Prince Wolf

by A. Katie Rose

  “Too right,” I gritted. “Men.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Rygel protested as Kel’Ratan lifted both hands, palms up.

  I rolled my eyes. “It means you’re idiots. Now shut up so we can work this out.”

  “Contact Bar,” Arianne suggested. “Have him locate the wolves and perhaps direct them to us. In turn, they can lead your warriors toward us.”

  “Consider it done.”

  Kel’Ratan and Rygel, left out of the discussion, crossed their arms over their chests and sighed in unison.

  The vast featureless desert also lay behind us. Now we rode through and among short rocky hills and sand dunes, ever shifting under the wind’s constant pressure. Our tracks disappeared almost as soon as we made them. Not even the Tongu hounds could track us over that constant shifting, our scent gone before it settled into the rocks or grit. Our trail went cold within an instant.

  “Shardon informed their horses of where we are,” Rygel said. “If they listen to what their horses are telling them, they’ll find us with little trouble.”

  “I hope so,” Kel’Ratan grumbled, scratching his cheek. “I don’t like our forces split like this. We’re dead if there’s trouble.”

  I glanced past Arianne to Shardon’s liquid eyes behind his thick silver forelock. “Do you know how far away they are?”

  “About an hour,” he replied. “Their horses are pulling strongly toward us, and haven’t reported their riders trying to stop them.”

  “Are they all together?” Kel’Ratan asked.

  Shardon lifted his head for a long moment, as though listening. “Witraz and Alun and the boys are together. Rannon is a few miles behind them, trying to catch them up. But they move slowly, their horses are carrying great loads.”

  “Should we stop and wait?” Arianne asked.

  “No,” Kel’Ratan said.

  By the quick flash of guilt that crossed his face, he spoke more sharply than he intended. Arianne didn’t take offense, however, and merely shrugged.

  “We keep going,” Kel’Ratan went on. “We dare not wait for even a moment.”

  Corwyn eyed him curiously. “Why? There’s no one about, probably for miles. Who’s to know?”

  Corwyn was right. We often paused to rest and water the horses, feed ourselves, hunt. What was so different this time? I peered at Kel’Ratan, baffled. His face appeared strained, his mouth under his thick red mustache as tight as a taut bowstring. The skin over his cheekbones looked drawn and ghostly pale. His blue eyes, always fierce, flicked all around as though he tried to look everywhere at once.

  Kel’Ratan, the most confident and fearless of leaders, was afraid.

  My hackles rose.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, my voice rising.

  “Gods!” Rygel suddenly cried, clapping his hands to his ears at the same moment Arianne’s voice erupted in a small shriek. Ice dropped into my belly. I knew what that meant.

  “Wolves,” Arianne choked, her grey-blue eyes wide in fear. “Howling. In my head.”

  “Warning us,” Kel’Ratan said grimly. “Something is going to happen. Something bad.”

  “Bar?” I asked, calling aloud.

  “What?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Up here.”

  Shading my eyes, I looked up, scanning the blue upon blue cloudless sky. I saw nothing, nothing – There he was. He looked a dim black dot that drifted in a small circle, flying around and around, straight over my head.

  “Where are the others?” I asked. “Can you see them?”

  Bar hesitated. “Yes. There they are. They’re at a very slow trot, and still a few miles behind you.”

  “Do you see anything else?”

  “Like what?”

  I blew out my breath, frustrated, worried. Corwyn drew his sword and reined his roan near Rufus. Tor’s bow slid into his hand, his arrow nocked. His huge brown eyes didn’t watch me at all. They searched the surrounding hills. Ah, he felt it, too.

  Even Tuatha sat up, his ears as high as they could go, his hackles stiff at attention. He growled, low in his chest, a faint vibration I felt through my saddle.

  Apprehension crept into my gut, spreading its evil fingers down every nerve ending. Nudging Mikk, I loped him to the top of the nearest hill and glanced carefully around. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. The noon sun shone down, bright and hot. As far as I could see, nothing moved save the shifting sand. A reptile sunned itself on a rock nearby, its tongue flicking past its tiny muzzle. It paid no heed to the very large animals in its domain. Below it and to my right, a huge black spider, as big as my fist, walked on spindly, dignified legs, leaving tiny tracks in the sand. Ever present flies buzzed around the horses, their tails swishing constantly.

  “Get back here, Ly’Tana,” Kel’Ratan ordered, an edge to his voice.

  “Ly’Tana?” Bar prompted.

  “Do you see anyone, anyone at all besides the boys?”

  “No one. Not human anyway, for leagues. You left civilization behind you.”

  “I don’t really call Ararak civilization,” I replied, my heart sinking. Sweat, previously drying before I felt it, trickled down from my neck onto my spine. A chill went with it. “If it’s not human, what do you see?”

  “The wolves are paralleling you, to both sides,” Bar answered. “But even they are a few miles or so out.”

  “Call them. Get them back here.”

  “Ly’Tana,” Arianne said, her tone almost as hard as my cousin’s. “Come here this instant.”

  I obeyed and wheeled Mikk, sending him down the hill, his quarters slung low. I plunged my hand into my tunic and grabbed a dagger, as my sword was buried deep in my pack. I rejoined them, once more within the shelter of the group. Arianne breathed deep in relief.

  “What did Bar say?” Kel’Ratan demanded, sweat trickling down the side of his face to mingle in his red mustache.

  “He sees only the wolves,” I answered. “They’re not far away. But I told him to call them in.”

  “Good – “

  Shardon’s head rose, his nostrils flaring as though seeking an elusive scent. Rygel yanked his sword from its scabbard, his amber eyes wide, his aristocratic lips skinned back from his teeth. Corwyn also drew his sword, his horse’s rump toward Arianne. His eyes roved the area, watching for trouble, but his blue eyes confused with his brows drawn down over his narrowed eyes.

  Left and Right drew their daggers, dropping the ropes to the pack horses they led, and trotting their blacks up to flank me. I, too, dropped my lead rope, not wanting to get tangled up if things got ugly, my stomach in a knot. Even Mikk’s head whipped up, his ears flattened tight to his skull, his back arched as he danced on his toes. His tail lashed from side to side.

  Silence fell with a thump. In a world where the wind constantly blew, shifting sand slid and moved with a faint but discernible hiss, dead quiet was a profound impossibility. Even the insect life that once buzzed in desert harmony suddenly shushed. Horses’ tails ceased flicking at flies that were no longer there. I glanced down. Dead flies dotted the light colored sand like small black pebbles. A scuttling scorpion near Mikk’s hoof suddenly collapsed and curled into a stiffly rounded ball.

  The sun dimmed in its brightness.

  Horror jumped down my throat.

  “Lady have mercy,” Kel’Ratan whispered.

  “What – “ Corwyn began.

  Tuatha snarled at the same instant grey and tan hounds burst out from behind the desert hillocks a hundred rods away. Hounds!

  The Shekinah Tongu had found us.

  Tor’s bow sang as he snapped arrow after arrow at the leaping slathering hounds. One, two, three fell dead before the grey mare reared in panic. Tor’s next arrow flew wide as he fought to keep his seat. Before I drew another breath, the wiry-haired, roaring hounds raced under our horses’ feet, snapping, snarling, biting our mounts’ precious legs.

  Mikk reared, screaming, his front hooves lashing out at a h
ound that leaped at his chest. The hound yelped shrilly as Mikk’s front hooves broke its shoulders and back, blood bursting from his gaping jaws. I seized Tuatha by his ruff at the same time I hurled Mikk into the midst of snarling mutts. Guiding him with my knees, I sent him, rearing and striking, lashing out with hooves and teeth. The remains of four, no five hounds, bloodied his legs.

  Arianne screamed.

  The Tongu assassins, scarred and tattooed and whispering, hissing curses rushed out from hiding behind their hounds. I hurled another knife into the throat of one at the same time Kel’Ratan lay about him with his sword. No few Tongu staggered away, missing hands, arms, or blinded by slashes across their faces. With the deadly skill of an accomplished warrior, Corwyn cut and stabbed from atop his rearing, plunging roan, slaying those Tongu who sought to drag him from his gelding.

  “C’mere, you damn, vile filth,” Kel’Ratan snarled, his sword slashing across the eyes of a Tongu who sought with bare hands to drag him from his saddle. His bay reared, wheeling, catching yet another assassin on his shoulder, knocking him down. Deadly hooves danced on him, almost with glee, snapping ribs, spine, and crushed his fragile skull like a ceramic mug. “You want me? By goddess, you come and get me.”

  Three Tongu accepted his challenge. In a tight knot, they lunged in, swinging their handy cudgels, aiming for his stallion’s legs. In a move that would have made Raine proud, Kel’Ratan spun his sword in his fist, twirling it until it rested behind his shoulder. In a savage backhanded blow, he cut through two of the three at their hairline. The third received only a glancing blow, but it was enough to make him stagger, lowering his club. The bay stallion tasted his own revenge and found it sweet. Huge front hooves crashed down onto the upright Tongu’s shoulders, breaking like sticks his shoulders and arms. If the man still lived, I’m certain he’d soon regret it.

  Two more dropped dead from the hurled daggers of the twins. Saving their precious resources of knives, they used their black stallions as weapons, and hurled them into the faces of their enemies. With legs and hands, they urged their battle-trained horses to rear, to kick, to bite, to slay.

  Tor was helpless. He had no sword, no dagger with which to fight. His bow hung, useless, from his hand. His mare plunged and kicked, eyes white and jaws foaming in panic. She hadn’t the battle training ours had and merely fought to save her life, not his. Her reins hung, swinging from her neck as he clung to the pommel with the other in his frantic attempt to stay on.

  Mikk reared high, his front hooves flailing, his warcry high and fierce. My balance slipped a fraction, but it was Tuatha’s small body that proved my undoing. He crashed into me, sending us both headlong into the dust and sand. My breath rushed from my lungs. I rolled over to protect the helpless Tuatha, my knife in my hand. Above me, my faithful Mikk flailed about with hooves and teeth, biting into flesh and blood and bone, his huge hooves crashing into skulls and chests. A Tongu slipped past, rolling under his body, his face split into a triumphant grin. His knife poised to strike.

  I slashed his throat with my knife and twisted out of his arm’s reach. Choking on his own blood, he sought to stab me yet again. I rolled, away from his reaching blade, my left arm around Tuatha, and kept his small furry body close to mine. Scrambling, using my legs as pistons, I dove toward a short pile of rocks. My back now semi-protected and Mikk still fighting with fatal hooves and teeth, I watched as the Tongu quickly bled to death, his hissing breath stilled at last.

  I thrust Tuatha behind me, between the rocks and my body. There, none could harm him unless I myself died in the battle. I was reasonably safe, at least for the moment. I watched the battle even if I couldn’t aid my companions by very much. I grit my teeth in anger. My bow and sword were wrapped and strapped onto Mikk’s saddle. Why hadn’t I gotten them out once we left Ararak behind?

  I threw the knife in my hand. It buried itself in the ribcage of a dog that leaped onto the ugly roan’s rump, seeking Corwyn’s vulnerable back. The roan bucked at the same instant, kicking backward at yet another that sought to hamstring him. Two sets of knives hurled from the twins plunged into the necks of two more Tongu. Staggering, hissing they fell. They tried in vain to yank the knives from their gushing throats. Down on the ground, they gasped their last breaths, choking on their own blood.

  Yet, ten, a dozen, assassins and hounds took the places of the dead and injured, hurling themselves at the horses, snapping, cursing, swinging swords and cudgels. Kel’Ratan, his bloodied blade high, kicked his stallion into the thick of them. He lay about him with skill and courage, killing three as his bay reared and plunged, killing two hounds and crippling a third. I threw my dagger into the lower back of a Tongu who sought to pull Kel’Ratan from his saddle.

  Rufus, screaming, slashed and bit down, killed two assassins who tried to seize Arianne. Unable to fight, she clung to her saddle like a limpet, her wild black hair cascading around her. Corwyn, ever her protector, protected her back, laying about him with his sword. Two more Tongu went down under his slashing blade as his roan stomped a slavering mutt into the sand.

  Rygel and Shardon, working as a team, killed five, no six, hunters and as many snarling, biting dogs. Shardon’s silver coat dripped dark red gore. Slicked with blood, Rygel’s arm slashed left and right, cutting Tongu throats, reaching hands from arms.

  Something caught my eye, drew it away from the battle. The small hairs on my arms, my neck, stood on end. Ice cold shivered down my back. I swallowed hard, heard the dry click of my throat as it caught on saliva that had dried to dust in my mouth.

  In that instant I wanted nothing more than to crawl under the rocks at my back, taking small Tuatha with me. Perhaps then, only then, I might be safe.

  For hell itself had vomited up its worst nightmare.

  A black shadow loomed over the short hillocks to the southeast a thousand rods away. An inky black mass, shaped like a colossal serpent, appearing solid yet it shifted restlessly like a dense, thick fog. Sometimes I glimpsed the distant desert through it, like through a heavy glass. Sunlight seemed to be drawn into it, swallowed, consumed, only to belch it back out in a stinking cloud. Yellow eyes, huge elongated cat’s eyes with slitted pupils, glared. My heart quailed under its hate, under its pure evil. What in the name of heaven and earth was that?

  A daemon.

  Where that name, that concept came from, I’d no clue. I knew it for truth.

  Wide sweeping wings emerged from behind it, snagging the last life from the sun above. Under them, birthed by them, Tongu assassins sprang, tattooed and cursing. At their side, hounds galloped, snarling, fangs bared, ready to maim and kill.

  “Ly’Tana!”

  An avenging angel swooped down from above.

  With a shrill scream of rage, Bar hit the approaching Tongu from the side. His talons slashed, ripping through human and hound flesh as though through thin butter. Blood fountained high as his front talons sought slashed both Tongu and canine flesh. His beak snapped bones, ripped heads from necks. His tail whipped to the side, knocking men to the ground. The sheer fury of his wings whipped sand and grit into the eyes and sensitive nostrils of his enemies.

  Taken by surprise, the Tongu and their hound allies fell back, shielding their eyes from the onslaught of wind and sand. They couldn’t see through the blinding sandstorm Bar’s wings produced. He used that advantage, pouncing like a cat onto a frightened mouse, his lion hind legs digging into the sand for purchase as he lunged after a Tongu who felt that flight was the better course of action. His wings cast the desert into shadow as he tore the head off the Tongu’s neck, leaving red blood to spill into the dusty sand.

  A dozen or so Tongu gathered together in a bunch, like frightened sheep, back to back, swords and clubs to the outside. This was a defensive measure that might have worked had they faced any enemy save a furious griffin and mounted warriors. Screeching his rage, Bar banked up and around, bloody talons to the fore. Directly into the swords and cudgels he struck, raking his left talons across the fac
es of his enemies, his right sweeping across the other way, slashing with wicked speed and precision. His wings blasted the poor Tongu with a storm of grit and dust, adding to the madness and chaos. I almost felt sorry for the idiots. They thought to harm me and get away with it? What a riot.

  As if directed by one mind, my faithful twins kicked their horses into attack mode, directly at the center of the confused, blinded and bloody Tongu. Corwyn wheeled his roan, cursing his fury, his bloody sword held high. Like one creature, Corwyn and roan struck hard at the Tongu’s left flank, crushing and slashing anything that stood in his way. Kel’Ratan galloped out of the storm, the wind and flying sand behind him, throwing all of the combined weight of stallion and man against the right flank of the Tongu.

  Beneath their combined onslaught, the Tongu fell back, stumbling over the dead and dying. Their hounds yelped shrilly, and dodged out from beneath hard hooves, slashing swords and deadly flying talons. The small knot of men with clubs and swords melted into the sand, unable to protect themselves from the sound and fury of men on horseback and the ire of my griffin bodyguard. Men and hounds died or fled, in panic.

  Protecting Arianne and me from the several Tongu still unfought, Shardon reared and lashed out with all his Tarbane strength. Hound and Tongu skulls didn’t just break under his kicks or his bites, but were instead pulverized. One kick alone could slay a hound or assassin with its deadly blow. His accuracy was breathtaking to behold. Rygel lay about him with his blade, his amber eyes squinted with anger and hate. Spittle slicked his thinned lips. Those Tongu who melted out of the path of the initial charge concentrated their forces on him. Their hands sought him, reaching for him, aiming to drag him from his saddle. They’d slay him, and slake the desert sand with his blood.

  Magic, Rygel! I tried to scream. Use your bloody magic.

  If he heard me, he gave no sign. Yet, his sword swung without effect as he shut his eyes. His empty left hand rose –

  Nothing happened.

  The Tongu stumbled over the bodies of the dead men and hounds. Despite their heavy losses, their numbers increased. Where were they hiding? More huge dogs hurled themselves from behind dunes and hills, foam dripping from their jaws. Tongu knives and swords slashed and swung at us, at our horses. We repelled them, time and again, yet more surged forward to be kicked or trampled, killed or mortally wounded. Kel’Ratan, Corwyn and the twins backed off, forming their own protective knot against the new hordes that arrived as if by magic. Protecting each other’s backs with swords and rearing horses, they fought on, to the last.