Shepherd's Wolf

by M. Andrew Reid

  Fletch was waiting for Athena on a tree branch, busily preening himself. He looked behind her and froze momentarily before buzzing into the air. He hovered at her shoulder protectively. Athena cautiously glanced behind, but nothing was there. She padded into the woods, toward the great wilderness stretching out to the sea on the far side of Verdia. Using her Huntress abilities, she searched Fletch’s memories, trying to figure out what the hawk had seen.

  Shadows dappled the forest floor, crisscrossing as sunlight found its way through the leaves. Silently, Athena moved in and out of the muddled light. The forest was Athena’s home, and whoever was following her would be foolish to try something among the trees.

  A twig cracked behind her. Fletch was eager to turn around, but Athena silently commanded him to stay close to her. Whoever was following was not good enough to be a threat, and could be dealt with when she deemed it necessary. Besides, no one could play twenty-four hours a day.

  …

  Wisp swore under his breath after crunching a twig loudly. The Bandit slowed down a bit, backing off his quarry. He knew that he would never get anywhere following the Huntress this way, so he decided to steal one of the Huntress’s tricks: tracking.

  Bathed in shadow and nearly invisible - even without the aid of his magic cloak - he slid a small dart from a sheath on his wrist. He flicked it with incredible accuracy, striking the Huntress’s pack. After several seconds, the dart crumbled to dust, but it had done its job. For the next three days, Wisp would be able to find the Huntress no matter where she was. Her location would appear like a bright star on any map he looked at. Now, he could sign off and go to bed.

  The Haven

  In a sunny courtyard, Haymaker sipped a bluegrass tea with his legs propped up on a table. The spectacle unfolding before him was amusing - Bishop was training his infant dragon to fly by running around with his arms out. Christine loped behind him as best as she could, but did not seem to get the point.

  The baby dragon was about the size of a large dog. She was growing fast and eating everything in sight. Fuzzy down was replaced by short feathers, but Christine was still ugly and gangly-looking. She ate fruit and greens by the cartload as well as the odd sheep. Her iridescent scales sparkled as she ran.

  Finally, Bishop gave up; he walked up to the table and sat. The dragon followed obediently and plopped down beside him. He took a breath and looked at Haymaker, about to say something profoundly sarcastic.

  A strange noise cut him short: the clash of metal against metal mixed with a loud cough. The sound repeated, and both men gaped in surprise at Christine, who was waving her long neck and shaking her head from side to side, producing the odd racket. She staggered to her feet and stumbled, shaking her head and letting out the grating metallic coughs.

  “What’s going on?” Haymaker yelled over the noise. “Is she going to explode or something?”

  Bishop grinned, “She’s lighting her pilot light. It’s another step in baby dragon development.”

  “Pilot light like on a stove?” Haymaker asked.

  “Pretty much. You can’t breathe fire without a flame.”

  The dragon gave one last cough, followed by a loud pop. Christine shook her head several times and slumped back on the ground, exhausted. Little heat waves drifted from her nostrils.

  Haymaker scratched his head, “Is she lit now?”

  “So it appears,” Bishop replied. “She won’t be able to shoot flame for another day or so though. She hasn’t started storing the gases yet.”

  “Storing the gases…”

  “Hydrogen on one side, oxygen on the other. Didn’t you read the dragon info I sent you?”

  “I looked at the pictures.” Haymaker grinned.

  “Figures.” Bishop rolled his eyes, “Dragons drink water and separate the hydrogen and oxygen. They have a small pilot flame at the back of their throat which burns methane and other digestion gases. It is lit by rubbing together tiny shards of metal on the vocal chords, which makes a spark.”

  “And that awful noise?” Haymaker asked.

  Bishop grunted, “Yes, and the noise as well.” He continued, “When the gases pass over the flame, they are combined and explode out of the dragon’s mouth. The dragon can vary the amount of oxygen mixed in and use digestion gases to make a cooler burning, oily flame.”

  “How does it separate the gases? Isn’t that hard?”

  Bishop shrugged, “Beats me. I guess nobody has figured that out yet. But in the next day or so she is going to drink a lot of water, and two pouches will start to form at the base of her neck. They will be icy cold to the touch.”

  “But she just sleeps for now.” Haymaker stood up, “I’m going to head out. See you tomorrow.”

  “You too.” Bishop settled back in his chair.

  Haymaker paused, “Have you heard about this wolf thing?”

  “Somewhat.” Bishop scratched his beard, “That’s not too far from here is it?”

  “Everyone thinks it has something to do with the contest. That’s a lot of money. This place could get crowded soon.”

  “We’ll just tell them that there are no wolves here - only old men and hippies.”

  Haymaker smirked, “Speak for yourself. I’m still in my prime, and I’ve never participated in a drum circle.”

  “Anyway,” Haymaker said, “we should tell the members to lay low for a while. Hopefully all of this will pass by without affecting us at all.”

  “I’m sure it will all blow over in a week.”

  Chapter 11

  Deadfall

  Bluegrass

  Athena the Huntress knelt over a large pawprint marking the smooth dark forest floor. Her red ears twitched nervously as she contemplated her next move. Violet eyes searched the trees and plants nearby. The track was very fresh; one of many that made a trail through this area. Small birds buzzed lazily about, drinking nectar from flowers blooming in the precious drops of sunlight that fell through the trees.

  She had caught the scent of smoke some time ago. It was a metallic, industrial smoke - something was burning other than wood. It had been a delicate touch of scent, and it moved on as quickly as it reached her nose. She could smell the wolf, now - and the boy.

  Her hunt was reaching a dangerous point. She risked scaring off the wolf and boy if she moved too hastily. If she moved too slowly, the Conquerors could get there first. Athena knew she had a follower, but had seen no direct evidence of him for some time. Either he was getting smarter, or she was getting sloppy.

  Quietly, she stood. Athena had removed her light boots. Claws retracted, her padded feet were silent as death as she gingerly stepped over the other wolf prints. Athena pressed onward, following the scent trail left by the wolf and boy.

  …

  Wisp clung closely behind the Huntress. His heart beat fast when he realized she had found tracks. The Potion of Stealth he had taken reduced his footfalls to whispers. Through blind luck he stumbled upon the rare herbs he needed to mix the potion. It tasted terrible, but hopefully it would prevent the Agilus Huntress from hearing his chest thumping as well.

  The Bandit treaded silently behind his quarry. He clothed himself in the shadows of the forest, taking special care to avoid the piercing gaze of that annoying hawk. Wisp was fully prepared to strike the Huntress down as soon as he was sure he could get the wolf on his own. The hard part was knowing when that time was, and being patient enough to find out. Wisp continued forward. Like his namesake, he was silent and silky as he crept over the soft forest floor.

  Or so he thought.

  His stealth potion wore off, and he stepped on a tree branch with an enormous CRAAAACKK! Wisp froze in place and slowly reached for his magic cloak.

  …

  Athena turned immediately and saw the wide-eyed Bandit less than ten feet behind her. She let out a yowl and drew her long knife, leaping into the air. She landed and swung at emptiness. When she rolled out of her jump, soft footprints scampered around her. Athena reached into a sm
all pouch on her belt and threw out a blue cloud of shimmering dust. Most the dust settled; the rest took the shape of a young man.

  The dusty blue wraith drew a sword from his back that fizzled and crackled with lightning. She deftly avoided one swipe, and then another. The sword thrust at her, and she parried. Her knife was made of bone; it saved her from being stunned by electric shock each time she made contact.

  For a while they crossed blades, neither showing signs of fatigue. Wisp was larger and stronger, with a better weapon. Athena was faster and - even a Bandit would have to admit - sneakier. She would make as if to strike low and rake out with her claws for his eyes. She would stab high and follow it immediately with a low sweep. The Huntress attempted several times to lead him into an obstacle like a root or a rock that would trip him up. However, the nimble Bandit was able to avoid these traps.

  Eventually, Athena decided the knife would not get the job done. She leapt back several paces and sheathed her knife while pulling her bow from her back. She reached into the quiver at her hip and began firing rapid shots at her opponent.

  …

  Wisp activated one of his Bandit abilities; his sword became a gray blur as he quickly deflected each arrow. For the next five seconds, any attack or projectile that came at him would be turned aside. He seized this opportunity and sprinted forward, arrows flinging away like raindrops hitting a stone. Arrows whizzed into the forest, burying themselves in the ground and in trees or sailing off into the canopy.

  He reached the Huntress and hacked at her with his sword, assured of victory as she now had no close-range weapon. The Huntress ducked low and tapped her bow on the ground twice. It creaked and twanged and wriggled into a dark, smooth staff. She brought it around in time to block another wild chop from Wisp’s sword. Both fighters temporarily lost their balance.

  The Huntress was faster to recover, and had the other end of the staff up quick, slamming it up into Wisp’s jaw. The Bandit grunted in pain and kicked her solidly in the chest. She tottered back, but rebounded off a tree trunk with a push from one of her paws. She jabbed the staff quickly at her opponent and he dodged around it- high, low, high, mid. A final jab connected with her slippery target’s gut, doubling him over.

  …

  Like a green and red and violet tornado, Athena whirled around and caught the Bandit in the back of the head with a hollow thunk. Another blow landed on his ribs, and the ground around the Bandit erupted in brambles and vines. The vines quickly tightened, rooting him to the forest floor as he struggled to break free. His sword hung useless in his right hand.

  Two bold steps forward and Athena knocked the sword free with her staff. A white flash and she had her knife pressed against the Bandit’s throat, “Why are you following me?”

  “I want to find the wolf.”

  Athena spat, “I know that, you fool. But who are you working for?”

  He chuckled, rattling the cage of vines and thorns, “I don’t work for anybody, sheila.”

  “I’m not Australian, you idiot. I’m from Wales.” Athena was amused but did not let it show, “Are you telling me you are here on your own? You aren’t working for the Conquerors?”

  “Screw them. I just want to know the secret of Verdia. The wolf has to have a clue on it. You looked like a good tracker and I knew you were looking for the wolf. So I followed you. And you caught me.”

  Athena paused in thought. Silly contests were of no consequence to her. Finally, she turned to her hawk, who had watched the battle from the safety of a tree branch, “What should I do with him, Fletch?”

  The Bandit groaned, straining to break free from the vines, “I know you found tracks. I saw how excited you were. They must be fresh and that means he’s close. If you kill me I’ll just come back here and make trouble for you. Maybe I’ll scare the wolf away.”

  Athena pretended was not listening. She did not like how this was shaping up - so close to her objective and now this foolishness. Sadly, the Bandit was right - angering him could prompt him to spoil her mission. The Huntress knelt in front of her captive

  “I am not here for the contest,” she said. “All I care about is finding the wolf and delivering a message offering protection to its owner. If you do not intend to interfere with this mission, you can follow me. But if you interfere, or if your bungling causes the Wolf Rider to bolt or run off, I will kill you and scatter your belongings all over this world.”

  Athena brought her large violet eyes within an inch of the Bandit’s face, “Do we have an understanding?”

  The Bandit nodded as much as the vines would allow him, “Yes. Can you cut me out?”

  She raised her knife to the thorny vines when the rustle of something large moving through the forest pricked her ears. Athena brought a finger to her mouth and crouched low. The Bandit gritted his teeth in frustration, still unable to move. Both of them watched as the wolf and two riders appeared in view.

  …

  Gabe padded lazily down a narrow path, picking his way over roots and rocks. Trees hugged the pathway, and their branches brushed against his flanks. The wolf paid the grasping leaves no mind, panting with his tongue lolling out one side of his mouth.

  “Do you really think he’ll give it back?” Laura asked Ben. She had received a message from the man who had taken her camera. The message said that it was now safe for him to return the camera. He told her he had been protecting it for her from the others who tried to steal it. She would meet him in a meadow several miles from Ben’s cabin. The meeting place was relatively close to where the camera had been taken.

  Ben shook his head, “I don’t know. I guess it makes sense that he would hang on to it until it was safe. He could have contacted you sooner, though.”

  “Maybe he was busy.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well I’m glad you’re coming,” Laura said. At least I’ll be safe if he tries something else. I need to get the camera back and finish my work.”

  …

  When the wolf passed from view, Athena quickly cut the vines from the Bandit. He stood up and stretched, and picked his sword off the ground. The Spark Katana slid cleanly back into its scabbard, and the adversaries eyed each other for a moment.

  Athena spoke first, “I’m Athena. What kind of clue is everyone expecting to find?”

  The Bandit shrugged, “I dunno. I think maybe you have to talk to the Wolf Rider and he gives you the clue. Maybe the wolf talks. Call me Wisp.”

  The Huntress grinned, her eyes becoming mirthful narrow slits, “A talking wolf? Did you hear the wolf talk back there?”

  “You’re basically a talking cat,” Wisp rebutted. “Maybe he’s a wolf of few words. You could follow his example.”

  Athena drew a breath of contempt, but could think of nothing to say. Another period of silence passed- wind rustled the branches around them.

  Silence ended when Athena tapped her staff on the ground, turning it back into a bow. She slung the bow over her shoulder and padded down the path, following the trail of the wolf and riders. They would be easy to follow to their destination. Athena would wait until they were someplace open to greet the Wolf Rider- she did not want to spook him.

  She looked back at Wisp, “Are you coming, Bandit? You aren’t going to win any money standing there scratching your arse.”

  Valor Estates

  The enormous screen in Victor’s study displayed a map of southeastern Verdia. Lines, dots, and notes crisscrossed the region’s various landmarks. Victor leaned back in a chair, pondering the map over a bowl of ice cream.

  No rhyme or reason could be found in the wolf’s movements. Reports had the white wolf coming and leaving from different directions. If Victor believed every report, his territory spanned an area the size of Texas. If Victor used some skepticism, taking only the most credible accounts by groups of people, it was still several hundred square miles of ground to cover.

  But Victor had discovered something that no one else would know. His first picture of the w
olf had contained the answer: it appeared that the Wolf Rider was friends with the girl who had recently parted with her camera. Viper would not have to chase down the wolf; the wolf would come to him.

  The time to prepare had come. He set the bowl down on a desk. It would be gone when he returned - removed by a nameless, unseen servant. He walked down a hallway to an elevator door. After a yawn, he pushed the call button, stepping in when the door opened.

  With a soft electric whir, the elevator opened to the back of a small movie theater. Track lights revealed ten rows of seats, which lead down to a tiny stage with a backdrop of maroon curtains. On the stage was a chair, not unlike a dentist’s chair. Coils of cable snaked from the chair across the wood floor, disappearing behind a curtain.

  Victor removed his shirt as he approached the stage. He stood in front of the chair and began attaching tiny electrodes to his body. The chair was experimental - he had paid several million dollars to Dalton for a prototype. When he ran in Verdia, his leg muscles contracted. When he threw his spear, his arms felt it in the real world. While using the chair, he only needed to return to reality for the occasional restroom break and to eat. Both of those necessities could be taken care of with a nutrient IV and a catheter, but that was a bit drastic even for Victor.

  When Victor lay back in the chair, he ceased to be Victor Valor. He became Viper, someone who could control the world around him in ways that no amount of money could buy. The real world faded, replaced by something better.

  Bluegrass

  It was midday, the green forest was as bright as it would get. Viper rose to his feet and patted Venom. She had stood faithfully by his side through the night. The horse was strong enough to fight off most attackers, but it was not necessary for her to stand guard.