Catch a Wolf

by A. Katie Rose

  Outside, through the heavy walls and over the howling of the wind, I listened to the high, girlish screams of the assassins. With Kel’Ratan’s first shot and Ly’Tana killing the torch-bearer, the resulting explosion caught the happy, bucket-splashing Tongu dead to rights. They burned, unable to escape, taken by their own flame-wielding frenzy.

  Naphtha burned anything it touched. Human, animal, wood, stone, iron…its tastes held no preference. It ate anything and everything offered. Stupid, revenge-hungry Tongu gave its greedy hunger a much-needed meal. Those idiots died the deaths they sought to inflict upon us.

  The solid monastery door held against the flaming onslaught. Behind the shutters, only the green lightning flickered. After long minutes in which nothing much happened, I sat up. Taking Ly’Tana by the arm and bringing her up with me, I stumbled to my feet.

  By the iron-bound door, Kel’Ratan also stood, glancing around at the still solid chamber as though not quite believing his eyes. I smiled grimly down into Ly’Tana’s pale, shocked face.

  “I warned them.”

  Her swift smile flickered like the lightning. “You did indeed.”

  On the heels of her words, the slashing rain fell, deepening the cold inside the hall despite the fires both inside and outside the monastery. The slate tiles above thrummed, vibrating the entire hall, the crashing rain stilling any and all conversation. Witraz tossed more wood on the hearth fire, building it high, safeguarding against the storm’s evil chill.

  Shaking off, though gently, Ly’Tana’s worried grip, I walked to the door and opened it a crack. The icy rain drenched me from head to toe in an instant. Through the water in my eyes, I blinked and peered out, my dripping hair plastered to my face.

  Between the green lightning that flashed almost constantly and the naphtha-fueled fires, I saw clearly. Not much remained of the two corpses in the courtyard. I didn’t see the others, and presumed those idiots died out of my line of sight, engulfed in flames. I failed to see any living Tongu, waiting with a ready bow to shoot me between the eyes. In the rapid fire lightning, nothing moved out there save the trees bending and swaying under the high wind.

  While naphtha could burn under water, the onslaught of the rain spread the fires in a wide arc. So thin, they were but candles floating atop the rainwater that hadn’t time to sluice away. The oily naphtha and water didn’t mix, but the new floods spread it apart. Flames died after consuming the last of the naphtha. As I watched, the Tongu’s beautiful plan died in infancy, leaving the monastery largely unscathed. The solid oaken door itself had but black stains where the substance caught fire and burned, and remained as strong as before.

  Squinting, I peered through the rain, trying to inspect the stone walls of the building. On the stones, the story remained much the same. With what little naphtha still remained on the stones, those fires rapidly sputtered and went out.

  Thoughtfully, I shut it and threw the bar, sluicing rainwater from my head to my boots. Rainwater puddled on the slate tiles. I leaned against the door, glancing up to the roof beams. The smoke had largely dissipated, leaving behind only its stink and unharmed people.

  “Innkeeper, another order of Tongu,” I intoned. “Extra crispy.”

  Rygel, in the midst of helping Arianne to her feet, roared with laughter. Arianne blanched, covering her mouth with her fingers as though she might vomit. Tor gagged.

  Ly’Tana put her hands on her hips and scowled. “I am so regretting I ever told you about that. That’s disgusting.”

  “What’s disgusting?” Kel’Ratan asked.

  “The Tongu penchant for eating their dead.”

  The meaning of my remark finally dawned on Kel’Ratan. His grin split his reddened face before he broke out in a howl of laughter. “She’s right, it’s disgusting. I love it.”

  “Well?” Rygel asked, his arm over my sister. “What’s going on out there?”

  I gestured toward the door, suppressing a shiver. “They’re gone. The fire’s out.”

  Seizing a thick woolen blanket, Ly’Tana came to me. Too short to wrap it about my chilled body, she did the best she could, grinning up into my face. Swiftly kissing her cheek, I drew it about me. Taking her hand, I led her back to the warmth of the blazing hearth fire.

  Alun, Rannon and Yuri emerged from behind Bar. “He’s right, Your Highness,” Alun said, waving his hand toward Bar. “They’re gone. Either dead or fled. We’re safe.”

  “As safe as we can be,” Corwyn muttered, standing beside Rygel as he glanced at the oaken beams far above our heads. Bar chirped in a contented way as Tor, white-faced, groped his way up, using the wall for support.

  “What do you mean?” Kel’Ratan demanded, arriving at the hearth and returning his unused arrow to his quiver.

  “The storm can still level this place,” Corwyn replied, shrugging philosophically. “We aren’t out of danger yet.”

  “Until it falls about our ears,” I said, aiming for cheerfulness, “maybe we should enjoy the many comforts this holy place can offer us.”

  Ly’Tana hugged me about my cold, damp waist. “I agree. We’re safe, the storm is without and our enemies have been defeated. I for one could use a hanap of warm wine.”

  “Lush,” Kel’Ratan grumbled, finding his own blanket and seating himself beside the fire.

  “Tor,” I said, gathering the lad’s attention. “You came with us on the pretext of creating a bargain with me. What bargain?”

  As Arianne and Rygel also sat beside the fire, Arianne dazed and Rygel frowning slightly, Tor left the security of the wall and walked toward me. “Well,” he started, hesitating, glancing about at the warriors in the hall. None offered him any help, and put their weapons up. Alun, Yuri and Witraz flung the wet from their hair and combed the lengths through their fingers as they eyed him expectantly.

  “How about I wash your socks for a week,” Tor offered, his eyes brightening.

  I snorted. “A week of washed socks for food, protection, and the means to escape Khalid? That’s hardly what I call a bargain.”

  “Very well, two weeks.”

  “This is my counter offer,” I replied blandly. “You’ll be the camp cook for all of us in exchange for all that I mentioned before.”

  “Now, wait a minute—”

  “You don’t like it,” I went on, folding the blanket tighter about myself. Damn, I was cold. I jerked my head to my right. “There’s the door.”

  He glanced from me to the door and back again, his huge brown eyes all but drowning his face. His skin paled to a shade nearing that of sheep’s wool. Tor looked around, finding little support in the unsmiling faces around him. Even Arianne folded her arms across her meager chest, doing her best to look imperious. Rygel chuckled under his breath. Kel’Ratan glanced from me to Ly’Tana to Tor and wrapped his blanket more tightly about his body.

  “Well?” I snapped. “Hurry it up. We don’t have all night.”

  “Every meal?”

  “Every meal.”

  “That’s highway robbery!”

  “If I have to shed my blood to keep you safe, and drag your useless carcass to Kel’Halla, you’re going to make it worth my while.”

  “But—”

  Tor caught my cold stare, and wisely, I thought, swallowed his objection unspoken. He shrugged. “I’m a lousy cook,” he said, defeated.

  “You better learn. Do we have a bargain?”

  Tor grinned, spat on his hand, and held it out. I spat on mine, and engulfed his small hand, palms together. “Bargain,” we both said together, in unison.

  “Methinks you got the worst of the deal, Wolf,” Kel’Ratan said dryly. “You’re exchanging the opportunity to shed your blood for an urchin who can’t cook.”

  I ruffled Tor’s already messy hair, causing an outraged yelp and hands that quickly smoothed the tangles flat. “I suspect I got the better of it, really. Since Tor can cook quite well.”

  “I can’t.” Tor scowled up at me, once more unafraid. His ability to read th
e danger signs around me seemed more acute than even Rygel’s, or Ly’Tana’s, for that matter, despite our short acquaintance. “I told you that.”

  “You’re a better cook than you are a liar.”

  “Why are you so insulting? I’m an excellent liar.”

  “I can smell your lies from a mile off and I know for a fact that you’re a talented cook.”

  Tor’s eyes narrowed. “How’d you know that?”

  “I know everything.”

  Tor eyed me askance, his brown eyes wide again, his fingers making the sign against enchantment.

  I grinned. “You’ll earn your keep.”

  “But—”

  “And you’ll start now. Dinner. For all of us. Arianne, Yuri and Yuras will help you.”

  “But—”

  I growled, low in my throat. Tor bowed hastily, and dashed for the kitchens. Arianne rose from Rygel’s side and followed behind. Yuri and Yuras didn’t even look to Ly’Tana for permission before they, too, saluted me absently. Setting their weapons aside, they disappeared into the kitchens.

  Ly’Tana clapped her hands, garnering her warrior’s attention. “We’ve those carcasses that need skinned and cut up. Get busy. And someone bring the sow to Bar.”

  On his way to obey her, Witraz wheeled around, his one eye wide, his face stricken.

  “Just kidding,” Ly’Tana said, giggling into my shoulder. “He’ll be happy enough with a large haunch.”

  Grumbling under his breath, Witraz disappeared.

  “Have I told you lately you’re evil?” I asked her.

  She straightened, her emerald eyes glinting as she grinned up at me. “Why, yes, in fact you have,” she replied sweetly.

  Between Ly’Tana’s warm body so close to mine and the blazing fire, I finally thawed out. I think I should find some dry clothes, though, I thought, picking my damp tunic away from my chest.

  Rygel tossed more wood on the fire, making it leap and spit. He jerked his head toward Corwyn, paring his nails with his knife while leaning against the kitchen doorjamb. “He may be right.”

  “About what?” I asked, catching Corwyn’s eye and the salute he offered with his blade.

  “Calling it the Wrath of Usa’a’mah,” he answered, hunching his shoulders and looking up at the solid beams. “There is something definitely evil about this storm.”

  “Now you’re sounding as superstitious as Kel’Ratan,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder.

  The monastery’s great hall held a large circular fire-pit in the center, with doors opening into the chapel on the left, the abbot’s quarters on the right. The rest of the hall held doors into short hallways that lead to the monk’s cells. I knew my pack lay somewhere in one of those chambers. I rose to my feet, smiling, my hand on Ly’Tana’s questioning head.

  “Be right back,” I said.

  As I traversed the hall, Rannon emerged from the kitchens with a meaty haunch over his shoulder. I glanced over his shoulder to witness him dump it in front of Bar. I heard happy crunching from behind me as I found my belongings and changed into dry clothes.

  An ear-splitting crack of thunder crashed throughout the hall, reverberating and vibrating the very stone foundations as I walked back into the main hall, rubbing at my damp hair. The warriors all paused in their activities, eyes cast uneasily upwards, or exchanging worried glances with one another. Even Bar ceased devouring the meaty haunch, his ears perked upright, his yellow eagle’s eyes wide and concerned.

  “It could be worse,” I commented as I sat back down.

  “I just know you have something smart to say,” Kel’Ratan snapped, hunching his shoulders under his blanket, his mustache bristling. “I just know it.”

  I shrugged. “All right then, I won’t mention the twisters.”

  Kel’Ratan gaped. “What twisters?”

  “A product of the storm,” Corwyn said from the doorway. He glanced inside the kitchens, found nothing to alarm him and eyed Kel’Ratan bleakly. He shrugged lazily. “Outside the hail, the twisters are the real killers. Nothing in their path can survive.”

  “Tell me they’re joking,” Kel’Ratan almost begged. “Please?”

  “They aren’t,” Rygel answered with another glance about the roof beams. “This place may protect us. But a twister—”

  With a meaningful half-shrug, he tossed another faggot on the already blazing fire.

  “What?” Kel’Ratan almost screamed. “What?”

  “This place might just tumble down. Burying us under it.”

  Kel’Ratan uttered a deep, heartfelt groan.

  “And you call me evil,” Ly’Tana muttered out of the side of her mouth.

  I chuckled and brought her hand to my lips. “I wish we were evil, beautiful lady. But what he says is true. A twister could kill us all.”

  “Don’t worry, Princess,” Rygel said, with a sweet smile. “There is white magic in this place.”

  That remark jolted my kiss from Ly’Tana’s slender, warm hand. “White magic?”

  Kel’Ratan made a sign against strong enchantment, glancing uneasily about. Witraz, bringing a shoulder of wild sow to spit over the fire, gulped, his own sign half-hidden behind his back. Ly’Tana rolled her eyes at their collective superstitious fears and chuckled.

  “White magic is from the gods,” Rygel answered, as though everyone knew but us.

  “A blessing, you mean?” Ly’Tana asked.

  “Not quite. The monks who built this place had a touch of magic, magic that’s derived directly from their gods. They weren’t born to it, as I am. Only after they spoke their vows to their gods might they perform magic. They spelled their monastery with a magical enchantment of divine protection.”

  “How do you know all this?” Kel’Ratan asked.

  “As an apprentice, I made a study of magics and arcane practices from other realms and other sources. And,” he glanced around again, an almost reverent expression on his face, “I can feel it.”

  Rygel? Reverent? That was one for the history books.

  Tor, flanked by Yuri and Yuras, brought out another huge venison roast on a long skewer. With short instructions, he bullied the blonde warriors into turning both spits. From a box, he sprinkled a heavy dust over both sets of meat as they turned before disappearing into the kitchens again.

  With the help of Alun, Arianne emerged, almost staggering under a huge platter of hard black bread, white cheese and flagons of hot spiced wine. Corwyn scowled openly at her slavish activity, but Arianne’s happy, smiling face as she handed around the wine to me, to Ly’Tana, to Kel’Ratan and lastly Rygel explained it all. A slave at heart, Arianne felt comfort in her duties. Without them, she felt as adrift on the wide seas with no rudder.

  At my slight head shake, Corwyn relaxed and shrugged. Your decision, his shoulder roll translated.

  Service was all Arianne knew. Throwing her into the role of a princess brought more distress than I was willing to cause her. Over time, she’d grow used to her new position and the slave would die a ghastly death.

  Ly’Tana sipped her mulled wine and moaned happily. “For once, you knew what you were doing.”

  I quirked my brow. “I did?”

  “Appointing Tor chief cook. He’s bloody good at it.”

  “He was an apprentice to a cook, one well-known and well-to-do,” I replied, rolling the cup’s stem between my fingers. “But his gambling dropped him into deep trouble. He fled one step ahead of his creditors.”

  Rygel leaned forward, his hot cup in his hand. “Just how’d you know all that?”

  I shrugged. “I picked it out of his head.”

  Mouths opened to question me, but the exploding thunder grew louder and more intense. The jade lightning flickering from outside the shutters intensified several fold, breaking everyone’s concentration. The hail finally arrived, beating upon the slate roof with a noise that curtailed all possible talk. Eyes turned uneasily upward, and many hidden fingers crossed in the sign protecting them from evil spirits. Ev
en Bar stopped chewing his haunch to gulp nervously, his eagle’s eyes rolling upwards. Frightened, Arianne sat down, huddling close beside Rygel. His arm curled protectively around her slim shoulders.

  From the kitchens, the other warriors emerged, alarmed, also staring up at the ceiling. Tunics bloody from their tasks of hiding and butchering the slain deer, Rannon, Witraz and the twins found places near the fire to sit. Alun and his platter offered the warm bread and cheese. Though I wasn’t very hungry, I took a hunk of hard, black bread to gnaw on. Ly’Tana accepted some, as did Rygel and Kel’Ratan.

  Dead last, Tor galloped into the main hall, brown eyes wide. Finding all well and the ceiling intact, he returned to his duties. I caught Arianne’s eye. With a jerk of my chin, I sent her on Tor’s heels. Reluctantly, she obeyed me, her wan face hidden behind the curtain of her hair. Rygel released her with a sigh.

  I nibbled on my chunk of black bread, washing it down with warm, spicy wine. The stuff tasted excellent, and served to soothe both my belly and my nerves. With its help, I tried in vain to distract myself from imagining twisters tearing this monastery apart. Despite its eerie origins, the gods couldn’t be that cruel. Could they?

  The explosive thunder overhead, the drumming rain on the slate roof, curtailed most conversation. But it’d scarcely detract from the food. As the savory scents of roasting pork and venison rose on the fire’s warmth, no few eyes turned from hungrily munching bread and cheese to watching the meats roasting. More hungry gazes roved toward the new tantalizing prospect of roasted pork. Witraz might find a fight on his hands should he refuse to share, I mused.

  “Wolf?”

  Ly’Tana’s voice, raised almost to a shout, brought my attention away from the hot roasts and their tempting odor. Despite my lack of appetite and my worries, my belly rumbled in response.

  Hard as she tried not to appear afraid, she failed utterly. Her brow puckered faintly, her angular green eyes wide with unspoken anxiety. “Are we safe?”

  As much as I wanted to assure her that we were, I could not. She correctly read my expression, and, like Arianne with Rygel, drew close to me. Like small timid animals, her arms crept about my waist, her face resting on my chest.