In a Wolf's Eyes

by A. Katie Rose

  Kel’Ratan also peered about, his blue eyes narrowed, his mustache bristling.

  “You feel it, don’t you,” I murmured.

  “Aye,” he growled, “like we’re being watched.”

  “I don’t see anything.”

  “Nor do I. But something, or someone, is out there.”

  I had never felt such in my life. Even when I knew hidden enemies watched me, I had never felt this before. This creeping, chilling feeling of eyes staring intently at me. What was different? What could be different?

  “I don’t suppose…” I began diffidently.

  “What?”

  “Could that wizard, that Rygel fellow, be watching us with magic? Spying for Brutal?”

  Kel’Ratan’s eyes left his own scan of the surrounding area and fastened on mine. “I don’t know.” His reply, slow and thoughtful, did not sound like the cousin I knew so well. This one sounded…frightened.

  At once, the sensation left me. Gone, as though it had never existed in the first place. By Kel’Ratan’s expression, I knew he no longer felt it, either.

  “That was—”

  “Odd.”

  I shrugged. “Well, it’s gone, whatever it is. Maybe we both just have a case of the spooks with Sele’s death.”

  “Perhaps.”

  His tone told me he didn’t believe it. As a matter of fact, nor did I. Someone, or something, watched us and heard every word we said.

  “I’ll send a letter with the others,” I went on, continuing our conversation. “My father should know why I stayed.”

  He nodded again. “I agree.”

  “About bloody time you agreed with something I said,” I complained, but with a smile in my voice.

  We sat in comfortable silence together for a time while I thought of the right words to put in the letter. It did not help matters that my father had a worse temper than I. Men always did.

  My Sin ambled into view not far away, and leaned indolently against a tree trunk at the edge of the orchard. Kael watched me with a steady gaze, his eyes never wavering from my face. I wondered if it was Kael we both felt, but Kael had been following me for a long time and never before had I associated his presence with that chilly, icy feeling of someone watching. I ignored him, or tried to, but he long ago insinuated himself into my soul. Lady Nephrotiti, can you not make him go away? When will my punishment end? My mood further sank to the level of my ankles. Just what I needed, I thought sourly. Perhaps Sele’s death and funeral brought him up, the reminder of two deaths, not so very long ago.

  I scarcely registered the shadow that passed over me in a fleet moment. A cloud, a bird, my own imagination might have conjured the swift, brief darkness that disappeared within a heartbeat. Naught that made any lasting impression upon my grieving consciousness. Only Sele’s death filled my mind and heart.

  An instant later, strength far greater than mine hurled me into the dirt hard enough to knock the wind from my lungs. Dust and grit swirled into my eyes along with a mass of my own hair, choking and blinding me both. A huge weight settled onto my legs, torso and chest, the pressure so intense I doubted my ribs would survive the onslaught unbroken and unsprung.

  Spewing curses, I swiped my hand across my eyes to clear them of dirt and my hair, and looked up into a predatory yellow stare. An eagle’s head, mantled with a mane of thick white and brown feathers, bent toward me. Colossal wings spread wide behind the creature blocked the sun. A razor-sharp beak the size of a horse’s head parted in a menacing hiss, savage breath scenting of blood brushed my skin. Talons the length of my own hand kept me firmly pinned to the ground, its massive weight threatening to crush me.

  With both hands, I seized the awesome beak and snapped it shut, hopefully on its own tongue. Then I drew it to my face and kissed it.

  “Where in the name of the three heavens have you been?” I demanded. “I ought to flay you alive for worrying me.”

  A muffled squawk escaped the firmly closed beak while a faint glint of amusement gleamed in the eagle eyes.

  “Hunting, my ass,” I snapped. “I told you to stay away from the cattle. Do you realize what your steak dinner nearly cost me? And get off me, you bloody lummox.”

  Bar, my guardian since infancy, my friend since I could walk, and my confidante when I could talk, reluctantly took his taloned foot from my chest and withdrew so I might get up and brush the dust from my leathers. Kel’Ratan chuckled into his shoulder, no doubt having seen Bar’s approach, and spitefully neglected to warn me. Who said men never sought catty revenge? Bar and I both hissed at him.

  Hunted nearly to extinction, very few griffins remained alive these days. Only a few hundred remained in the northern mountains of Kel’Halla, where once they reigned supreme. Now those that survived hid high in the mountain ranges, and sightings of them grew few and further between. Half eagle, half lion, men prized their hides and feathers above any other creature. One griffin feather alone would bring a silver half-crown on the back streets of almost any town in any country. Despite my grandfather’s law that banned hunting these magnificent and intelligent creatures within the boundaries of Kel’Halla, their numbers remained few. In other lands, the griffins had long vanished from the sight of mankind.

  While they lived much longer lives than men did, mated pairs birthed only a single hatchling every ten years or so. Thus, the population remained low and still very much in danger of extinction.

  Years before I was born, my father found an infant griffin orphaned by poachers and brought it home to the palace to live. He fed the wild young creature mare’s milk and chopped meat, fed the baby by hand and gave it the father’s love it sorely missed. The squawking fledgling with huge ungainly wings and fuzzy baby fur grew fast under the constant care, and soon outstripped his wild brothers in size. The young male griffin, Bar as my father named him, slept beside my father’s bed, perched above his throne in the great hall, followed his stallion everywhere. He fiercely loved my father, for a griffin’s love and loyalty to family was legendary. The day I was born, my father put me under Bar’s watchful and savage protection. In an instant, he went from being my father’s companion and guardian, to mine.

  From the cradle on, I could go nowhere without Bar in attendance. He watched over the royal nursery, my nurses ducking under his sharp beak to change my britches. He watched me ride my first horse, the poor animal in a panic that he might be griffin dinner should he not behave. I could not go from my rooms, to meals in the great hall, or to my lessons without his immense shadow over every step.

  As a child, I often made a game of hiding from him, driving him into a frantic rage trying to find me. Anyone caught in his path risked his ire and few could withstand that predatory unblinking stare for long. My friends ratted me out to him constantly, fearing he might one day, this day, decide to disembowel the first one to withhold my whereabouts. At last, my father forbade me upon the threat of a sound thrashing and being chained in the dungeon for a month to cease and desist tormenting Bar. I obeyed, more worried about my father’s ire than Bar’s fits of fury. Of the two, I feared my father more.

  Bar sat down, fixing me with his yellow predatory stare. If he hoped to intimidate me, he ought to have known I grew a thick skin against his ferocity long ago. Among all the creatures that walked the earth, my father and I alone were safe from any harm from him. I wore that mantle of protection like a soft, familiar cloak, never doubting his love or his loyalty.

  Now, his lion tail, coiled about his haunches and his front talons, flicked back and forth slightly at the furry tip. A good sign, that. When he fell prey to a foul mood, his tail lashed like an angry cat’s. Never one to hide his feelings, Bar’s temper had long since passed into legend.

  A sharp mind inhabited the eagle’s head covered in ivory-colored feathers. He lacked only a means to make himself understood by humans. He could not speak, but uttered raucous shrieks or shrill cries, squawks, or hisses, yet made his meaning as clear to me as if he had spoken with words. His thick
, heavy mane held a mixture of both fur and feathers. Almost twice the size and more muscular than the biggest of our draft horses, his lion body possessed an incredible catlike power and agility. Talons the length of a man’s hand could gut a dragon. His short lion fur colored a light sandy hue overall, only the bushy tip of his tail and the tufts of his long ears sprouted black. His beak, as sharp as a razor’s edge, could break a bull’s spine in an instant. In addition, his yellow, predatory stare could unnerve a block of granite.

  Knowing my moods better than I did, he turned those raptor eyes on me and clicked his beak, a serious of short snaps intended to get on my nerves. Like my Goddess, Bar possessed a rather wicked sense of humor. I wanted to throw up my hands. Why did everyone around me enjoy aggravating me?

  Rather than shriek at him in fury, I chose to pretend I had not heard, and would not deign to acknowledge he had indeed irritated me. Making sure he saw me ignoring him, I calmly turned to Kel’Ratan. “Will Brutal win the throne, think you?”

  He nodded. “I fear so. He has the strength and the tactical knowledge. His brothers may have some of the nobles in their pockets, but they don’t have the soldier power.”

  “I wish we could swing the odds the other way,” I mused, sitting back down on the wall, recapturing some semblance of royal dignity.

  “From our point of view one of his other brothers would be a much better candidate. Since none have their sire’s canny ability in war. And, of course, none have the desire either to make war on Kel’Halla. Except—”

  “Except Brutal,” I finished glumly.

  “And he now has reasons to want war more than ever. Outside conquest, marrying you was his only means of adding Kel’Halla to his Federation. And since conquest hasn’t worked in the last thirty years or so—”

  I stood up, restless, pacing. I could not make myself regret refusing to marry Broughton, even for the sake of peace. “There must be a way we can disrupt him,” I muttered.

  Discovering he cared less for my ignoring him than he liked irritating me, Bar burrowed his huge head under my arm, hoping for some affection. I stopped pacing and leaned against his shoulder, scratching behind his ears. He sighed in contentment and half-closed his eyes.

  “How?”

  “Spark a slave rebellion,” I said hopefully. “That would keep him busy.”

  “Good idea,” Kel’Ratan replied, trying hard not to smile. “It has its possibilities. It would also take years, years we don’t have.”

  “Turn his nobles against him somehow,” I went on, rubbing over Bar’s eyes now. “Bribe them, convince them one of them could be High King. Persuade his brothers they would be the better choice. Let them bring him down.”

  “Brutal has too much strength in his own army. They’d never withstand him.”

  Frustrated, I spoke without thinking. “Then let’s kill him and have done with it.”

  Kel’Ratan’s shock mirrored what I felt at what I had said.

  “Murder? Don’t even think that, Ly’Tana. Not ever.”

  “It wouldn’t be murder,” I protested hotly. “It’s assassination.”

  “Don’t be such a twit. It’s unworthy of you. Murder can never be justified.”

  “Is saving our land and people not justified?” I snapped. “Is protecting ourselves from a madman unworthy?”

  Kel’Ratan hunched his shoulders over his knees, his eyes staring blankly at the cobbles. “Murder in cold blood goes against everything our Goddess stands for. Would you risk offending Nephrotiti?”

  Offending Nephrotiti meant being forever removed from Her sight. To never again feel the warmth of her blessings, to never feel Her within me. I knew her silent voice, knew her ways as few others ever could. Had I not been born the heir to my father’s kingdom, I desired naught more than to be Her priestess. Risk it? I shuddered inwardly at the thought.

  “Perhaps She will guide us in what we must do,” I murmured. “But we must find a way.”

  “Pity that slave didn’t finish the job,” Kel’Ratan commented dryly. “Had he done killed Brutal, he would have saved many lands a great deal of grief.”

  “You can’t lay it on his shoulders,” I snapped, unsure of why I wanted to defend a slave I had never spoken to, much less liked. “You don’t know what occurred.”

  Kel’Ratan turned away, but not before I saw him smile. Even Bar craned his head to peer at me with frank curiosity. Damn and blast them all to hell. Snatching up quill, ink and parchment, I stalked away to find a peaceful place to write the letter to my father.

  * * *

  Dawn the next morning saw Sele’s ashes scattered on the wind and the remainder of my band riding northwest. I watched them go, knowing they would be on the road for more than two months. Months before my father would know what I proposed to do. Time enough to get the job done and be home before his temper raged.

  Eight mounted warriors stood about me, the best that came with me from Kel’Halla. Kel’Ratan accepted my choices, warriors of Kel’Halla’s finest, whose skills at arms did only Kel’Ratan and I exceed.

  We sat our horses in a grassy meadow, the Mesaan Mountains rising like dark blue smudges on the horizon. Far, far to the west the tall, rugged mountains that bordered, and protected, our beloved Kel’Halla from the Federation were too far distant to be seen. Several thousand leagues of unknown territory stood between home and us. Snow capped the Mesaan peaks despite the late summer sun. Mikk tried to bend his neck as far as my reins would allow him and nibble the stalks of grass that reached past his knees. The sun was scarcely high and already the heat bore down on me.

  Bar lounged at my side, preening his wing feathers, smoothing and adjusting to his satisfaction. He could spend hours at the task, happily chewing his wings until I thought his feathers would surely fall out.

  I couldn’t help it. “You missed a spot,” I said.

  He ceased his preening and offered me a long sharp look.

  “Over there.” I helpfully nodded my head. “Just behind your left shoulder.”

  A hiss of reproach greeted my words. Mikk shied at the menace in them, and I clucked to still him. Nothing like double standards, I thought ruefully, watching Bar resume his preening. Bar could fly out of nowhere and pitch me headfirst into the dirt and think it funny. Yet, should I tease him about his feather chewing, I was the devil’s own. When it came to his grooming habits, Bar’s sense of humor dried to dust.

  Suddenly, Bar’s ears pointed back and he whipped his head around. Staring over his shoulder, his sharp eyes focused on something in the distance. Alarmed, I wheeled Mikk, catching the attention of the others.

  At first, I saw naught. A moment later, I saw what Bar had first seen. Across the meadow, shrubbery rustled and tree branches bent. A soldier in the purple and gold uniform of the High King rode out. Followed by another, then still more.

  How in the name of the Lady Nephrotiti did they find us? How did they find us so fast, with all that Brutal had to occupy himself? Kel’Ratan cursed under his breath. My boys nocked arrows to bowstrings in battle readiness, their mounts restive.

  With a raucous shriek, Bar launched himself into the air. The backwash of his wings whipped my hair into my face, the tall grass bowing low before its stiff wind. Yet, before he could take the second wingbeat, I dropped Mikk’s reins on his neck, nocking an arrow at the same time. Around me, my warriors waited on my signal to fire.

  “They followed Bar to us,” Kel’Ratan rumbled.

  Dozens upon dozens of Federal cavalry troops rode out from the forest, lining up and unsheathing swords. A regiment, nay two regiments fell into well-disciplined lines. Wait. Yet another regiment rode into view, then a fourth, these newest arrivals flanking us to either side. Only one route lay open to us: west, toward home.

  Bar circled higher, angling to hide in the sun. His sheer size made him a tempting target for enemy archers. The Khalidian bows had not the range of our recurve bows, but they often, in past battles, tried to shoot him down. Bar knew he coul
d best protect me from the air. By flying into the enemy with the sun behind him, he not only protected himself from sun-blinded archers, he could scatter their horses. No matter how well the Khalidians trained their cavalry horses, no horse could withstand a charge from a furious griffin in full flight. His screech, the wind from his wings, the sight of him in his rage never failed to send their horses bolting in terror.

  One soldier with the trappings of a captain barked orders, his dappled gray horse prancing in anticipation of battle. I leveled my bow at him, drawing the string to my ear. When Bar scattered their mounts, I expected we could pick off a few with our arrows. In the ensuing chaos, we could ride hard and elude them. I muttered as much to Kel’Ratan. He nodded.

  Arrows shot upward from the forest opposite the meadow we stood in. I watched them rise up and up, waiting for the trajectory to bring them back to earth, toward us. They foolishly fired at us, not knowing we rode well out of range. Their stupidity would be their undoing, I thought happily, watching. The arrows kept rising higher until I gasped with shock, realizing at whom the Federal soldiers truly fired.

  They shot at Bar, still circling high overhead, out of bowshot. The sun, too low on the horizon, was useless. I knew he aimed to circle behind them, then fly in low over the trees to attack from the rear. This tactic often worked well. Only when faced with infantry did Bar fly out of range of bow fire, for infantry men had no horses to spook. All these men were mounted. Or so I thought.

  The arrows hit him. Above, Bar screamed in shock and agony. Jolted, I let fly my arrow, striking the captain and knocking him from his horse. He disappeared into the long grass, his horse bolting in terror and kicking out with deadly hindquarters.

  With my heart in my throat, I looked up. Bar circled erratically, his great wings fighting to keep him airborne. Two arrows protruded from his shoulder and belly, blood staining his velvety fur. Twice more he circled, gaining altitude, battling for safety in the clouds. I clenched my bow in tight fists, praying, silently urging him higher. If my will alone could keep him there, he would never again come to earth.