORTHLANDERS BOOK I
SHELBY MORGEN
MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-281-1
Mobipocket (PRC) ISBN # 1-84360-282-2
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(c) Copyright Shelby Morgan, 2002.
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave.
Ellora's Cave, Inc. USA
Ellora's Cave Ltd, UK
This e-book may not be reproduced in whole or in part by email forwarding, copying, fax, or any other mode of communication without author permission.
Edited by Tina Engler and Martha Punches.
Artwork by Kate Douglas.
Warning:
The following material contains strong sexual content meant for mature readers. The WAY OF THE WOLF: THE NORTHLANDERS BOOK I has been rated NC-17, erotic, by three individual reviewers. We strongly suggest storing this electronic file in a place where young readers not meant to view this ebook are unlikely to happen upon it. That said, enjoy…
Introduction
The fire crackled in the fireplace as the wind howled outside. The mother rocked quietly before the blaze, trying not to think. She should have been there to fight at his side. She should be there to protect him. She should…
"Tell me a story, momma."
There was comfort to be had in familiar stories. "Come sit with me, daughter."
The child hesitated at her mother's side. "Will I hurt the baby?"
Ayailla laughed softly as she stroked her firstborn's hair. "No, Travanya. Thee canst no' harm the baby."
The child crawled into her lap, snuggling her head against the mound of her unborn sister. "Tell me about the moons, Mother."
Ayailla smiled indulgently at her young daughter. "Ye know the story of the moons, Child."
Travanya stroked gently over the mound that was her sister to be. "Sister has no' heard, mother. Tell us about before."
Before...
In the long ago before, the magic that had been in the world since the beginning of time fled, hiding from the great unbelief. People no longer acknowledged the gods. Humans ruled, and the races became as one. The gods lost touch with the world.
In this way the centuries passed, and the people began to build machines to take the place of the gods. They worshipped the machines and ignored the Earth. The people warred among themselves. The Earth suffered, and at last she began to die. Disease and pestilence ruled. Kine and other domestic animals died by the thousands. Famine ruled the lands. The air was no longer pure. The plants and the young trees suffered and died. The great waters rose to swallow the land.
The machines the humans had built to protect themselves failed as the knowledge of their maintenance passed away. Eventually mankind was reduced to a shadowy existence, living in caves and under the earth.
The Earth was no longer strong enough to defend herself, and at last the cosmos itself conspired against her. Asteroids bombarded her, pieces set adrift from another dying universe far from here. Among the debris was the moon of a long ago world, drifting homeless and bereft. That moon sought to join the dying Earth, that they might end their grief together.
Of the gods, only Wind and Rain still maintained hope. Those two roused the others to assist Earth, to revive her from her deadly lethargy. Despair was rampant, but their end was eminent. They had to act to survive. Together they bent their wills to revive Earth's spirit. The six pleaded with Earth to resist the new moon's pull. At last she roused herself, shaking off some of the layers of her despair. Still she was not strong enough to fight the influence of the new moon completely.
Instead, as is her way, Earth compromised. She made a pact with the new moon to provide him a home, an end to his ceaseless journeying. In exchange, the moon would awaken the old magic.
The moon's compromise was not without price. The tides changed, and the cold returned to the planet. Some of the waters receded as the ice caps froze again, and the Earth revealed herself once more to mankind. The tundra spread down from the north, and mankind fought to survive against the elements.
The changes the magic wrought were subtle at first. Earth found that there were those among us who could hear her voice once again. The old races, absent since before the magic fled, returned once again. The gods spoke, and we learned once again how to listen.
Seven gods we learned to name. Earth our mother guides us all. Wind and Rain are ever her spokesmen. Wolf and Bear and Cat and Falcon are our totem spirits.
We of the Northlands are the first among the peoples. We are the chosen ones. Our Shamans have are gifted with strong magic. We have the task of guiding our peoples. Our daughters are prized, and welcome in every household on Earth. We follow the Way of the Wolf.
To the East live our sisters, who sing the Song of The Bear. Their daughters are Clerics and their sons like ours are great Warriors. Where the Earth is warmer the Cat people Basque in the sun, in a place called Talismar, where the Elves walk in the trees.
The oldest magic belongs to those who have returned from before. The spirits of the Fey often lead them to serve as Mages. As the Falcons they watch over us, their mission to serve and protect, their ways mysterious.
The Dwarves are the keepers of the Earth, her core, and her center, and they burrow within her, being privy to her secrets. They are the smiths of fine weapons and sturdy armor for those with the strength to bear such encumbrance.
The Humans have scattered, like the Wind and the Rain, living at all points of the compass. The dark races there are, as well, lurking ever in the shadows, but theirs are tales for another day.
The child was silent for a time. "Mother, " she asked at last. "Why am I not a Shaman like ye?"
"Wolf chooses his Shaman for his own reasons, Daughter. It is not thy place to question. Someday ye shall be a great Warrior."
"And the baby?"
"Thy sister is called to be a Shaman. Already she knows this. Because of this she shall be smaller than thee, and she shall need thee to look after her, and guide her as she grows. She shall no wield a sword, but shall go into battle with naught but her staff and a small spell book. Ye shall fight at her side."
"She speaks to ye, Mother?"
"Her name is Evalayna."
"Mother?"
"Daughter?"
"Do ye think Evalayna heard thy story?"
"Indeed I do, my daughter, and I think she knew ye were the one to have thought of her, and she knows as well that ye shall always hold her in thy heart."
"Will she love me, Mother?"
"There is no stronger bond than the love of a sister."
A Slave's Price
The Way of The Wolf Book I
Chapter One
The noise of the marketplace rose like the shrill whine of wild fire, sucking the air out of her lungs. Cassadara shifted her armor, automatically standing taller, straighter, as if her imperious stance could remove her somehow from the filth and squalor. Her nose wrinkled in distaste, but she refused to acknowledge the underling who groveled before her. The Dwarf was not worthy of her attention.
The ache in her shoulders had become as familiar as the sound of the incessant rain. By the gods, she was tired. The thin straw pallet in the room she had reserved at the outskirts of town began to take on tempting proportions.
The trader's voice droned on, extolling the virtues of yet another chunk of Human waste. They all looked the same. The Dwarf had dragged them out of their pen in a string, chained together like so many goats on a tether. Warriors indeed. None of them would even look at her. She didn't have to see their eyes to know she terrified
them. To a man they would rather die here than travel with her.
Something inside her turned cold as the arctic spring. These Humans were nothing. Spineless bundles of flesh huddled together, trying to hang on to their miserable existence. They meant nothing to her. Let them stay here and earn their freedom in the pit if they could.
Cassadara crushed the courier's note and tossed the paper into the fire. Unfortunately, she could not rest until she had fulfilled her mother's directive. Irritated, perhaps unreasonably so, she thumped the small bag of gold coins against her leg. Lady Evalayna had no need to enchant the note. Even with the words burned to a crisp, Cassadara could hear her mother's voice as if the Lady had just spoken aloud.
"Though I am pleased to ken ye survived the Orcs' assault on thy party, I fear for thy safety. I would no' have ye travel alone. Go ye to the Dwarf called Argolyn in the city of stone. This vile creature claims to have one of our own amongst his slaves. Such a thing canna be allowed. In freeing this Warrior ye shall also secure a second sword arm to stand at thy back. May the gods be with ye."
A second sword arm. A slave. Cassadara felt her irritation mount as she surveyed the expanse of Human degradation. She would find no warriors here. She had sent for a company of soldiers. Instead she'd received a small bag of gold and the added burden of another responsibility. She would rather have traveled alone than this. But there was no defying Mother. Cassadara knew she would always be a child to the woman who had borne her.
"This one is a true Warrior, Lady. He is strong and well-endowed."
Cassadara looked down, trying to focus on the matter at hand. Argolyn was attempting to call her attention to yet another of the objects huddled in the mud. His sales pitch, delivered in Dwarven, sounded more like he was trying to clear phlegm from his throat.
"Stand up!" the flesh-monger hissed. The slave made no move to obey. The trader kicked the battered body at his feet. The Dwarf received as his reward a glare of defiance from deep green eyes glinting like ivy-etched steel. Her attention secured, Cassadara watched the scene unfold like a play. The trader yanked ferociously on the chain by which his property was bound, cutting off the slave's air supply. Cassadara wondered that blood didn't spurt from the Human's wrists and neck.
The Dwarf kicked the slave yet again, ignoring the choking wheeze of his strangled breath. Finally the man at Argolyn's feet did as he was bid. Grabbing hold of the chain that threaded through the Torc around his neck, he hauled himself up hand over hand, using Argolyn as anchorage. Up and up and up the Human rose, until he towered over the Dwarf, who reached barely to his crotch.
Undaunted, the trader fisted his hand in the fabric of the man's tunic, yanking the thin covering from the battered body. A grubby paw poked at the man's testicles, as if to make sure Cassadara had an unobstructed view. "You see, Mistress, there is enough here to satisfy even a member of the wolf clan!"
To his credit, the Human barely flinched as the Dwarf displayed him.
Cassadara's focus grazed across the Human's more obvious assets, then on, looking back to his eyes. This one had not been a slave for long. His attention still centered on the Dwarf. The slave's eyes blazed with cold, bare defiance. Though his body had been damaged, his spirit had yet to be broken. Still, he had obviously learned better than to actually attempt to expunge his hatred on the Dwarf. One move of the slave's hands, chained though they were, and the guards would beat the man to a bloody pulp.
Without the guards around, the Human might be harder to control. Cassadara didn't bother to look back at Argolyn as she turned away. She answered in the common tongue of merchants, refusing to expend the energy necessary to spit out the words in the Dwarf's own language. "Thy merchandise is unacceptable." She turned away, as if to move on.
"You would be safe with me, Mistress."
The words were spoken in High Elvin. The voice itself was low, a deep rumble that might have come from the ground itself. The Human. The slave had dared to address her.
Incredulous, Cassadara turned back, surveying the man again. The Human had taken a great risk to speak to her privately. 'Twas a foolish risk that might well earn him yet another beating, yet the man showed courage.
Cassadara's interest stirred. Perhaps she might have missed something here.
Deep green eyes clashed with hers, anything but subservient. She saw no trace of fear. That surprised her. Instead she saw wariness mixed with desperation. The Human knew his fate. Unless she purchased his contract, the man would undoubtedly die here. Still, somewhere within that battered body the man retained enough pride to keep from begging.
Intriguing.
She stepped closer, close enough to smell the foul odor that came from the pen where the men were kept. By the gods this one was tall. He was almost as tall as her brother Tyrell–certainly the tallest Human she had ever seen. Taller even than her own six-foot-four. At this distance she would actually have to tilt her head slightly to meet the man's eyes, so she didn't. Instead she looked down, surveying every inch of him, looking beneath the filth to see the long, lean, muscled body built on a powerful frame, capable of grueling days of marching and hard hours of fighting.
The Human was too large and well built to escape the arena. The spectators would love to see this one fight. She let her gaze wander over the length of him again. Her eyes brushed over those other attributes. He was indeed endowed with far better equipment than the average Human.
Despite the chill of the arctic spring, a fine sheen of sweat stood out on the Human's body, trickling down his smooth, naked chest. She found herself imagining licking the sweat from his body. Her nipples hardened at the thought of what he might be able to do with that hardware.
She had heard the tales of Human lovers. The Humans might not be good for much else, but some of them made incredible mates. She followed the sweat up, gradually returning her attention to the man's face. He let her look her fill without comment.
Cassadara answered in the common tongue, wanting to be sure the Dwarf understood every word she said. "Why should I trust ye, Human? I know what thy people thinks of my kind. Ye call my race barbarians. Yet ye condone this."
The sweep of her hand indicated not just the squalid pens huddled at the base of the cliffs, but the amphitheatre like arena at the far edge of the camp, and indeed the whole system by which men were bought and sold like sled dogs.
"Why would I pay this man for thy services? As soon as we are away from this place, ye shall try to kill me. Then ye shall die, and I shall be out a great deal of gold. I have no time to worry over the likes of ye."
"Then do not hold me as a slave." He answered in Elvin again. "Buy my bond and I will pledge myself to you. Allow me to earn my freedom and I will prove my loyalty beyond the boundaries of race and class. The price of my freedom will be my indenture."
The Dwarf looked perturbed by the banter, but if he did not understand it, Cassadara surely would not translate. This time she answered the Human in Elvin as well. "Ye would never live to see thy freedom, Human. Not where I go."
To his credit, the man didn't deny the truth of her words. Instead he met her eyes, holding her attention with the intensity of his gaze, his eyes asking for her faith. "I know where you're bound, M'Lady. I will die beside you if that is the will of the gods." He swayed unsteadily on his feet, righting himself before he toppled back into the mud. "Better to die in battle at your side than here in the pits for the entertainment of the Lords and Ladies. Death in the arena robs a Warrior of his honor."
Cassadara examined the Human again, using her gift this time. A long half-healed gash ran the length of his shield arm from shoulder to elbow. Heat radiated from the wound. A sure sign the cut was infected. She looked deeper. Beneath the bruises his ribs were cracked, and his knuckles were swollen and bloody. He had undoubtedly survived several rounds in the arena already. His face, half-hidden under untrimmed fur, looked hollow and gaunt. He'd take a great deal of healing to be of any use. If she bought this one she would be spending
days in this hellhole of a town before the man was ready to travel.
Cassadara let her eyes drift down to that massive cock again. "If I buy thy indenture, what will ye do for me?"
"Whatever you wish, M'Lady." Deep green eyes warmed slightly, lending character to the face where she'd seen only anger and despair. "In my homeland I am known as a man of my word. I pledge to serve you loyally."
Cassadara touched the tip of her tongue to suddenly dry lips. At her frank perusal, the Human's organ stiffened nearly to full attention, proving to be even larger than she had speculated. Dampness stained the inside of her thighs. Yes. If he knew how to properly entertain a woman he might be worth the time and trouble he would undoubtedly cause.
When her gaze traveled back up the length of him, his eyes met hers with a trace of something that might have been a grin. "I can cook."
The man knew he had her interest. Cassadara grinned back at him. She turned to the Dwarf, addressing him once more in the common tongue. "How much?"
Argolyn answered in his own tongue, distaining the common vernacular. "For you, fifty gold pieces, Mistress."
"He paid but fifteen," the Human offered in that same guttural language.
The powerful Dwarf snapped the chain in a move that dumped the man back on his knees in the mud. "Silence! Your upkeep alone has near bankrupted me!"
"I have earned you ten times my purchase price," the Human argued defiantly. "If your word meant anything I would own my freedom by now!"
The Dwarf would surly beat the man for such audacity. Cassadara stepped between them, trying to distract the Dwarf. She moved her shoulders in a studied show of disinterest. "This Human is indeed well-endowed, but he is insolent. He is not worth the fifteen ye paid for him. Where is the Warrior ye promised?"
The Dwarf allowed himself to be distracted. "This is the Warrior we spoke of, M'Lady. Truly he has done well in the pit, though he has not yet won the grade mêlée. That event does not come here until after the thaw."
Way of The WOlf: The Northlanders Book I Page 1
