Rogue Knight (Medieval Warriors Book 2)

by Walker, Regan

  “The beast is close,” whispered Geoff.

  Renaud’s horse tossed its head, sidestepping away from the rock outcropping in front of the trees. Reining him in, Renaud took off his glove and reached out to stroke Belasco’s sleek gray coat.

  The predator howled again.

  “Do I imagine it, Geoff, or are there more in the woods these last days?”

  “’Tis the lack of game, Ren. The wolves suffer along with our men. No knight can fight without meat to sustain him.”

  “Cheer up, my hungry friend,” encouraged Renaud. “The campaign for Maine is over. Duke William has his victory. We will soon return north to his table in Rouen where food and wine are plentiful.”

  Geoff grinned. “And you can claim a share in the duke’s victory since ’twas you who provided the strategy that gave him his victory.”

  “It was only a thought I had that appealed to him. He is the master of strategy.”

  “’Twas more than that, Ren, and well he knows it. William values your advice as few others. ’Tis a fact he is a worthy master. Make no mistake, you will have your reward.”

  “I am but William’s man, Geoff. Mayhap one day that will—”

  Without warning the wolf leaped from the rocks and sank its claws into his hauberk, cutting off his words. Yellow eyes flashed as the beast bared its teeth and reached toward the pulsing vein that held his life’s blood. Gripping the fur of the wolf’s shoulders, he strained to hold the beast at bay.

  The panicked horses screamed. His stallion reared, toppling man and beast to the snow-covered ground. Renaud hit the frozen earth with a heavy thud, his breath leaving him with the force of a fist in his gut. Gasping for air, he struggled to hold the beast’s snapping jaws away from his neck.

  Geoff quickly dismounted and drew his sword but it was a fruitless effort.

  Renaud and the beast rolled across the frozen ground, locked in a battle to the death, leaving Geoff no clear target.

  Renaud grunted as his bare hand slipped on the wolf’s throat. The beast jerked its head around and sank its teeth into the flesh of Renaud’s wrist. He shouted his anger as pain burned through his arm and blood trickled over his hand.

  For a scant moment, the wolf released its hold on his wrist allowing Renaud to grip the wolf’s neck below the snapping, snarling jaws.

  Geoff circled the battling pair, looking for any opening to offer assistance.

  Razor sharp claws raked Renaud’s hauberk as the beast sought to tear the flesh beneath.

  Rolling on top of the wolf, Renaud delivered a crushing knee kick to its body. But the wolf’s desperate fight continued.

  Drawing upon his remaining strength, Renaud straddled the thrashing animal. With an anguished battle cry, he jerked the beast’s head to the side and twisted the corded muscles of its neck.

  The wolf’s neck gave with a crack. Its body went limp.

  The battle was over.

  Renaud gasped in the frigid air, his frosted breath escaping his lips in a rush, as relief flowed through him. His throat burned and his lungs heaved as he looked down upon the dead wolf still clutched in his hands. The smell of blood, like iron and earth, rose to his nostrils.

  “Mon Dieu!” He thrust the carcass away.

  Geoff sheathed his sword and rushed to Renaud, kneeling at his side. “Here,” he said, handing him a cloth, “wrap this around your wrist ’til we can see to it properly. We had best be away. The scent of blood will draw more.”

  Still breathing heavily, Renaud wrapped the cloth tightly around his damaged wrist and rose, brushing snow off his mantle with his uninjured hand. He whistled and his stallion turned toward him from where he pawed at the ground a short distance away. It seemed the animal was as eager as his master to leave the dark threatening woods.

  Renaud strode toward his approaching horse with Geoff close on his heels. The woods had gone quiet, the jingling of their spurs on the ice-crusted snow the only sound.

  He paused as a thought came unbidden. Turning, he looked past Geoff to the dead animal lying in the snow. The full moon’s light reflected off the white-blanketed earth revealing the copper tinge of the beast’s fur. An unusual red wolf.

  “What is it?” Geoff asked.

  “Bring the wolf. I may have a use for its pelt. Mayhap ’twill serve as a worthy reminder to any who cross me in the future. Their fate will be the same.”

  Copyright 2014 Regan Walker