by Lara Adrian
They were being followed.
Braedon's nostrils flared as he looked around and drew in a deep, chilling breath of air. He tasted danger in the draught. Death loomed in the forest hollows, behind the tangles of frozen bramble; he was certain of it. He felt it stalking closer, moving in. He could not see it, could only feel the malevolence encroaching with stealthy, predatory skill. Instinctively, his hand flexed around the hilt of his sheathed sword.
A twig snapped somewhere off to his left. Hardly a sound at all, but he cocked his ear toward it and waited, listening, watching, as his mount forged ahead through the ice and snow. He slowed the beast with a flexing of his thighs, a subtle, silent command that allowed Ariana to come up closer behind. Hanging back, he moved aside and let her palfrey draw up alongside of his on the narrow path.
"Is something wrong?" she asked. "Why have we slowed?"
"Stay close to me. We may have trouble on the approach."
He heard her soft, but sharp, intake of breath. The cowl of her mantle framing her face, Ariana's eyes were wide, darting nervously from him to the vast stretch of forest that surrounded them on all sides. She would see no trace of the danger, this he knew. Braedon himself did not see who followed. But he felt it, as surely as his skin now prickled with an animal's keen sense of warning.
Ariana's voice was a tremulous whisper from within the fox-lined folds of her hood. "Braedon, what is it? Is someone there?"
"I don't know. Whoever--whatever--it is, 'tis moving in quickly now."
He visually gauged the space ahead of them, then behind, calculating their options of escape, for he was certain it would come to that. He cursed under his breath. It was too narrow a path through the trees, too treacherous to send the horses into a gallop if they had to attempt flight. The forest hemmed them in on all sides. His mount became aware of the pending threat as well. The beast stamped an agitated dance in the snow, as if uncertain in which direction it might want to bolt. Skittish now, eyes rolling fearfully, the palfrey grunted and sidled on the path.
"Stay near me, Ariana," he cautioned her in a low voice, "and do whatever I tell you. Understand?"
She gave a quick nod.
Braedon drew his sword from its scabbard, the slow, lethal hiss of grating metal all but lost amid the snorting and snuffling of the worried horses. He brought his mount around the front of Ariana's, shielding her as his eyes took in the darkened thicket where their attacker waited. He caught a movement up ahead, heard a rustle of crunching snow and swishing branches. A low growl sounded from within the shadows.
"Braedon, there!"
Ariana's gasp of warning was little more than a whisper beside his ear, but Braedon was already staring at the cause of her fright. Their pursuers here were not man, but beast.
Up ahead some fifty paces, watching them from atop a snow-covered rock, stood an impossibly large, seething black wolf. Its jaws were open in a snarl, teeth gleaming bone-white and deadly sharp. The animal emitted a guttural howl, its pale eyes fixed on them, daring them to move. It was looking for sport more than sustenance, standing belligerent on the rock, its muscular limbs taut and ready to spring.
"Oh, mercy...Braedon," Ariana breathed, and her mount began a nervous shuffle beneath her. Saddle leather creaked, metal tack jingled, as the palfrey tossed its head and started backing away from the danger. Ariana struggled to hold it, but the beast was panting already, struggling to lose its bit.
"Steady," Braedon soothed them both, barely moving his lips, his eyes never leaving the calculating gaze of the beast. "Wolves do not attack humans unless they are provoked. They would sooner run than fight."
"He doesn't look like he's going to run away from us."
"No," Braedon replied, certain that the creature he faced now had no intention of backing down. As if to confirm that suspicion, the wolf leapt down and began toward them in a slow, menacing prowl along the ridge that flanked the road like a castle battlements. "Very slowly, Ariana, ease your mount around on the path."
"Turn around? But--what are we going to do?"
The wolf crept closer, its heavy paws and thick black nails dislodging pebbles of loose earth from the sharp promontory ledge. Braedon held his own nervous mount in an iron grip, his thighs locked tight against its sides, his free hand fisted in the reins. "I want you to ride out of here as calmly as you can, back the way we came in. I'll hold him off while you ride away. Go now, my lady."
"You want me to leave you?" she whispered. "No, Braedon..."
"Do it. Now, Ariana."
She gave a small noise of distress, and for a moment he wondered if she would defy him even in this. But then she was obeying his direction, taking a gentle hand on her palfrey and turning the agitated horse around on the road. Very slowly, with a calm that he couldn't help but admire, she set her mount to walking in the opposite direction.
The hellish beast that watched from the forest ridge followed her with its eyes, baring its teeth in a grimace that seemed almost a malicious grin across the short distance that separated it from Braedon. Nostrils flaring, it let out a huff of steaming breath and emitted a low growl.
"Seems it's you and me now," Braedon taunted it, drawing the wolf's attention back to him.
It was all the warning he was to receive.
With a roar of unearthly fury, the wolf launched itself off its perch and flew at Braedon in a blur of bristling black fur and slashing, talon-like claws.
* * *
Ariana had gone only a few yards when the beastly howl of rage sounded from behind her on the road. Heart freezing in her breast, she whirled around in her saddle just in time to see the huge black wolf leap down upon Braedon. She cried out, horrified as he and the wolf fell to the ground, locked in brutal combat. For a moment, she knew not what to do. Braedon had ordered her to go. Every fearful instinct that quaked in terror urged her to give her skittish mount her heels and speed away. But she could not make her limbs obey the command.
She could not leave him.
"Braedon!" she shouted, wheeling the palfrey back toward the fray.
Her mount whinnied in protest, eyes rolling, as it realized what she meant for it to do. It took a halting couple of steps, then drew up short, shifting and sidling when she needed it to charge. The horse was too nervous, too frightened to cooperate. Up ahead on the snowy track, the wolf had clamped its jaws down on Braedon's sword arm, losing him his weapon. Growling his fury, Braedon threw his other fist at the beast's great head, knocking it to the side. He pounded it once, twice...but the wolf was undaunted. Slavering, teeth bared, it gnashed viciously as it made to attack again.
"Sweet Mary...Braedon!"
He was a strong man, with a warrior's training, but those facts did little to soothe her worry for him. This wolf had murder in its eyes, and it fought with the frenzied strength of a demon. With a cry that sounded desperate even to her own ears, Ariana threw herself down from her saddle. Braedon's own mount, now riderless and gripped in a mad panic, stomped the ground as it tried to free itself from the scuffle. Snagged by its reins, which were caught around Braedon's leg, the frightened palfrey was an added hazard to Braedon. It plunged back on its haunches, heavy hooves striking hard wherever they fell, its eyes wild and mindless.
Without another thought for Braedon's orders, or her own preservation, Ariana hitched her skirts above her booted ankles and ran back up the frozen road to help him however she might. She had to disentangle the horse before she could do anything else. Screaming now, rearing up and pawing at the air, it nearly struck her as she approached.
Braedon must have seen her intent, even as he reached for his lost sword and took another nasty bite in his shoulder. He shouted over the horrific snarling of the wolf as it came at him in relentless attack. "Ariana, get away! God's blood, get out of here, woman!"
She didn't bother to answer him, let alone obey. Soothing the palfrey as best she could, palms held out in front of her to show it she meant no harm, she eased toward it. In the next instant, sh
e had the tangled reins in her hand. Working quickly, she retrieved a knife from Braedon's saddle pack and sliced the narrow leather lead, severing the horse from its tether. It pitched its head to test its freedom, then fled, running off for the cover of the woods.
Behind her on the bloodstained, torn-up ground, the hellish black wolf had Braedon pinned. Its huge back bristled, spiky fur raised from its thick neck and enormous head, to the muscular flanks of its limbs. Everything was happening so quickly. Braedon's hand flung out to reach his sword, but it was too far out of his reach. The wolf eyed his naked throat with a gleam of pleasure in its pale gray gaze.
"Oh, God, no!" Ariana screamed. She felt the cold hilt of the dagger in her palm and gripped it tighter, knowing at once what she must do.
"Ariana, get away. You have no idea--"
But she was already moving forward, advancing on the heaving form of the wolf. Ariana raised her hand, then brought it down in a swift arc, stabbing the beast in its side. It gave a shocked howl of pain and to her relief, it eased off of Braedon.
"Go, Ariana!"
She stood firm, ready to take another strike. As the wolf spun its great, frothing head around to glare at her, its animal snarl began to take on a distinctly odd tone. The emotionless gray eyes started to change, muting from lupine shock to what could only be a human brand of rage.
Nay, she realized suddenly.
Not quite human or animal, this beast who turned its deadly gaze on her now.
"Ariana," Braedon shouted to her, holding the wolf on him when it seemed it wanted to lunge at her instead. "For Christ's sake, run!"
Dazed, she took a step back. Just one, for suddenly her limbs were not her own to command. The wolf was no base creature, she realized, shaken with the dawning knowledge of what she and Braedon were facing. As she stared, transfixed and astonished, the bristling black wolf gave a tremble of its thick fur, like a hound shaking off water.
It broke out of Braedon's strong hold as though made of air, and then it was rising up, taller and taller, changing shape before her very eyes, shimmering into another form.
The illusion passed and a hulking knight stood in its place, ugly and bleeding, his crude features twisted into a look of pure malice. His clothing was torn from his struggle with Braedon, his breath huffing from between his bruised and battered lips. He had a blade sheathed at his hip. The carved dragon hilt gleamed bright silver as he reached to draw the weapon on Ariana.
He did not get the chance.
Before he could take the first step, Braedon was on his feet and grabbing for his sword. He took it up and rounded on the man, engaging him in a vicious clash of steel on steel. Ariana watched in fear as Braedon and the shifter battled a few paces before her. She wanted to help, but there was nothing she could do. Crash upon crash rang in the deserted road. Strike upon strike bloodied the trodden, muddying snow at their feet.
Braedon took another hard hit but then he was coming at his attacker like a tempest, his sword a punishing bolt, his fury rolling like thunder as he delivered a battery of maiming blows. The man went down on one knee with the last of Braedon's thrusts, a lethal slip. For in that next instant, his bellowing cry was cut short, his lifeblood spilling at his feet.
And still, Braedon kept fighting him.
Ariana crept forward once the man had gone still, her hand at her mouth, unable to utter a single word for the terror that yet held her in its clutches. Whatever it was--man or beast or hell-spawned mating of the two--it was no longer living. Braedon had slain it, yet he seemed unable to stop his blade from coming down on the carcass. He was in a blind rage, killing the beast over and over and over again as if he thought it might spring back to life if he ceased for so much as a moment.
Braedon's wrath was frightening, but Ariana sensed the helplessness of his state and she slowly went toward him. She called his name as she approached. He did not react at all. His sword arm went up again, raising high over his head. His hand and arm were soiled with so much blood, though whether it belonged to the dead changeling or the many abrasions and claw marks on Braedon's skin, she could not be sure. Ariana came up behind him as his blade began another relentless descent.
"Braedon," she said gently, placing her hand on his shoulder before he could land another blow. "Braedon, don't." She shook her head. "'Tis enough."
He stilled at last, and at the sound of her voice, his head slowly pivoted away from the carnage at his feet. He looked at her for a long moment, saying nothing. Then he threw down his gruesome weapon and turned to her, pulling her into his arms in a fierce embrace. Ariana held him, too, wrapping her arms around his trim waist and pressing her cheek into his chest. He was shaking from his exertions, his breath coming fast and hard as he lowered his mouth and kissed soundly on the mouth. Ariana wanted to climb into his warmth, needing the security of his arms around her. Needing to know that they both were safe and alive.
Braedon seemed to want the same assurances from her. He brought his hand up between them and tilted her chin so their eyes met. "God's wounds, woman. Why did you not run as I told you?" His voice was a harsh whisper, angry, certainly, but edged with something deeper. His gaze pierced hers even as his fingers reverently caressed her face. "Do you realize how stupid it was of you not to go when you had the chance? You might have been killed."
Ariana bit her lip at his soft scold. "I-I couldn't leave you," she confessed breathlessly. "I just...I couldn't bear the thought of you getting hurt."
For a long moment, he merely stared at her unspeaking. His warm gaze roamed over her face, drinking her in. Ariana thought he might kiss her again, for there was a note of something deeper than mere relief in his eyes as he looked at her, a trace of longing in his touch as his fingers skated tenderly through her hair. God's truth, she needed to feel his arms holding her tight, so safe and secure in his embrace. She wanted to know that she mattered something to him, too. That whatever they might face in this journey, they would face it together.
"Are you all right?" he rasped softly, taking her by her upper arms and setting her away from him, all business now, save the glowing embers in his gaze. "Were you injured at all?"
Ariana shook her head. "No. But you--"
"I'm fine." He cast a black glower at the dead man nearby and cursed low under his breath. "Let's find you someplace to clean up and get warm for the night."
Ariana followed him back to the path to retrieve her straying mount. His own horse was nowhere in sight, the terrified beast having fled without a care for its stranded rider. Braedon helped Ariana to mount up behind him, then with a nudge of his boot heels, they left the carnage and headed into town.
Chapter 12
Braedon tested the latch on the room door for the second time in what could only have been a half an hour. The old iron bolt was secure, if rusty. It would hold well enough, he decided, giving the door one final shake.
The town's sole inn was situated on the common road, and the foul weather had stranded a good number of travelers at the establishment. The public room out front bustled with activity. Raucous laughter and voices made loud from overmuch ale and cheer boomed down the corridor that separated the tavern hall from the inn's private rooms. Each time a shout went up, each time a cup crashed to the floor outside, Braedon's instincts jerked to full alert. He was edgy and on guard, and he could not ignore the niggling feeling that the shifter who attacked them on the road was not their only pursuer. There was a greater threat on the move, still advancing. Still moving closer.
He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool wood of the door, training his mind to focus, to sharpen. To mentally seek out even that which sought to elude him. It was a skill he had been born with, an ability that separated him from other men. It was also his curse, and he had forsworn the peculiar gift a long time ago, when he had been a vainglorious fool, arrogant enough to whore his skills out to the highest bidder without a thought toward the possible consequences.
Le Chasseur.
&nbs
p; The Hunter.
His reputation had brought him a certain dark notoriety, but it had also brought him pain. It had left his hands bloodied, his soul as hideously scarred as his face. But while he may have striven to forsake his strange skills, they had never forsaken him. They stirred within him, even now, on the ready, responding to his slightest beckon.
They took him back out into the cold night, onto the moonlit road, moving swiftly, scenting steel and malice in the shadows, searching for the threat that still pursued them....
"Braedon."
Ariana's voice pulled him back into the room like a warm caress. He lifted his head, and turned to face her. She had taken off her cloak and now stood before the hearth, her petite frame silhouetted by the orange glow of the fire that blazed behind her on the grate. She was still shivering from the cold, the golden tendrils of her hair still damp from the falling snow and drooping into her face.
"Braedon, are you certain 'tis safe for us to be here? I thought we had agreed to avoid public places until we reached Rouen. Perhaps we should continue on instead, or look for someplace more remote to rest for the night."
She was right, of course, and logic warned him of the dangers in seeking shelter in town. He could have weathered another night outdoors, but he refused to put her through it again. Although he had not wanted to be responsible for her--for anyone, ever again--he knew he would protect her with his life. As she had tried to do for him today on the forest road.
"You're exhausted and cold, my lady. You have been through much, and the very last thing you needed was another night in the elements." He had meant to soothe her worries, but there he was, scolding her again. After what he'd seen a short while ago in the woods, when he'd glanced up and found her wielding his dagger on the huge black beast that attacked him, all Braedon really wanted to do was gather her into his arms and hold her. In truth, he wanted to do much more than that. "Jesus, Ariana. Do you realize how close to death you came this afternoon?"
