“Course not.”
“You’re useless, boy.
Her use of the word ‘boy’ set my hackles rising, stiffening like an outraged cat. My mother never called me ‘boy’. King Finian the Fair retained full possession of that title, and he jealously guarded his treasures.
My back securely ensconced with a stout oak defending my rear, I tossed the damp cloth toward her feet. “Vanyar is clever.”
Her brow arched gracefully. “My son willingly admits his foe is smarter than he?”
I stiffened. “He has resources I don’t have.”
Lightning flickered again, lighting those reddish orbs, that feral smile. Thunder grumbled, like an overfed belly. “Those ‘resources’ are yours if you have the guts to seize them in your fist. Reject them once, and they don’t knock again.”
“I thought I did well enough with the demon,” I replied. “Malik and Company are dead. Iyumi and Van are alone.”
Rather than fill my ears with praise, Enya’s frown deepened. She crossed her arms over her lush bosom, her right index finger tapping thoughtfully. “Just who gave you the power, boy? Who gave you the incantation that summoned it?”
Shocked, I failed to note that contemptuous title. “You?”
“Are you stupid, or do you practice often? Of course, it was me.”
My mind tumbling over the import of those arrogant words, and trying to meld them with the voice of the woman who claimed to have little magical power, I gaped like a fish. My mouth opened and closed, feeling as stupid as she called me. What I might have said to her escaped my tumultuous thoughts as the sky behind her lit up like a flaring torch under the broad fingers of white lightning. Illuminated for seconds, I recognized the creature that emerged from the shadows behind her. As well as its terrible threat. My anger dissolved instantly.
The lightning lit the night sky again, revealing the huge grey wolf with splashes of white around its eyes and paws. Streaks of light grey flowed through its heavy coat. Quiescent, non-threatening, it watched me with intelligent amber-brown eyes. But it stood less than a rod from my mother, dwarfing her and easily capable of killing her in one swift pounce. I froze, gathering both my power and my sword into my fist. “Mother, don’t move. There’s a –”
Enya glanced disinterestedly over her shoulder. She snapped her fingers.
As obedient as one of my father’s mutts, the wolf padded silently to her side and sat down. He glanced fearfully toward her, his ears slack and his tail swishing half-heartedly in last year’s dead leaves and twigs. He returned his gaze to me, and I swear his eyes pleaded.
“What –”
“You sound like a moron, Flynn,” Enya snapped. “Try for words of more than one syllable.”
I flushed. “You never told me you had a pet wolf, Mother.”
She uncrossed her arms, still regarding me with contempt in her blue eyes. Her hand rested lightly between the wolf’s ears, but I saw no affection in her gesture and the wolf cringed. “He’s hardly a pet, dear. He serves me.”
“Right, I can see that. A wolf is ever so handy, don’t you think? Runs errands, brings you drinks, warms your feet in the winter.”
Her brows furrowed as her blood-red mouth frowned. Reddish eyes flickered in the firelight. “I’ll thank you to watch your tongue, boy.”
My hackles rose, yet my gut clenched. Treacherous sweat trickled in tiny runnels down my ribs. Under the approach of the storm, the temperatures in these high-altitude hills dropped swiftly. So why did I sweat? How had my mother changed from the queen who adored her family into this menacing stranger? This wasn’t Enya…but it was. My sweet, pliant mum who fretted over the welfare of Fainche and me, who doted on her heavy-fisted husband lay under this hellish stranger.
As though reading my thoughts, her face softened. The reddish hue didn’t leave her eyes, but her lips smiled sadly. Her hand left the wolf’s head and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “I’m sorry, Flynn. I’m under a great strain these days.”
I nodded, my mute acceptance of her not-quite-an-apology apology. Living with my sire must be like hell on earth, without throwing his extracurricular activities into the equation. Small wonder Enya didn’t seem like herself. If I were her, I think I’d have gone stark raving mad by now.
“We have little time, son,” she went on. “In seven days, the sun and moon will rise together at dawn. If we don’t have that child in our hands when it does, all will be lost.”
“Lost, Mother?”
“Of course. If the – you know – other one has the child in her clutches on that dreadful day, then our beloved lands will be overrun by the Bryn’Cairdhans and their evil monsters.”
“I see.”
She breathed deeply, fetching a sigh. “Please understand, Flynn. Your father is – difficult. That bitch, his damnable mistress, still sings in his ears. I can’t compete with her, Flynn. The princess is closer to retrieving the child. If you don’t get to it first –”
“I will,” I promised, my voice sounding hollow, even to myself. “I’ll have them both by this time tomorrow.”
“And Vanyar?”
I almost choked. “Dead.”
Her features softened into the face I knew so well and would die for. The red flicker vanished and her cornflower blue eyes smiled. She reached a hand down to me as she stood. I accepted it and rose to my feet, my thoughts frazzled. Tiny fingers caressed my cheek, and swiped my hair from my brow, just as she did when I was a small child.
“You’ll save us all, Flynn, my son, my joy,” she murmured. “You’ve strength, power – you’ll slay her, and bring my husband back to me.”
“Of course I will.”
“Forgive me, Flynn?” she asked, her voice querulous, as though tears hovered on the verge of eruption.
I lifted her hand from my cheek and kissed her knuckles. “Nothing to forgive, Mother.”
“I do love you, never forget that.”
Lifting her skirts, she turned away, stepping lightly away from the fire and deeper into the night’s darkness. It swallowed her, as though she had vanished down the demon’s gullet instead of Malik. The wolf watched her go, his head over his shoulder. But he made no move to follow.
“Uh, Mother?”
Her voice echoed back, reverberating. “He’ll remain with you, Flynn, and help you track down the princess.”
The shadows consumed her, as though she’d never been there at all. Lightning flashed, and within the rocky and tree-lined clearing, its brilliance revealed nothing save the sough of the rising wind and a few dead leaves swirling across the dead grass and twigs. My eyes darted here and there searching, but never finding what I sought.
“This just blows,” I muttered, combing my hand through my hair.
The wolf and I eyed one another uneasily. He whined, a soft, hushed sound that seemed to ask a question. I shrugged. “Pal, I haven’t a clue.”
The nausea returned on the heels of my mother’s departure, pushed aside by my fear and anger. It hadn’t abated in the least. My head spinning, my mouth dry, I fumbled for the amber jewel from under my tunic. The wolf watched me carefully. How did she get here? How does she leave? No one can vanish that quickly. Did she turn herself into an owl and fly away?
Willing the jewel to show me Enya, I visualized her in her priceless ivory gown sewn with seed pearls and frilly lace, and her hair pinned into its tight coil. Just as she appeared to me not a moment ago. The sky above showed only twinkling stars and the pale moon rising over the distant eastern hills. I frowned, my gut churning. Where is she? I forced the image onto the jewel, how she walked, how she spoke, how she glared at me with those red-tinged eyes.
I turned, and vomited ignominiously into the bushes.
Sweating like a pig facing the butcher’s knife, I heaved next to nothing into the thorns that scratched my face and set blood to trickling down my cheek. I cared little for that, though. My belly was all that mattered. The evil I called with my ill-gotten magic returned with a vengeance. Where onc
e my power gave me life and hope, this despicable product of an innocent life left me sick, on my knees and retching helplessly in the dirt like a worm.
Gods, make it stop. I’m sorry.
“M’lord! Are you all right?”
Buck-Eye and Boden strode rapidly toward me, silhouetted against the flames. Lightning flashed across their bared steel. Panic rose, swamping my gut. I’m helpless. They’re going to kill me. Staggering, floundering to my feet, I backed away and all but tripped over that bloody wolf. Maintaining my balance with sheer will alone, I gripped my sword and prepared to draw.
I blinked, confused, when Buck-Eye seized me by the shoulders. He peered anxiously into my face, Boden watching me from just behind him. Torass edged away from the fire, his back to me, as though expecting an attack from whatever sent me headlong into the thorns. Like an evil beast, thunder rumbled and vibrated the ground I stood upon. The storm was close and it meant business.
“I’m –” I gasped, tasting sour vomit and smelling it on my breath, “– fine.”
“Get yourself to the fire, my prince, and sit down before you fall down. Torass, get him some water.”
Between my merc knight and my navigator, I stumbled my way to a rock by the fire, shaking with cold, sweat sliding down my cheek. This time, the approaching storm wasn’t to blame for my chills. Only the evil I’d done that day soured my guts so. Torass knelt beside me, offering a skin.
Hefting it, I squirted cold water into my mouth, and turned to spit the acrid remnants of my gut from my mouth. Then I drank greedily, the sweet fluid calming my irritated stomach. “My thanks,” I said, shaking with chill as I handed the almost empty skin back to Torass. He dropped it, and flung a blanket over my shoulders as he exchanged worried glances with Buck-Eye.
“I’ll be all right, lads,” I said, finding a small grin amid the shakes. “Given a night’s sleep.”
“We’ll see to it you get it, m’lord.”
“M’lord, who were you talking to, earlier?”
I froze. Boden’s mild gaze filled with curiosity and no threat returned my confusion. “I heard you talking, m’lord, no offense, mind. Just curious, sir.”
“My mo – didn’t you see her?”
“No, m’lord. Thought you were sound asleep, I did. Then I heard your voice, saw you sitting by the tree, still talking.”
“But – she –”
“Who? M’lord, there’s been no one since the Commander and Galdan rode off. Perhaps you talked in your sleep. I done that, a time or two, myself.”
Buck-Eye slowly stood, his hand on his sword-hilt. “Uh, there’s a wolf yonder, m’lord.”
Torass also rose and yanked his sword from his scabbard. “Get behind us.”
I sighed, wishing the world would stop spinning for just a few minutes and feeling more tired than I ever had in my life. “He’s with me. He won’t hurt anyone. Relax, lads.”
“Uh – with you?”
“I’ll explain later.”
As my mother had, I snapped my fingers. The wolf stalked slowly into the firelight, tail and ears low, his white teeth bared against the threat of my armed and ready bodyguards. As tame as any hound, he sat beside me, whining low in his throat. His tail swished gently back and forth in the dead leaves and twigs.
“Chill, old son,” I said to him, his muzzle on level with my face. “We’ll get it all sorted, somehow.”
“Are you sure, m’lord?”
My bodyguards weren’t at all happy with a wolf in camp. Buck-Eye sat down across the fire, his eyes never leaving the newcomer. Torass didn’t sheath his blade, but crept around behind me. The wolf sensed his distrust and animosity, but ignored it. He lay down, flipping his tail over his legs. He yawned, his ears flattened, before settling his head on his paws. As he gazed dreamily into the fire, Boden studied his non-aggression, and shrugged.
“Almost time for second watch, I expect,” he said. “My lot.”
Imitating the wolf, I lay down next to the fire, and pillowed my head on my arm. Though I knew it would leave my arm sore in the morning, I didn’t care. Drawing my blanket up to my ears, I huddled under it, protected from the night’s threatening storm. Before I drifted off to sleep, I glanced once more at my new companion. “Don’t bite anyone.”
I shivered under my thick cloak and a dreary, fog-blanketed morning. The muted sunlight failed to warm the early morning drizzle. The heavier rain ended sometime before dawn, and left behind a pervading chill that reminded my bones winter wasn’t far away. It came early in the Shin’Eah Mountains.
“Got a name, son?”
Trotting beneath my stirrup, the wolf glanced upward, into my face, and wagged his tail half-heartedly. He didn’t otherwise answer. Had I not seen that glint of sharp intelligence in those amber-brown depths, I might have thought him as ordinary as any dog. I sensed his desperate need to be free of my mother, and, oddly enough, I sympathized.
“If you don’t have a name,” I said, guiding Bayonne through the thorny thickets and tough, twisted trees toward the hill where I commanded the previous day’s battle, “perhaps I should create one.”
This time, he didn’t bother to wag his tail.
“M’lord,” Buck-Eye said, his horse’s striding steadily at Bayonne’s flank. “It’s just a dumb animal. Y’know, sir.”
I caught a flicker of amusement from his slightly uptilted wolf eyes, and his jaws parted as though panting lightly. I know the beast laughed. I chuckled under my breath, and winked.
“Either way,” I said, over my shoulder to Buck-Eye, Boden and Lyall. Torass rode several hundred rods behind, acting as the rear-guard of my tiny caravan. “I need to call him something.”
“Wolf,” Boden replied brightly.
“Wolfie,” added Lyall.
The wolf sighed, his tail hanging low and bouncing against his hocks. I chuckled again. “I think they’re onto something,” I said. “How about Dra’agor. It means ‘noble friend’ in the Old Tongue.”
This time, the old boy’s tail wagged with some degree of enthusiasm. His parted jaws widened though he didn’t look up.
“Dra’agor it is, then,” I said. “Dra’agor, meet Buck-Eye, my knight and vassal. That young fellow behind him is Boden. I call him my navigator, because I believe firmly that if he fell into hell, he’d map his way back. Lyall, that droll fellow with the mustache, he’s a good sort. But mind his knack for card games. He’ll steal your whiskers and replace them with a hedgehog’s quills, and have you believing you got the better hand. Yonder is young Torass. Decent enough cook, you’ll have to try his fruit and nut combo.”
Dra’agor didn’t acknowledge the introductions, but shot me a swift there-and-gone glance of humor and approval. I nudged Bayonne into a rolling canter up the far side of the hillock I stood upon the day before, my lads urging their horses to remain close behind. “Like ale, Dra’agor? Wine? Mead? What will loosen that secretive tongue of yours? How about a willing, luscious tavern walker? I’ll gladly fork over her fee, should you be so inclined.”
Dra’agor sniffed loudly and I laughed.
I crested the fog-strewn hilltop and reined Bayonne to a halt. He didn’t seem to mind that an enormous wolf capable of gnawing his hamstring stood beside him as Dra’agor sniffed the air. His tail waved gently back and forth. Boden and Buck-Eye flanked me, their horses stamping and snorting with considerable more concern regarding Dra’agor’s presence than Bayonne.
“Gods,” Buck-Eye breathed, his breath misting lightly beyond his face. “Look at that, m’lord.”
I squinted through the grey. Though I couldn’t see the river, I heard it as it hustled its way around and over the boulders and dead trees in its path. The valley below appeared like a dream – stunted trees, rocks and thickets poking through the mist in patches. “I don’t see a bloody thing.”
“Exactly. There are no corpses, m’lord.”
I shut my jaw. He was right. I should be staring down at the remains of Malik and his bird friends, Griffin fea
thers stuck in brambles when my demon summoned from hell tore them apart. No human or horse corpses, either. From here, the valley appeared as innocent as a spring lamb.
“Did he eat them, m’lord prince?” Boden whispered, his tone horrified. “Your beastie, did he eat them?”
Dra’agor whined uneasily, his long tongue swiping his whiskers as he again sniffed the still, cold air. Behind me, I heard clothing rustle as Lyall made the sign against strong magic.
“Perhaps he did,” I replied. “That might explain the lack of evidence.”
“Then where is it?” Buck-Eye asked, his tone bordered on panic. “Maybe it’s hidden, waiting to attack us.”
I half-shrugged, chuckling to hide my own nervous tension. “I told you, I can handle it. Move out, lads. Daylight’s wasting.”
Expecting them to ignore my order and remain, frozen on the hilltop and whispering together like children, I nudged Bayonne into a careful trot down the hill. Wouldn’t want him to step into a fog-hidden hole and damage a leg, I reasoned, all the while surreptitiously watching the nearby hills for my hellish creation. Yet, to a man, Buck-Eye, Boden and Lyall trotted behind, like burrs stuck in Bayonne’s tail.
Dra’agor loped ahead, as though scouting for danger before we stumbled head-long into it. His grey and white coat melded into the fog so well he might have vanished utterly had it not been for his waving tail.
I reined Bayonne in sharply, gazing at the battle-torn ground. “Blood.”
“Lots of it,” Boden agreed, walking his horse around, his head lowered as he studied those few tracks that survived last night’s storm. “Hard to tell anything, m’lord,” he admitted. “It’s all – confused.”
“Looks to me like the beastie tidied up,” I commented dryly, bending over my pommel to see better. “Ate everything.”
Lyall made a gagging sound. My own gut toiled at the thought of the demon eating human flesh. Malik wasn’t exactly human, but – eaten? Perhaps while still alive, screaming, as the beast crunched down on his meaty rump, crunching his bones in his huge fist? While I wanted Malik dead, did I want – that – on my already tainted conscience? What of the fully human cavalry soldiers? Did they deserve that death? I swallowed hard, and lifted my head.
The Unforgiven Page 36
