Under the Wolf's Shadow

by A. Katie Rose

  With a half-thought, I changed Kel’Ratan into his human self.

  Not expecting it, he staggered and almost fell. “Hey,” he snapped, clumsily regaining his balance. “Dammit, give some warning, will you?”

  I changed forms as well. “Listen,” I said, pulling Ly’Tana and he in close. “You two stay human. As soon as you see a chance, duck behind it. It’ll hear you back there, but it can’t see you. Use swords, knives, arrows, anything you have, but cut away at those legs. Send some arrows into its lower back, you may weaken it that way. But watch that tail. If its hits you hard enough, it can take you out.”

  The Guardian, as though tiring of waiting, walked, catlike, toward us. It hefted the spear, but I knew it wouldn’t throw it. No sense in tossing away your only weapon. Darius said it wasn’t very smart, but it knew that much.

  “One more thing,” I hissed at them, my eyes on the approaching monster.”

  “What?” Ly’Tana asked, nocking another arrow.

  “Stay alive.”

  I kissed her quickly, on her lips, then sent her off to the right flank. A swift wave sent Kel’Ratan to the left. Breaking off, they sidestepped carefully out of the Guardian’s direct line. It paid them scant heed, its calm eyes and erect ears were focused on me.

  “What do you want me to do?” Rygel asked.

  “Stay a wolf for now,” I said. “Unless you see an opportunity for human weapons. It’s impervious to magic, but we still may use our powers in some form.”

  The Guardian was only a few rods from me. “Thunder, harry his rear. Silverruff and Little Bull, take his flanks.”

  As the wolves slunk out of the monster’s way, it paid them less heed than it did Ly’Tana and Kel’Ratan. Like the beacon on my head, calling me to Darius, perhaps my presence called to the Guardian. It certainly ignored my companions. That indeed may be an advantage, however small, I suspected. If it chose to think of them as insignificant bugs, they might commit some real damage before it realized its error.

  “I don’t suppose you’d consider surrendering,” I said to the Guardian, drawing my sword.

  It came on. If it understood me, it gave no sign. It certainly didn’t speak, nor try to communicate in any way. The spear in its right hand rose to stabbing level.

  “I reckon not,” I said. “Very well then.”

  I deflected its first clumsy lunge with its spear, my sword’s blade sliding it harmlessly past me. The creature blinked, as though not quite understanding what just happened. Taking advantage of its confusion, I stabbed its belly.

  Even with my strength, the tip went in a few inches and lodged there. As the spear came around, aimed at my head, I yanked my sword loose and ducked in the same motion.

  “Damn,” I said, leaping back, out of harm’s way. “This isn’t funny.”

  Snarling, Rygel dove in, attacking the beast’s feet. Those at least were vulnerable. His fangs drew red before the Guardian could quickly dance away, the stone spear swinging down to swat Rygel like a bug.

  Lightning quick, he dodged the blow and retreated, his lips blood-stained.

  “Attack its rear,” I called. “Hit it hard around the back and legs. That’s where it’s weakest.”

  Sheathing my sword as next to useless, I went wolf. Bigger now, and faster, I charged in, aiming for its lower belly. Covered in less fur, it may, perhaps, be less armored there. Brief flashes of movement behind it informed me Ly’Tana and Kel’Ratan shot arrow after arrow into its back and legs.

  Ducking inside the beast’s wild downward swing, I bit deep into its gut, tasting blood. Yet, my fangs couldn’t reach past the heavily corded muscle that guarded its vital organs. I dodged a second swing, the stone spear whistling past my head. I stepped back, out of range, and waited for a better opportunity.

  It bellowed in pain or rage as Thunder and steel-tipped arrows struck the back of its massive lion legs. Thunder’s great jaws closed on its lion hock, biting deep. Yet, I heard no bones snap. Its wings whipped the air as its tail lashed, trying to strike the tiny folk behind it. Ly’Tana danced out of reach while Kel’Ratan ducked low, and the deadly tail swung over his head.

  Thunder, too slow to get out of the way, was struck in the shoulder. It’s power bowled him over, rolling him across the stone floor. Battered but unbowed, he arrived on his feet and shook his head, clearing it of its subsequent haze. With a snarl, he dove back in and seized hold of the beast’s leg again.

  Guided by one mind, Silverruff and Little Bull closed in fast. As they would take down a real bull, they aimed for its hamstrings. Without its legs, the Guardian would fall, and thus be ours. Blood poured from deep rents in the tawny hide, but it remained steadfastly upright and as nimble as cat. Its speed took my breath away.

  Wheeling, it pounced, swinging not just its spear but its fist. That clenched left hand sent Little Bull sprawling. I distinctly heard bones break and knew Little Bull had just been taken out of the fight. Silverruff, hit a glancing blow with the butt of the spear, staggered away. Bleeding from a gash on his head, he shook his ears, his amber-brown eyes unfocused. The Guardian spun again, and, finding him hurt and seriously weakened, attacked. Its stone spear raised high over its horns, its intent clear. Silverruff limped out of reach, but couldn’t move fast enough.

  I leaped in, silent, utilizing not just my fangs, but my weight. Hitting the beast solid, I broke not just its concentration but its direction. The spear point came down and struck solid rock, not Silverruff’s flesh and bone.

  “Get back,” I cried, biting at its belly, its groin, its legs, whatever I found in front of my face.

  Arrows whizzed past me, sinking into short-haired legs, many sticking there like porcupine quills. None of them offered the Guardian much more than an annoyance, nor crippled it.

  Bending over slightly, the beast tried to seize hold of me, crush me within its grip. I dodged and snapped, my teeth sinking deep into the flesh of its left wrist. It roared in pain, its first vocalization, as I crunched down hard and splintered bones. It tried to jerk its arm back, but I grimly held on. It yanked me off my feet.

  Flames suddenly erupted. Wicked flashes of orange and white seared toward its bull muzzle. Startled, it forgot me, and my grip on its hand, for an instant. The Guardian drew back, confused, roaring and clamping its teeth.

  Human, his hands extended, Rygel sent wave after wave of hotter, angry fire into its face. It stepped back, trying to stem the licking flow with its right hand, and me still clinging to its crushed left wrist. The blaze did little damage I could see, hardly blackened its whiskers, but certainly confused the hell out of it.

  Despite the handy distraction, the beast swung the stone spear and jolted me off my grip. Rolling away, bruised but unhurt, I regained my paws and danced out of reach.

  “Keep at it,” I yelled, nipping behind the creature.

  Another blast followed the first, but the Guardian learned quickly. It didn’t use its spear, nor its hand, but leaned backward slightly. Its tail acting as a balance, it rocked forward, utilizing its very potent hind feet. Its swift right leg kicked out, and struck Rygel crosswise. Like a child’s toy, Rygel sailed through the air before crashing into the far wall. Limp, perhaps lifeless, he collapsed on the stone floor and lay still.

  I checked a moment, half-praying he was still alive, unable to concentrate on the blood-bond between us. I couldn’t tell if he still lived. Dammit, Rygel, you better not be dead.

  Recovering, my heart in agony, I dropped low. The beast turned, its whip-like tail aiming to take me out. It missed my head by a foot, but cracked across Kel’Ratan’s chest. As he choked and wheezed, staggering away, the beast followed after and raised its stone spear. I took full advantage of its lack of concentration as it ignored me and the danger I posed for the first time.

  Aiming for its hamstring, I slashed my fangs across the back of its lower left leg. What Silverruff and Thunder couldn’t accomplish, my greater jaw strength did. I broke through the tough hide and sliced through th
ose necessary ligaments a beast needed to maintain an upright and standing position.

  Severed tendons shouldn’t hold the Guardian up. If any animal received the same wound, it died quickly after. However, the Guardian proved a stout and resourceful beast. It staggered, limping, its tail giving it much needed balance as it hobbled on its healthy right leg and put some weight onto its badly damaged left. The stone-tip stabbed toward me again, forcing me to dodge. It followed me, often using the spear as a crutch, now desperate to kill me. I’d already given it two crippling wounds. Desperate, it realized it must kill me soon or it would die.

  I danced forward, aiming for the sturdy right lion leg. It knew my intention, and its broad ears flattened. It bared broad bovine teeth in a fearful grimace, raising its spear. It spun sideways, keeping its weapon between me and its right side. Though I feinted right, and quickly dodged left, the damned beast read my intention to lunge hard behind it.

  Swinging fast and low, the Guardian struck quickly and mercilessly. I was too close, and failed to escape this time. That damned stone spear hit hard across my left front leg.

  I felt it shatter. A nauseating bolt of agonizing pain ripped through me. White hot fire blazed up from my leg, sizzled across my shoulders and chest, into my brain. Suddenly hot, dizzy, I panted in short bursts, my tongue lolling.

  “Raine!” Ly’Tana screamed.

  On three legs, I shambled aside, avoiding the creature’s death thrust. Like the Guardian, I couldn’t move quickly. But neither could it. Like a parody of a battle, I limped away while it limped after me.

  Before I blinked, Ly’Tana stood between me and the beast, her bow raised, an arrow nocked. I heard the dim creaking of the bow when she drew the string to her ear. The arrow whined sharply as it left the string on its upward journey.

  It’s razor tip pierced the beast’s right eye with a distinct thudding sound.

  It howled.

  Blood streamed down its bull jowls and muzzle. It rocked back on its tail, almost fell, its angel’s wings flaring wide for balance. Dropping its weapon, the Guardian yanked the arrow from its blinded socket with both hands. Gore poured out of the wound like fine wine released from its bottle.

  Still roaring, it bent down to retrieve the stone spear. Before it’s hand could grasp it, the stone spear vanished.

  The creature screamed again–this time in rage.

  Rygel sat up, grimacing in pain, holding his battered chest with his arms. Yet, his teeth gleamed in a swift grin of triumph. “It’s gone, beastie,” he called weakly. “You won’t find it.”

  Before I could yell in triumph at his genius, Rygel’s eyes rolled back in his head. He slumped against the wall, his chin on his chest–passed out cold.

  Wounded, crippled, now weaponless, the Guardian straightened. Its once mild brown eye glared with hate and impotent fury. It turned that ferocity not on me, but on Ly’Tana.

  She held her ground, a warrior true, nocking another arrow and calmly drawing the string to her ear. All her attention was on aiming that arrow at the creature’s right eye. A brilliant scheme, if she could pull it off. A blind beast was a helpless beast.

  I saw the blow coming. “Ly’Tana,” I barked, forgetting she couldn’t understand me. “Get back.”

  Ly’Tana saw the massive hand swinging toward her, too late.

  The arrow shot wide of its mark as the Guardian’s right hand swung down and low. Catching her on its fist, it tossed her like a rag toy into the air and against the unyielding wall.

  Bloodied, limp, lifeless, Ly’Tana slid down, leaving a red trail on the stone. Her body rolled onto her chest and face, still of any movement, to rest on the floor.

  I screamed.

  Inarticulate, roaring as much as it had done, I launched myself at the Guardian. I didn’t care what body part I bit off, for I intended to chew that bugger right down to the ground. It waited for my attack, its useful right hand clenched into a heavy club. I saw the blow coming, but three legs didn’t work as quickly as four. I scrambled to dodge aside, but failed. Struck hard from the side, I fell to the floor, half-rolling, my useless leg unable to hold me up.

  The monster pounced on me, wings spread wide, its massive hands reaching for me. My death, and its triumph, gleamed from its remaining eye.

  Like an arrow shot from Ly’Tana’s bow, Silverruff planted himself between it and me. Snarling like an outraged lion, Silverruff took the Guardian full on, fangs bared to rip and rend.

  The Guardian fell back a step, staggering, it’s useless left leg dragging. Unbalanced, it almost fell . . . only its right leg and tail kept it upright at all. Silverruff hit it hard, using fangs and claws, tearing gaping holes in the animal’s lower flanks. Thunder hit it from the rear, seizing hold of its fragile wing and snapping the light bones like twigs. Like a dog playing with a rope in its master’s hand, Thunder tugged hard on the wing, dragging the Guardian backward as it shrieked in pain and rage.

  My broken leg burning, I fought to regain my feet, chuffing, whining. I couldn’t enter the fight without four legs under me. Despair wormed its way through my soul. Half my small army were either dead or unconscious. The others hadn’t the sheer size and strength necessary to bring the Guardian down. And Ly’Tana–my mind shied away from the thought, unable to withstand the grief.

  We can’t win.

  As though hearing my thoughts, the monster bulled itself forward, dragging Thunder, still clinging to its wing, with it. Roaring in hurt and rage, it seized Silverruff, snapping, struggling, in its right grip and threw him. Like a grey, furry ball, Silverruff struck the implacable stone and fell to the ground. Blood pooled on the grey stone beside his head and muzzle. His eyes stared blankly. He didn’t rise.

  Sacrificing its own feathered appendage, it wheeled. The wing ripped loose from its shoulder, bringing a gush of hot blood down its back. Thunder, not disentangling himself in time, received a kick for his pains. He, like Rygel, sailed across the huge room to skid across the stone floor to lie still and silent. That’s it, I half-thought. That’s everyone out of the fight except me.

  The Guardian turned to me.

  Triumph and my blood rose in his bull’s eye. I backed away, snarling, unable to find an opening with which to attack. Without his weapon and crippled, he still moved with far more agility and potency than I did. His healthy, intact right hand swept around toward me. I tried to dodge, the broken bones in my leg grinding me to a gasping, hopeless halt.

  Suddenly, it screamed, its body stiffening. Its right hand swung around to pull the bloody hilt protruding from its hide. Bright red poured in a river down its legs, matting its hair and pattering in a light rain to the stone floor. It turned to its small attacker with Kel’Ratan’s sword stuck deep into its vulnerable lower back.

  Kel’Ratan calmly watched the Guardian stalk him, a dagger in his hand. As though at a casual, afternoon’s target practice, Kel’Ratan hefted the knife, switching the hilt for the blade. With a quick, deft throw, he sent the dagger deep into the beast’s face.

  It howled, bovine jaws wide, anguished, molars gleaming white as it tried to pluck the blade from its cheek. Managing it at last, it let the blade fall to the ground with a steely clang. Shaking the blood from its muzzle, it righted itself and once again set its sights on that red warrior.

  Kel’Ratan hefted another. This one struck, and hung, quivering, in the Guardian’s lower neck. The steel missed the jugular, unfortunately, yet still created a river of red that poured from the howling creature’s throat and down its chest.

  He raised yet a third, and cocked his arm back. Like Ly’Tana, he aimed for that huge brown eye. Surely he won’t miss–

  The Guardian’s fist sent him flying across the huge room.

  Kel’Ratan!

  Not that temperamental, inquisitive, irascible warrior I’d grown to love over the last several months. Please gods above, not him, too. Like his liege lady and kin, he hit the stone wall shoulders first. In a bloody pile, he slid to the floor and lay stil
l. My heart howled for me. Darius, you were to protect them. Not me, them!

  I’d have stood on three legs, gaping slack-jawed at the sight of the two Kel’Hallan warriors dead on hell’s floor until the Guardian snapped my spine if not for Little Bull. I jerked my eyes from the dead to the incredible sight of Little Bull. Broken, bleeding, he arrived from nowhere and attacked the beast’s healthy right heel. Both Silverruff and Thunder couldn’t do it. Little Bull almost failed. Finding new determination, he not just grabbed hold with his fangs, he twisted his neck at the same time. In true wolfish form, he snapped the creature’s one remaining, supporting tendon–its right hamstring.

  Howling, bleating, the Guardian fell to its knees. Little Bull, unable to leap out of danger’s way in time, fell under its crushing weight. It knew it was helpless. It’s one eye fastened on me as a long moan escaped its parted bull jaws. Its left hand useless, both legs crippled, it fell onto its one remaining healthy arm. Only that limb prevented its wild sprawl at my feet. I lost sight of Little Bull, buried under the heavy mass of its wing and furred haunches.

  His death left only me and the Guardian still alive.

  All the others, dead or as good as, could no longer aid me. Still alive and still very dangerous, the Guardian may yet survive this debacle. Wounded to the core, it had only to outlive me, even by a minute, seconds, to prevent Darius’ release from prison.

  I must take it down.

  To do it, I had only my fangs and a great deal of simmering anger. The deaths of those I loved, those precious beings who gave all so not just I might live. They died so that all the wolves across the earth would not perish for eternity. My rage grew and unfolded like Bar’s huge wings. ‘Twas high time I unleashed my daemon. My pain vanished. My friend, my protector, rose with a scream of rage. Lost under his power, his fury rage, I set him free.

  Today was a good day to die.

  “Come on, big boy,” I snarled. “Let’s dance.”

  Like lovers separated by a long, anguished absence, we rushed toward each other across the short distance.