The creature charged my assailants, unarmed save the weapons of his fists and his rage. The Tongu, caught by complete surprise, let go of me to get to their feet and face his onslaught. The Tongu about to rape me had his leather trews about his ankles, and I took the opportunity to kick his feet out from under him. He went down with a loud thud, his face in the dirt, his naked ass high. With a delight savage enough to win me few favors in the afterlife, I kicked him over, onto his back. Lightning quick, before he could move to defend himself, I slammed my foot down into his bare genitals.
He could not scream. His mangled throat could only emit a sharp whistling noise, his face slowly turning purple. Clutching himself, he rolled onto his side in a fetal position, still making that weird, high-pitched screech.
I stepped back, for the moment unable to do him much more harm until I had steel in my hand, seeing the giant Wolf fighting barehanded, one against I do not know how many. The Tongu found it difficult to get past his hands and speed, dodging his incredibly fast blows, looking for an opportunity to hit him with their cudgels. Wolf grabbed one by his swinging club, bringing the Tongu in close enough to seize by the throat. Blood fountained high as the Tongu staggered away, his throat laid open, mangled, his life’s blood pumping, gushing from the savage wound. He fell, gasping, his hands on his throat trying in vain to stem the red flood. The others, not quite as stupid as they looked, approached more warily after that. Quick to learn from the bad example laid, choking on his own blood, before them, they were.
I looked about for a sword, dagger, anything to stab, slash, kill any Tongu I could. Many had their backs foolishly turned to me. Prime killing targets, I thought happily. All I needed now was steel and they would quickly learn that exposing their backs to a vengeful Kel’Hallan bitch was an exercise in stupidity. They had forgotten me, at least for the moment, so intent were they on bringing Wolf back down to the ground without killing him. Hounds leaped and chuffed, their bodies adding to the chaos. No matter how I tried, I could not see a weapon with which I could aid Wolf. Damn it, where was my sword?
“Run!”
The single word roared into my mind, making me stagger with its sheer force and ferocity. I shook my head, confused, and looked again for a weapon. Where was my sword? I needed my sword. Where was it?
“Run!”
The word came again, and this time I recognized Wolf’s voice. I glanced at him, confused, seeing him hit on the ribs with a swinging cudgel as another broke itself over his arm. Yet, no one paid a blind bit of notice to me. This was my chance, a tiny chance for me to survive, a chance that would perhaps never come again.
Instead of finding my steel, panic found me. It did not insinuate. Rather, it hit me with enough force to take away my breath. I tasted its thick coppery flavor, scented its tantalizing odor. If I had anything remaining in my bladder, it might have spilled down my legs.
I bolted like a frightened doe, jumping rocks and stumps and logs, racing through the trees, naked as the day I was born. Coward, my mind screeched. Bloody coward! I have never left a warrior behind, save once, and I swore on Nephrotiti’s altar I never would again. I stopped in my tracks, turned back. Damn you, cease! Cowards run from a fight. A Kel’Hallan rejoices in a fight. My eyes once more searched for my sword, any glint of steel in the tangle of dead leaves, twigs and loose brush.
I stopped my search for steel just as Wolf went down, hit from behind by the hilt of a sword, blood veiling his face. He fell, carried under by the weight of numbers, his eyes once more on me. Not on those who killed him. On me. His teeth gleamed as he smiled.
I saw him carried under by the hacking, beating frenzied mob. They punched him, kicked him, hit him with the hilts of daggers, with cudgels. Unconscious or dead, he went down, his ferocity silenced at last, his courage quenched by their bloodlust.
Thus the Great Wolf, the Champion of Khalid, fell at last.
He gave me the chance to run and live, sacrificing himself to save me. If I went back, even to save him, his selfless sacrifice would be in vain. I knew the two of us stood no chance against the numbers and strength of the Shekinah Tongu. Wolf had known it, too. He ordered, no commanded, me to run, to flee, to escape. He gave his life for me. How dare I throw it away in a fruitless attempt to avenge him? Should we meet again in the afterlife, I would be ashamed to admit to him how I disrespected the most precious gift he had to give.
I whirled, my hair streaming over my face, half-blinding me, and ran.
On I ran, heedless of whipping branches and stiff brush thorns raking my bloody naked body. I ran, not feeling the agony of my sprained ankle. I ran, not caring if the sharp rocks ripped open my feet. I ran. And I ran. And ran and ran.
I ran. I sobbed as I ran.
I left him behind. Oh, Lady of the Stars, forgive me. Wolf, forgive me. On I ran, ducking low oak and pine branches, thrusting through balsam and thickets of thorn, heedless of their scratches. Nothing could ever hurt as much as my heart hurt at that moment, running away in panic from a fight, leaving a good man behind. No matter Wolf commanded it of me. No matter what he sacrificed so I could live, free from Brutal’s vengeance. I ran. Like a bloody coward, I ran. I had no choice. I left him behind. My tears streamed, my throat raw from crying and running and panic. My lord commanded me to run.
I ran on and on and on.
Into the rising sun I fled, my tears and hair and the new sun’s rays blinding me. I do not know for how long or for how far. Only that my lord commanded me to run, and run I would. Until my feet no longer carried me forward. I would run until I collapsed from sheer exhaustion. I would run until death took me.
Until I stumbled headlong into a low thick oak tree.
Whichever came first.
The impact sprawled me on my uncovered backside and back, awakening a flood of new awareness and stilling the hot taste of panic. I staggered to my feet, fending off thick branches, tripped over sharp, moss-covered rocks, tempering the flood of fear. Pain, held in abeyance until that moment, slipped its collar and swamped me in a rising flood. The pain of my ankle, a white-hot agony, and the lesser scratches, cuts and abrasions from rocks and thorns triggered some semblance of intelligence. I drew in ragged gulps of air, looking about me, appraising my situation. At long last, the warrior in me finally took charge and I began to think.
The Tongu might have gotten Wolf subdued, or even killed him, by now. I shrank from the thought of Wolf dead, torn apart by the savage barbarians and their hounds. I knew Wolf’s chances of survival were small. Yet, because of him, mine were not. I began to run again, this time without the panic as a spur. Glancing around, and at the newly risen sun to get my bearings, I set off the way he and I would have gone had the Tongu not overtaken us. Soon, they would set their beasts on my trail and follow after. This time, I thought grimly, they would not catch me.
I slowed now and again to squint into the sun and glance about me to get my bearings. I estimated I was about a league or so from the escarpment. While I had no bow to take out the Tongu if they found me on the escarpment, they would still not be able to take me if I was ahead of them. They could not circle around, nor would they shoot to kill. Most of all, they would have to climb down as slowly down as I did. If I got enough of a head start, I might yet elude them. Kel’Ratan and my boys lay two or three leagues beyond the escarpment. Once within their protection, no Tongu on earth could ever hope to harm me.
I set swift, steady pace, a lope I could sustain for hours, if necessary. The sun sent jagged spikes of pain lancing into my still teary eyes, and I wiped my face as I ran. Wolf was dead. Nay, he lived and I would come back with Kel’Ratan and the others and rescue him. Wolf was dead. I would die if he was dead. He had to live. Wolf was dead. Nay, I would return, and kill the Tongu. Wolf was dead.
I could not get the refrain out of my gibbering mind. Wolf was dead. No, he lived and I would get him out of there. Wolf was dead. Tears flowed anew at the thought of Wolf’s death. What was he to me? A slave, a nothing. A som
eone I found I cared deeply about. Only a few incredibly short hours ago I insulted him and threatened to kill him. He had absolutely no reason, no reason, to sacrifice himself to save me. I treated him badly. He could have freed himself and run, as intent as the Tongu were with raping me. He would have been miles away before they even discovered him gone. His final smile when he saw me free haunted my vision. He cheerfully died for me. He cheerfully died for me.
A fierce savage pain ripped my heart. That smile. Oh, that smile. Only now, at his death, did I discover a man with whom I might be able to share everything with. Never before had I found in a man all that I wanted in a potential mate. My father’s decree be damned. I should be free to find the man I wanted, not whom my father wanted, I thought, furious. The bitterness that even should Wolf still be alive and we found love within each other, we could never be together. My father will make damn sure of that.
The hot surge of adrenaline gradually faded as I ran, pain slowly creeping past the horrid thoughts of Wolf’s death. My ankle, badly injured, now had been bearing my weight at a full run for nearly four miles. Its hot agony forced itself into my awareness, but I set my jaw and grimly ran on. Dodging trees, ducking branches, I held on, moving steadily forward until my left ankle gave out entirely.
A scream snagged in my throat as I fell sideways, striking my head on a hidden rock. I thrashed in the underbrush, moaning, holding my left ankle in both hands as though that would halt the hot bolt of agony from surging upward to my knee. Even the pain in my head failed to overrule the torture of my foot. I rocked back and forth, crying, twigs and small stones digging into my butt, feeling nothing save the currents of fire that lanced up my leg.
After a long, slow time, the fire in my ankle cooled to a heavy pulsing throb with my weight finally off the injury. My sobs and shrieks slowly died into hiccups and I quit crying. I took a deep calming breath, slowly regaining control of myself. It’s a bloody good thing your only witnesses to that scene were a few squirrels, I thought with wry humor. I hoped they would keep what they saw to themselves.
Wiping my face with my filthy hands, I threw my streaming oily hair back over my shoulder and looked about me. The sun shone down benignly, the air still cool enough to be comfortable before the day’s summer heat took over. Birds flitted and chirped from nearby pine branches. A squirrel complained of my presence in his territory from the safety of an oak trunk. The slight breeze stirred the shadows of the undergrowth to dancing. I took heart from the normal forest sounds, remembering the black silence that fell over the woods when the Tongu drew near. I had no idea why their presence frightened the forest creatures to silence when my own did not, but the memory of it spurred me up.
My ankle had swelled to three times its normal size, my normally almond skin darkened, almost black, halfway to my knee by the deep bruising. Stunned by its grotesque size and color, I felt a little sickened by what I saw. That foot could not bear my weight any longer. I looked around, hoping for something, anything, with which I could bind it. If it had the support of a splint, I might yet be able to hobble and keep going forward. Sticks I found in plenty, but no vines to bind them. Naked as I was, I had no clothes with which to tear apart and wrap my ankle.
The squirrel, furiously scolding me, suddenly shut up and vanished. The soothing breeze died. I could no longer hear any birds chirping or fluttering from branch to branch. I glanced up, my mouth suddenly dry. Why did the sun no longer shine so bright? It was still there, for I could see it through the tree branches. Yet, a strange pall hung over it. Evil pervaded the very air, choking me. Lady above, nay.
The Tongu.
The hairs on my neck suddenly rose to stiff attention. The squirrel, the birds, the insects and even the sun felt their resident evil. As did my instincts. They were coming. Their dreadful hounds had picked up my scent and even now hunted me. They had subdued, or killed, Wolf, and set off to recapture me. Now there was naught at all, no Wolf, no vengeful daemon, to stand between rape and me. Panic, tasting like hot, sweet copper, flooded my mouth. I began to shake. I had no weapons, an injured leg and no chance at all of defending myself. Bloody hell, I didn’t even have clothes.
Calm down, I ordered myself. I fought hard to regain control of my runaway wits. Using calming techniques taught by my sword master oh so many years ago, I stilled the panic. I thought hard, savagely. If I kept going, I may stay ahead of them. I had no doubt Kel’Ratan and the others were searching for me. I also knew the escarpment was not far away. There was also Bar. If I could get to Bar first…
I could hardly walk. I needed a crutch.
Then my eyes fell on a stout oak branch, thick as my thigh at one end, tapering down to the thickness of my arm at the other. I grabbed it, fingering the sharp broken ends. A rock might help. Seizing a jagged stone, I set to smoothing the rough edges of the branch, shaving off the ends of twigs down the length, shaping it into a useful crutch. The ends still cut deep into my palm, and I once more shaved the harsher ends off. When I carefully staggered up to my strong right foot, the crutch, while still painful under my arm, held my weight without digging too deeply into my flesh.
Driven by the panic that still crept forward to nag at the edges of my mind, I lurched onward for another hour. I hopped and skipped forward, keeping the fear and panic at bay by concentrating on not tripping over rocks or deadwood. I quickened my pace to that of a crippled beggar. If the Tongu came for me now, they would have no trouble whatsoever in overtaking me. I tried to increase my speed, hobbling and skipping along, but despite my care, stones and undergrowth constantly tripped me up. I set my jaw grimly and stubbornly stumbled on.
The deathly quiet around me informed me they hunted me still. How close were they? The pervading evil only told me they were close, but not how close. They might be a mile behind, or only a few rods. I’d never know until their hounds nipped my heels. They knew I was naked and injured and had nowhere to go. With Wolf tamed and broken or dead (my mind shied away from that thought), they knew I was no match for them. I despised the fact that they were right.
Kel’Ratan and the rest of my warband lay only a few leagues to the east. No doubt, they were already hunting for me, worried, seeking me with every resource they had at their disposal. They would have no idea where Wolf might have taken me, but I knew they would have started a search of the forest. Wanting to estimate my position from the escarpment, I decided I was further from it than I previously thought. I struggled on.
Something passed between the sun and me. A bird? Whatever it was flit past the candle of my eye in less than a heartbeat. I glanced up, but saw naught but sun and green. I stopped mid-hobble, scanning what I could see of the sky between the tops of the trees, looking, searching all around for another shadow. Could it be? Come back, come back, damn it.
Two grizzled hounds burst out from the undergrowth a few rods from me. Their lips skinned back from savage white teeth, but once again, in a fleet instant, I saw their muzzles tied shut. Whipping my crutch out from under my arm, I cocked it. Balancing my weight on my good right leg, I swung the crutch, now a heavy club. I had chosen well. Solid oak and still green, it was as hard as iron. The hound, a few strides ahead of its mate, leaped toward me. My club caught the beast squarely on the side of its head. Skull crunched under the impact. I had no time to consider its death, when the other hound also leaped, snarling voicelessly.
My warrior instincts and training took over. As in swordplay, rather than meet it head on, I melted to the side. My weight, solid on my right leg, shifted me to my right, where I held the club. The hound’s leap took him past me, but he wheeled. Almost mid-jump, he turned, his hind legs thrusting him forward, digging furrows in the dirt. My club, on its returning swing, caught the hound under the jaw. I hit him hard enough to snap him backward. He flipped up and back, hitting the ground hard on his spine and tail.
I didn’t look to see if I killed him. I knew the Tongu would run right behind their hellhounds. I readied myself, my stout club, undamaged by
the two hard impacts, raised high.
They did not disappoint me. Three of them burst out from under the trees, their tattooed faces and scarred throats as familiar as old friends. Undaunted by my readiness and my club, they rushed at me. They held no weapons in their hands. So they still wanted me alive.
Come on, big boy. Let’s dance.
The first one ducked my swing, but I still hit him on the shoulder rather than his head I aimed at. He staggered to the side, passing me by. My returning blow caught the second in the ribs. His choked off wheeze told me I did some real damage. I set myself to receive the third when my left leg failed me utterly.
I needed two sound legs with which to fight. When I instinctively sought to balance on both legs to bring my club around to swing at the third Tongu, running a few feet behind his brothers, my left leg collapsed under me. My wild swing missed the Tongu completely. His arm around my waist finished what my treacherous left leg started. I went down, the Tongu’s foul-smelling, hissing body on top of mine.
The impact knocked the wind from me. Gasping for much needed breath, I hit him, hard, on the ear with my fist. History surely repeats itself, for the Tongu hissed in pain and struck me a wicked blow across the face.
Half-stunned and sick with pain, I struggled, kicking upward with my knee, seeking his soft genitals. I hit only his rock hard thigh instead. He grunted, his dark evil eyes peering down at me, his triumphant grin white in his tanned face. He pinned me solidly, my wrists hard against the damp earth and dead leaves. I lost my grip on my club.
In a Wolf's Eyes Page 33
