Prince Wolf

by A. Katie Rose

  “We won’t,” Shardon answered. “Get out of here. You’re holding up progress.”

  Tashira aimed a playful nip at Shardon’s neck and trotted out of the circle of horses and wolves. He turned back, his tail sweeping the grass. “Behave yourselves, wolfies,” he said. “Look after her, or Raine’ll magic you into a pack of turnips.”

  Silverruff woofed. I wished I knew what he said, but suspected it a grave insult.

  “Your mama,” Tashira replied, dancing on his toes.

  Silverruff snarled.

  “You’ll have to catch me first.”

  Spinning in a tight whirl, he charged north, bucking, his mane and tail caught high in the sun-swept breeze. “See you all in hell,” he called back over his shoulder.

  Within moments, he galloped out of sight, the tall grassy hills swallowing him whole. I hardened my heart when it wanted to ache. He’d probably only get in the way, I thought, and I certainly didn’t want him peeping into my very soul every time he looked at me. I sighed, blowing my hair off my brow. And, I thought with almost sincere logic, Raine needed him and Tashira knew it.

  As though suddenly called by a whistle, the fifteen wolves melted out from under the hooves of our horses. My jaw slackened. Were they leaving us, too? They said they’d stay – had they changed their minds?

  Several rods away, they stopped, ringing Silverruff around. Though obviously unable to understand them, I listened as hard as I could. Someday, I thought, I’ll learn their language of barks, growls and sharp whines. How hard can it be to learn wolf-talk?

  “What’s up with them?” I asked the air in general.

  Rygel sat back in his saddle, his boots free of stirrups, and crossed his arms. “They’re deciding on whether or not to go with us.”

  I shut my teeth, thinking that of course they’d leave. Right now, we were unable to search for Raine. Why would they not follow on Tashira’s heels and scamper north? The answer seemed obvious: they, too, would break their oaths and go after him in the hopes of keeping him alive and aiding him in his battle. They don’t need us, nor we them.

  “That’s not true,” Arianne said, stroking Tuatha’s drooping ears.

  Before I rounded on her, irritated that she read my thoughts, Rygel spoke softly. “Might we give them a few moments, Princess? They’re as torn as we are.”

  I bit off an acid comment, then sighed. What was a few more minutes? Raine was days ahead to the north, if Rygel’s bond were any judge. We had time and needed more, dammit.

  My gaze chanced upon Corwyn, the only remaining question mark. He stood a short distance away from me, absently scratching his roan’s chin. Among us all, he showed the least amount of affection toward his horse, as though the beast were simply that: a beast of burden. The ugly gelding seemed to enjoy the attention, his ears set back and his eyes half-closed in equine bliss. For once, he didn’t seem interested in biting anyone.

  Corwyn’s craggy features appeared chiseled from stone, his red and silver brows lowered over his blue eyes. He gazed north, where his chosen master and liege lord now travelled. I didn’t have to see the turmoil on his face to know it ran rampant in his soul. I read it in his tense posture, in the occasional flicking glance toward Arianne. I knew only Raine’s request, in what seemed a lifetime ago, kept Corwyn with us. Like the wolves, Corwyn’s allegiance lay with Raine, not me.

  “We’ll keep her safe,” I said.

  I startled him, for he jumped ever so slightly and glanced around and up at me.

  “Your Highness?” He coughed, harrumphed and started again. “Yes, Your Highness?”

  I nodded my head toward Arianne, who sat her stallion watching the wolves and biting her lip. “We’ll look after her. Go to him.”

  Corwyn actually smiled, a sad, rather sweet smile. “Though I wish that with all my heart,” he murmured, stroking his roan’s face. “I cannot. He commanded me to protect her, and I’ll obey.”

  His eyes lifted to the northern horizon, the distant, snow-capped peaks. In a pensive, thoughtful tone, he went on, though I barely heard his voice. “If he is indeed right and he dies in this mad caper, she’s the last.”

  Corwyn brought his eyes up to mine again. “It’s what he’d want me to do. See her onto the throne as the rightful Queen of Connacht.”

  “He’s not going to die.”

  Still smiling, Corwyn left his gelding to munch grass, the roan’s reins pooling around his head, and walked the few strides to Mikk. Taking my hand to his lips, he kissed it, as a vassal to his liege. “Ever so hopeful,” he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. “Ever so determined. You, a tiny creature I could break with one hand, hold more courage and devotion than a thousand men. As beautiful as a spring dawn, yet stronger than tempered steel, you, my queen, are a fit mate for him. With you at his side, he’d rule the world.”

  “Corwyn – “

  His blue eyes soft, warm, he murmured in a voice so low that only I heard. “Without tempting fate, or the good gods, I salute you as the Queen of Connacht.”

  “If we marry, Corwyn. That’s a very huge if.”

  He suddenly knelt at Mikk’s feet, his red and grey head bowed.

  “Should he survive, as you say,” he went on quietly, “you’ll marry him, I know it. I’ll always be your loyal vassal. He may be the first in my allegiance, but you’ll ever be the first in my heart.”

  What could I say to that? Nothing. Nothing I could say in the face of such words, such devotion.

  He didn’t seem to mind that I didn’t speak. Smiling, he rose from his knees and with a final salute, Kel’Hallan fashion, he took up his horse’s reins. No one at all appeared to have witnessed our conversation, and deep down I felt glad. What he just said and did was too personal, too important, to be witnessed by anyone, even my loyal boys.

  He walked a short distance away, his horse at his side, and my heart in new turmoil. I nudged Mikk back around to our previous position. I watched the wolves converse and bit my nails. None seemed to have noticed I’d left the group for a few moments.

  “Stop that.”

  I forced my fingers down from my mouth and scowled at Kel’Ratan. “Have you checked the supplies?”

  “Packed and ready.”

  “Water?”

  “Plenty.”

  “Is the fire out?”

  Kel’Ratan cocked his leg over his pommel. “Who cares.”

  “No sense in setting the mountains afire.”

  He glanced aside at the dead hearth and its ring of blackened stones. “Right.”

  This is ridiculous, I thought impatiently, running my hand through my hair. What did we need wolves for anyway? I thought, lifting my fingers to my mouth and savagely biting my lower lip instead. We’re perfectly capable of finding a monk to explain this entire divine mess I landed in and instruct me on fixing it. Thus safe from holy retribution, we’ll ride hell bent for leather northward.

  Let’s go, I thought, straightening in my saddle. Mikk’s head came up, expectant.

  “We’re off. Kel’Ratan –“ I began, but my order to ride out and leave the wolves to their own devices was interrupted. The entire pack broke apart and loped back. They ran in a furry wave under and amongst our mounts, tails waving and tongues lolling. Just to say goodbye, I thought, but hoping for the opposite.

  At my stirrup, Silverruff woofed at me, his ears perked. Did he just ask a question? Rygel swung around and Arianne looked up.

  “Of course you’re welcome,” Rygel replied quickly.

  Arianne smiled at last, Darkhan grinning up at her from beside her flashy stallion’s great hooves.

  “What did he say?” I asked.

  “He asked if they could join us,” Rygel translated, putting his boots where they belonged, in his stirrups. “They decided they could help Raine best by staying and protecting us, for him.”

  “Oh,” I replied in a small voice. I had so expected them to depart, their wish to stay with us caught me flat-footed. “Of course.”
/>   I cleared my throat and managed a smile for Silverruff, who grinned up at me. “You may come to regret it, you know. We’re a rather sloppy lot.”

  Silverruff rumbled, his tail wagging furiously.

  “Let’s get on,” Kel’Ratan said briskly, uncocking his leg from his pommel. “Witraz, you’re the vanguard, with Alun. “Yuri – “

  “Perhaps a suggestion?” Rygel offered, gesturing toward the waiting warriors.

  Kel’Ratan swiveled in his saddle to eye him with no small surprise. “Um, well, of course,” he answered, his airy gesture encouraging Rygel to continue.

  “What if we sent pairs out as scouts,” Rygel said, looking around and quirking a brow at me. “But with one man, and one wolf. We’d have eyes not just watching but ears listening for trouble and noses scenting it out.”

  Kel’Ratan eyed the wolves with sudden speculation. “Hmmm,” he began, scratching his nose.

  We had fifteen huge wolves with us. I, too, glanced around, noting the tails fanning the air, the expectant postures of the huge beasts, the bright eyes. They certainly liked the idea.

  “We could expand our guard,” I offered thoughtfully. “Send a man and a wolf on our flanks, too.”

  Kel’Ratan nodded, but before he could speak Witraz nudged his piebald forward. He suddenly lifted his hands in a ‘t’, his single eye staring at Silverruff, sitting on his haunches beside Mikk. The wolf’s head came up well past my stirrup.

  “Whoa, whoa, wait, time out,” he said, his light brown hair swinging. “We need to rethink this.”

  “What’s your problem, Witraz?” Kel’Ratan snapped.

  “They’re – “ Witraz broke off, his one blue eye wide in consternation as he looked once more at the dozen very large wolves. “They’re – wolves.”

  “The boy is observant,” Rygel said, his tone mild.

  “But what if they get hungry and eat our horses?”

  The big silver-grey wolf, who spent the previous night on his back with all four paws in the air, advanced on Witraz’s piebald stallion. He walked forward, stiff-legged, stalking, his ears flat and his tail held stiffly out behind him. He appeared the very picture of a wolf on the hunt. He circled behind Witraz and his horse, Witraz reining him around to keep the wolf in sight. Drool – I couldn’t believe it – drool dripped down from his tight-lipped muzzle. His brown eyes, once warm, now slitted with evil intent.

  The piebald, clearly not liking the attention, flattened his ears, his tail swishing the air as he stamped and snorted.

  “Here now,” Witraz protested. “Why is he looking at my horse?”

  Silverruff woofed. Rygel laughed.

  “His name is Joker,” Rygel answered. “Maybe you should guess why he’s named that.”

  “What the hell?”

  Joker immediately sat down and laughed, his jaws wide and tongue lolling. My boys laughed with him, although their laughter held a touch of nervousness, I noticed. Many wolves also laughed, tongues lolling in the wolfish version of humor. Corwyn guffawed and Arianne actually smiled, a very small smile. ‘Twas a beginning at least, I thought.

  Witraz eyed the laughing wolf with disillusion.

  “Ha ha, very funny,” he snapped. “Remember, old son, paybacks are a bitch.”

  Joker laughed some more. Silverruff woofed again. Rygel stopped laughing and shut his teeth. He scowled down at the huge wolf.

  “Certainly not,” he snapped.

  “What did he say?” I asked, looking down at a now grinning Silverruff.

  “He asked if they could eat my horse,” Rygel growled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the patient black gelding, munching grass at Shardon’s right flank. “His opinion is that he’s not very useful and they’d like a snack.”

  “We’ll need him,” I said, nudging Mikk forward. “And a few more like him. We’re going to want packhorses to carry all the extra food and winter gear we’re going to need.”

  “Gear?” Rannon asked, confused.

  “It’s rather cold in the far north, dear one,” I explained. “Lots of snow and ice.” I gestured down at my bare legs and my supple kidskin boots. “We’ll need plenty of meat for both wolves and humans, furs, tents, thick warm blankets, and a hell of a lot more wine.”

  Shardon brought Rygel up beside me. “Perhaps we can hunt deer and wild cattle as we travel,” Rygel suggested. “Tan the hides, dry the meat. It’ll slow us down, but might pay off in the end.”

  Kel’Ratan waved his arm at Witraz. “Well? What are you waiting for? You and your new friend are in the van.”

  “Do I have to?” Witraz glanced at me with appeal, his blue eye distinctly unhappy with the idea.

  “You’ve been commanded, warrior,” I replied, hiding my amusement.

  Witraz slouched in his saddle, his salute to me half-hearted. He reined his piebald around and walked him out of the midst of his brother warriors and the laughing wolf pack.

  Joker paced alongside his stallion, his grinning jaws wide as he gazed up at Witraz.

  Witraz scowled at Joker. “We are not friends, do you hear?”

  Joker growled, but his tail still wagged and his grin didn’t falter. Witraz kicked his horse into a run, as though hoping to leave the wolf behind. Joker kept up with him easily, however, and within moments the pair galloped out of sight.

  Next, Kel’Ratan paired Rannon with the big Shadow and sent them off to our left flank. Alun he paired with a wolf with an oddly colored black tongue, who claimed his name was – er, Black Tongue – and sent both to guard our right flank. He suspected, as I did, that Darkhan would refuse to leave Arianne, and looked past him to several others.

  “Maybe our rear should have four,” he said thoughtfully. “You two, what are your names?”

  The wolves he pointed at woofed. “Very well, Warrior Dog and Scatters Them, you pair go with Yuri and Yuras to guard our rear. If Brutal plans another attack, it’ll probably come from that direction.”

  I looked over at Bar, catching his fierce predatory eyes. “You know what to do.”

  He screeched in protest. I shrugged, and nudged Mikk into a rolling canter. “Just do it.”

  With an irritated hiss, he flapped his colossal wings, searching for, and finding, a warm updraft. The remaining wolves shook the offending dust his wings stirred up from sensitive ears and loped easily after our horses. The appointed guards galloped east and west, while the blonde brothers and their new wolf companions held back until we rode out of sight.

  I glanced around at the wolves, loping in a loose circle around our galloping horses, trying to remember their names from the previous, wine-soaked, crazy night. I remember Rygel’s translation as they swore their loyalty to Raine, but some of them escaped me. If I looked at them long enough, I might remember, as their names were in some fashion reflections of themselves. Silverruff, Joker, Darkhan, and Kip were obvious. The others….

  “All right,” I announced as I rode, gathering the attention of both wolves and humans. “I didn’t catch all your names last night. I apologize if I offend any of you, but I’d like to know who you are.”

  I pointed to a huge, black-grey wolf, similar in size and appearance to Darkhan, loping on the outskirts of the band. “And your name, sir?” I called.

  He glanced up and woofed. Arianne, not Rygel, translated. “He’s called Dire.”

  “I can see why,” I murmured. “And you?” I pointed to a massive, darkish grey wolf, almost identical to Dire. He glanced up, his tongue lolling. “Yes, you.”

  “Lightfoot.”

  I eyed the running pair, Dire and Lightfoot, sidelong, considering. Certainly no judge of wolfish lines, I suspected by their coloring and conformation, and even the way they held their heads, they were brothers. Oddly, they reminded me of left and Right.

  I tossed my head toward a huge, mostly red-brown wolf, following closely on the heels of Corwyn’s ugly roan, glanced up and towards me. He bared his teeth in a silent snarl.

  “His name is White Fang,�
�� Rygel translated.

  “What’s your name, laddie?” I asked of a solid grey wolf, the size of a small mule, with only a few white markings on his muzzle and paws.

  “Nahar.”

  “Of course you are,” I murmured.

  A light-grey wolf with white colorations around his eyes, face and chest held a more open expression that the others. Like Joker, he tended to grin more, and loped with a sleek agility the others failed to match. He felt my eyes on him and laughed, woofing, up at me.

  “That’s Digger,” Rygel translated.

  I grinned back, the wolf’s humor contagious. “What a delightful boy.”

  I remembered Little Bull’s name simply because of his huge size and dark grey fur. Yet, he wasn’t even the largest. A tremendous tan and grey wolf that rivaled Silverruff and Little Bull in size, and held far more bulk in sheer muscle mass, loped toward the rear. Of all the wolves, only Raine in his wolf body stood larger. He, among them all, had obvious trouble in keeping up the pace. I glanced back. “And what is your name, Sir Wolf?”

  He barked, his tongue lolling, not in laughter, but panting.

  “Thunder,” Rygel said, raising a grin.

  “I don’t think I need to ask why he’s named thus,” I commented, facing forward once more.

  Silverruff growled, looking up at me.

  “Silverruff says he isn’t much of a runner,” Rygel translated. “But Thunder can take down a wild bull in rut all by himself. And he’s handy to have in a fight.”

  I glanced back at the immense bulk of Thunder. “I don’t doubt it.”

  Kel’Ratan also eyed the big Thunder and his effort of keeping up. “Should we slow down for him?”

  I almost understood Silverruff’s reply. Maybe if I started listening closely the weird mixture of woofs, barks, growls and whines I might yet learn their language. I certainly understood Bar well enough, yet I was the only one. Not even my father understood his griffin speech.

  “He says no,” Rygel translated. “Thunder can’t run fast, but he has stamina.”

  Thunder woofed his own answer: don’t wait for me.

  Maybe with practice, I’d no longer need translators.

  A wolf howled in the distance. I glanced up, startled. The sound came from the southeast, and sounded to me very far away.