Prince Wolf

by A. Katie Rose

  Ja’Teel’s curses, his voice high-pitched and as panicked as those folk I left behind, stabbed his lightning at me. He missed by a wide margin as I bulled my way across the common room. Not far, I thought, not far.

  “Now.”

  I leaped.

  In the same instant I leaped, I changed.

  My huge black body struck the glass, my face lowered, my front legs, my heavy neck and shoulders taking the brunt of the impact. The window exploded outward with a sharp, barking cough. Shattered glass, pieces of the frame cascaded with me, showering the street out front with an almost musical tinkle. I hit the stone cobbles front paws first, shedding glass fragments like water, scenting the cool early evening air. The sun set over the mountains, only a faint pinkish blush gleamed dully across the western horizon.

  I galloped forward, my quarters thrusting hard, seeking speed, reaching for escape.

  A late wagoner, torches flaring from either side of his seat, gaped in shock as I hurtled down on him and his team of huge bay and white drafts. His cargo, piled high behind him and covered in canvas tarps, stood silhouetted against the blushing mountains.

  They trotted directly into my path, and I ran much too fast to dodge the impending collision. Hit them broadside or -

  I leaped.

  Not sideways, but up.

  My hindquarters, steered by my heavy tail, thrust up with all the power at my command. My ears flat against my head, my jaws wide to rake in the clean, cool air, I leapt up, into the night sky. Up and over the rearing horses, I flew, my front legs reaching for the distant clouds.

  The driver cursed in shocked fear as my huge body sailed past his seat, my legs brushing the flowing manes of his team.

  Down, down, the cobbles rushed to meet my paws. Solid rock struck with enough force to click my teeth together, but I landed with both balance and speed locked. Across the empty square I galloped, toward the gates I walked through such a short time ago, hungry and needing a hot meal.

  Ja’Teel screamed in my wake.

  I didn’t glance back to see what form he had taken on, but ran as though Death’s daemon himself nipped my heels. His lightning strokes struck the cobbles to my left, to my right, behind me, just ahead of my muzzle, never quite striking true. Though I didn’t dodge or attempt any evasion, his blows continually missed. Perhaps, in his fury, he didn’t take careful aim. I was certainly a large enough target.

  The gate, shut and barred loomed in the near dark. Its guards, hearing Ja’Teel and his lightning, found my black mass bearing down on them at an insane speed, clutched crossbows. They frantically tried to aim, some at Ja’Teel, some at me.

  I forced the wooden gates apart.

  Unlike Rygel, I didn’t use fire or blast them into a thousand pieces. Instead, I shot the huge bolt with my magic and swung the great doors wide.

  Some guards fired their crossbows down. Other fired up.

  I ignored their threat, steel-tipped shafts screaming past my face as I, running fast, put them and their gate far to my rear. My paws flying over the dirt road, I hit the low-lying hills, my ears slanted back to catch any sound of Ja’Teel.

  I think a stray bolt might have struck him, for he floundered too far behind, still cursing and screaming in inarticulate rage. His lightning strikes had ceased, at least for the moment, as I galloped up one hill down the far side to tackle the next one. Thorns, thickets, bramble, all sought my face and vulnerable eyes as I crashed through and beyond them, never slackening my pace.

  Not for an instant.

  A mile, a mile and a half, two miles I ran before Darius spoke up within the depths of my mind.

  “I think he gave up.”

  I crested a high hilltop, slowing to a heavy trot and then to a walk, my tongue hanging halfway to my knees as I gasped in ragged pants. I glanced back, seeing nothing of the town, nor of Ja’Teel in the darkness. No lightning struck from the dark, no flaming, angry wizard flew above me. Only the wind rustling through the heavy firs, pines and poplar trees, whispering across the tops of the scrub oak, met my keen hearing.

  Shutting my teeth on my tongue, I twitched my nose, trying to scent the dark wizard and his intent, should he lurk somewhere out there, waiting his moment when my guard lapsed. My eyes, well-adjusted to the night, saw nothing that stirred save a winging snowy owl, hunting her dinner and a black bear who shambled away from me with some haste. I was bigger than he was, after all.

  “He’s about to give up.”

  “You’re sure?”

  I panted heavily, and sat down, watching the smaller hills below for any sign of Rygel’s dark cousin. I saw nothing but darkness, hills and thick forest.

  “See him down there? He flies back and forth, trying to find your trail.”

  I peered down. “I see nothing.”

  “Look with your sight, not your eyes.”

  What the hell did that mean?

  “Don’t rely on eyes alone.”

  I sighed, my breathing less ragged, and dropped into my calm center. I found it ready and waiting, my source of peace and power, its calm tranquility a sweet balm to soothe my shattered nerves. I drifted, happy within its warm embrace, coasting along on it warm tides.

  Once inside a light trance, I opened my inner eyes.

  Ja’Teel, in no form but his own, still flew without wings near the town I bolted from. Outside the town’s walls, he circled round and round, diving down low, seeking my path. Smoke poured from the Black Wolf Tavern and Inn, dissipating and leaving the place clear. The townspeople, and the survivors, tended to the needs of their injured and dead. The flames Ja’Teel set with his lightning had withered and died with little lasting damage. Healthy folk succored those in need, their curses falling upon the dark young man with the scorpion tattoo.

  “I’m as much to blame,” I said. “Why don’t they curse me as well?”

  “They know evil when they see it. Just as they know a good man when he knocks on their door.”

  “I –“

  My attention riveted upon Ja’Teel’s body, circling over the hills I raced over. “Surely he knows where I went? My tracks are there for anyone to find.”

  “There are hunters and there are hunters. He falls into the category of the former.”

  I laughed, my sides heaving, my jaws wide. “You make him sound an imbecile.”

  “Your word, not mine.”

  “Surely he’s not that bad.”

  At Darius’ sudden silence, I felt his humor rise at the same moment I laughed. We spoke together.

  “He’s that bad.”

  I rose to all four paws, gazing down into the line of hills below, without the trance, to see Ja’Teel’s faint light flash across the darkness and vanish into the east. Like a shooting star, he returned to his master, to admit his failure.

  “You think he’d ever admit he found you in the first place?” Darius asked dryly. “Put him in irons and set fire to his feet, he’ll confess he’s never heard of you.”

  “Some folk are just poor losers.”

  “Imagine that.”

  Laughing, I trotted down the hill, swinging into a lope up the next one. Only late squirrels and a few night birds informed the area I was abroad. Most of their listeners, however, slept on, oblivious. They ignored the chatty owl, and her companions.

  “You did well, back there. I’m pleased with you.”

  “You’re forgetting once very important aspect.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m still hungry.”

  Chapter Five

  Treachery From Within

  Men hunted him.

  Far to the north he ran, his every rib showing, his jet fur hanging off him like an ill-fitting coat. As I watched, he jumped a small herd of deer and lunged in for the kill. The alert and watchful sentry bolted, alarming the group into nimble leaps that carried them into the forest and safely out of danger. He paused in the depths of the night, panting, his long tongue pink and hanging almost to his massive chest as his prey out
distanced him and escaped.

  That explained everything. Why he went into a town, a tavern, risking being recognized and perhaps captured. His gaunt frame, his air of desperation: he had no idea of how to hunt down his food. He literally starved to death on his immense paws. Unless he killed soon, he’d be dead.

  In the distance, hounds bayed.

  His huge head lifted, ears perked, his tongue caught between his fangs. Over his shoulder he stared, not toward me, but toward the source of the sounds. He heard the cry of the hunt.

  They hunted him.

  He escaped Ja’Teel, but would he escape these pursuers?

  Gathering his paws under him, Raine began to run.

  On he loped, his pink tongue lolling, his breath frosting the chilly night air. His claws found purchase on the stones, the loamy soil, the raw, white skeletons of trees long dead. Under the trees of fir, balsam, spruce and pine his body burst, galloping headlong down one hill and up the next. Each valley he raced across held no sanctuary, no safety for him. No hilltop he crested but revealed his immense form under the light of the moon to those who followed.

  He knew the trackers weren’t far behind.

  Who were they? Tongu? I discarded that idea: their hounds didn’t bay. I suspected local people, tribal hunters, simple people who owed no allegiance to anyone but themselves. Mountain folk dressed in the warm skins of their prey out hunting game. They’d seen his tracks in the soil. Through the pines they had glimpsed his immense size, the black jet of his hide. Preoccupied with his troubles, Raine hadn’t heard or scented them as he loped across their territory. Instantly, the primitive hunters craved the greatest prize: the pelt of the largest black wolf that ever walked the earth. A small portion of his fur would cover a bed and keep its occupants warm until spring’s blessed sun emerged from behind winter’s thick clouds.

  Spurring their thin, bony horses onward, they tracked my black wolf over rocks, dead pine and fir needles, ice and chilling running water. Their baying coursers, noses to the ground, led the chase over hills and across small valleys, under covering thickets and through knots of pine forest. No matter how he ran, they followed after, gaining ground with every passing hour.

  I think I screamed. A warning. A choked off cry. A ‘look out behind you’.

  I made no sound. Yet my dear love paused, mid-stride, atop a stony hilltop, looking up and back. Not toward the approaching hunters and their baying dogs. South, he stared, icy grey eyes now not so cold.

  He stared toward me. He saw me.

  Gasping, I sat up, my warm fur sliding off my shoulder, chilling me instantly in the icy mountain air. Tuatha whined in his sleep, perhaps from the very same dream that had just awakened me. Digger sat up, still half-asleep, his snarl frozen as he glanced about for enemies, the reason for my alarm. Bar raised his head from his front legs, blinking. Yawning, he chirped quietly, softly: What’s wrong?

  I sweated and shivered, my tears like tiny icy stones rolling down my cheeks to pool at my mouth.

  Reclaiming my blanket, I pulled it up, instinctively glancing east to gauge the time. Pink tinged the distant horizon, half-blocked by thick pine trees and their evergreen needles. T’was less than an hour before sunrise.

  Sluggish, still half-asleep, Tuatha crawled into my lap, seeking my warmth. I cuddled his body close, rocking back and forth as I glanced about the slowly wakening camp. I wiped the ice crystals from my cheeks, seeing my breath as a light frost against the darkness. Digger, finding nothing wrong, yawned sleepily and swiped my cheek with his tongue, warming it.

  Arianne, already awake and up, glanced at me curiously as she stirred up the fire and added wood. Her slave habits hadn’t changed at all, I thought.

  Corwyn was right all along: I should never have allowed her to continue serf’s work. I should demand she behave like a princess. And I would. Starting now. Just as soon as I pulled myself together.

  My boys rolled from their pallets, sitting up, huddling under the thick mixture of wool blankets and skins for a while longer. Blearily, they glanced around, smothering yawns. Wolves uncurled themselves from the furry balls they became in the darkest part of the night, tongues hanging low as they, too, yawned and stretched.

  Bar eyed me with concern, his second questioning chirp loud in the silent darkness before the dawn. I wrapped my wooly, warm blanket around me tighter, covering Tuatha fully, still shivering uncontrollably. Shivering harder than the climate warranted, given I sat within the warm boundaries of Bar, Digger, Thunder and small Tuatha the Younger.

  I shrugged under Bar’s predatory eyes. I had no answer for him.

  Was the dream real? Was it the mistaken fantasies of my overwrought and overstressed mind? Or maybe they represented nothing more than plain and very simple wishful thinking? Perhaps the dreams were indeed false prophecies. Perhaps in my gut they meant nothing but the lonely idea that I had been left behind like so much useless baggage.

  He’s too smart to be hunted by a band of primeval hunters with no more brains than Nephrotiti gave a common weed, I told myself. He’d outsmart them, or simply kill them, if they proved troublesome.

  Reality closed with a rush. The dream faded, grew dim and at last winked out. I stretched, not trying to stifle the huge yawn that consumed me. The dream unraveled under the pale flush of the new day, as dreams will. It shriveled and vanished. Only the vague memory of a memory remained of the night’s vision in the darkest of the night. And with it, I felt the worm of disquiet deep within my heart.

  Of course he didn’t need me.

  Depression sank its fangs into my soul despite the beauty of the early autumn day. Birds woke and chirped, announcing their territory preferences before breakfast. Mikk slept on. In the midst of the horse herd, he dozed, knees locked and hip-shotten, and undisturbed. Kel’Ratan grumbled under his breath, cursing the early hour. He rolled over, his back to me, his front facing the glowing orange coals of last night’s fire. Left and Lightfoot, side by side, returned from their midnight to dawn watch.

  Like Arianne the night before, I snapped my fingers, obtaining everyone’s sleepy attention.

  “You,” I said, trying to sound imperious around another jaw-cracking yawn, “are a princess. No more camp work for you. Except, of course, the work we all do to provide meat and skins for the coming northern winter.”

  Arianne’s face fell. “But – “

  “Don’t ‘but’ me,” I tried to snap. “You have to learn to be what you are. Tor, build up that fire before I freeze my ass.”

  Tor emerged from his warm nest, of course between Yuri and Yuras. He bowed over his own yawn, and with his blanket over his shoulders, seized a few faggots from the pile and dropped them on the fire. Arianne slid out of the way, hiding behind her hair. With nothing to do to occupy herself, she felt lost and alone.

  “Girl, come here,” I said.

  Pushing on Thunder, I urged him to vacate a space. He obliged after a long stretch, his rump high in the air and forelegs long in front of him. His tongue dropped halfway to the ground as his jaws parted in a yawn so huge I think he could have swallowed Arianne whole. He ambled off into the woods on the heels of Kip, Warrior Dog, Dire, and Scatters Them. A bit more awake, I made a come-hither gesture to Arianne and patted the ground Thunder just emptied. At my other side, Silverruff offered a half-growl, half-moan and covered his eyes with his paw.

  “I don’t care if you’re not a morning wolf,” I said crossly. “Get up.”

  Rather than obey, he rolled over, onto his other side away from me, and drifted back to sleep. I quelled the urge to kick him and pulled a reluctant Arianne down beside me.

  “Witraz,” I said. “You and Rannon help Tor with breakfast. Yuri, Yuras, Left, Right gather the horses and start saddling them. Kel’Ratan, get up before I sic Silverruff on you.”

  Lifting his head a fraction, Kel’Ratan rolled one eye toward a soundly sleeping Silverruff. “Right, sure,” he replied groggily before collapsing once more into slumber.

 
; “Nahar,” I snapped.

  At least he had sense enough to obey me. And he obeyed with the right amount of humor. He leaped with all the energy of a stallion chasing a shy mare.

  When Nahar’s huge weight dropped on his vulnerable body with claws and teeth exposed, Kel’Ratan roared. Flailing about himself with his hands, he failed to dislodge Nahar, who rode his back as a man might ride a bucking bronco. White fangs gripped Kel’Ratan’s neck without harm, but with enough force to make my cousin howl.

  “Get off me, you stinking cur,” he all but screamed, trying to roll over and onto the wolf, his hands seeking Nahar’s vulnerable throat. Nahar, far too clever for that, jumped aside. His tail wagging furiously, he nipped Kel’Ratan’s exposed arse, and nimbly leaped aside. Kel’Ratan did scream, this time.

  “I am so going to kill you!”

  Fully awake, enraged, Kel’Ratan rose to his feet, trying in vain to draw a sword that wasn’t there. It lay where he left it, on the ground beside the spot where he slept. Nahar, of course, stood over it.

  Taking a deep breath, Kel’Ratan glowered at the happily wagging Nahar. “Damn hound,” he grated, his mustache standing on end.

  Nahar barked. I’m no hound.

  “You’re a bloody, slavish hound,” Kel’Ratan snarled, with a furious glance toward me. “If you’re stupid enough to listen to her.”

  I shrugged indolently. “He merely obeys his pack leader,” I said. “And that would be me.”

  With a final dark glare, Kel’Ratan stalked away, muttering under his breath. Nahar, no slouch, trotted after him, tail still waving.

  I glanced down. Silverruff still lay on his side, but with his head over his shoulder. He eyed me with worry, his tongue moistening his quivering black nose.

  “Yes,” I growled at him. “I’m the one in charge here. Get up, you lazy sod, before I call Thunder.”

  With a whine, he languidly rose to his paws and stretched. I lifted my hand. Yelping, Silverruff jumped to the side and vanished into the woods. Digger eyed me with amusement and respect. With another yawn and a lupine stretch, he ambled off into the trees.