NINE
Something crashed through the brush. Elaine tried to face the sound but couldn't move. She struggled just to breathe. If it was some great beastie come to eat her, she could do nothing to save herself. The thought made her angry. She took another painful breath and fought to sit, leaning against the tree that had nearly broken her back.
Elaine stood knee-deep in snow, sword out, shield gripped close to his side. Two wolves circled him. He struggled in the deep snow to keep them both in sight, but they seemed to know that and turned opposite each other. Neither Elaine nor the beasts had seen Elaine.
She sat on the cold ground and watched her brother. What could she do to help him? She was no fighter. She did not even have the fighting knife that the woman with gold eyes had had in her vision. She had a small dagger for cutting food, stripping wood for a fire, but not fighting.
One wolf leapt at Elaine. He slashed it, and it yelped, falling back; fresh blood seeped onto the snow. The other wolf lunged onto Elaine's back before he could turn, bringing him down under its weight. Fanged jaws opened wide to crush his skull.
Elaine screamed, "Nooo!"
The wolf whirled, still pinning Blaine with its weight but not biting. It turned amber eyes to her.
She struggled to her feet. The wounded wolf stalked toward her, stiff-legged. The other wolf turned back to Blaine, lips drawing back from fangs. Blaine managed to get one shoulder up. The wolf bit down. Blaine screamed.
Elaine looked around for something, anything, to use as a weapon. She pulled a tree limb from the snow. The wounded wolf crouched, haunches tense, ready to spring. There was another scream from Blaine, but Elaine had no time to spare for him. The wounded wolf hurtled toward her. She held the tree limb out before her like a sword.
The wolf hit the branch, and though Elaine managed to hold on to it, the weight shoved her back into the snow, the snarling wolf atop her. The wolf was caught on the stick like a tent on a pole. It struggled, claws flaying, scratching at her face and arms. Elaine screamed.
A sword slashed out and down. The wolf's head tumbled away, and blood sprayed out into the snow, over Elaine's face. She threw an arm up to protect her face. The tree limb collapsed; the wolf dropped atop her. Blood pumped out on her, down her neck, soaking into her clothing.
She screamed. Blood poured into her mouth and eyes. The wolf slid to one side. Hands lifted her to a sitting position. She struggled, screaming, throwing her head from side to side, scraping at her face.
"Elaine, Elaine." Elaine's voice.
She blinked up at him. Her eyelashes were sticky with blood. He cradled her against his cloak. Blood smeared along the white fur.
"I thought the horse might have killed you," Tereza said. She stood over them, cleaning her blade on a bit of cloth. "I didn't know you'd be fighting wolves."
Elaine swallowed, tried to think of something to say and coming up with nothing. Blaine was alive. She was alive. The wolf was dead. There was nothing to say, except, "Where're Konrad and Thordin?"
"Here I am." Thordin stepped out of the trees. He held a rawhide string in one hand, a necklace of fresh wolf ears threaded on it. They made a trail of crimson drops on the snow like bread crumbs.
"Where's Konrad?" Jonathan asked.
"The beast that lead the lesser wolves took off through the trees almost as soon as we arrived." He frowned. "I've never seen a huge creature like that turn tail without a fight. Konrad chased it with me, yelling for him to come back. But our first task was to protect the travelers, not go glory chasing."
Elaine's stomach clenched tight and cold. "Konrad is out there alone with that beast. We must help him."
"Now, child, either Konrad is fine and will come dragging his tail home, or. " Thordin shrugged.
"Or what?" she asked, but she knew. Thordin's matter-of-factness was too callous for words. "You have to help him."
"Oh, aye, child, but first I heard you screaming. Konrad's better at taking care of himself than you are. And this brother of yours." He nudged Blaine with his foot, smiling.
How could they all be smiling when Konrad might be dying or dead? Elaine knew her visions would show her Elaine's safety, or lack thereof, but she wasn't sure of Konrad's. He could die without her knowing. The thought made her throat ache with unshed tears.
"He's all right, Elaine." Blaine helped her to her feet. He winced as he took her weight. She pushed back his heavy cloak. His left shoulder bore tooth marks. Blood trickled down his arm.
"Does it hurt?"
He gave a crooked smile. "It would have to be the same arm the tree tore."
"Can you move it, boy?" Thordin asked. He proceeded to manipulate Blaine's arm, making sure it had a full range of motion. The arm did, but Blaine was tight-lipped and sweating when it was done.
"He's hurt; can't you see that?" Elaine said.
"Yes, but he's not too hurt to fight."
A horse pushed through the underbrush. Konrad was on it. He seemed uninjured. His eyes widened. He leapt off the horse and ran to Elaine. "Sit down, for gods' sake. You're wounded." He pushed her back into the bloody snow, medicine pack already open. His strong, sure fingers searched her face, neck. Fingertips kneading her scalp searching for the cut. She'd never felt his hands on her body so strongly. She didn't know whether to say something, or not.
It was Blaine who said, "It's not her blood."
Konrad didn't even look up. His healer's hands still searched for the wound he was sure was there.
Blaine touched his shoulder. "She's not hurt." Then it was Blaine's turn to frown at her. "You aren't hurt?"
Elaine looked at Konrad's serious face, so close, but finally said, "I don't think so."
Konrad blinked as if just now paying attention. "You aren't hurt?" He sounded like he didn't believe it.
Elaine wished she were hurt. Some small wound that would bleed a great deal and look more serious than it was. She started to say no, then realized she was. There were lines of dull, burning ache on her cheek, arms, ribs. She raised a hand to her cheek, rubbing at the wolf's Wood. She gave a soft hiss.
Konrad turned her head to one side. "Scratches." He glanced down at the headless wolf. "This?"
"Yes."
His fingers held her chin firmly, but not hard enough to hurt. He poured water on a rag and rubbed the wound, trying to clean it. The rag's cold water was still warmer than the surrounding air. It stung.
"What happened to the beastie you were chasing?" Thordin asked.
"I lost it in the trees." He never took his eyes from Elaine, from his work. His concentration was pure; fighting, healing, whatever, he was totally absorbed in it, as he had been in his love for his wife, as he was consumed in grieving for her.
Elaine realized with an almost physical jolt that the very trait she loved most about Konrad was the one that made him oblivious to her. His grief would live forever, as his love would have.
She stared into his green eyes, and he did not truly see her. He might never truly see her. That one thought hurt more than any wound.
Konrad lifted her arm. The claws had scratched through the cloth here and there. It was hard to tell if the wounds bled, for she was covered in wolf blood.
"Were you lying under the thing when it was beheaded?" he asked.
"Yes."
He made an exasperated sound low in his throat. "Who killed the wolf?" He looked up for the first time. "Blaine?"
"It wasn't me. I was too busy killing my wolf. In fact, after you see to Elaine, I've got a bite in my shoulder."
"Is anyone else hurt?" He bent back to Elaine. He'd unlaced her sleeve and was pushing the cloth back to reveal the white undersleeve. He traced the scratches. The cloth had protected her arms for the most part-no deep wounds.
"I'm living a charmed life of late," Thordin said. "Two encounters with evil and not a scratch."
"I slew the wolf," Tereza said.
Konrad rubbed salve into all the scratches he could find. "Why did you have to behead th
e blasted thing on top of her?"
"It was about to kill her," Tereza said. Her voice was warm with the first stirrings of anger. "If you hadn't gone off chasing boggles, you might have been here to help."
Konrad's shoulders hunched as if she'd struck him. Elaine stared at him. What was happening? What was he thinking to make that one remark hurt so much? His hands were smoothing salve on her cheek, touching her, the thought was enough. His mind opened to her like a door swinging wide.
He'd chased the great beast as though it had slain his wife, though Elaine didn't understand why. Beatrice hadn't been killed by wolves of any kind. He felt guilty for leaving them all, for failing them, as he'd failed his wife. Why failed?
His green eyes looked at her at last. They searched her face, seeing her, truly seeing her, as she had always wanted him to. But it was pity, not love. His thoughts filled his eyes like water and spilled into Elaine. She'd swallowed the wolf's blood. It was no natural wolf, and one way to become a werewolf was to drink the blood of one.
Elaine stared at him, mouth slowly opening in horror. Her eyes widened. "No, it wasn't."
The sudden tenderness on Konrad's face was too much. His pity was overwhelming. Why couldn't it have been love? The salty tears stung the cuts on her face.
"What's wrong?" Elaine asked.
"Did you swallow the blood, Elaine?" Jonathan asked.
She stared up at him with panicked eyes. "Yes." Her voice sounded strangled.
"No," Tereza said. "It was just a wolf."
"That size, in the company of a man-wolf," Jonathan said. He shook his head.
"No," she said again, voice strong and sure. "It was just a dire wolf, unnatural perhaps, but not a werewolf."
"How do you know that, Wife? How?"
Tereza shook her head stubbornly. "It doesn't have to be a werewolf."
"But what if it is?" Konrad said.
They all looked at Elaine. Blaine fell to his knees beside her, tears running down his cheeks, freezing in tiny silver beads on his face.
"But Blaine was bitten. Is he in danger, too?"
"I have a salve for scratches and bites if I can get to them before the poison has time to spread, but… if you swallow the blood, the salve cannot help."
"Surely a potion," Tereza said.
Konrad shook his head. "Most who drink the blood want to be a werewolf. There is no potion to save those who don't want to be saved."
"There is a way to tell if wolves are natural or not." Gersalius sat on his horse at the edge of the clearing. He had been so quiet Elaine had forgotten about him.
"What of the travelers?" Jonathan said, "Will they be safe while we linger here?"
"Safe enough," the wizard said.
"Jonathan, if there is a chance to know whether Elaine is contaminated, we must take it."
Jonathan turned to his wife. "Magic to save us from magic."
Tereza made a small pushing motion with her hands. "Enough of this argument, Jonathan. Do what you must, wizard."
Jonathan opened his mouth as if he would argue, but didn't. "I will go see to the travelers." With that, he took his horse's reins and walked back the way Thordin and Konrad had come.
With a sinking heart Elaine watched him go. Did he hate magic more than he loved her? She watched him disappear through the trees and feared it was so.
Gersalius pulled a small mirror from his pocket. He sprinkled a pale powder over the glass and spoke a few soft words. The sound raised the hairs on her body, like an army of marching ants. The air was too heavy to breathe, as if a thunderstorm hung in the air. Elaine looked at Konrad, but he was looking at the wizard. No one else seemed to feel anything out of the ordinary. There was an almost audible pop. Then Gersalius put his mirror away and said, "They are just wolves."
"Even I need more proof than that," Tereza said. "You spill some salt over a mirror, mutter some nonsense, and expect us to believe it's magic?"
"Look at your friend's trophies," the wizard said.
Thordin looked down at his necklace of ears. He raised it slowly so all could see. Two of the ears were human.
Gersalius smiled. "It's a good spell. Not very flashy, but it gets the job done."
Tereza could only nod. Elaine could only stare at the two very human ears.
TEN
One deadman was wearing full-plate armor. Elaine had seen such shining metal only twice before, on the wealthy, or the foolish. Much of what stalked the land was not kept at bay by armor. The wolves had been, though; four of the great beasts lay scattered around the deadman like a child's broken toys, four dire wolves killed by sword, not by arrows. He had been a great fighter. Now he was so much meat for worms.
She shook her head, huddling her cloak tight around her. With a little water, she had cleaned off what blood she could, but the blood had frozen in her hair in crimson ice. She needed a hot bath.
The second deadman was young, about the same age as Elaine and herself. His curly brown hair was cut unfashionably short. His face was handsome even in death, soft as if he had smiled often. Two wolves lay dead at his feet. One had been pierced through by two arrows. The fletching matched the pattern in the arrows in his quiver. Two arrows loosed, with the beast barreling down on top of him. It had died, and the second had come in. Barely time to draw a sword. He and the wolf seemed to have killed each other.
Only the woman and the wounded … man-creature still lived. They were still in front of the tree where they had been in her vision. The spell that had saved them was still in place. As it had kept the wolves out, it now kept them in.
Gersalius knelt in the snow in front of the spell. It glowed very faintly, the purplish-pink of wild roses. If he looked directly at it, there was nothing to see, but from the corner of his eye, half-glimpsed, it shimmered. Gersalius ran long fingers along its winking surface. Tiny sparks of violet-pink sizzled in the cold air. The sparks had a more solid color than the shield itself. That's what the wizard called it, a shield spell. Elaine had never heard of such a thing.
"I cannot dispel it," Gersalius said, at last. He stood slowly, as if his knees ached from touching the cold snow. He looked suddenly old. "You must help me, Averil."
"How?" the woman asked. Her unnerving eyes, the liquid gold of a gaudy sunset, stared at the wizard.
Elaine couldn't meet the woman's gaze. She had never seen a human with such eyes.
The rest of her was ordinary enough, if lovely. Her hair was a rich, chestnut brown with a deep copper gleam where the winter sunlight touched it. She was not overly tall, in fact thin, dainty as bird to look at. Her face was delicate, but human enough. Only the eyes gave lie to the rest. Her cloak was black, thick, but not expensive. The dress she wore was a reddish brown with white linen showing at its square neckline and wrists. Her only decoration was a golden chain with a charm on the end of it. It was the tiny carved figure of a stylized human.
The man still lay on the snow inside the shield. His left arm was gone, torn away in the fight. The arm lay by the shield, encased in its stout brown sleeve. Blood stained the snow from its broken end like a bloomed flower.
His skin was like the shield in a way. If you looked directly at him, he seemed pale, but here and there from the corners of your eyes, his skin was dusted with gold, like highlights in hair. But his hair seemed beaten gold, so metallic it didn't look real. His eyes were the same color as his daughter's.
Averil, the woman, was his daughter.
Averil had tied a tourniquet on the stub of his arm. Without it, he would have been as dead as the others. "How can she aid you, magic-user?" the elf asked. Elaine had heard of elves but never seen one. She found it easier to look at him, alien from the top of his head to his toes, than to meet Averil's eyes. The elven eyes in that human face were more disturbing somehow, as if the eyes had only borrowed the face and did not really belong there.
"If she would place her hands on the shield and try to dispel from your side, while I do the same out here, perhaps we can break it
."
"If you saved us, Gersalius, why can't you dispel it?" Averil asked.
"I never took credit for this piece of work."
"This is not your spell?" Jonathan asked.
"No."
"It is not mine, either," Averil said.
"Whose then?" Jonathan asked, his voice thick with suspicion.
"Elaine's," the wizard said. As he said it, he turned and smiled at her.
She shook her head. "I didn't do it." Everyone was looking at her; most didn't look happy. "I've never heard of such a spell. How could I have done it and not known?"
"What did you do in the vision, just before the wolves leapt?" the wizard asked.
Elaine looked down at the snow as if it held some clue. "I didn't want to see them killed. I couldn't just watch." She looked up, staring at Gersalius. "I thought, 'I won't let it happen. I remember reaching out to them as if I could touch her, save her."
"And so, you did," he said.
Elaine shook her head. "I couldn't. I wouldn't know how."
"Whether you knew how or not, Elaine, you have done it. Now we must dispel it."
"Can I do that?"
"Yes."
"Then why were you asking Averil to help you, and not me?"
"Because I thought it would upset you that you had cast yet another spell without realizing it. If Averil and I had failed …" He shrugged.
"I know now, so how do I dispel it?" She walked toward him, the furred cloak whispering over the snow. The shield seemed brighter, the color of spring violets. With every step she took toward it, color flowed into it, until it bathed the snow in a soft purple glow.
"Your magic recognizes you," Gersalius said.
Elaine stared at the glowing shield. It recognized her? She tried to be afraid but wasn't. In fact, she wanted to touch it, to run her fingers along its gleaming surface. It was akin to the desire she'd had to touch the wizard's hands in the kitchen. Magic called to magic. Her own magic called most strongly.
"Touch it," he said softly.
Elaine reached out to it. Her hands tingled with its nearness. Her skin was stained violet, as unnatural-looking as the elf's, but she didn't care. Her hands sunk into the glow with a gush of sparks that flared and blinded her. She took a sharp breath, and as the air went into her lungs the spell went into her skin. She felt its being absorbed, like a tingling lotion. Then it was gone.
Death of a Darklord (ravenloft) Page 8
