Rygel nodded. “He will, but I fear he must be carried. He’ll remain unconscious for hours, I expect.”
I gestured for Kel’Ratan and Corwyn to come forward, then looked past them. My boys worked hard to load the packhorses with our necessary loads, industrious amid the bodies of the dead Tongu and hounds. They manfully ignored the rising stench of the corpses, the sight of the dark beaks pecking white eyes from sockets, and the sound of tearing human flesh. My own gorge rose if I watched the carnage too long, my belly threatening to heave onto Li’s pristine mantle.
To my surprise Li’s warriors also helped load our gear. With their reins in the sand and hind legs hitched, the desert bred horses sighed and dozed, unmindful of the huge wolves trotting or walking among them. Their riders laughed and spoke, despite the obvious language barriers, with my Kel’Hallans. Wolves danced around, jaws wide as the desert tribesmen, entranced by their intelligence and behavior, rubbed ears and ruffled fur.
Li followed the direction of my eyes, grinning. “It appears my men are quite taken with you and yours, Ly’Tana of Kel’Halla.”
“Jolly good, dear Li,” I answered. “I’m quite glad we have loyal friends in the Jha’fhar.”
Kel’Ratan and Corwyn walked up, shoulder to shoulder, offering quick bows. Tuatha still weighing me down, I nodded toward Rygel. “Put him up on Shardon, would you? I think he needs the help.”
Rygel knew better than to protest. His jaw tightened as they parted him from Arianne and lifted him up. Shardon helped by ducking his shoulder. They boosted him into his saddle where he sat with shoulders hunched, sweat pouring from him in rivers. Darkened blond hair plastered in thick tendrils to his face and neck.
Li’s jaw dropped. “The Tarbane is not yours?”
I shook my head. “Shardon and Rygel belong together.”
Kel’Ratan gestured toward the fully laden pack horses. “Who do we put Darkhan on, Your Highness?” he asked, his formal tone odd in my ears.
I glanced at Arianne, seeing for myself she understood just where Darkhan belonged. I jerked my chin at Rufus. “Her Highness weighs next to nothing. Put him on Rufus. He’s strong.”
Darkhan’s dead weight proved quite difficult. Even Li joined in the effort to shove the huge dark wolf’s unconscious body into Rufus’s saddle. They stood back at last, panting from the effort, as Darkhan lay bonelessly across it, stirrup to stirrup.
Taking Arianne by her waist, Corwyn set her on the flashy stallion’s rump, behind the cantle–the only place left for her. He nodded at my silent request, and led the quiet bay toward his own horse. He swiftly mounted up while keeping Rufus’s reins in his fist. Arianne’s hands on her wolf’s body kept him in place.
Kel’Ratan, not Li, lifted me up and set me, Tuatha still filling my arms, on Mikk’s solid back. Before gathering his reins, I set Tuatha in my lap and ran my hands over Mikk’s thick neck. I leaned forward over the pommel to love, for just a moment, on my gallant Mikk. He turned his head slightly, his eye bright and ears perked at my silent yet heartfelt thanks for, yet again, saving my life.
“I see why your people love you so,” Li commented. He had vaulted into his own saddle and reined the grey around to Mikk’s side. “I do wish, Ly’Tana of Kel’Halla,” he said, his brown eyes laughing, “that I had found you before the illustrious Prince Raine.”
I covered his hand on his reins with mine, smiling into his eyes. “No,” I replied. “You don’t.”
“Are you a difficult and disobedient female?”
“Great Li, Clan Chief of the Jha’fhar,” I replied. “I’m as mean as a serpent with a toothache.”
He laughed, nudging his mount into a trot beside Mikk. “You are a treasure, indeed.”
My boys and their wolves fell into line behind us as we rode down into the ravine. Kel’Ratan and the grey-bearded warrior trotted just in front, chatting amicably. The remainder of Li’s warriors strung along in a disorganized fashion, a few to our flanks, and the rest joining my boys. Bar’s circling low overhead, his shadow passing back and forth over me, created untold havoc among the Jha’fhar horses. They might be able to accept wolves among them, but Bar tested their nerves to the limit. The Jha’fhar warriors rode their jumpy, snorting horses with careless ease, talking and laughing in their tribal dialect.
Soon, my various pains woke and didn’t merely whine, but yelled, full-voiced. Sweat trickled down my back and over my ribs under the fierce desert heat. Mikk developed a sharp limp as we trotted and loped across the sand, his head bobbing with each stride. Hang in there, love, just a little while longer.
I shut my jaw and smiled as Li spoke of his people and the frequent wars between his clan and the other Mesaani tribes.
“But,” he said, his teeth flashing in his brown face. “We unite quickly enough if the Dog Eaters send in their cavalry to claim tribute.”
He leaned over and spat in the dirt. “We send them home with their tail between their legs. That is their tribute.”
“Don’t you also unite to raid the caravans?” Witraz asked.
“Of course.” Li laughed. “Our women need their trinkets and cloth and jewels.” His grin included me. “We must please our women.”
I laughed with him, though it hurt like hell. Tuatha peered over his shoulder at me, sitting in my lap with his paws on my pommel. He whined, low, his blue eyes anxious. He wasn’t fooled one bit. Nor were Thunder and Digger who also eyed me with concern as they trotted at Mikk’s head. I dared not speak to reassure them for I knew my voice would betray my pain.
Distracting myself with Li’s chatter about his life and desert culture, I also kept my mind from my aches by observing the terrain about us. We rode through a shallow valley between low, sandy hills, their tops and sides dotted with thin clusters of tough grass and small bushes. Had there been no greenery they might have looked like sand dunes, for the mild wind shed loose sand off their tops in thin, wispy clouds. Riders, silhouetted against the sun, watched from atop the highest points and guarded against invaders.
I gauged the time to be mid-afternoon, the sun bright and hot. I hoped his nomadic camp lay close by, for I needed to shed these heavy slave’s clothes like no tomorrow. They stank of blood and sweat and filth, weighing on my shoulders like yesterday’s grief. My hair hung matted and oily, crusted with blood and crud. I half-dreamed of a hot bath while still nodding in all the right places.
With Li’s cheerful voice in my ear and the chatter of warriors trying to understand once another’s language the valley suddenly opened up. I checked Mikk’s limping gait and stared.
The wide expanse of desert, sheltered from the wind by higher hills, filled my eyes. A silt-filled brown river, unseen before now, flowed through it; watering a lush landscape on which horses, sheep, goats, and camels grazed. These valuable animals were well guarded. Warriors on horseback and on foot turned their heads to watch as we appeared.
Li’s explanation of the landscape and his tribe’s nomadic ways as we rode suddenly made perfect sense. Obviously selected for its lush grazing and protection from the weather, Li’s people lived here until they depleted the vegetation. Then they’d pack the tents scattered throughout the long river valley, and the tribe, along with its flocks and herds, would move on to better grazing. Meanwhile, the river’s water continued and saturated the soil, bringing new life, new greenery, until they returned. However, this wasn’t what caused me to rein in Mikk and stare, astounded.
‘Twas the hundreds of people who choked the valley’s mouth. I gulped. His entire tribe stands waiting to meet us.
Li chuckled, and by reaching out his hand, urged me to continue on. “This is an historic moment for us, Ly’Tana of Kel’Halla. You, your people, your wolves, your griffin and your Tarbane. We will be telling stories of you for generations.”
“I see,” I said, wilting. Gods above and below.
“I, of course, have full bragging rights.”
“Of course, dear Li,” I said, choking. “As you should.”
/>
The crowd parted down the middle, creating a wide avenue. Their voices raised in shouts and loud babble, talking to one another at seeing the foreign princess and her warriors. No few ducked and cried aloud as Bar swooped up and over them, almost causing a panic. At least he had the decency to refrain from shrieking as he usually did. That, no doubt, would create a riot of terror among these simple nomads.
“Decency?” His outraged voice sounded loud in my aching head.
Women wearing long skirts of brightly-colored linen, long filmy scarves that encircled their necks and wound across their breasts bent heads together and spoke with animated gestures toward Arianne and me. Belts of light silver chains clasped their hips, and loops of gold and glittering diamonds hung from ears and throats. No doubt plunder seized from the Caravan Route. Some wore head coverings of cotton or wool, loosely draped over their heads to cape their shoulders.
Warriors, too, wore red head scarves that wrapped around their throats and cast over their bare shoulders. Battle harness crisscrossed their sun-tanned chests and belts around their hips hung with sabers and daggers. Many held bows in their hands; from their shoulders jutted quivers of bristling arrows. They talked among themselves in their desert dialect and shouted to their brothers riding among us. Those warriors yelled back, gesturing around with excitement to include all of us and Bar. No doubt they reveled in being the heroes of the day, those who actually accompanied the strangers and whose stories of us might be bought with food and drink.
Children, mostly boys, shoved and pushed one another, their faces fearful yet excited. I surmised by their gestures and shocked laughter that they dared one another to touch a wolf. I turned my head to watch them, concerned the wolves might take offense. Black Tongue, White Fang, Nahar, Little Bull, Silverruff and Scatters Them trotted on, ignoring them. A few, Shadow, Lightfoot, Dire, and Joker, ran tongues out in lupine humor.
One lad, about Tor’s age I guessed, ran forward and actually touched Kip on the shoulder. He ran away, into the arms of his mates, laughing and leaping with joy. Kip, smart enough to know their game, flinched at the strange human tap on his shoulder, but trotted on beside the grey mare. He didn’t much care for the invasion, his ears said, but he’d not retaliate.
On his horse, Tor grinned down and said something to him. His words, amid the crowd and chaos, were lost save to Kip alone. In reply he grinned up at Tor, dancing, his jaws wide in wolf laughter.
Suddenly, Kel’Ratan and the greybeard halted in the middle of the wide lane. Like a breeze soughing through the winter trees, silence fell amid the nomads. From one end of the village to the other, a ripple of unease spread until no voice laughed or shouted with lively comments. Heads turned to the group of dark riders several rods ahead. I craned my neck, my curiosity piqued.
Amid the deafening silence and the stares, Illan and his warriors walked their mounts through the parted crowd toward us. Silverruff growled low in his throat, and for once I needed no translator. Bad shit coming. I slid my hand around my hilt, concealed by my slave’s rags. Though I knew Illan couldn’t possibly get past Bar, Kel’Ratan, my boys and all the wolves to cut my heart from my chest, my fighting blood boiled.
“He’s mine,” Bar hissed, banking on a wingtip and flying low from behind Illan.
“Back off.”
“I won’t–”
“He’s not here to fight.”
Li trotted his grey horse forward and past Kel’Ratan. “Illan? What means this?”
Illan and his cronies halted a few paces from Li. “I have been insulted, my brother,” Illan said, his tone dark. Though he’d washed the blood from his face, the mark of Li’s fist stood stark against his cheek and his nose appeared red and swollen.
The unnamed greybeard, with Kel’Ratan at his side, reined their mounts around. “I suspected as much,” the nomad said as he halted at my side. “Illan is angry the Clan Chief sided against him.”
“So he feels Ly’Tana insulted him?” Kel’Ratan asked, his chin on his shoulder as he watched the brothers.
The old man smiled. “In Mesaan society, an insult may be construed in a sideways glance. It doesn’t take much to set one warrior against another.”
“He’s going to challenge me.”
The greybeard nodded. “As the aggrieved, he is permitted the weapon of choice.”
“Oh, for the love–” Kel’Ratan snapped, his mustache at full attention. “She didn’t do a bloody thing!”
“Ah, but I did,” I replied, smiling. I gripped Kel’Ratan’s arm to calm him. “I was born.”
“If I kill him now, he doesn’t have much to bitch about, then does he.”
I spoke aloud in answer so the others would hear me order Bar to stand down. I wanted no mistakes. “No,” I said, watching Li and Illan ride closer. Side by side, they walked their horses toward me. Li scowled dangerously while Illan gloated. “You won’t kill him. If there’s any blood that needs shedding, it’ll be my knife that does it.”
“Ly’Tana of Kel’Halla,” Li intoned, formal despite his anger. “Illan of the Jha’fhar has declared a grievance.”
“I will hear his grievance.”
“Illan of the Jha’fhar declares you, Ly’Tana of Kel’Halla, did insult him. He must receive satisfaction.”
I smiled at Illan. “I will grant him satisfaction.”
Under Illan’s smirk, Li continued his formal declaration of combat while I itched to wipe that unctuous smile from Illan’s face with my blade’s edge. “Illan of the Jha’fhar challenges you, Ly’Tana of Kel’Halla, to fight him to the death. When the sun is the highest in the sky tomorrow, you will meet him to grant him satisfaction.”
I curled my lip in the manner Raine always had when confronting an enemy. “And what is his weapon of choice?”
“His hands.”
Gods above and below.
A dull roar of dismay swept through the crowds. A heavyweight warrior with umpteen skills at hand-to-hand fighting matched against an injured female who stood half his size? That wasn’t battle. That was slaughtering a lamb on the flaming pit.
“Not right!” Kel’Ratan roared at the same time Bar screamed, “Don’t even think it, pal.”
Silverruff, Thunder and Digger lunged forward, snarling with fangs bared. Left and Right quickly cantered their blacks past me and blocked Illan’s path. Their bows nocked and aimed, their silence dared Illan to take one single step. Li turned his face, tight with anguish, toward me. I’m so sorry, his eyes said.
I hadn’t relaxed my defiant stance. “Bring it on, little man,” I said, matching Illan glare for glare. “You don’t have what it takes to tame the vixen.”
Illan snorted. “Bitch. I’ll wash my hands in your blood.”
I laughed. “You’ll try.”
Angry, my acceptance of his challenge maddening him further, Illan yanked his horse’s head around. Striking spurs to hide, he and his followers galloped back the way they’d come. If the crowding nomads hadn’t fallen back, away from his path, they’d be trampled flat. He vanished into the dust of his wake, leaving me to curse invectives under my breath.
“Let me kill him,” Bar pleaded, circling over my head. “Please.”
I brushed a lock of hair from my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Bar wants to kill him?” Kel’Ratan asked, reining in his fury. “Perhaps you should let him.”
“And then Li will execute Bar for murder,” I retorted. “I’ve never run from a fight. I don’t intend to start now.”
“You aren’t fit to ride that nag much less battle a brute,” he snapped.
“I have until tomorrow to get fit,” I replied, glancing over my shoulder at a still unconscious Rygel. Where was my healer when I needed him?
Li walked his horse into the small crowd of me, Kel’Ratan, Alun on his mount at Mikk’s tail. Five wolves suddenly appeared under our stirrups. Left and Right pushed their way as close to me as they could get as Tuatha snarled sharply at Li’s unwelcome presence
.
“Illan is a not a bad warrior, but also not a good warrior,” Li said sadly, his brows puckered. “He has many enemy trophies in his collection, but he is lazy and finds the easy path to his goals. He thinks to kill you quickly and without effort, as you are unarmed.”
“Give her a bow,” Kel’Ratan began, but Li shook his head.
“Our laws are clear. Ly’Tana of Kel’Halla must fight him with only her hands as weapons.”
“She needs healing,” Arianne said from my rear. “She’ll hand him his ass, but only if she’s well enough to fight.”
The greybeard nodded. “Indeed, Ly’Tana of Kel’Halla. “Your wizard is unable to help, so perhaps you may permit me in his place.”
“And you are?” Kel’Ratan demanded before I could connect brains to mouth and ask the same thing.
Placing his fingers over his breast, he bowed low. “I am Einion de Tiarnan, former household vassal to King Droghal of Khassart. Most folks simply call me Smoke.”
Astonishment killed my pain almost instantly. “King Droghal of . . . Khassart?”
Amusement filled his hazel eyes although his facial muscles didn’t move. “Yes. I am Rygel’s countryman, though he wouldn’t know me. I left there before he was born.”
“You may trust in him, Ly’Tana of Kel’Halla,” Li said, correctly interpreting my hesitation. “He is our most skilled healer, and my chief advisor.”
“You are certainly full of surprises, Clan Chief Li,” I replied. “My lord Smoke, I’ll accept your offer of healing and gladly.”
“I don’t like it,” Bar hissed. “I don’t trust him.”
“You don’t trust anybody.”
“Well–”
“Clan Chief.” Arianne pushed her Rufus through the milling crowd of wolves and horses, Darkhan’s seemingly lifeless body under her hands. “We have many in need of care. Will you not–“
Li barked commands in his own language. Instantly, servants and warriors surrounded my boys and their horses, unmindful of the huge wolves skittering out of their way. Three men lugged Darkhan’s limp body down from Rufus’s saddle and carefully set him in the shade. Two strong, husky servants caught Rygel’s dead weight in their arms and carried him past the open flaps of a thick, hide tent. They emerged a moment later without him. A pair of veiled women with a bucket of water, cloths and jars disappeared within.
Under the Wolf's Shadow Page 4
