Rising on its hind legs, the Wolfman towered over Taliesin, muzzle dripping saliva as it howled with rage. Taliesin kept her sword raised high, aware its three companions were also in the midst of morphing into things out of a nightmare; things that snarled and snapped with elongated muzzles, stood like men, but had the heads of monsters and showed no fear of her swinging sword.
“Navenna, help me,” Taliesin cried out.
As the creatures advanced with claws raised, her prayer was answered as a large axe flew out of nowhere and slammed into a beast’s head. Grudge, holding a sword, ran from the trees and attacked the Wolfmen from behind. All four turned on the captain.
Taliesin heard a growl and watched in horror as the Wolfman reattached its arm and then its head to its body. A decision had to be made and quickly; help Grudge or kill the reassembled monster? She rushed the freakish beast and pierced it through the heart. As she lifted her sword, the Wolfman toppled over, stone, cold dead. She spun to face another wolf-thing lumbering behind her with gleaming yellow eyes. Its claws slashed through the air, barely missing her face as she plunged the sword into its stomach and sliced upwards, cleaving through the rib cage with ease and leaving its head dangling on exposed tendons. She hacked again and took off the head. As the body dropped, she stabbed it through the heart; it was the only way to be sure of killing the damn things.
Turning, she saw Thalagar returning with the two wolves on his heels. The horse ran toward her, turned when he reached her side, and kicked out with its hooves. A wolf, caught in the head, flew backwards, while its companion raced toward Taliesin. She swung her sword side to side as the furry body leapt toward her. It received a slice across its abdomen and dropped to the ground. She stabbed it through the heart and turned as the wolf Thalagar had kicked jumped to its feet, sniffed the air, and glared at her with glowing yellow eyes. Taliesin stepped in front of her horse and held her ground, horrified, as the wolf rose onto its hind legs, growing taller and more hideous by the second. Like the other Wolfmen, it turned into something between wolf and man, and she heard it laughing. A scream rose in her throat as she raised her sword with both hands and charged the creature, too frightened to think, caught by an impulse to kill or be killed.
The sword sank into flesh and bones with no effort, as if the sword had magic, real magic. But the horror of what she had struck overwhelmed all other thoughts.
“What are you?” Taliesin shouted.
“I...am...Wolfen!”
The wounded beast dropped to its knees, its human voice still ringing in her ears. It howled, and voices in the fog joined in. It came rushing toward her on his hind legs, foam dripping from his opened jaws. Reason fled her mind and she reacted on raw instinct and fear. With one mighty swing, she lopped off its furry head and then stabbed it through the heart. Blood splattered everywhere. Red on the trees. Red on the leaves. She hacked the beast into pieces, unaware of anything around her. Her sole desire was to cut the creature into pieces to make sure it stayed dead.
“Stop it, Taliesin! It’s dead,” Grudge shouted.
Taliesin let out a growl of her own as the sword was knocked out of her hand and flew through the air. For a moment, she glared at Grudge, barely aware he was human, or that he held an axe used to knock aside her blade. She took a step toward her sword and Grudge stepped in front of her, shaking his head.
“We’ve killed them all,” he said. “Calm down! We’re unharmed. You, our horses, and me. I’m not the enemy, Taliesin. It’s me. Grudge! Your friend.”
Her blind rage faded, leaving her exhausted, and she collapsed into a heap, sobs ripping through her body as she lifted blood-soaked hands into the air. A scream ripped out of her throat, and she sagged forward. The smell of death was thick in her nostrils. She was trembling from head to toe. When she grew silent, the forest grew still, and she heard a loud snort. It was Thalagar. A whinny came from Kordive as he trotted to the black stallion. The horses were soaked with blood and their saddles showed visible claw marks, but neither was injured. She drew in ragged breaths as Grudge calmly walked over to grab Kordive’s reins. He also managed to grab Thalagar’s reins, and led the horses to her.
“Get on your feet and climb into the saddle,” Grudge ordered, in a firm voice. “We killed ten scouts, but more will follow. Many more. Now you know what we are dealing with, Taliesin, it’s still not too late to change your mind about going after Ringerike. I’m sure Prince Sertorius and Captain Wolfgar are each going after the sword. When we catch up with your friends, be sensible and convince them to come with me to Fregia.”
Taliesin stood up, walked to her sword, picked it up, and wiped the bloody blade on the grass. She sheathed it away and returned to her horse. Thalagar nudged against her body with his head and stomped his foot.
“He fought. Thalagar fought for me. I never saw a horse do that before. I’ve never seen men turn into wolves. None of it was natural, Grudge.” Taliesin grabbed the saddle horn as Grudge held her horse. “I’ve never killed a man before. This was my first battle.”
“You did well, Taliesin,” Grudge said, his voice gentle. “So did Thalagar. He must come from a line of warhorses. I saw him fight for you. Only a warhorse will fight like that, and it comes from good breeding. Now come on. Get in the saddle. We must hurry.”
“You? Kordive?”
“We both fought, but neither is injured. That’s wolf blood. Now hurry, woman.”
Grudge grabbed her by the waist and helped her climb into the saddle. She let out a cry and held her hands to her side. He jerked her hands away and checked for wounds, but when he found none, he retrieved his battle-axe and remained standing beside his horse.
“Ride on and catch the others. I’ll meet you later at the Black Rock Inn. I must burn the bodies.” Grudge flashed a wide, toothy smile. “Take a bath. You could use one. Just don’t start drinking ale until I get there; I want to give the first toast. Later, I intend to do things to you that you’ve only dreamed about.”
“Sure, whatever. Sounds like a plan,” Taliesin said, not aware of what he’d said until she’d ridden out of the forest. But by then, too many miles had been covered to change her mind.
* * * * *
Chapter Ten
The sign of the Black Rock hung outside the door of the modest inn, the light through the windows shining goldenly as the sun set behind the mountains. Made of stone, with a second level, it lay nestled on a plain of tall grass that stretched for miles to the west. No horses were tied to the posts outside, and no music or noise came from inside the inn, leaving Taliesin with the feeling few ever stopped. She slid out of the saddle and led Thalagar to a rickety, old stable, finding a stable boy inside, who gave her a suspicious look.
“There’s a good lad,” Taliesin said, holding out a coin. “My horse is to be treated with kindness, fresh water, a bucket of grain, and rubbed with a cloth. Check his hooves, too. I don’t want him coming up lame.”
The boy took the coin, his eyes widening as he saw it was gold, and with the customary quick bite between crooked teeth, he placed it in a pocket of his tunic. He took the reins to the big black horse. “This one is Andorran,” he said, “They’re desert horses known for their speed. I think they’re the finest horses of any breed.” He scratched behind his ear and smiled at her. His hair was bright red and his nose hosted a score of freckles. “No one has ever paid this much. He must be special.”
“Oh, he is,” Taliesin said. On her way out of the stable, she noticed the crusted blood covered her hands and leather jacket. She’d lost her cloak somewhere in the forest. Stopping at a water trough to wash up, the task of removing her jacket proved painful. It fell to the ground, but even bending to reach for the jacket made her ribs ache, so she left it there and headed toward the inn.
“A moment, miss. You forget your bags.” The red-haired boy came running over, carrying her saddlebags across his shoulder. “I already brought in the bags on the mule and placed them inside. You’re Raven Clan, aren’t you?
Scavengers. We don’t get your kind here.”
“That a problem?” Taliesin placed her hand on the hilt of her sword, and the boy’s cheeks turned bright red. He gulped and quickly shook his head. “Clean that jacket and it’s yours. Its wolf blood. Wash it well, boy. In return, I’d appreciate your carrying my gear inside.”
A trail of dust followed the boy’s heels as he rushed toward the jacket and picked it up. His skinny legs knocked together as he hefted the saddlebags onto his shoulder and came to open the door for her.
“My dad said he knows Master Osprey. He said I’m not to talk to you, but you seem nice. I’ll brush your horse and make him a bed of straw.”
“Come inside, boy,” called out a voice as the boy led Taliesin inside the inn. The voice belonged to a large man with a wide girth given him by a robust appetite and rosy cheeks from consuming too much ale. He was in his forties, with a pleasant enough face situated on a short neck, and eagerly waved his son to the bar. “Another Raven?” the man asked.
“That’s right.” Taliesin offered a smile and scanned the interior. A cheery fire burned brightly in a large fireplace off to the side, with plenty of tables and chairs wiped clean, and a long bar placed against the far wall. Shelves behind the bar contained an odd assortment of glasses and jars and bottles of booze. The innkeeper was wiping a glass. “Are my friends here?” she asked. He pointed to a table in a corner where she saw Rook and Hawk eating their dinner. Wren wasn’t with them, but couldn’t be far way. Taliesin caught a glance of her appearance in a mirror hanging behind the bar and shuddered at the blood in her hair. Waving at her friends, she approached the innkeeper. “I need a bath, sir. Is it extra?”
“The boy says you paid with gold,” the innkeeper said. “Got a wash room you can use. There’s a hot spring beneath us, so the water is fresh, comes from the ground. Your friends didn’t complain. As I told my boy, I know you’re from the Raven Clan, so I know you can pay. Osprey is a friend of mine. Make yourselves at home.”
The innkeeper was in need of a bath, himself. His apron barely fit over his stomach and he wore his sleeves rolled to his elbows. He pointed to a door. A woman, presumably the boy’s mother, descended the stairs, and waved at Taliesin. “We have rooms for you,” she said, pushing back a wisp of black hair under her white cap. “Go on in, lady, and clean up. Water is hot as it gets.” She grimaced as Taliesin walked by, the scent of wolf and blood distinct among the odors of baked bread, ale, and the age-old wooden interior. Most likely, they hadn’t seen too many Raven Clan members in their inn, much less a woman carrying a sword and soaked in blood and bits of fur, though Taliesin wanted to know how the innkeeper knew Osprey. The story was likely to be interesting.
Inside the small room, she found a large copper tub filled with murky water bubbling from a hole in the ground. The fresh spring produced hot water and gave off an odor of moss and dirt. There was a small window with a cracked pane of glass, and a lit lantern on a small table. She shut the door, sat on a stool painted bright blue, crossed one leg over the other, and removed a dagger from a sheath on the side of her boot. She repeated the process with her other leg, and then pulled off both boots. The wooden cylinder rolled across the floor and stopped at the side of the tub. She picked it up, trying not to think about the pain in her side, and set it aside. She stripped out of her filthy clothes, left them on the floor, and stepped into the tub. The water was hot, a welcome surprise. A bar of soap with no scent rested in a bowl beside a folded washrag on a shelf. She grabbed both, sank to her chin, and then went under, coming up to find a layer of reddish scum covering the surface of the water.
Taliesin heard a rap at the door and sank into the water as the door opened and the innkeeper’s wife came inside the bathing room. The woman bent over to retrieve Taliesin’s dirty clothes and reached for her boots, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
“I’ll clean your things and return them to you, mistress,” the woman said. “Bathing salts can be found on the shelf. You best use them if you want to get rid of the smell of wolf. We don’t get many guests, but now and then Wolfmen do come here. Nothing smells worse than one of their kind; I knew the moment you entered what happened.” She turned around and went out the door.
When Taliesin finished bathing, she dressed in a soft wool tunic the color of a robin’s egg, gray slacks that hung wide at the ankle, and a pair of socks instead of her second pair of boots, then she tied her long hair into a ponytail with a leather band. She felt better, no longer stunk, and was ready for a tankard of ale and a hot meal. She winced in pain as she grabbed the scroll, her sword belt, and the saddle bags, and went out the door to see Wren, Rook, and Hawk waiting at a table. She joined them and placed her gear on a bench. Wren sat next to Rook and, as she took a seat, Taliesin noticed the girl held his hand under the table.
Hawk wore an anxious look on his face. He slid a pint of ale in a wooden tankard toward Taliesin and glanced toward the door to the inn. “Where is Grudge?” he asked.
“Behind me,” Taliesin said. She lifted the tankard to her parched lips and finished it in two big gulps. The taste was just right and took the edge of her grumbling stomach.
“Moon is up,” Hawk said, nursing a tankard. “He better get here soon, or we may have to go look for him.” He took a sip and foam covered his upper lip. “I heard the boy tell his father your saddle had deep scratches, and you were covered with dried blood. You didn’t murder Grudge, did you?”
She grinned. “No, but we did see a little action.”
“When I realized you weren’t following, I wanted to return and help, but I didn’t know what type of trouble I’d be riding into. Wren can get very scared in the woods. I have to think about her, you know. She is my sister.”
Rook made hand signs, which Wren translated. “Rook says he’s sorry we didn’t come back for you and hopes you aren’t too bruised.” She gave Taliesin a sharp look. “You were limping when you came in. Are you injured?”
“Thalagar threw me, but I’m fine,” Taliesin said. “Grudge and I killed ten Wolfmen scouts. He stayed behind to burn the bodies. It was probably a good thing you didn’t return. Trust me. It wasn’t pleasant.”
The innkeeper’s wife came to the table carrying a large bowl of delicious-smelling stew. Under her arm she held a fresh-baked loaf of bread Taliesin hoped wouldn’t taste of body odor. To the surprise of all, Wren took the bowl from the woman and set it before Taliesin. Waiting for Wren to spit into the thick, meaty dish, Taliesin stared at the pale hand that offered her a spoon.
“Thanks,” Taliesin said. She grabbed the spoon and dipped it into the stew, eating a mouthful. Wren smiled at her. It didn’t make her feel very confident about the bowl’s contents.
Rook started moving his hands and again Wren translated. “Rook says the Wolfmen have been following us the entire time,” she said, in a matter-of-fact voice. “I knew this would happen, of course. I had a dream about the Battle of Burnlak before it happened, and later dreamed the five of us were on the run, pursued by Captain Wolfgar.”
“I didn’t know you were gifted,” Taliesin said. “Minerva would have never let you out of her sight if she’d known; she always wants to know her future. Boils and bad breath, that’s basically all she can look forward to.” She finished the stew in several mouthfuls and pushed the bowl aside. “So, let’s hear about one of these dreams. Impress me.”
“The future is not set in stone and can change, so things don’t always turn out the same in real life, but they do come to pass in one form or another,” the girl said, using a finger to place a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Explain,” Taliesin said.
“I dreamed about the white stag we saw in the woods. My mother always said seeing a white stag was a symbol of good fortunate,” Wren said. “And it helped distract the Wolfmen. I’ve dreamed about them, too. The Wolf Clan is cursed.” She paused, apparently working up the courage to confess what she knew. “They are shape-shifters. I never thought Osprey or the oth
ers would believe me if I told them, so I didn’t. Few humans the Wolf Clan takes off the field are ever sold into slavery; they sacrifice the humans and eat them afterwards.”
“That’s because they’re not men,” Taliesin said. “They are Wolfen. I saw what I saw. I saw them turn into wolves. They can also turn into something between man and beast...something monstrous.” She tore off a section of bread and dipped it into the remaining liquid at the bottom of her bowl.
“My mother told me about men who turn into wolves at will,” Wren said. “She said the disease spreads through a bite or a scratch. Once infected, a person can shape-shift at will, though normally they prefer to change when the moon is high above, which is when they hold their rituals. She said these creatures can control their animal nature, are clever, and have kept their secret for centuries, killing or turning anyone who learns the truth.”
“Why didn’t you tell Osprey about this?” Taliesin asked. “The whole time you’ve been at Raven’s Nest you kept this information to yourself. I think that’s irresponsible.” She glanced at Hawk. “My father should have been told before he set out for Eagle’s Nest. The Wolf Pack will follow, just as they are following us. I left Grudge to deal with those dead things, but if he’s bitten...,” she shuddered. “It’s just too awful to think about.”
“It’s nonsense,” Hawk said. “Legends about men turning into wolves have always been told to children to keep them from wandering off into the woods alone. There was a lot of talk about the Wolfmen at Raven’s Nest. Osprey said the Wolf Clan are werewolves; mindless creatures that kill without thought and spread their infection the same way described by Wren. But what he didn’t tell me was how to kill one of them. If there is a secret, let’s hear it.”
Taliesin slid her hands across the table in an outward motion. “By cutting them into tiny, little pieces with a silver sword. That’s the only way to keep them from reassembling or re-growing missing body parts. You also have to salt the ground after you kill them. Fire works just as well, and that’s why Grudge burned the bodies of the Wolfmen. It wasn’t just to get rid of evidence.”
Seeker of Magic Page 13
