Flying true, my fire hit him square in his gut.
Lit with fire from within, the man danced and jigged in place, flames spurting from his open mouth, nose and ears. Smoke rose in thick tendrils from his hair and homespun clothing. Flames belched from the ends of his fingers while his soft shoes caught fire. He drew in air to scream, offering much needed oxygen to the starved flames deep within. They climbed higher, burned brighter, lighting him up like a fallen star. His once pale face turned black; his tattoos melted, running, vanishing as his skin ran like liquid butter to drip on his now burning clothes. The flames, searing his throat shut, cut off his shrieks.
He fell onto his face, setting afire the dry leaves and twigs his dead body lay in.
I shook my head regretfully. “I reckon this wasn’t his lucky day.”
I glanced up at the frozen tableau, the taut faces silent in horror and shock. Even the hounds turned grizzled muzzles away from the horrid stench of burnt Tongu.
“Anyone else care to try their hand?” I asked.
Six sets of human eyes rose from the corpse. Hounds moaned, cowering. Even the mongrel belonging to the dead man failed to mourn his passing, and crept off to the side as though taking himself from the battle.
“No takers?” I asked.
I dropped my sword’s tip to the ground and leaned on the hilt. I waggled my fingers at the small fires burning merrily around the dead man, crisping the dead leaves and twigs. Small flames and smoke rose lazily about the blackened Tongu.
“Someone might want to splash some water over those,” I said. “I’d take it amiss if the forest caught fire.”
The redhead seized his waterskin from his saddlebow. He uncorked it, then upended it over the burning leaves. The fires died, hissing like their late master, white smoke rising from their ashes. Not entirely unexpected, water splashed onto the corpse. The suddenly heated water sparked and spat, jumping like live things before vanishing into nothing. The boy cried out with terror and loathing, drawing his hand across his mouth with a shudder. He backed away, his flesh beneath his freckles ghostly white.
Unarmed, his hands over his head, the frightened blond soldier dropped to his knees. “Mercy, Prince Wolf,” he cried, sweat trickling from his brow, down his pale cheeks and matting his fair hair to his neck. Blue eyes bulged in their sockets as his chest heaved. “Don’t be turning me into no crispy critter, sir. Let us go, please Yer Lordship, and you’ll never see us again. Never.”
“Whyever should I?” I asked. “You’re lying.”
“He’s not,” Darius interjected smoothly.
I scowled, not so much at the boy as at Darius. “You’ll set your masters on me the moment I let you go.”
“No, sir!”
A third young man, stepped forward. I recognized his voice as the one who admired my fangs and worried that I might be killed. He, too, dropped to his knee beside the straw-colored kid. His face remained calm, yet sweat trickled in rivulets down his cheeks. He spread his open hands to his sides.
“You heard him, Prince Wolf,” he said. “That bad man. If we failed to bring you down to him, if you escaped–”
He smiled slightly, his fingers gesturing toward me, up and down my immense size. “–should you escape, milord, our failure means crucifixion–”
“Or worse,” chimed in the fourth. “Kill us now, in your mercy. Kill us quick. Or let us go to Arcadia.”
“The Arcadian king is offering gold,” the blond boy said, his tone eager. “If the King’s soldiers desert and join his army, he’ll give us gold. The sergeant told us.”
Still keeping an eye on the shocked, silent Tongu, I nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense. Brutal is raiding his borders.”
The calm one nodded. “Yes, milord. Arcadia wants to rid the High King of his forces at the same time expand his own. The sergeant–”
His eyes roved toward where that sergeant’s corpse lay and his throat bobbed in a sharp gulp. “–he said King Brutal is too willing to slay his own men for failure. Is this true, milord?”
I nodded, fetching a sigh. “I’ve heard it’s true.”
“Would you slay your own men, if defeated in battle, milord?” the calm boy asked. “You being a prince, and all?”
“Of course not,” I snapped, not liking this turn of the conversation. “How stupid is that.”
“We heard what happened to our brothers in arms,” the calm boy said, his voice quavering. “That dark lord said it himself. Those you didn’t kill that night died–” He gulped, sweated and continued on, his courage undaunted. “They were tortured for days.”
His eyes found the panting Tongu hounds. “They even killed the dogs, sir. You heard him say so. It weren’t the dog’s fault, sir.”
“We just want out, Yer Lordship,” said the blond. “Won’t you let us go?”
“Or permit us swear our loyalty to you.”
The calm boy’s soft voice jerked my head up. “What? Don’t be absurd, boy. Where I go you can’t follow.”
His mouth opened to protest until he caught my eye. He shut it quickly, his throat convulsing.
“What about them?” I demanded, jerking my head toward the pair of surviving Tongu.
“We ain’t with them, Prince Wolf, sir,” the blond boy stated.
The redhead shrugged. “They came with the dark lord, sir. They aren’t with us.”
I eyed the Tongu. “You also know the penalty for failure. Do you seek my mercy?”
The taller of the two straightened, his eyes blazing. His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before he spat at my feet. “We will inform our Lord Tenzin of their betrayal,” he hissed, his eyes cutting to the four. “He will be glad of our loyalty.”
I chuckled. “Well, you can dream, anyway.” As I glanced at the three hounds, an idea rose. “Call them.”
“Milord?” The calm boy straightened, his eyes following mine to the three miserable mutts.
“If they come when you call, take them with you.” I grinned. “Save them from the fate their masters face.”
“Of course, milord.”
“You can’t!” the Tongu gasped.
I shrugged, chuckling. “It’s their choice. I suspect those hounds know what’s best for them.”
Bending over, the boy snapped his fingers. “Come here, fella. Come on. Let’s go.”
Three sets of grizzled heads swung toward the sound.
Following his lead, the other three lads whistled, snapped fingers and called in encouraging voices. The hounds raised wagging tails with ears perked; pink tongues caught between fangs. They stared at the young men, their brown eyes alight with interest.
The tall Tongu who spat stepped forward, as though to prevent a hound from making a choice. Taking a hint from Ja’Teel, I remembered a distant lesson taught by Rygel. As he had frozen me, Ly’Tana, Kel’Ratan and her warriors in that far away inn chamber, I halted both Tongu with my magic. Only their eyes flickered, wide with fear, as they found themselves unable to move to step, scratch their noses, or take a piss.
“Chill, boys,” I murmured. “Methinks your hounds like these youths better. Or perhaps they appreciate the niceties in life. Like living.”
The hound belonging to the toasted Tongu took the first step. I supposed since he now found himself masterless, he knew he needed, wanted, a new master. Perhaps he craved a leader more disposed to kindness, not evil. Maybe he’d like a master who threw a ball for him to fetch rather than send him to kill a helpless human being.
He took a second step, then a third. Within a moment, he nuzzled the cheek of the calm boy. Half-afraid, half thrilled, that young soldier caressed wiry ears, smiling, nose to nose with a killer dog.
“I ain’t never had a dog before,” he murmured.
A second hound followed, walking straight toward the redhead without hesitation. Brutal’s former soldier stroked his head and past his ears, his jaw gaping in awe. The third hound abandoning his stilled human to creep on lowered legs, whining, to the young blo
nd. Like his brothers, this mongrel discovered the joys of unconditional love the instant those humans hands touched his canine head.
I glanced at the one quiet young man, aloof, watching his brother soldiers fuss and play with their new friends. He felt my eyes on him, and glanced up.
“Sorry,” I murmured. “Not enough mutts to go around.”
He grinned, a sudden bright, cheery smile. “That’s alright, sir,” he said. “I’m allergic.”
Against my will, a short laugh burst from my throat. “Boys, get on your horses,” I ordered, half-strangling. “Should I ever see you again, you’d better be loyal Arcadian soldiers.”
“Right, yer Lordship.” “Yes, sir.” “Your will, milord.”
The former Khalidian cavalry scrambled to their feet, rushed to retrieve their swords, hang crossbows to pommels, grab quivers and mount their horses. Their new hounds, without a backward look at the ones they left behind, leaped beside them. They chuffed, their cut throats unable to give voice, yet their plain brown eyes lit with what . . . joy? Wiry muzzles parted in happy pants, tongue lolling, as their boys jumped aboard their skittish, white-eyed horses.
A wave of nostalgia washed over me. I saw wolves dancing about the horses of Kel’Hallan warriors, happy, their human friends laughing down at them. The vision overlay the sight before my eyes, of dogs and boys uniting in mutual love and joy in being together.
The two visions joined and intermingled, soon so intertwined I couldn’t tell one from the other.
“You did well today.”
I ignored Darius as the Khalidians shouted and saluted me, kicking their horses into a gallop toward the west. The Tongu hounds raced at their heels with tongues flapping, paws flying to keep up. The group disappeared into the forest, downhill, toward Arcadia. Within moments, I couldn’t even hear them.
“A dog’s loyalty, like a wolf’s, is unbreakable,” I said thoughtfully, staring after them. “Those fellows knew the future you chose. They knew what their fate would be, the same as those hounds who died in agony. Why would they remain loyal? To what would you have them remain loyal?”
I turned back to the hunters, my brow hiked. “Something to think about, eh?”
I sheathed my sword at last, eyeing the pair of draft horses still hitched to the tree and branch sled. They waited with the eternal, calm patience of their kind, hip-shotten, ears slack.
“You want to change your minds?” I asked the Tongu, still wrapped, like a birthday package, within my magic. “Say the word and you can leave, never to return.”
Only dark eyes defied me. They had the means to speak, but didn’t even offer me that much respect. “Your funeral,” I muttered, turning away. “Ja’Teel and Tenzin will show up eventually, wondering what’s keeping you. Those boys will be leagues away by then, as will I.
“You, however, will still be standing there. I’m sure you’ll have pissed your drawers by then, reeking like a cesspit.”
The team woke at my approach, stamping, snorting, near panic. Murmuring under my breath, I stroked their sleek bay hides, offering them confidence despite my predator’s odor. My fingers unbuckled their harness, working quickly in case they bolted. I didn’t want them dragging Ja’Teel’s contraption across the hills where they might get hung up.
Their nostrils sucked in my wolfish scent, yet my voice and hands soothed their troubled nerves. They settled, the one nearest me nuzzling my shoulder as I worked, snorting down his nostrils.
Freeing them at last, I caressed their soft muzzles for a moment. “I don’t suppose I can convince you boys to head west, not east?”
The massive bay geldings whiffled my hands, lips searching for more attention, ears perked and brown eyes bright. My hands on their necks, I pushed them on their way. “Gods walk with you and see you safe.”
The brown, black and white pair shambled away. At first they started eastward, toward familiar people and stable, following the direction of the Tongu’s long departed mounts. After a few long strides, they halted, heads up, scenting the breeze. Strangely, they turned around and began to trot, passing me by. In wonder, I watched as they hit a heavy gallop, white-feathered hooves rising and falling with thuds that vibrated my toes. Within a moment or two, they vanished under the trees, following the boy-soldiers and their new dogs.
“Did you do that?” I asked Darius.
“I?”
“Never mind.”
I walked a short distance away, prepared to turn wolf again. I spared the Tongu one more thought. “I’m thinking you’ll wish I had killed you, in the days to come. In your next life, if you have one, be certain to take the road of peace. It’ll save you much grief in the end.”
I changed into my other body. As their dark eyes glittered with hate and muted rage, my tongue lolled in a grin while they glared at my wolf form. “So long, boys,” I growled, my tail waving. While they could never understand me, I said, “I’d wish you long life, but, well, I’d hate to waste a blessing.”
Their muttered curses drifted to my ears as I ducked under the fir and balsam and resumed my trek north.
Li
Chapter 2
The enemy of my enemy is not my friend.
I sat aboard Shardon and waited. Studying the desert tribesman a bow’s length from me, I learned a few useful things. He wore the mantle of command as easily as Raine or my father. The scars on his face and hands said clearly he fought his battles up close and personal. Not a man to send his warriors forward while he led from the rear. No, this fellow fought like the lion emblem he wore at his throat.
For several long moments, he watched me just as closely. Not even Bar’s shriek a short distance above his head took that fierce stare from my face. He learned about me exactly what I wanted him to know: nothing. I matched his glare with bland, unblinking eyes. The battle of the eyes went on so long, mine burned with the intense effort to not blink.
The thought that he’d order his tribe to attack crossed my mind the instant he stirred. Here it comes. I gripped the hilt of my sword, prepared to draw. Shardon tensed under me, and I heard Silverruff’s soft growl on the light breeze.
Suddenly, the leader grinned, showing a full set of white, even teeth. His high cheekbones jutted beneath humorous, dancing dark eyes. “However, for you, Ly’Tana of Kel’Halla,” he chuckled, “I’ll make an exception.”
Laughing aloud, he nudged his horse up beside Shardon. Our mounts’ sizes didn’t match very well, and the difference forced him to tilt his head back to see me clearly. He wore a bright red head scarf that wound over his head across his throat and over his broad shoulders. Wide strips of leather banded across his bare chest with a sheathed knife ready to hand. A collar of beaten silver graced his neck, the snarling lion clasping the dark red mantle he’d thrown back to spread across his grey’s rump.
Dropping his reins to his horse’s neck, he set his palms together, flat, against his chest, and snapped a quick bow. “I am Li,” he intoned, formal. “Clan Chief of the Jha’fhar tribe of the Mesaani.”
Imitating him, I slapped my palms together against my chest and bowed over them. “I am Ly’Tana, Princess of Kel’Halla. These are my loyal warriors and our wolf friends. Here at my side is my kinsman, Kel’Ratan. My griffin, Bar, flies above you.”
Li gestured to his right, toward a heavyset man riding a glossy black horse with a white star between its eyes. His dark eyes matched Li’s exactly though he stood taller and broader in his saddle. I suspected the kinship before Li completed his introductions. “My brother, Illan,” he said by way of explanation.
Illan didn’t share his brother’s obvious enthusiasm. He and the group of warriors with him eyed us with disillusion. A few dropped their scarves–a sign of relaxed hostilities, I surmised. The rest remained vigilant and bristling for trouble, their faces concealed and their hands hovering too close to weapons for my comfort. If Illan plans a fight, how many here are loyal to Li? Despite Li’s peaceful overtures, I knew quite well how quickly a small disagre
ement can escalate into open battle.
Li relaxed his formal posture. “If you and your folk are going home, Ly’Tana of Kel’Halla, you are headed the wrong way.”
I swept my hair from my face, smiling sadly. “Though I wish that were so, Li of the Jha’fhar, we’re not going home. Not yet.”
“Then what do you here? With your wolves and your warriors.”
“We’re on an errand to find some monks,” I explained. “We’re in grave need of some holy advice.”
Li frowned. “Monks?”
“Yes. Those monks who speak to all the gods, and to whom all the gods will speak. The Huhtamaki.”
“Ah.” Li’s face cleared. “I know of such monks. Perhaps I may assist you in your quest, Ly’Tana of Kel’Halla.”
He enveloped us all in a grand gesture. “Come. My clan will offer you food, shelter and healers to tend your wounds.”
“Any aid you offer will put us deeply in your debt, noble Li,” I replied. “But I must ask this: why would you help us? We heard your people don’t tolerate strangers.”
“We do not.”
Illan tore his scarf from his face in an angry swipe of his hand, his lips thinned in venom and hate. Already tanned from the desert sun, his skin darkened with suffused rage. “You are not welcome here, mish’kra bitch,” he snapped. “Take your bird and your vermin with you.”
Li back-handed Illan across his hard-angled cheek, a blow that rocked that bad boy in his saddle. Blood spurted from under the fist he raised to shield himself from another strike. By Li’s instant reaction, I knew this wasn’t the first time Illan questioned and challenged his authority. Brothers they may be, but mutual love and respect wasn’t in their combined vocabulary.
“Dog,” Li spat, his big hand lifted to his brother. “Faithless cur. How dare you treat honored guests in this fashion.”
Illan spurred his horse out of hitting range, blood trickling from his nose and cheek. “I dare, brother,” he snapped. “When you disgrace our laws and our kin by offering salt to mish’kra.”
Under the Wolf's Shadow Page 2
