Before I could question his intent, he unbarred the door and stepped out. Complaints followed as the high wind, still as cold as previously, blew in and dropped the room temperature down several notches. Even through the door I saw the sky had lightened considerably, the shade of late sunset rather than deep dusk. The rain hadn’t slackened in the slightest. When Corwyn walked back through with an object in his hands, he ran with wet. Rain sloughed off him in rivers, though if he felt cold he didn’t show it.
“What is that?” Ly’Tana asked, peering through the fire as Corwyn kicked the door shut behind him and barred it with his elbow. The object in his hands looked heavy. My own curiosity was piqued as he walked across the hall, shedding rain as he went.
“A hailstone,” he said, answering not only Ly’Tana’s question but also the interested faces that watched him approach. Yuri and Yuras failed to turn the spit, incurring Tor’s wrath. He harangued them, forcing them to eye Corwyn’s prize from a distance.
“Mother of us all,” Kel’Ratan breathed, dropping his blanket to lean forward.
Corwyn set down the hailstone next to the fire. Gods above and below, I thought, awed. Not quite round, the thing sat easily larger than my head. By the way Corwyn set it down gingerly, his arm muscles bulging, it must have been heavy. Like ice, it was a silvery grey, but contained a weird tinge of green.
“That’s a single hailstone?” Kel’Ratan asked, his voice hoarse.
“Yes,” Corwyn answered. “Nor was it one of the biggest. This is an average size for what’s out there. All I can see is buried in these.”
Ly’Tana turned to me, her lips turned down into a frightened bow, her jade eyes frightened. “You were right. Had we been out in that when—”
I took her hand to kiss, smiling down at her. “Perhaps your goddess is fond of you.”
Corwyn went on gravely, “The orchard and the forest, what I can see of it, is flattened. Not much could have survived that storm.”
“Fond isn’t the word I’d use,” Kel’Ratan muttered.
Chapter 3
A Very Curious Blessing
I stared at total and utter destruction.
“Usa’a’mah must be seriously pissed off,” Rygel muttered.
“Never, in the history of the world, has there ever been a storm such as this,” Corwyn said, his voice low and shocked.
Bloody hell, I thought.
In the light of the new day, I stood in the courtyard, shallow water covering my boots. As far as I could see, lay a horrific mess of water, rapidly melting hailstones and downed trees. I gazed beyond the courtyard. Leagues upon leagues, as far as the distant horizon, no tree stood upright. Broken tree trunks lay awash in a small flood of rainwater and half-melted ice. Against the skyline, naked and broken branches reached upward like skeletal hands pleading for aid that never came. Apples from the once serene orchards floated atop the still waters. I bet Tor could make a fine meal out of those, I thought, nearly incoherent from shock.
The corpses of the Tongu who died trying to set fire to the stone monastery lay blackened, smashed and almost unrecognizable as human beings, half-submerged in the lapping water. The stench of death rose on the moist warm air as the bodies began to bloat. I stifled a gag, my throat wanting to hurl the nice breakfast of warm pork, herbed gruel, leftover stewed apples and black bread Tor created for this morning’s repast.
An insane bubble of laughter threatened to erupt. Even as the sun broke through the last wisps of grey storm clouds, its light shimmered off grey-green ice. The influx of warmth from the new day melted the deadly hail from the storm into a nasty mix of rainwater, mud and loose debris. I could all but see the ice melting into the nasty, brackish water. Within the hour, no hailstone would survive the sun’s power.
My mind refused to grasp the concept. No tree still stood. Not a single tree broke apart the wasteland of snarled brushwood, broken trunks and roots yanked from the nourishing soil. I could now see the horizon, where once the thick forest obscured it. Eastward, over the sea, the tattered remnants of the storm’s grey clouds drifted, the storm now lashing against the indifferent sea. Corpses of small forest creatures unlucky enough to get caught in the storm’s fury floated alongside the apples, twigs, dead leaves and shattered tree branches. Years uncounted would pass before this part of the world recovered from this one single storm.
“How in the hell are we supposed to ride through that?”
All those lovely, stately apple trees, once so lovingly tended by the monks, I thought, haphazard, gone. The orchards blasted into splinters by the hail and the twister.
“Ly’Tana?”
Kel’Ratan’s words finally sank in. I blinked. The downed trees, the sharply spiked branches, the dark water hid treacherous traps that could easily snap a horse’s leg. No safe paths lay before us. The horses could not see beneath the black water to navigate safely. The storm had tracked from the west, where we needed to ride, to the east, toward the ocean. There was no telling how far the utter destruction went. How were we to ride through that, indeed.
So absorbed in staring in stunned amazement at the atrocity before me, I hadn’t noticed Wolf and Rygel arrive at my shoulder until Rygel spoke.
“You and I, Princess,” Rygel said.
I started in surprise. “Huh? What?”
Rygel gestured expansively at the wreckage before us. “Remember? We’re flying in search of Brutal and his plans. When we return from the city, we can fly above and find the safest paths out of this mess.”
“Uh, yes, of course.”
Wolf draped an enormous arm over my shoulder and hugged me close, his own eyes wide and stunned as he, too, gazed out at the annihilated orchard and forests before us. Belatedly, I found Arianne huddled under Rygel’s arm, her own expression calm, her eyes on me. Not the devastation. I had no time to wonder why.
“That may not be enough,” Kel’Ratan said sourly. “Can’t your magic help?”
Rygel’s tawny eyes swept over the desolate, wet landscape. “How?”
“Can you clear a path for us?” Wolf suggested. “Those downed trees can break a horse’s leg.”
“Nor can we stay here,” Kel’Ratan growled.
Rygel nodded slowly, frowning. “Yes, I can. However, I must return to the city. We must find out what Brutal’s plans are.”
Kel’Ratan jerked his head toward me. “You and Ly’Tana fly there while we pack up. We’ll get as far as we can in this mess until you get back.”
Rygel glanced at Wolf, no Raine. Damn it, I must call him Raine. He is no longer The Bloody Wolf. He is His Royal Highness, Prince Raine of Connacht. Rygel asked his liege lord’s permission in that quick look. He never called Raine ‘Wolf’. And he certainly knew who ruled here.
Behind me, Witraz, Alun and Rannon trooped out into the courtyard where we stood, yawning, scratching armpits, shoving one another in good humored male horseplay. The fun dribbled to a halt as they, too, stopped and gaped at the forest that no longer existed.
“How in the hell are we supposed to ride in that?” Witraz demanded.
Alun cuffed him upside his head. Shocked at his own outburst, Witraz bowed low. “Your Highnesses.”
I couldn’t help it. Humor got the better of me and I giggled. Wolf, no wait, Raine, and Rygel also laughed with me, and Arianne managed a small laugh of her own. Her mysterious grey-blue eyes still watched me.
“What’s so bloody funny?” Witraz asked, annoyed. “What did I say?”
“Methinks they’ve gone insane, myself,” Kel’Ratan answered sourly. “Bloody lunatics, the lot of them. Go on, get the other sluggards up. May as well begin packing.”
Muttering under his breath, Witraz retreated indoors. Rannon followed more slowly, shaking his head. Alun paused a moment to eye me with concern.
“Are you certain of this, Your Highness? You don’t need to go back there.”
I kissed his cheek. “And miss the chance to fly again?”
He smiled. “Have you need of me
, call.” He bowed and kissed my hand. With another short bow to Wolf, er, Raine, he followed the others indoors.
Raine’s peculiar icy eyes gave me a chill. Not a chill of fear, as they once had done. I felt a simple chill of pleasure run and tingle down my spine this time. He bent close to my ear, nuzzling under my hair. “Your people adore you,” he murmured, his voice husky. “As do I.”
I blushed under his attention, feeling its heat sear my cheeks. With his face so close to mine, I neglected to stop the sweet kiss I planted on his lips. I tasted his warmth, his masculinity, the faint scent of leather and rosewater. Underneath it all, I tasted him. His quick tongue probed between my lips before he broke off our kiss, aware, as I was, of the interested stares of Rygel, Kel’Ratan, Arianne and Corwyn. Didn’t they have enough out there to look at?
The sounds of heavy splashing accompanied by sharp annoyed hisses heralded Bar’s arrival. Stepping carefully to avoid the slippery, half melted hailstones, Bar emerged from around the side of the monastery. After a night’s shelter indoors, he no doubt squirmed his way out past the broken wall and emerged into a world not conducive for either fur or feathers.
Like most cats, Bar hated the water. He’d never swim. Eagles, too, never long tolerated being wet, as water and feathers never mixed well. The constant saturation by floods and rainwater no doubt irritated Bar to no end. Dirty, mucky, filthy flood waters mortally offended his very feline sensibilities. His half-furled wings and lifted tail kept at least those parts of him clean and dry, but he still stumbled and slipped on the ice coated floor of the monastery grounds. Wet above his knees, his lion fur sluiced dank water, and nasty mire also stained his usually pristine white feathers.
“Welcome to the new world, Bar,” I intoned soberly.
Bar didn’t care much for my humor. His right front leg lifted, shook off the offending water in a fine spray, and immediately set back down so he could stand. A leonine hind leg lifted, shook off and disappeared into the dark depths. His eagle’s head, predatory gold eyes narrowed in raptor fury, stared down at the vile muck. Suddenly he looked up, his gaze accusatory as it rested on me.
“Not my fault,” I replied, grinning. “Go swim a bit. It’ll cool your temper.”
Ever the vengeful one, Bar shrieked. His wings spread out to their fullest, he sprang upward. The heavy sweep of his colossal wings forced the filthy flood to spray away from the wind of his broad wings. A second wingbeat drenched all of us standing nearby with the nasty tide of brackish floodwater. A third and a fourth brought him level with the slate monastery roof. Settling upon the cupola, he all but grinned down at me. Curses from Kel’Ratan, Raine and Rygel and a shriek from Arianne met his spiteful revenge.
“Bloody boor,” I snapped, trying in vain to wipe away the icky residue of the sour floodwater. “I hope the roof caves in under you.”
Far from surprising, Bar ignored me and began to preen his dirty feathers. The roof failed to cave in. Of course it wouldn’t collapse under his great weight. Damn and blast Rygel and his white magic. Bar could use a bit of humiliation, I thought sourly.
“Grow a sense of humor, will you,” I shouted.
Bar hissed.
“I already have a sense of humor, nitwit. That’s why I’m laughing at you.”
I blew my bangs off my brow in a rueful snort. “I reckon I should get my own things packed,” I said, smiling up at Wolf. “Might I ask a favor, m’lord?”
Wolf, no, dammit…Raine smiled slightly. “Of course, my lady.”
I gestured to Witraz and Rannon as they brought out saddlebags and packs to pile up on the rock wall, safe from the nasty waters. “Saddle my horse for me? Don’t girth him too tight, he hates that. They always girth him too tight.”
Raine took my hand to his lips, his weird eyes gazing deep into my own, his handsome lips smiling. “Happy to.”
Suddenly feeling oddly shy, I nodded, my need to pack my belongings warring with my desire to stand like an idiot and gaze into those icy, no, warm, grey eyes. Floundering like a fool, I half-smiled, withdrawing my hand from his, and offered him a silly half-curtsey. My face flaming, I all but bolted from him, feeling his gaze on my back as I fled through the monastery’s wide doors.
Packing my belongings took a grand total of five minutes. My pack in my hand and my saddlebags over my shoulder, I paused for a moment, looking around. All the others had gathered up food and possessions, and had vacated the place. I stood alone in the great hall, next to the dead hearth. If I closed my eyes and emptied my head, I felt I might actually sense the white magic Rygel spoke of. It hovered, just beyond my reach and abilities, but not beyond my emotions.
I shut my eyes, reaching toward that white magic with not my mind, but with my feelings. “Thank you,” I whispered to the not so vacant air. “Thank you for protecting us. Whoever you are, whatever you are, I am grateful for this place. I am grateful for its holiness. I am grateful to you, for lending it to us. I am in your debt.”
I looked up at the wide oak beams above me. “If ever you need me to repay your kindness, let me know. I will repay you and then some. You have my word on it.”
Simply walking out seemed inappropriate. I dropped my saddlebags and pack, and walked toward the chapel. I had only been in there once, and glanced curiously around at the blasted altar, the broken and splintered chairs, the echo of lost prayers drifting toward the roof. No holy relic had survived the years of travelers and looters.
I walked through the simple doorway into the monk’s church.
I choked on a gasp.
The chapel vanished.
Darkness cloaked me. A blood red moon rode low on the distant horizon. Cold wind whipped my hair across my face though the chill failed to raise goose pimples along my bare arms and legs. Stunned, scared, I wheeled around, my lips parted to scream for Raine, for Kel’Ratan. Where am I? How did I get here?
I stood atop a mountain, a jagged edge of rocks and cliffs where no trees grew. No tough high-altitude grass lay under my boots. I heard only the wind sough across the naked stone, weeping with the sorrow of the utterly damned. Above me, the stars shone down like glistening diamonds, red tingeing their bright glory.
I blinked, swiping my hair from my face. As though I stood before a large map, all the lands of the earth lay spread before me. Flames whipped across Kel’Halla, burning, killing, dense smoke flung into the air to be tossed into turmoil by the evil wind. Corpses of my people, horses and cattle lay like blackened husks on the scorched and tormented earth. Villages, towns, my father’s castle all burned; wood, stone, it mattered little. When Death rode a black horse, what importance did homes have?
Whips cracked the air. Slavers drove the survivors east, ever east. Khalid lay under a dark pall, half-hidden by roiling smoke. Rivers ran red. The far-off sea tossed and churned, its crests bloomed bloody. Blood. So much blood. I covered my face with my hands, as though to protect it, somehow, against the horror of Brutal’s empire.
His Arena groaned under the weight of Khalid’s populace, screaming for the lives of those taken. Not just Kel’Hallans, I realized. I recognized Connachti prisoners by their cotton and leather clothing, Arcadians by their dark hair and heavy beards. Jinns, Zhous, Sabbathians all shared the slave pens, faced their deaths by lion, wild dogs, feral bulls. I bit back a gasp. Wizards from Khassart tried to fight, fire and lightning springing from their hands. Yet, a smooth dark magic fell over them, stilling their rebellion, negating their powers.
I looked north. The bloody moon shone down over the great northern tribes. The evil pall had fallen there, too. Clans formerly at war with one another fought side by side against the riders in black. Yet, not even they could win out. One by one, the clans were overwhelmed, swarmed under, died. Those unlucky enough to survive were chained and driven east.
I looked south. Lands I’d never heard spoken of, great jungles and vast deserts that were populated with people with dark skin and long black hair falling to their waists. Fighters all, their faces paint
ed with the colors of war, they faced the same fate as the clans, as the Jinns, the Arcadians…they died under the onslaught of Brutal’s black riders.
Creatures seldom seen by man also died, driven to extinction by the evil power that was Khalid. Death and destruction lay everywhere, over the entire earth. Jungles and forests stripped, laid bare, green lands lay black and smoking under the sickly moon, the stench of death stark in my nostrils. Its horror overwhelmed me, drenching my soul, churning in my belly until I thought I’d vomit. Sweat from my temples dried instantly under the stiff chilly wind.
What does this mean?
I turned around.
Below me lay the same lands. The bright sun bathed all in sweet light and expelled all evil. The shadows fell away, leaving the same people, the same mystical creatures living in the vast forests and mountains to thrive under the light. Warmth pervaded my skin and my soul as the darkness was banished forever. I witnessed the clans quarrel, the nomads drive foreigners away, the wars for territory continue as they had since mankind evolved from the dust. Men still warred, killed one another for gold or power, husbands back-handed their wives, thieves stole. Yet, true evil governed none of these things. Men were as the gods made them: imperfect and greedy and stupid.
I stood as upon a sword blade. Caught between the deathly evil and the way the world was meant to be. Only I kept one from the other. Should I fail, darkness overwhelmed the world forever.
Not only you.
The words whispered inside my head. No, not just me, I realized. A shadow, though indistinct, waited beside me. Raine? No, this creature stood on four legs and owned a rough and shaggy coat. I gazed upward into its craggy face while white fangs gleamed from the depths of a black mouth. Strange eyes stared down at me, making me shiver. Who are you? What are—
I staggered as the mountain dropped from beneath me.
Once more I stood facing the blasted altar, trash, broken wood and rodent droppings.
Catch a Wolf Page 11
