by Tora Moon
He caught one wolf mid leap by the throat with one hand, his claws digging into the thick fur, trying to reach the jugular vein. He felt warm blood trickle onto his paw. With a roar, he gripped both hands on either side of the wolf’s head, holding the snapping jaws away from him, and twisted, breaking the wolf’s neck. He dropped the body and whirled toward the second wolf.
He swiped at it, catching its side with his claws. It yipped and turned away from the horse, snarling at this new foe. It leaped for Histrun’s throat. He spun out of the way and, using the greater reach of his arms, swiped it again as it flew past him. Bright red blood gushed on the ground. Histrun leaped on the wolf, clamping his bigger, stronger jaws around its throat and biting down until the body sagged in his jaws. He spit it out.
He couldn’t see Bosetel and hoped it meant Blazel had captured him and taken him into the cave. He didn’t want to go chasing a frightened horse after finishing with this mess. He ran toward Telen, who kicked another wolf in the chest. Histrun let the wolf sail past him, then pounced when it landed, stunned. He broke its neck with a quick jerk. Only two more wolves.
He caught sight of a blur of red-brown fur racing toward them. It stopped in front of Telen just as a wolf leaped toward the horse’s neck. Blazel, in his warrior form, howled as he swung, his fist connecting with the wolf’s jaw, knocking him down. The wolf shook its head and snarled. The second wolf paced behind Blazel, its hackles raised, its lips pulled back.
Histrun had a moment of déjà vu, seeing Zehala in the janack’s grip. He shook his head, snapping himself out of his momentary lapse. He couldn’t allow someone else he cared about to get hurt—or killed—because he was too old, too slow. Roaring, he raced the last few feet and leaped, landing on the back of the wolf ready to tear into Blazel from behind. His greater weight crushed it beneath him. He drove his claws into its throat and ripped it out. He jumped to his feet, looking for the last wolf, terrified he’d see Blazel’s still form. Instead, Blazel stood over the wolf, blood dripping from his claws and teeth.
Histrun ran toward him, then stopped when Blazel turned and snarled at him. As soon as Blazel realized it was Histrun, he dropped his head and whined. Histrun surveyed the battlefield, and once he was satisfied all the wolves were dead, he shifted back into his natural form, wincing at the gash along his forearm. He couldn’t remember how he’d received it.
He reached out and grabbed Telen’s lead rope, frayed where he’d pulled it from the picket line in his frenzy. The stallion pawed at the ground, then shook his hide. His eyes shone white and he trembled.
“Easy, boy. It’s all right. The fight is over.” Histrun, said in a calm, soothing voice. He ran a hand over the horse’s neck and shoulder to settle him. Then he turned his attention to the frightened boy.
“Blazel,” Histrun said, in the same tone he’d used on Telen, “it’s over. You can shift back now.”
“Can’t,” Blazel whimpered. “Trying.”
Histrun slowly approached him. “Take a deep breath. Relax. I know it’s hard with all the adrenaline rushing through you, but you can’t shift until you relax. Let go of your fear.”
“Not afraid.”
“Let go of your anger. It isn’t helping you now.”
He saw Blazel’s shoulders and chest rise and fall as he took several deep breaths. A shudder went through him as he released the magic. Blazel looked down at his bloody hands, then at the dead wolf laying at his feet.
“He was going to hurt Telen. I couldn’t let him.”
Histrun pulled the boy into his chest, patting his back. “It’s okay. You did well, boy. It’s our job as warriors to protect those who can’t protect themselves, and that includes our horses.” He held Blazel as he shuddered, a sob escaping him.
Histrun continued to hold him, muttering soothing words. This was the first time Blazel had been exposed to the violence of a fight to the death. He’d lived a sheltered life in the Sanctuary and hadn’t seen this daily, the way most Posairs had.
After a few milcrons, Blazel pushed away from Histrun’s chest. “I’m okay now.” He wiped at his face, then reached for Telen’s rope. “Come on, Telen, let’s get you taken care of.”
“Where’s Bosetel?” Histrun fell into step next to Blazel as he led the horse to the cave.
“In the cave. He’s hurt pretty bad.”
“I’ll look at him to see how bad he is. Are you hurt?”
Blazel shook his head, then winced, rubbing his shoulder. “Not bad.”
After washing the blood from Bosetel’s injuries, they discovered they weren’t too deep. He’d need a few days to heal before he could be ridden. Telen only had a few minor cuts and scrapes, mostly on his legs from the wolves nipping at them.
Histrun wished they had a Red with them that could burn the wolf carcasses so they wouldn’t have to worry about other scavengers coming close. Instead, they dragged the carcasses well away from the clearing.
That night, the predicted storm hit. The rain lashed down, lightning lit the sky, and the thunder echoed off the cave walls.
“Good,” Histrun said, watching the rain from the cave’s mouth. “It’ll wash the blood away. We shouldn’t have to worry about scavengers now.”
Histrun and Blazel huddled in the cave around the fire, playing keshe while they waited for the storm to pass. When Blazel crawled into his bedroll, Histrun continued to sit by the fire, reliving the wolf leaping at the boy and the terror of how close he’d come to losing him. This time though, he hadn’t been too slow, and had snatched a loved one from the jaws of death. Maybe he wasn’t as worn-out and useless as he’d been thinking ever since Zehala’s death. He looked over at the sleeping boy. Maybe he did have something left to offer the world.
Chapter 17
It rained steadily for two days. The third morning after the wolf attack, they awoke to a light dusting of snow covering the ground. Histrun examined Bosetel’s injuries and determined him fit enough for Blazel to ride; however, it would be good practice for Blazel to run part of the way in his wolf form. They packed up their belongings and cleaned up the cave, making sure to restock it with firewood for the next traveler.
As they rode away, Histrun noticed Blazel sat in his saddle much more securely than he had earlier. His whole demeanor had changed during the time they’d been away from the Sanctuary. He had become a confident young man. Histrun would be proud to take him back to Strunland Keep with him and introduce him to the fighting-packs there.
By midmorning the snow had melted, but the air held onto the chill of coming winter. Dark clouds billowed up behind the mountain peaks, and Histrun pushed their pace faster. He didn’t want to be caught away from shelter when the next storm barreled down the mountains. An octar after stopping for their midday meal break, they crested a hill that overlooked the Sanctuary’s valley. The multas and sheep had been brought in from the pastures, and the grass had turned brown while they’d been gone. Only a few trees still had colorful leaves clinging to their branches.
A cold wind blasted them from the north. Histrun shivered in his cloak, wishing he’d brought fur-lined gloves and boots to keep his hands and feet warm. He blew on his hands, then urged Telen into a canter down the hillside and across the empty meadow. The horse’s hooves clattered onto the sheadash stone road, an unwelcome change to their softly muted footsteps in the forest. The guards at the gate waved them through, then hurried back into their shack.
Histrun led them directly into the stables, grateful to get out of the cold wind.
“What in the Crone’s fires happened?” the horse-master asked when she saw the healing gashes on the horses.
Histrun pulled his bags from Telen’s back. “We were attacked by highland wolves. They almost had Bosetel for lunch, but we stopped them.” He smiled at Blazel. “He did very well, killing one by himself.”
“That’s very good, Blazel,” the horse-master beamed at Blazel, who stood up taller at her regard. Worry creased her forehead when she turned back to
Histrun. “How far away were you? Do we need to send a hunting party out to kill the pack?”
Histrun shook his head. “We killed the five attacking us. It happened just before the storm hit. I think they were just traveling through ahead of the storm, and the horses appeared to be an easy meal.”
“I’ll let the others know to be watchful when they go out. It’s early for wolves to be lurking around here.”
“If there’s more trouble, I’ll be happy to join in a hunt.”
“Thank you. It will be good to have a strong warrior such as yourself on a hunt. I’ll just put these boys in a warm stall and check that their wounds are healing well.” She nodded to Histrun and Blazel, then gathered the horse’s reins and led them farther into the stable.
“That’s our cue to head to our rooms,” Histrun said, clapping Blazel on the shoulder. They hurried across the courtyard, but Histrun stopped Blazel when he opened the door to the cloister. “Go get warm and rest up. We’ll start training again in the morning.”
Blazel didn’t quite hold back a moan, and grumbled under his breath, “More training?”
Histrun remembered his promise. “Bring Chariel with you. She can learn the fighting-forms.”
Blazel brightened, then scurried through the door, letting it bang behind him.
Histrun shouldered open the door leading to the staff village, the wind making it difficult to open. He jogged to his cottage and slipped inside. The fire had already been lit. The horse-master must have sent word of his arrival ahead to Naedera. As he stood in front of it warming his hands, he noticed a pot of stew warmed over the fire. The door rattled as the wind shook it, and he silently thanked Naedera for her thoughtfulness. He wouldn’t have to go out in the storm to get dinner. He opened the pot’s lid, and breathed in the scent of roasted mutton and tuber soup.
The next morning dawned bright, the light reflecting off several inches of snow. Rubbing his arms against the cold, Histrun decided they couldn’t continue to train in Blazel’s spot by the river. When Blazel and Chariel knocked on his door, he led them to the practice arenas in the guest quarters. Chariel was unexpectedly coordinated and picked up the forms quickly.
She couldn’t join them every day, as she had her own priestess duties and training, but she joined often enough that Blazel made faster progress now he had someone to spar with. And adding her into the jelehan circle made the game more challenging—and fun. As Histrun fumbled and lost the catch, he wondered how Blazel would do in a full circle of ten or twelve.
The days grew shorter and colder as winter settled in. Histrun continued his sessions with Blenora, although now they mostly just talked while playing keshe. Sometimes, when they couldn’t go to the practice arena because of bad weather, Blazel and Chariel would join them. Over the chedans, the pain in Histrun’s heart eased, and if he wasn’t happy, he at least felt content. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when the change had happened. Perhaps it had been when he saved Blazel from the highland wolf.
He and Blenora were playing keshe one day while the wind howled outside. He frowned at the number of pieces she had on the board, and the lack of pieces he had.
“Where did you meet Zehala?” Blenora asked, capturing another of Histrun’s pieces.
“Here, actually.” Histrun sat back, contemplating the board. He didn’t have many moves left before he’d have to concede she won this game. “It was at an Alpha Competition. My lover at the time, Sujeen, was competing for the position of Strunlair’s Clan Alpha. She thought she had it, since I was the clan alpha and my term wasn’t up for challenge.
“Then this beautiful woman with thick, wavy, dark-auburn hair with gold highlights strode into the arena. She held her head high and oozed confidence. She caught everyone’s attention because she was so young.”
“Zehala?” Blenora asked, taking his last piece. “Wasn’t she the youngest to become a Clan Alpha?”
Histrun nodded, gathering up the game pieces to put it away. “She was only forty-five. Sujeen claimed she couldn’t challenge for the position because she wasn’t sixty or older. But Zehala had done her research, and she said the age brackets for the various alpha positions were just guidelines and tradition.
“Sujeen took the issue to the Supreme, and lost. Zehala had been correct. Anyone could take the challenges for the Clan Alpha position. They were designed to find the best person as alpha, not just the oldest. Zehala won—far, far ahead of Sujeen.” Histrun smiled at the memory, watching Zehala in his mind’s eye outsmart and outmaneuver all her competition with style and grace.
“That’s how she became my co-alpha. Her audacity intrigued me, and it didn’t take long for a relationship to kindle between us. I had initially been attracted to her sharp intelligence, but after getting to know her, I fell in love with her because of her passion and caring. She hadn’t become the Clan Alpha for the power it offered, like Sujeen, but because she wanted to help and serve her people. Being the Clan Alpha provided her the best way to do so. We became bond-mates within a year of meeting.”
“You realize this is the first time you’ve talked about her,” Blenora said, twirling a keshe piece.
“Huh.” Histrun looked up at the ceiling and examined how he felt about that.
“You’re making good progress in your healing.”
“I like being able to remember and talk about the good times Zehala and I had together. It’s much better than just remembering how she died.”
After that first time, Histrun would tell stories about his and Zehala’s life, how they developed the Zehis method, and their time as Clan Alphas to anyone who would listen.
Watching Blazel and Chariel train, he finally knew how he could still contribute to the keep. He liked teaching the boy and molding him into a fine young warrior. By the time the spring thaw hit and the flowers were pushing through the snow, he was antsy and ready to go back home.
* * *
Four chedans into Ahdar, the first lunadar of spring, word finally reached the Sanctuary the mountain pass to Strunhelos was clear of snow. Histrun immediately made an appointment to meet with the Supreme. Blenora walked with him to the audience chamber. The windows had been opened, and a warm breeze fluttered the white drapes. Sunlight made the Supreme’s crystal throne glitter and sparkle. It fit his mood.
“Blenora tells me your heart has healed,” the Supreme said after motioning him to stand. “I can see by looking at you it’s true. Have you enjoyed your stay with us?”
“Yes, your grace. Very much so. I especially liked training young Blazel.”
“I hear you have also been including Chariel in your training.”
“Yes, your grace.”
The Supreme leaned her chin on her fist. “At first I didn’t think it was a good idea to train one of my White Priestesses to fight, but then Blazel reminded me Shandir had been a White Priestess.”
“He did the same for me.” Histrun smiled at the memory.
“It does not bode well that our strongest oracle in generations has learned to fight. The visions the Goddess is sending me is of a time, in the not too distant future, where we will have to fight a great evil to survive. It is for this reason that I have allowed Chariel to work with you and Blazel.”
Histrun’s stomach clenched at her words. His people had been fighting for survival since the Great War, and he and Zehala had hoped their method would help their people finally do more than just survive. But if the Supreme’s visions were true—and he had no doubt they were—they would need all the good fighters they could get. Like Blazel.
“Speaking of Blazel”—he paused as her lips thinned into a grim line. He licked his lips and forged ahead—“he’s a gifted fighter. He’s wasted staying here. I’d like to take him back with me.”
The Supreme’s eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened. The rings on her fingers dinged as she tapped a staccato on the arm of her throne. “I was afraid you’d ask. The answer is no. He’s to remain here.”
“But why?”
Histrun risked breaking protocol to question the Supreme’s ruling. The boy deserved more than to be locked away with just women for company. “Do you want him to be labeled a rogue? That’s what will happen if he doesn’t join a pack soon. A child without a pack can be tolerated, but not a man. And Blazel is no longer a child.”
“He is to me. Let him stay a gentle child a while longer. If he goes out into the world with you, he’ll lose the sweetness that makes him special.”
“Will you keep him tied to you all of his life? When will you allow him to become what he is—a Posair warrior?”
“Only for a while longer. Once he turns eighteen, he can no longer stay here.”
Histrun frowned. What difference would six years make? He looked up into the Supreme’s white eyes ringed with black. She was the Goddess’s representative. Who was he to question the ways of the Goddess?
“I’ll be back on his eighteenth birthday,” Histrun promised.
The Supreme inclined her head. “You will be welcomed, and Blazel will be released into your care then.”
“Can I return to continue his training?”
“You may, but no more than twice a year.”
“Thank you, your grace.”
The Supreme turned her head to look out the window. Histrun wondered if the audience was at an end. He looked over at Blenora, who shook her head. He clasped his hands behind his back and prepared to wait until the Supreme dismissed him. She finally gave a deep sigh and turned her attention back to him.
“I’m unsure of the wisdom of telling you this,” the Supreme said, rubbing her temples. “Take care of your daughter, Rizelya. Make sure she is taught to be a leader. She will have a pivotal role to play in the coming fight. As will Blazel. I know you think it unfair to keep him here. But it is necessary for the destiny that will unfold for him—and for Rizelya, and even Chariel. Speak nothing of this to the children. Nor you, Blenora. They must come to their destinies on their own.”
Histrun put a hand over his heart, pressing hard to keep it in place. What would the Goddess want of Rizelya—a Red?
