Catch a Wolf

by A. Katie Rose

  “Uh—” I stammered.

  “Make it lunch, I don’t care. Just feed me.”

  In a blink, he and Kel’Ratan vanished.

  I swept my astonished gaze around the early dawn darkness. No one stood there, shoulders high against the starlight. No human shape lay against the night, blacker than black. Only the stamping, blowing horses created living, breathing life amid the pre-dawn darkness where evil lurked. Rygel took my mortally wounded cousin—where?

  I didn’t need eyes in the dark to know Corwyn’s fingers made the sign against strong enchantment. I forced mine to not make the same gesture.

  “Where’d they go?” Tor’s querulous voice asked the question that rose in all our minds.

  “The monastery,” Wolf replied slowly. “I think.”

  I gathered the black gelding’s reins. “Then we ride. Fast.”

  Wolf nodded after casting a quick glance to the east. Beyond the trees and scrub bushes, the skyline showed the faintest trace of pink. Dawn. “We won’t make it there before noon.”

  Fear once more stabbed my heart. “What about Kel’Ratan?”

  Wolf leaned across to cover my hand with his own warm, calloused palm. “If anyone can save his life,” he said slowly, his face close to mine. “Rygel can.”

  Chapter 2

  The Wrath of Usa’a’mah

  Ly’Tana paced.

  Fluid, powerful, lethal, she loped back and forth across the courtyard, her red-gold hair swinging in the light breeze she made. Her warriors avoided her sharp tongue and sharper temper, obeying her commands to the letter. Yuri and Yuras she posted to the hills to watch for enemy movement. She set Witraz, Rannon and Alun to watching the north, south and west boundaries of the monastery grounds. Bar obeyed her orders, leaping into the sky to watch for the missing twosome without a disgruntled hiss.

  Of them all, only Left and Right stared at her, impassive, silently refusing her commands. Despite her railing at them, swearing, threatening to behead them on the spot for treason, they stood with arms folded and watched her with glittering dark eyes.

  “They’ll be here,” I said, for the tenth time. Or was it the eleventh?

  She shot me a dark look. “They should have been here yesterday.”

  We had ridden our exhausted and bloody mounts into the courtyard the day before, only to find Rygel hadn’t brought Kel’Ratan here to heal him. Dead on our feet, none of us slept much during the night. We bathed the gore from our bodies, ate a little, and worried plenty. My bond with Rygel told me Rygel still lived. I reminded her…for the tenth or the eleventh time.

  “That doesn’t mean Kel’Ratan is,” she snapped, swinging to pace east twelve steps, exactly twelve, before turning about and returning twelve steps west. “Maybe Kel’Ratan is dead and Rygel hasn’t the balls to come back.”

  That was new. She usually ignored my attempts to reassure.

  “Rygel wouldn’t do that,” Arianne said from her spot on the eastern wall, Corwyn standing at her back.

  “What do you know?” Ly’Tana scoffed. “You were in his presence, what? An entire hour?”

  For answer, Arianne turned away, showing us only the sleek clean fall of midnight hair. After bathing, the tangles brushed from her locks, she looked more the young woman than a starveling orphan. The silver headband Ly’Tana loaned her gave her a royal appearance, while effectively holding her hair from her face. She couldn’t hide in it any longer.

  “She loves him,” I said softly.

  That halted her mid-pace. Ly’Tana spun about on her heel, glaring at me as though I’d just insulted her. I sat on the western wall, sharpening my sword. A good blade, the fight with Brutal’s soldiers still nicked the tempered steel in places. I slid the whetstone along its renewed edge and returned her icy eyes with a calm I didn’t feel.

  “Impossible,” Ly’Tana snorted. “She just met him.”

  “Corwyn called it ‘the thunderbolt of the gods’,” I replied mildly.

  “Huh.”

  “’Tis said,” Corwyn said, watching the hills above us, “that if lovers die apart, one grieving with a broken heart for the other, the gods often are moved to great mercy. They’re given a second chance.”

  “Oh?” I asked, interested. Ly’Tana didn’t spin this time, a good sign, but turned instead to regard Corwyn with curiosity.

  He nodded absently. “In their next incarnation, they find each other again. Their lives are linked across time.”

  Ly’Tana eyed me with some humor over her shoulder. “I think I can relate.”

  Ah, there she is. The girl I was rapidly falling in love with. I set my whetstone atop the wall beside me and beckoned, but I was a fraction too late. She turned away and put her hands on her hips as she watched Arianne suffer. Silently.

  “Poor child,” Ly’Tana murmured. “No wonder she won’t eat.”

  Despite her status as a starved waif, Arianne feared her food. Panic over Rygel’s well-being wasn’t the only reason food didn’t pass from her hand to her mouth. I knew only too well how a cruel master inflicted misery on a slave. No doubt Adhas gave Arianne small amounts of nourishment, then beat her for taking it.

  On the rare times Arianne bit into a small fruit, or crust of bread, she hunched her shoulders, her face hidden by her swinging hair. Only her eyes moved, restless, waiting for the blows to begin. Yet only proper sustenance would put meat on those skinny ribs of hers.

  I hoped time and patience might heal her of her terrors, and permit her to leave the slave behind, forever.

  Sheathing my sword, I rose and stepped lightly behind Ly’Tana. She didn’t object as I wrapped her inside my arms and bent my head down to hers. My own thick hair concealed both our faces as I kissed her cheek, nuzzled her throat. “All will be well,” I murmured, my voice husky.

  She choked, snorting a half-laugh, half-sob. “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  Ly’Tana returned my kiss, turning her face enough to discover my lips. She demanded, needed, her mouth devouring, her tongue thrusting past mine to tickle my throat. I cupped her neck, tilting her chin up, angling her lips to better taste her, felt her growing desire. Heat stirred in me. I tasted the salt of her tears, breathed in her scent of lilac and leather, listened to the rapid thudding of her heart. My own pulse raced to match hers, our blood pounding through our veins as one—

  Running steps clattered into the courtyard. “Uh,” Tor gasped. “I think Your Graces should see this.”

  Broken apart, we sighed in unison.

  I nibbled her tender lips. “Hold that thought,” I murmured. “I’ll kill him and be right back.”

  Ly’Tana giggled. “Maybe we should see what he wants.”

  “Oh, sure,” I breathed. “A frog. Or maybe a green snake. We look, we ooh, we ahh, then I’ll kill him.”

  “It’s important,” Tor demanded as Ly’Tana snickered under her breath.

  I raised my head, unveiling us to the curious eyes of—Arianne. Corwyn had politely averted his head while Tor glared, his arms akimbo. Arianne smiled to herself, a decidedly secret smile, and hopped down off the wall. “What is it, Tor?”

  “You best come see for yourselves,” he said, his huge brown eyes now wide, fearful and moist. “It’s—just come.”

  He bolted from the courtyard and stood on the wide, grassy expanse of overgrown lawn a few dozen rods from the monastery. He waved his arms and pointed westward. “You can’t see it from there, it’s behind the trees.”

  Taking Ly’Tana by the hand, I smiled down into her uptilted green eyes. “Boys.”

  “You were one once.”

  “Was I?”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  I tossed my right arm over her shoulder, snugging her tight to me. Her left arm crept about my waist as her head rested against my ribs. Corwyn escorted Arianne out into the bright sunshine where they both glanced west—and froze.

  Sensing their rising alarm, I hurried Ly’Tana out of the walled courtyard. The silent twins
followed us, hands on their hilts, ready to protect her from whatever might threaten her beloved life. The air felt strangely heavy, thick, yet tickled my skin as though hundreds of tiny fireflies danced on it. Weird. Though I swear I never felt such before, something about it felt oddly familiar. I reveled in the light breeze, scenting the forest evergreens and the hint of wildflowers. I sniffed again, catching the scent of new moisture wafting across my nostrils.

  “Gods—” Ly’Tana began.

  “—above and below,” I finished.

  Over the hills and the thick forest lay a dark bank of clouds. So dark a grey, they were nearly black, with towering white thunderheads climbing into the summer blue sky. As I watched, lightning flashed deep within, illuminating briefly. Underneath, a strange greenish light burned, as though lit from behind by an evil force. If malevolence had a color, no doubt it possessed that same weird green shade that lit the horizon now. Just looking at that eerie jade sky raised gooseflesh on my arms. Despite the distance, I smelled the rain and felt the electricity dancing on my flesh.

  “That’s not a storm,” I said, my hackles rising along my neck.

  “It’s the Wrath of Usa’a’mah.”

  “The what?” Ly’Tana asked, shooting a half-glance toward Corwyn, her arm tightening around my waist.

  Arianne slunk to my side, the silver band in her silky hair kept her hair from her face. Yet, she still managed to duck her head enough to hide from prying eyes. Left and Right closed ranks at our backs. Tor, as though fearing a beating, grimaced like a cur and trotted into the safety of my shadow. “This is just, like, really spooky.”

  Ly’Tana tried to scoff, but her voice rose several octaves. “It’s a storm for heaven’s sake.”

  “Not exactly.”

  Corwyn nodded agreement. “There have been three such storms in my twenty-five years here. They come with unusually hot summers, like this past season. The Khalidians name them the Wrath of Usa’a’mah.”

  Again, lightning flashed deep within the gruesome clouds, flickering briefly, then disappeared. A few seconds later, I heard a distant grumble. I gave it two, perhaps two and a half, hours away.

  “We’ll have to hunker down,” I said, “wait it out.”

  Ly’Tana tossed red-gold hair from her brow. “Brutal is on our trail even now. If Rygel and Kel’Ratan don’t return—”

  Her words cut off sharply as though she choked. “He’ll catch us here.”

  “This storm is rare, but still quite famous. If the twisters in it don’t kill you, the hail will.”

  I teased her cheekbone with my finger as she glanced up, emerald eyes moist with fear and anxiety.

  “Brutal can’t just shelter in the trees and weather the storm,” I said. “The trees’ll be stripped bare. Anything sheltering under them is dead meat.”

  “You’re mistaken, surely—”

  “Brutal is headed back to the city with all speed,” I said with gentle firmness. “He’s an idiot, but even he isn’t that stupid.”

  “What about us?” Tor’s desperate question was rife with panic. “Will it kill us, too?”

  “Tor—”

  “The monastery is strong,” Corwyn continued, his tone quiet, glancing around. “It’s been here for hundreds of years, and no doubt will survive a few hundred more. We’ll be safe enough, I expect. Brutal and his battalions will retreat into the city, or they’ll die.”

  Lightning glowed briefly within the inky darkness, making the malevolent green flourish and grow. Maybe two hours if time was generous. Deep thunder vibrated through the earth at my feet.

  A loud crashing in the nearby forest directed our attention from the distant black and green smudge. Mere rods from the monastery wall, a huge brown bear lumbered out from beneath the shelter of the trees. Despite our close proximity and our shocked stares, the bear ignored our human presence. It paused, ears up, black moist nose twitching, to cast a frightened glance over its huge shoulder.

  Turning its back on the approaching wrath and gathering speed, the bear began to run again. Its fur rippled like deep red-brown silk under the bright summer sky. I know none of us breathed as we watched it flee, fascinated despite our own danger. Entering the trees’ sheltering depths, it vanished, only the sound of its body crashing through the heavy thickets evidence of its existence. Soon the sound trailed away into silence as the bear disappeared into the forest beyond the monastery’s walls.

  “Now that’s something you don’t see every day,” Tor commented.

  I glanced down at Ly’Tana. “Your warriors are watching in the hills? Get them back. We don’t have much time.”

  “What of Rygel? Kel’Ratan?”

  I gazed down at her emerald fears, her tension manifesting itself in my mind. I opened my mouth to answer, to allay her fears and my own, but no words formed. I gaped like a landed fish, dying for a few spoken words of comfort. Of hope.

  “They’ll be here soon.”

  Arianne’s soft voice intruded. Yet the confidence in her tone belied her timid demeanor. A slave, yes. Yet the princess emerged slowly, much as a butterfly emerged from an ugly, pasty cylindrical object. Given time, Arianne may find her wings and fly.

  She looked so much like Raia our mother. Those huge eyes, that small firm chin, her dimples and, of course, all that hair. I remembered how my mother’s women sat in the Queen’s solar and brushed Raia’s hair into burnished silk before braiding into a thick rope that bounced off her hips as she walked.

  Arianne’s glossy hair draped her like a second dress, and the stolen gown set off the twin jewels of her eyes. Dimly, I recalled someone telling me Raia had the sight, could foretell the future. Had Arianne inherited our mother’s secret talent?

  “How’d you know we shouldn’t ride the direction we did?” I asked suddenly.

  “That isn’t important, Wo—Raine,” Ly’Tana said. “Leave her be.”

  I ignored Ly’Tana and bored into Arianne’s soul. “Tell me.”

  Pierced by my gaze, unable to hide in the dark wealth of her hair, Arianne finally capitulated, surrendered on a gust of a sigh.

  “The wolves told me.”

  Her voice trailed off, her face lowered toward her hands, hiding. As though fearing I’d seize her by the neck and slap my hand across her cheek. As no doubt Adhas did, often.

  An icy chill ran its fingers down my spine. I tightened my grip on Ly’Tana’s hand, though she voiced no complaint nor tried to wiggle free.

  “The wolves?”

  “Sometimes they warned me.”

  I leaned toward her, recognizing, deep within my soul, a question of which Arianne had the answer. “Of what?”

  Arianne shrugged, her pinched face tight, her eyes squinting against the young sun as she fought to find the unfamiliar words. “After the wolf dreams, I knew something bad would happen. Once, they told me the hearth fire would spill over and catch the wooden floor. I had enough time to get out. The master did not.” Arianne raised her head. “No matter how many times I got sold, or how I was beaten, I knew I’d be safe. The wolves protected me. The wolves loved me.”

  Her face hardened. “You heard them. Rygel did, too. Didn’t you understand them?”

  How could I explain the wolves in my dreams? How could I drag into the bright light the darkness in my soul? How could I voice aloud the howling I heard when I could not even speak of it to myself? I hunched my shoulders, opening my mouth to say something—anything—and shut it again.

  “What was your dream of me?” I asked finally, glancing up.

  “I don’t remember seeing your features,” she replied slowly, scratching her tiny nose. “I just heard your voice: ‘Arianne. I’ve come to fetch you home.’ For months, my sleep echoed with that voice and those words. And the howling of wolves.”

  “What does this mean?” Ly’Tana asked, glancing from first me to Arianne and back again. “Are the wolves your lucky totems?”

  “How’d you know we shouldn’t have gone the way we did?” I asked, igno
ring the jibe behind Ly’Tana’s question.

  “I knew,” she answered quietly, almost as though she spoke to herself. “I sensed something on the wind. Behind us lay safety, forward—I smelled treachery and grief.”

  “And wasn’t she spot on,” Ly’Tana muttered. “Where can I get a lucky wolf?”

  “Little cat?”

  Arianne stared across the green fields and sun-washed trees, watching the Wrath of Usa’a’mah. Lightning flickered deep within the cloud bank, thunder traveling through the earth to vibrate my feet. In her small face, my father’s magnificent grey-blue eyes swam with tears.

  “If ever I tried to warn Lady Adhas of anything I felt was wrong or could hurt her, she would beat me for speaking out of turn. So would the masters and mistresses before her. I—I learned early to not—”

  “Say no more,” I replied, finding a small smile. “I’ll always listen to you henceforth.”

  “She is a seer, my liege,” Corwyn said calmly. “Your family is rife with them.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “My family has always been fiercely loyal to your family,” Corwyn replied, a faint grin on his craggy features.

  “Check it out,” Tor said from his spot watching the storm approach.

  An immense stag bounded into the clearing. A huge rack of antlers flared above his head. Unlike the bear, he did not pause to look back. An instant later, he, too, vanished into the depths of the forest.

  “Pity,” Corwyn murmured. “He’s a bonny prize.”

  “What do they know that we don’t?” Ly’Tana asked, leaning into me.

  “Whatever it is,” I replied grimly, “we better heed their advice.”

  “If we can’t run—”

  “We hide.”

  I pushed her gently from me. “Go get your people. Bring them in now.”

  “Bar,” Ly’Tana said, her face blanching. “How will he survive?”

  Helpless, all I could do was cup her cheek. “We’ll figure something out.”

  Catching my hand, she entwined her fingers with mine. “When I find Rygel, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?”

  I spun about, shoving Ly’Tana behind me and half-drawing my sword in case the voice I heard wasn’t really Rygel’s. Ly’Tana whipped hers from its sheath, and ducked under my arm to face the pair that stood a rod or so to our rear.