Daughter of the Wolf (Pathway of the Chosen Book 2)

by Cat Bruno

  Praise for Cat Bruno

  The Pathway of the Chosen

  The Girl from the North:

  “A truly exceptional entertainment, The Girl From The North is author Cat Bruno's impressive debut novel and clearly documents her storytelling abilities for deftly created characters and unexpected plot twists. Very highly recommended.”

  –– Midwest Book Review

  “Cat Bruno has laid the foundations for a truly epic fantasy series with a vivid landscape and believable characters that you’ll want to follow.”

  –– Fantasy author EM Cooper

  “The Girl from the North is a fantasy that you will get lost in. You will want to know what happens to Bronwen as she trains to be a healer, as she figures out who she is. You will be invested in her story. But not just her story, you will also fall for Conri. The High Lord of the Wolf Tribe, he is the key that can unlock Bronwen’s memory.”

  –– Every Free Chance Book Review

  Pathway of the Chosen

  The Girl from the North, Book One

  Daughter of the wolf, Book Two

  DAUGHTER

  OF THE

  WOLF

  CAT BRUNO

  PAINTED QUILL

  First trade printing January 2016

  DAUGHTER OF THE WOLF

  ISBN-13: 978-0692598276

  ISBN-10: 0692598278

  Copyright 2016 by Cat Bruno

  Book art by Simon Valev

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, no parts of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted without the written consent of the author.

  Painted Quill Publishing

  www.thingsfantastical.com

  Contact Painted Quill: paintedquillpress@gmail.com

  Author’s Note:

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Printed in the USA

  For all those who continue to love and embrace fantasy, in text and in art. And for those in my own life who continue to love and embrace me, even when I’m often lost in this world of fantasy that I create.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  1

  Dirtied and travel-worn, the small party entered the city gates without incident; the guards were more concerned with the bag of coins that Sharron had handed them than with the dark mage who traveled with the group. To an outsider, they looked no different than many others who sought entrance to the King’s City. Dressed in a fine riding suit, Caryss looked the part of a distinguished visitor, surrounded by her companions and sentinels, as was custom with any Northern lady. Despite her mud-covered clothing, her hair shone in the early morning light of the rising sun, crimson and burning.

  Behind her blazing eyes lived an uncertainty masked by a silent anger. It had been nearly a moon since she last saw her foster mother, yet she thought little of the woman, and even less of the Academy. Her thoughts were often elsewhere and rarely fond ones. Yet they were her own, when little else seemed to be.

  For the last moon, Caryss had neither seen nor heard from Conri, a small blessing, she thought. Yet still she could not mind-lock him from her memory, and the last encounter with him still stung, sickening her more than the babe had ever done, as if her hatred for him poisoned her. At times, she forgot that she was healer, having discarded her robes over a half-moon before. For hours at a time, Caryss rode, stroking the dagger at her waist, the images of her dead parents sharp and painful.

  Her vows had become distant ones, nearly forgotten as they traveled, until the gates of the King’s City had come into view.

  When the King is healed, I will be free, she thought, and I will find him.

  The morning sun was duller on the east and rimmed with fog, as thin white clouds threaded across the sky. Behind her, Caryss heard Sharron ask Aldric if all of the King’s City was as gray as it appeared from a distance. Caryss did not hear his reply, for when she looked to the city, she was met with red-hued buildings, as if they had been painted in blood. Roads, too, were rivers of clay-colored mud, red and shining.

  Only when she blinked did the King’s City wash clean, stone and brick and wood once more.

  *****

  “My lady, I believe that is the palace ahead. If you look closely, you can see how it reflects both the gold of the sun and the blue of the sea, the colors of the royal family. Only members of the King’s Guard are permitted to wear the blue and gold, so it becomes easy to recognize them as such.”

  Aldric’s words cracked through the silence that had overtaken the group since they had entered the city, as they all glanced around with unhidden awe. None but Aldric had been to the King’s City, and its size and splendor was like no other place in Cordisia with towering buildings and wide roads. After moons crossing through small towns and empty fields, the sounds and images of the crowded city seemed to overwhelm them, and they walked slowly, with heavy feet and wide eyes, having left their horses stabled outside the gates.

  Sharron and Caryss had spent half their lives in Litusia, the small town that housed the Healer’s Academy. While the Academy was home to many from all across Cordisia, the King’s City was still nothing like it, and both women looked around them as if they had known not where they were. The two guards who accompanied them, Kurtis and Niko, walked a few steps ahead, while Aldric stayed behind, a dark hood pulled over his head.

  It had been many moon years since he had visited Rexterra, yet Aldric knew there were many still who would recognize him. While he no longer kept wards on the others, he maintained a strong shield over himself, one that only the strongest of mages would be able to detect. Still, he walked with his head low, trying to blend in with all the people running about on the busy streets, heavy with various vendors on their way to the city square or to the piers. Around them voices thick with accents hurried on, and Aldric called out to Kurtis.

  “Just ahead there will be a road on your left. Follow it until we reach the Lower Streets, which are near the piers.”

  As the last of his instructions left his lips, Aldric saw Caryss stumble, her boot catching on an uneven paving brick. Niko, who had stopped when Aldric spoke, reached for her, catching her before she could fall. The guard’s hands were around her waist, and her jacket fell open, slipping off her shoulders. Aldric’s gaze shifted to her mid-section, which she had kept hidden as they traveled. For a moment, he was surprised to notice how rounded her stomach had become, until he remembered that she was several moons with child. She talked little of the babe, yet he realized her condition was quickly becoming more evident. Before they had departed from Tretoria, Aldric and Willem had agreed that it would be best if word of the babe was not shared, yet as he once again looked at her, he realized the
ir folly.

  Already our plans must change, he thought, shaking his head.

  With words just above a whisper, Caryss said, “Thank you Niko. I must do a better job of watching where I am stepping with all these people about.”

  Her words, much like she herself, were distant ones, and Aldric stepped toward her. For the last moon, she had insisted that they call her Caryss, although she offered little explanation for the change. Once, he heard Sharron asking if she would be Bronwen once again after her Healer Journey, yet Caryss had answered that she would never again be so named, telling the other Northern woman that she only recently remembered her Eirrannian name. When Aldric would have questioned her further, she had looked at him with stony, gray-green eyes, and he had said nothing.

  His hands tight beside him, Aldric watched as she adjusted her jacket, pulling at it until it was again covering her stomach. Her boots were edged with mud, as was the bottom of her long skirt. He knew that beneath the skirt she wore fitted leggings, as did Sharron, as they had been riding for the last moon. Looking at her, he could not remember when last they had bathed.

  Clearing his throat, he said, “Caryss, we must get out of these clothes before we make our way to the palace. There are several inns near the piers, and we should have no problem finding rooms there.”

  Slowly, as if his words were not ones that she understood, she replied, “Of course. Is there coin still?”

  Surprised by her question, Aldric stuttered, “Willem gave us plenty, and we have spent little.”

  For much of the trip, Caryss had not been herself, and Aldric had hoped that once they had arrived in the King’s City, the woman who he had first met at the Academy would return. So far, he observed, she had not.

  Looking tired and pale, Caryss simply nodded and followed her guards. Behind her, Aldric stared, then continued on, keeping his gaze on her.

  Soon, they reached the outer edge of the piers, an area that ran several blocks around where the sea bordered Rexterra. Although they could not yet see the Eastern Sea where it met with the Lisania River, the smells of fish and salt surrounded them, telling them they were near. It was morning still, and although clouds still covered much of the sky, a light glow trickled through, yellowing the faded wood and brown brick. There were few places that Aldric liked more than the piers in the King’s City, and, for a moment, he closed his eyes, thinking back on a time when Leorra still lived.

  Loud, insistent squawking from a gull pulled him from the memory, and Aldric opened his eyes, noticing the crowded streets with people rushing about, as often was the case here. In the Lower Streets, all were welcome, he thought, recognizing some from across the Eastern Sea and others from beyond the Three Seas. Voices sung and words were shouted in languages that even Aldric did not know. He watched as Caryss struggled to keep pace with the guards.

  Even though the Academy had been home to many, Aldric knew that Caryss had never before been among so many who were from so far. There were those with darker skin than even his beloved Leorra, some with the light hair and light eyes of the far north, and others still with nut-colored skin and angled eyes, having come far from the east. Near the piers, he knew, many were not Cordisian-born, and the appearance of two Northern women, a dark mage, and two Arvumian guards would cause no alarm. There was safety here, unlike the palace.

  Ahead of him, Caryss walked, her head hanging to her chest as she eyed the uneven pavers. Without warning, she stopped, though they were still a distance from the inn. With little regard to the crowd around her, Caryss hunched forward, bent in half, and vomited. They had eaten nothing since arriving in the King’s City, which now seemed a blessing. Beside him, she heaved, her body trembling and her breath coming in gasps.

  Before he could reach for her, Sharron neared, wrapping an arm around Caryss’s waist.

  After a moment, her back arched and trembling, Caryss stood, wiping at her mouth with the back of her sleeve, and stepped out of Sharron’s embrace. Her hands still shook as she reached into a pouch attached to her riding pants. Drawing out a small, amber-colored bottle, she uncorked it and lifted it to her nose, closing her eyes as the scent of peppermint filled the dank, salty air.

  When she opened her eyes, they were wet and shining.

  “Take this,” Sharron offered, giving Caryss a large flask.

  After several sips, Caryss sighed, “Does it always smell so, Aldric? I will never eat fish again I think.”

  With a quick snort, he answered, “One gets used to it, I suppose.”

  A look of disbelief across her pale face as Caryss muttered, “I will not be one of them. I had expected much of the King’s City, but already I find myself missing the Academy.”

  The two guards had not realized that Caryss had stopped, and Aldric looked about for them, which was made difficult in such a crowd. When he could not find them, he hurried back to the women.

  “Niko and Kurtis must not have seen us stop. Are you able to continue?”

  “Not just yet. I feel as if I am on a boat and these bricks beneath my feet are swaying.” With a wave of her hand toward an area with several wooden benches, she added, “Let me sit for some time. The pavers here seem to be shifting beneath me.”

  Aldric did not like leaving them, yet Caryss looked wan and frail, more so than usual. With a nod, he hurried off, glancing back as Sharron and Caryss made their way to a small courtyard. He knew that none in the King’s City had learned of their arrival, yet still he worried. Despite the decades-long truce between mage and Tribe, there was still no real peace between the two. And, even now, the Lightkeepers kept watch.

  They were all as well-trained as he himself, perhaps even more so, Aldric admitted. Without a strong ward over Caryss, a Lightkeeper might sense the babe. He hurried then, running through the uneven streets, dodging between vendors and stalls, brushing up against several shopkeepers as he made his way to the high piers.

  As he rounded a bend, he spotted the guards, deep in conversation. Niko was gesturing wildly with his thick arms, and Aldric rushed toward them across the wide street.

  “Are you not being paid to keep watch?” he scolded as he neared, keeping his words low, despite the anger behind them.

  With reddened cheeks, Niko mumbled, “We had thought to find you near the inns.”

  The men, brothers he had found out as they had traveled, were only just out of boyhood although they had the size of men twice their age. Willem had paid them well, Aldric knew, and his temper flared again at the thought.

  “You would not have had to find us had you not wandered off. Now come with me.”

  Uncertain about how much longer the guards would be needed, Aldric said little else as they made their way back. The less they knew, the better for all, Willem had told him.

  Back at the courtyard, both women were seated on a faded bench. Steps away, he watched Caryss sip from the flask, a healthy flush across her cheeks. He called out to her as a woman neared the bench.

  “Heyo!” he cried.

  The woman was dressed in a long, tiered skirt that hung to her feet, and, even from behind, he could tell that she was an Islander. Her dark skin looked polished and smooth under the soft sun. Beneath a brown leather vest, she wore a loose-fitting, white tunic that hung to her elbows. Her wrists displayed gold bracelets stacked to the edges of her sleeves. When the woman lifted her hands, jeweled rings encircled her long fingers.

  Bracelets slid down her arm as the woman reached for Caryss, chiming as if in song.

  Again he called out, in warning this time, yet Caryss did not seem to hear him.

  Jumping toward them, Aldric watched as the woman fell back, her brown and gold arms bent and flailing at her sides. Before he could offer aid, the woman dove to the ground, her gold bracelets clanging as her head thumped off the bricks.

  When he neared, the woman’s skirt was over her knees and one of her sandals had been flung under the bench. Aldric quickly kneeled beside her and lifted her head, cradling it between his sca
rred and thin hands. The fingers of his right hand lay near the edge of her cropped hair, and, soon, they grew sticky with blood.

  “Caryss,” he hissed, rocking the woman’s head and staring at her closed eyes, “She is bleeding from the fall.”

  He said nothing further as both healers rushed to him, kneeling at his sides. The guards, having also seen what had happened, stood behind the woman until she was surrounded.

  As Caryss pressed her fingers against the woman’s long neck, he asked in hushed words, “What did she say to you?”

  Ignoring his question, she stated, “Her life pulse is strong. She will wake soon.”

  He watched as her hands moved from the woman’s neck to the back of her head, where she pressed squares of white linen. He knew that she was trying to stop the bleeding and said nothing else. Instead, Aldric stood, circling his hands. Humming softly, he hurriedly warded the women before placing a heavy ward on himself as well. None would be able to see them or hear them, but he could not keep the ward for long.

  “You must hurry before the ward falls,” he informed Caryss, who only nodded.

  When she turned the woman’s head to the side and lifted the bloodied fabric, Aldric gasped as a large gash, nearly the size of his finger, appeared.

  “How long do I have?” Caryss asked as she covered the wound.

  “I will hold it until you are finished if I must. What is it that you plan to do?”

  Caryss gently moved the woman’s head toward Sharron’s hands. Reaching into a pouch, she explained, “If she is to live, I must stitch her. I know not where to go, so I suppose I will have to do so here.”

  “What if she wakes?”

  Looking up at him, eyes late gray now, she answered, “Keep the ward strong. I will do the rest.”