Prince Wolf

by A. Katie Rose

  “Sorry,” I said politely. “You were saying?”

  “Never mind. What’s your plan?”

  “Whatever gave you the idea I had a plan?”

  “I just assumed you did.”

  “You know what happens to those who assume?”

  “No. What?”

  I began to laugh. Laughter dulled the pain of my shattered heart, largely ignored during the conversation with the young Arcadian and the subsequent battle with the slavers. My chest ached with a fury I’ve never before felt. Had my heart been struck with an arrow, its pain had nothing on this. Oddly, my thoughts ranged to young Tuatha rather than Ly’Tana and the others. Once upon a day, I’d have easily passed him to Arianne and walked away without a backward glance. Now –

  I accepted that dark pup as my own child.

  He’s my son.

  His anguished screams still echoed deep inside my soul.

  “Will he ever forgive me?”

  “As a species, wolves seldom forgive nor forget.”

  “Thanks.” My ears wilted. “Will any of them forgive me?”

  “You did what you felt you had to do so save their lives.”

  “That doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “I know.”

  I gave up. While Darius offered up absolute truths, I needed a more human perspective on matters closer to the heart. Something he could not, and never would, give me. I craved absolution, and found only empty echoes.

  I always excelled at placing pain in the background. Physical or emotional, it didn’t matter. With crazy ease, I shunted the anguish of my grieving soul into a small confined space, someplace deep, where I might pull it out to examine later. Of course, I’d pick a time when I’d a better opportunity and the decadent indulgence to swamp myself in utter misery.

  “Let me know when you plan that. I’ll find a handy diversion. Gouging my eyes out with a rock might work.”

  “Blow me.”

  With sight, hearing and scent, I gathered information as to my direction, bearings and any potential dangers about me. The stony ground beneath my paws rose and fell on gradual upward and downward slopes. I burst though thickets of pine, fir, balsam and scrub oak, sending up jackdaws, complaining jays, sparrows, and cheeping starlings in outraged clouds. Long-tailed squirrels fled into the safety of the tall trees, slower moving marmots trundled in panicked haste away from me. I startled more deer than I could rapidly count as I galloped out into the open. I suppose I should have given thought to killing one, but I wasn’t hungry.

  At times, the thickets grew so closely together they might be considered a forest, before the ground opened up again, and I galloped over open fields of tall, thick-stemmed green grass, maybells, daisies and a small purple and rose flower I could put no name to. Whatever its name was, its sweet odor soothed my troubled spirit for a space.

  High above me, the Great Northern Range lifted its southern face, year-round snow whitening the tall peaks. I’d need to cross them, drop down into the low valleys before climbing yet another range even farther north.

  “There are three more high ranges between this one and the top of the world.”

  “You really didn’t need to tell me that.”

  “Let’s pretend I didn’t, then.”

  My day almost over, the sun set its westerly descent when I crested a rather tall hill and paused for a look around. Shit. Instantly, I dropped my belly to the ground and flattened my ears.

  “Gods above and below,” I muttered.

  “You know, I find that particular epithet distinctly annoying.”

  “Sucks to be you, then, eh?”

  Just as I ignored my internal torment, I disregarded Darius’s irritation, staring downhill into the face of utter disaster.

  The broad valley below teemed with more people, animals and activity that fit my comfort level. The road I left behind hours ago was but a branching vein off the great artery of the royal Khalidian Caravan Route. The great expanse of highway travelled east to west, crossing many of the kingdoms of the Federation, under the very feet of the Great Northern Range.

  The sheer volume of noise assaulted my ears. More wagons, oxcarts, merchants, mercenary guards, teams of horses and mules groaned under the early autumn day in both directions along the highway. Ragged peasants and peddlers, bent under the weight of enormous packs, inhaled the noxious dust behind the churning hooves. Royal cavalry troops policing the Route rode back and forth, down and across, many searching wagons and loads. Just off the Route, people already set up their camps, cookfires lit, blue smoke curling skyward amid the dusty sun motes kicked up by thousands of hooves and feet.

  I turned my head eastward. As far as I could see, the scenery changed not one jot. Humans and their cargos and beasts of burden crept slowly along the Route toward Soudan before they found a place to camp for the night. Westward, the roiling dust set the late sun’s rays into myriad dimmed shapes as the flux of human commerce wound slowly onward.

  “Just how are you supposed to get across that?”

  “That’s a jolly good question.”

  I folded my front paws under me and lay down, concealed behind a thin screen of prickly scrub oak and tall, thick-stemmed grass. I sniffed the air. The slight breeze brought the stench of the dung and filth toward me, not my odor to them below. Not that anyone there might scent me out anyway, I thought. Perhaps the dogs I heard barking might, but they seemed presently occupied with their tasks of herding sheep, cattle and goats, or guarding their masters.

  How I was to get across that indeed.

  “Perhaps you can travel by night. Sneak past them.”

  “That’s possible, I suppose,” I answered, pondering the impassable. “Pity I didn’t transport myself a few leagues further north.”

  Pity, indeed.

  I brightened. “I’ll just transport myself the distance beyond them,” I said. “I’ll just pop right past this idiocy.”

  “I don’t think that’s such a grand idea.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “You got lucky once. I sincerely doubt you have a luck fairy sitting on your shoulder.”

  “Give me one then.”

  “One what?”

  “A luck fairy. I’ll need it.”

  “Not in my repertoire.

  “What bloody good are you, then?”

  “I make great babies.”

  “Egotistical bastard. You’re worse than Rygel.”

  “Sue me. Go on, pout. You know you can’t always get what you want.”

  “All I want is freedom from your sorry ass.”

  “Come get it, son. Kill the bugger and I’ll go my merry way.”

  “I’m busy.”

  “You’re doing it all wrong, too. You jump, you’re dead. And so are your people.”

  “Just what the bloody hell are you talking about?”

  “Think about it. When you transport yourself from one place to another, how do you know where you’re going?”

  “I just will myself and go.”

  “And what if the place you will yourself to is solid rock? Or a few feet off the edge of a sheer waterfall? Jumping blind into the unknown isn’t for the wise or the sane.”

  Horror drew over my mind. Gods above and below, I thought, my throat suddenly dry. I could have –

  I shook my ears, swallowing the dry click. “D’you know how much I hate it when you’re right?”

  “Of course. What’s the next option?”

  I studied the activity and the terrain below. Too much of the former, not enough of the latter, I observed with annoyance. Even under the cover of darkness, the number of camps set up with large fires lit to ward off the night and human predators was enough to daunt me. The broad, sweeping valley held few hills I might lurk behind. Flat, almost treeless, a dusty plain many leagues across and five times as many long made a perfect route to travel goods from one end of Khalid to the other. It also presented a nasty mess for one wolf to cross.

  “Turn yourself
into a human. Blend in and walk across.”

  I growled a laugh. “One lone swordsman of my size would cause more suspicion than I could ever hope to offset,” I answered. “Those patrols would accost me before I got within a hundred rods.”

  “Might you attach yourself to a caravan, pretend to be one of them?”

  I studied the moving mass of people and animals below before answering. “I doubt it,” I replied slowly. “All the guards are mounted. The only people I see afoot are single peddlers, and they could never hope to hire a mercenary.”

  “Then you must wait for darkness. You’re black. You can blend into the night and slip past, unseen.”

  I sniffed the breeze again, my eyes in the setting sun. “The new moon is tonight,” I said. “Very little light. It’s worth a try anyway.”

  I curled my paws under me and folded my body into a round ball, resting my head on my forelegs. Flipping my tail over my muzzle, I shut my eyes. “I didn’t sleep much last night,” I murmured. “This is as good a time as any to catch up.”

  I dreamed of Ly’Tana.

  She sat before her small tent, Arianne’s soft snores drifting into the still night air behind her. Bathed in the light of the fire, she sat quiet with a twig in her hands, tears streaking her cheeks. Drawing useless figures in the dirt, she erased them only to start over again. Beyond her, her warriors slept inside their blankets, huddled against the chilly night air. The wolves, furry mounds in the darkness, slept amidst their human friends. Ah, so they had stayed with her. Good. I’d hoped they might. Yet, knowing of their fierce loyalty, I feared they might chase after me, instead.

  Tuatha, my son, crept from the tent to crawl into her lap. She dropped the stick, smiling through her tears, and pulled him into her embrace. He licked her neck before curling into a round, fuzzy ball in her lap.

  I love you, I choked.

  She looked up.

  Into my eyes she stared.

  Did she hear me? How could she possibly hear me? How could I possibly see her now? How can I be watching her, hearing her voice, when I slept under the same new moon a hundred leagues, more, away?

  Yet, I knew I did. As I knew she did.

  Tears dripped unchecked down her cheeks as she cried, “Forgive me,” into the dancing fire. “I love you. I miss you. Come back to me.”

  I felt her love, her grief, her sorrow, caress my fur like her physical fingers.

  I love you, I began – then woke.

  I roused from a sound sleep, yawning, questing with my bleary eyesight and my nose for some idea of the time. The stars and chilly air informed me I’d awakened just past midnight. The new moon, a sliver in the eastern sky, cast very little light. Below me, the campfires had burned down low, gleaming red-orange orbs scattered across the valley. Flickers here and there spoke of flames that hadn’t yet died.

  Time to go.

  I rose and stretched, my back arched, my tongue dropping halfway to the ground in yet another huge yawn. The dream, or perhaps a vision, of Ly’Tana slipped away from me, half-forgotten upon waking. Licking my lips, I found myself vaguely hungry. Perhaps I might steal a meal out from under the noses of the merchants and their guards, I thought absently.

  Before wending my way downhill, I stretched again, my back legs strung far out behind me. Damn that felt good. I yawned again, my strength returning as sleep fell away from me.

  “Are you through yet?”

  I ignored Darius’s caustic question and found a new way to stretch sleepy muscles. My rump high in the air, I cast my forelegs out in front, similar to Tuatha’s favorite way of stretching. I discovered I could maneuver my wolf body in more satisfactory ways than I ever could my human form. I yawned again, feeling rested, refreshed and ready to run for miles.

  “You’re doing all that just to irritate me, aren’t you?”

  I wagged my tail at Darius’s snipe, and, breaking cover, loped downhill. “Would I do that?”

  “Of course.”

  “For a god, you’re awfully thinned-skinned.”

  “I reckon there’s something about you that just rankles.”

  The rocky soil under my paws shifted readily, threatening to send me sliding in an undignified heap to the flatland. Slinging my hindquarters low to the ground, I fought the loose dirt, maintaining an even gallop downhill. My tail swung side to side, acting as a rudder and steering me straight. Upon reaching level ground, I slowed to a trot, casting about with scent, sight and hearing.

  A merchant’s camp lay dead ahead, its campfire burned low, casting little light. I needed none, for my eyes captured every shape of the mounds of sleeping guards under the wagons. The night watch stood at his post, his back to me, surveying the area with sharp night vision. If he heard my paws in the dirt behind him, he gave no sign.

  “Only a wolf could hear you.”

  I moved to my right, to the east, keeping just out of the glow of the embers, hoping to sneak past him and reach the next camp a few rods further north.

  A horse suddenly screamed, a shrill whinny of panic.

  “Or a horse,” I muttered to Darius, darting back into the shadows as the guard wheeled about, his sword in his hand.

  The steed who raucously announced my presence alerted not just the guard, but his brothers. At their pickets, horses stamped and snorted, piercing the night silence with shrill neighs, jerking against their tethers. With my lethal scent on the wind, the horses fought to escape. As they saw just fine in the dark, their white-rimmed eyes tracked me, informing the mercenary guard exactly where I was. Sword in hand, he started in my direction.

  The merchant cast aside his bedroll, his voice raised high in sharp question. His mercenary guards rolled to their feet, cursing, and either seized steel or nocked arrows to bowstrings. They, too, followed the direction the horses indicated, and peered into the darkness. They crept forward, balanced on the balls of their feet, ready and expecting trouble. They knew not what upset their mounts, but knew what direction from whence it came.

  The noise this merchant’s animals raised alerted the next camp. More guards ran forward, calling questions to one another. Someone threw more wood of the fires, building the flames up higher.

  Damn and blast, I cursed, trotting back toward the hills I just descended from. This is harder than I thought.

  “Keep trying. Perhaps you’ll find an opening wide enough.”

  Under the shadows of the hills, I loped east, leaving the mayhem caused by the horses behind. At least these camps, if they heard the ruckus down the line, ignored it. The sleepers slept on, their animals quiescent, and their lights burned down low.

  More camps, more sleepers, more horses lined my way north. Try as I might, I found no break wide enough that I might sneak through without a horse or mule seeing, scenting or hearing me. I was too damn big for a sensitive animal like a horse to ignore. Naturally, it being my prey, the horse panicked instantly.

  “What was that?”

  “What was what?”

  “I heard Ly’Tana’s voice.”

  “Your hearing is remarkable.”

  I lifted my head, swiveling to gaze back over my shoulder. I lifted my ears to catch any and every sound, sniffed the light breeze, hoping to catch her scent. I half-thought she followed me, despite the leagues, and yet called from beyond the hill. Yet, I knew that was impossible. I gazed back the way I had come, longing filling my soul. A howl rose as far as my throat and lodged there, choking me. I looked to the south. Toward her.

  Many long leagues of hills and open country lay between us. I knew she could not see me. Yet, I felt her eyes, their weight, as easily as I felt her watch me from across the camp. Her love tingled along my skin like a soft spring breeze. I heard the ghost of a sob, a plea half-spoken, the faint whisper, ‘I love you’ across the miles.

  Impossible.

  Yet, I knew, somehow I knew, in the depths of her sleep she dreamed of me. Even now, over the immense distance between us, she watched me in her sleep. My vision, a true one, wa
s now her vision. If I heard her, she could hear me.

  I sent my thoughts, my love, up and out, willing them to her, insisting she hear them. “I love you,” I called with my silent voice, “oh, how I love you.”

  Taking a long moment to stare southward and grieve the many leagues between us, my heart ached with both pain and joy. She loved me. I abandoned her, yet she called to me in her sleep, yearning for me.

  I love you, my fiery lady.

  Deep within my heart, I knew she heard me. Just as I listened to her tear-filled words of sorrow, I knew she dreamed of my love caressing her, filling her ears with my devotion. She’d wake, all but forgetting the dark depths of the night when I professed my love for her. Yet, deep inside, my silent voice would haunt her, and she’d find comfort within her soul.

  Willing my grieving heart into some semblance of sensible decorum, I turned back to the task at hand: that of crossing this annoying tract of high-desert real estate. What a bitch, I thought. Perhaps I should set them all afire.

  “You, commit cold-blooded murder?”

  “Shut up.”

  “I thought so.”

  Too often I scented sheep, goats or cattle not so very distant, knowing full well should I manage to sneak past the first camp in my path, the milling flocks or herds would scent or hear me. And they’d react accordingly. I didn’t care to be surrounded by armed mercs when the panicked flock or the herd crashed through the sleepers.

  I sniffed the wind, the tantalizing odor of young goat causing my belly to rumble. Tempting a prospect though it was, to dash across the highway, snatch a goat or a sheep and make off with it, I declined. The risk far outweighed the gain. I’d have to cross the rest of the valley with my meal in my jaws, passing far too many camps raising a ruckus. Some archer may get lucky enough to shoot me before I could reach the far hills with my dinner.

  I glanced up at the stars. Only an hour or so before dawn, I discovered. Three hours past and I was no further in crossing this desolate barrier than I was when I first approached it. Gods above and below, I thought murderously. Maybe I should try it as a human. Human guards may not notice me, if I’m careful.