by Diane Rapp
The information made Shariel’s stomach clench. Bess scuffed her toe into the dirt, and Shariel saw tears trickle down her face. “Jarrack enjoyed making people suffer. He tormented his wives and drove a few mad. Ronda used her hatred of Jarrack to survive. She hated him so much that…”
Shariel interrupted. “She hated me because I’m his daughter.”
Aunt Bess sighed and sat back down on the log. She wrapped an arm around Shariel’s shoulder and spoke in soothing tones. “Ronda didn’t really hate you. After all, she saved your life. Some of the women who escaped the harem murdered their own children to make sure Jarrack couldn’t control their minds. When Dr. Alexander helped us escape, Ronda made sure we brought you along. When she decided to train as a warrior, she placed you in my care.”
“Why go find her now? She never cared enough to send for me.”
Bess squeezed Shariel’s shoulder and stroked the girl’s dark hair. “Ronda’s one of Marasuta’s best warriors, a trained Samurai. I taught you unarmed defense, but she can teach you the sword. With riders searching for you, we must seek sanctuary with the Samurai. Until that rider came the wolves were enough.”
Shariel stared at Chacka. “The wolves kept me safe?”
We watch Jarrack’s children, Chacka said, and protect them from the evil one.
You spied on me! You wanted to be sure Jarrack’s evil didn’t live in my mind! Shariel jumped up and ran into the forest, blinded by tears. She ran until her chest ached and plopped down onto a carpet of dried leaves. The forest fell quiet as small creatures watched from their hiding places. Soft footsteps padded up to the human.
Do not howl at a dark moon, little one. You are like a cub of our pack, Chacka said. We guard you by choice. Warmth and friendship radiated from Chacka’s mind.
If you were my friend, why didn’t we talk before?
Cubs hear mind speech when the time is right. We watched in silence until the time to learn arrived.
Shariel’s fingers sank into Chacka’s thick ruff. I felt so lonely and needed a friend. He licked her wet face. I’m afraid of my power. I forced the horse and his rider to obey my commands. Is my blood tainted by Jarrack’s evil?
If your mind was evil, we’d know. Chacka rested his chin on her hand. We will keep you safe.
I’m glad you’re my friend.
Chacka suddenly jerked his head up, listening. A growl rumbled through his body and his ridge hair bristled. He ran ahead and barked at Shariel. They attack the camp! Come!
“Bess is all alone!” Shariel ran back to the camp.
Two riders circled Bess, who sat astride the stallion. She fought with a short sword in one hand and taut reins in the other, while the stallion slashed his front hooves at the other steeds.
Horses reared and hooves stomped as a snarling wolf charged into the melee. One rider pointed at Shariel. She planted her feet and drew her belt knife as the rider thundered toward her, a rope curled in one hand.
“Not this time,” Shariel whispered and lunged at the rider. The impact knocked air from her lungs, but Shariel grabbed a hunk of mane with one hand and slashed at the rider.
Chacka hit the same rider from the other side.
Unbalanced, the rider screamed and fell. Shariel released her grip on the horse as the rider tumbled on top of her. The rider whimpered, holding her leg as she rolled from side to side.
“You’re a woman?” Shariel gasped.
Distracted by his companion’s cries, the second rider allowed Aunt Bess the opening she needed. She thrust the sword into his chest and the rider slipped from the horse holding his chest.
He shouted, “Forgive me, Mikla!”
“Peshal!” The girl screamed and limped to his body. “Don’t leave me alone, brother!”
Shariel watched Mikla sob while Bess collected their horses.
“Let me tend your wound,” Shariel volunteered. She gently led Mikla away from the body.
“He’s dead! My brother’s dead.”
“Did you think you’d capture us without a fight?” Shariel asked.
“What can I do without him?” Mikla moaned.
Aunt Bess tied the horses to a tree limb. “How many more are coming?” she demanded.
“None. We’re the servants of Rabik, the man you killed at the cabin.”
“There must be more than you three,” Bess scoffed.
“Rabik was a scout. His orders were to find the girl and report back, but he sought the glory of her capture.”
Bess touched Mikla’s throat with sharp steel. “If you lie, I’ll cut out your tongue and serve it to the wolves,” she hissed.
“I don’t lie. Peshal is dead, so I’ll live my life as a slave.”
“Slave?” Shariel bandaged Mikla’s wound.
“We planned to buy my freedom with the reward, but we bring shame to our father.”
“Who is your father?” Bess asked.
“I’m the eldest daughter of Pasha Terralt from Sudran province. Peshal was my half brother.”
Bess frowned. “We killed the son of a pasha and brought more trouble on our heads.”
“Who will know?” Shariel asked.
Mikla cringed. “You mean to kill me?”
Bess shook her head. “You’ll come with us to the Samurai and they’ll decide your fate.”
“Is it true Samurai women live as warriors and haters of men?”
Bess chuckled. “My sisters enjoy men well enough but treasure freedom more. Some live as warriors, others tend the camp.”
“A slave to men or a slave to women, what difference does it make? I’d rather return to the desert.”
“Samurai don’t take slaves! If they judge you innocent, you’ll be free to choose your own life.”
“And if I’m judged guilty?” the girl asked.
“You’ll die a swift death.”
Mikla studied the ground. “My freedom is out of my control.”
Aunt Bess frowned and climbed onto a horse and the girls followed her lead.
Traveling was faster with horses for everyone. Mikla looked somber. Her gray eyes and pale skin added a ghost-like demeanor to her mourning. Shariel studied their companion critically, wondering how the girl could brandish a sword and act with defiance, yet meekly consign herself to slavery. Could family honor be worth so much?
Shariel wondered if Ronda would accept her as a grown woman. Could she prove she wasn’t evil like her father and find safety among the Samurai? As if summoned by her thoughts, three Samurai women emerged from the woods.
Bess shouted, “Ronda! Bless my soul, I’ve been wishing you’d appear. Have you taken up conjuring?”
Ronda grinned. “Not on my best day.” She nodded at Chacka. “The wolf sent a telepathic message along the wolf relay. We were sent to take you safely to the camp at Bear Rock.”
Ronda and Bess slid off their mounts. Afraid to draw attention, Shariel got off her horse and watched as the two old friends laughed and hugged. Ronda looked as tall as Shariel, but the resemblance ended there. Her mother possessed light skin, short brown hair liberally sprinkled with gray, and lively eyes the blue of a summer sky.
Shariel recognized Ronda from mental images Bess held dear, but this woman no longer resembled the vulnerable beauty of memory. Her bearing and attitude conveyed strength, self confidence, and the skill of a warrior beneath lean muscles.
Ronda turned to study her daughter with a sad expression. Ronda said, “Hello, Shariel.”
Shariel nodded but couldn’t speak.
Without averting her gaze Ronda said, “You’ve done a good job, Bess. She looks fit. The girl’s height and build reflect my lineage, but there’s much of her father in her looks.”
Shariel’s throat felt tight and dry under Ronda’s scrutiny. Ronda shifted her gaze to Mikla. “Who’s this girl?”
Bess said, “Mikla. She and her brother ambushed us on the trail, planned to steal Shariel for a reward, but her brother died during the attack. Mikla must go before the Samura
i Court for judgment.”
Are you one of Jarrack’s faithful?” Ronda asked Mikla.
“No.” Mikla’s eyes flashed and she held her chin high. “I answer to my father, Pasha Terralt from Sudran province. He promised me as security for my brother’s debts, and we sought to pay those debts with the reward. Failing our task, I will live out my life in slavery.”
Ronda frowned. “Samurai don’t hold with slavery.”
Bess nodded. “What did I tell you girl? Among the Samurai, you’ll have the chance for freedom.”
“Shariel was the one wronged. Will you demand punishment from this girl?” Ronda asked.
Shariel shook her head. “Mikla lost her brother. She’s been punished enough. If she chooses to stay with the Samurai, it will not bother me.”
“She might lead riders to capture you if she returns to her tribe.” Ronda’s tone challenged Shariel.
Shariel’s eyes narrowed, returning the challenge. “Does it matter? A rider already searched me out, and we killed him.”
“You killed a rider?” Ronda said, “I guess you inherited something from me after all.”
Shariel read the next thought in her mother’s mind. There’s still too much of Jarrack in her eyes.
She said, “Do you fear my blood, mother?”
Ronda smirked. “I’m long past living in fear, lass. I gave you away to rid myself of bad memories, but it did me little good. Nightmares lived inside my brain until I learned to burn them out. If I did it over again, I might have kept you with me.” Ronda shrugged. “Done is done.”
Shariel’s anger erupted. “People condemn me for the blood in my veins, regardless of who I am as a person. Why not embrace the power I possess if I’m already judged evil?”
Ronda’s eyes narrowed. “Make of yourself what you will, child. If you allow others to decide your life-path, rather than choose one for yourself, you are no daughter of mine. People fear power. They’ll fear you until actions prove your worth.”
“Will I get a chance to prove myself to you?” Tears streamed down Shariel’s cheeks.
“Bess, see to your girl. It’s not in my character to dry a child’s tears. We’ll make camp and wait for morning.” Ronda stalked away while Bess wrapped her arm around Shariel’s shoulder.
“You’ll be fine,” Bess crooned.
“What if I am tainted by his blood? Could Jarrack’s spirit turn me into something evil?”
Bess smoothed Shariel’s hair. “I know you to the core, my dear, and your spirit is good. Jarrack enjoys making people suffer because he lacks the ability to hear thoughts or share pain. You share emotions and hear thoughts, so you enjoy making people happy. You are not a copy of your father or your mother.”
Shariel hugged Bess. “No one knows me like you, Bess. If I’m anyone’s daughter, I’m yours.”
*****
While they traveled to Bear Rock, Mikla helped with the work of setting up camp each night, offering to tend the fire and help with dinner. The girl relaxed as she performed ordinary tasks. Shariel felt good that Mikla would have a chance for freedom with the Samurai.
Three nights into the journey, Mikla prepared dinner on her own. Everyone enjoyed spicy stew filled with chunks of tender lamb. It tasted so good they over ate, and Mikla smiled at their compliments. They passed a wineskin and enjoyed the flickering firelight, listening to stories about Marasuta. Shariel enjoyed the laughter and drank too much wine.
As the fire died, Shariel stumbled to her bedroll and sank into soft leaves and pine needles. Her brain felt muzzy and kept her from hearing thoughts. The quiet felt wonderful. She slept soundly as the night grew still.
It seemed she barely drifted to sleep when a hand closed over her mouth, wrenching her awake. “Stay quiet!” Mikla whispered in a husky voice. “We will walk together.” Her eyes wide with fright, Mikla looked agitated. Shariel felt the sharp tip of a knife prick her throat. “Don’t try your witchcraft on me, you understand? We’ll use the knife on Bess if you don’t obey,” Mikla threatened.
Shariel noticed a guard slumped against a tree. The bedrolls near the coals of the long-spent fire were still, and Shariel saw that Bess was gone from her bedroll. Mikla pushed and Shariel yielded. She let the girl propel her down the path, unable to make her mind work. Was something in the wine or stew? She couldn’t gather her energy or her thoughts.
“Where are we going?” croaked Shariel. A sharp crack on the skull was the answer, followed by pain and rough hands lifting her body. Her mind floated into blackness.
She woke as spicy smoke stung her nostrils, and her head throbbed. Her eyes were covered with a black cloth but she heard voices nearby. She strained to understand them, but the language sounded like a jumble.
Soft hands helped her sit up, and she heard Mikla’s voice. “Don’t resist or use your witchcraft or they’ll kill Bess. We brought her along to keep you under control. Do you understand?”
Mikla told the truth. Shariel felt Bess nearby, afraid and angry.
“Why’d you do this? You could live in freedom with the Samurai.”
“My family’s honor is at stake. I’ll repay my brother’s debt and return to my father. I can’t live with my family’s disgrace.”
Shariel rolled against the hard wood of a wagon or carriage as it started to move. Hooves clomped, harnesses jingled, and dust filtered through the mask.
“In a few hours we’ll untie your wrists and uncover your eyes. Promise to cooperate or Bess will die.”
Shariel’s heart thudded. What’s going to happen to Bess and me?
Do not fear. Chacka’s mental voice comforted Shariel. We tracked you to the camp of the desert people and will follow. They take you to a place where they keep your brothers and sisters. Help the other cubs of your pack escape.
Shariel sighed. Can you find Aunt Bess? She’s in the camp somewhere.
We spoke to her mind. The desert humans have not harmed her, and she’ll wait with patience for an escape plan.
Thanks for helping me, Chacka.
Other wolves join in the hunt.
Shariel heard a distant howl, echoed by a chorus of voices. If she found her siblings, she’d help them escape from the desert riders. It gave her a purpose.
3 ~ THE COUNCIL OF ELDERS MEETING
Kriegen scratched his ear and waited for the Council of Elders to speak to him. The rhythmic thud of his scratching drew the annoyed glance of the White. The elder mentally projected a ritual welcome. Greetings Kriegen, Leader of the Forest Guardians and Protector of the Two-Legs.
Humans. Kriegen corrected the elder.
We prefer the ancient name, the White replied, his eyes glinting. As delegate from your pack, conform to Council policy.
According to the Law, a pack may choose its own name. Law outweighs Council policy in these matters. Our Pack chose the name Forest Guardians and Protectors of Humans. Kriegen yawned, flashing deadly white canines.
The White bristled. His mental words dripped with venom. Humans are not a pack and the privileges of pack law do not apply.
His own hackles bristled as Kriegen glared. Humans were recognized as sentient beings when the Council accepted Tessa as an ancestor host. Wolf packs fought the evil one, so tradition makes the humans a new pack.
The White’s tail swished as he shifted to another argument. How can tradition apply to beings from another world? Pack law cannot govern humans who are not members of the Council of Elders.
Kriegen’s ears tilted forward, but he resisted the urge to yip with excitement. True enough. We hereby petition the Council of Elders to accept Tessa as Council delegate from the human pack. King Donovan is her sire. Kriegen played his part well, goading the White into his trap.
The White’s eyes flashed with anger. Tessa cannot be a Council delegate until her line hosts a hundred minds.
Kriegen wished he could laugh like a human. Tessa hosts the line of Amber, a former member of my pack. Since the line of Amber contains more than two hundred ancestor m
inds, she qualifies.
The White fixed the steady gaze of a predator on Kriegen, sizing up his opponent, but Kriegen returned the stare with a piercing intensity, calm but ready.
A human cannot represent a wolf pack! The White’s ears flattened against his skull, and he clasped the white knife strapped to his chest.
Quickly the Gray interceded. Amber is a member of the Forest Guardians, a pack that is represented by the line of Kriegen. Do you wish to step down? The Gray stared at Kriegen and waited.
Kriegen’s pupils dilated into hunter’s vision, his fangs dripped saliva, and hot blood pounded through his veins. The ancestor minds helped him control the feral reaction, and he forced himself to use logic. Our pack serves two roles, each recognized by the Council. We are Guardians of the Forest and Protectors of the Humans. He deliberately used the new pack name. Consult your ancestor minds. Two Council Representatives are required, one to fill each role. Increased representation is granted when a pack performs new duties.
The Council fell silent to consult their ancestor minds. As each member nodded, Kriegen knew he’d won. His ancestor minds congratulated him for shrewd handling of the matter.
Too soon!
The White charged Kriegen with snapping fangs and a slashing dagger. Rising to his full height, Kriegen stood on his hind legs and drew a dagger. The White leaped and Kriegen sidestepped. As the White slid past, Kriegen’s gleaming fangs snapped, and a tuft of white fur fluttered to the ground.
Enraged the White attacked again.
This time Kriegen plunged his dagger into the White’s shoulder and sank his fangs into the neck ruff. The White yelped and struggled to loosen Kriegen’s tenacious grip. Their bodies writhed across the bloody stone floor.
When Kriegen finally broke away, rage threatened to engulf his reason. Ancestor voices clamored inside his mind, urging calm, but Kriegen forced them down and faced the enemy. He stood prepared to deal a death blow.
The White shook. Droplets of blood splattered the onlookers as he slashed the blade in a deadly arc. Kriegen crouched to evade the blow and jumped up under the White’s outstretched forelimb. He struck the White a body blow that sent his foe tumbling across the slick floor. The creature lay trembling, defeated. With flattened ears and tucked tail, he slunk out of the chamber in disgrace.
