The light breeze carried the voice to my sensitive earing. “Hear us. Come, Chosen One. We will teach you.”
This isn’t happening. I am not a wolf. I am a man. I am not a wolf. I am a man. I am not a wolf! I am a man. I am a man!
Trembling, feeling as though I might vomit right there on the grass, I chanted the mantra over and over, like a prayer of protection. Sweat grew from a runnel to a river down my brow and temples, stinging my tightly shut eyes. Or were they tears? Nothing mattered save the immediate need to shut out the wolves with my own recitation.
Deep within my mind, I sought for a door, a barrier, anything that would block that hateful voice out. Just as I blocked out physical pain, shunting it to a distant room until I had time to deal with it, I forced the voices to the same place. Using my terror as a wedge, I slammed home a mental barricade, a solid obstruction between the wolves and my sanity.
Silence descended.
My aching chest reminded me I hadn’t drawn breath for several long minutes. Dragging in a ragged gasp, I breathed deep, choking through my throat that suddenly seemed too tight. White spots danced maliciously behind my closed eyelids.
Relaxing enough to finally open my eyes, I listened with both my ears and my head. I heard nothing but the voices of my companions as they finally rode toward me, their horses breaking through the underbrush. Panic struck anew. They must not see me like this, I thought, frantic. There will be no end to the questions, the comments, the sidelong looks.
Rufus dropped his head to nuzzle my neck, as though asking what was wrong.
Plenty, I thought, but didn’t say aloud.
Pushing my way to my feet, I wiped tears and sweat from my face with my hands. Drawing in a few more settling breaths, I arranged my expression into one of bored neutrality. That should work. See me? No worries, I’m just caring for my horse.
I set my saddle off to one side by my packs and saddlebags, and busied myself currying the sweat and grit from Rufus’s hide. When Rygel lead the way under the trees into my camp, he found me calm, collected and industrious. He grinned.
“I half-expected to find a sword at my throat before now,” he commented, sliding down from his saddle.
“Don’t tempt me.”
Ly’Tana eyed me with concern, Kel’Ratan with speculation, and Arianne with irritation. She hadn’t yet forgiven me my obscene gesture, it appeared. The others trooped in with salutes before dismounting and offering helping hands to Arianne and Ly’Tana. Tor slid down from the grey mare’s rump.
Her eyes wide and knowing, Arianne marched up to me. “You’re afraid of something. What is it?”
Under the interested stares of almost everyone present, I lifted my brow, smiling a little. “I was afraid you all got lost and I’d have to resaddle my horse to come find you.”
Flinging back her midnight hair, Arianne strode so close she was forced to tilt her head all the way back on her neck to see into my eyes. Her hair brushed my chest as I stared down, my chin on my tunic.
“What frightened you?” she demanded.
“I was frightened I’d get Rufus all dirty.” I gestured toward his slick hide.
She stomped a tiny foot, infuriated. “You must accept what you are. Do not shut the wolves out. Listen to them. You have a task to perform.”
“I thought it was to keep you safe,” I drawled, crossing my arms over my chest. “I accomplished it.”
“You have another, far more important. You are gai’tan.”
“Funny,” Kel’Ratan drawled, glancing about. “I heard a wolf howling just now.”
“You mentioned a task before,” Ly’Tana said. “Do you know what it is?”
Rather than answer, Arianne crossed her arms over her meager breast and looked mulish. Her grey-blue eyes sparked with her anger, so much like our father’s I almost sighed.
“I do have a task,” I said calmly.
“What?” Kel’Ratan asked, suddenly interested.
“I must water my horse.”
Turning my back, I lead Rufus toward the small brook.
“You are insufferable!” Arianne almost screamed.
“Incredible,” Rygel commented. “She’s known him for almost a week and already has him figured out.”
My earlier anger and fear dried my mouth something terrible. As Rufus drank greedily from the happily chuckling stream, I lay down on my belly amid the smooth rocks and sucked down the chilling water. It tasted of sweet ambrosia, so cold and heavenly I drank until my belly ached. Kneeling, I splashed the clear icy water over my face and neck, scrubbing away the old sweat.
Nor was I the only one who had that same notion. Witraz appeared downstream with the reins of Ly’Tana’s buckskin, Kel’Ratan’s bay and his own piebald. Rannon and Alun joined us with their own mounts, plus Rygel’s black and the grey mare.
“How’s the water?” Witraz called.
“Delicious,” I answered.
Alun swung his fist, but Witraz spun and ducked in the same motion. With a swift roundhouse left, Witraz took Alun’s breath with a sharp punch to his gut.
Leaving Alun to cough, holding his belly, Witraz turned toward me, arms out. He bowed low, a low showman’s bow he might have learned from Rygel. He grinned from ear to ear, his light brown hair swinging down past his face. “Your Highness.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Witraz certainly held the cup for drama when he felt like it, eclipsing Rygel at his worst.
Leading Rufus, still laughing, I walked back toward the clearing. I clapped a still wheezing Alun on the shoulder as I passed him. I listened to the pair of them wrangle verbally, now that the physical blows had ceased.
“That was dirty,” Alun commented when he could draw a gasping breath.
“I told you to quit hitting me.”
“Learn some damn respect.”
“Respect this, my son.”
“You hit like a girl.”
Still chuckling, I found the camp a busy hive. Arianne and Tor unpacked food, laying out cold meat and rounds of bread onto one of the deer hides collected and tanned at the monastery. Kel’Ratan gathered and stacked wood, piling heavy sticks and loose twigs in the center of a fire-pit ringed with stones. Left and Right unsaddled and curried those horses not yet taken to water. Astounded, I stood fascinated as they even stood in the exact same place beside each horse and their brush strokes were in perfect unison. I shook my head.
Yuri and Yuras, having cared for four more horses, traded places with Witraz, Alun and Rannon, returning from the stream. Alun scowled at Witraz, who fairly hummed with satisfaction. I caught a half-salute and a quick wink sent in my direction. The trio set the horses loose to graze where they will, hobbling only Rygel’s gelding and the grey mare. I reckoned the Kel’Hallan horses wouldn’t leave their masters. They then assisted Tor with the food dispensing, arguing agreeably amongst themselves.
Doubting Rufus would abandon me, I turned him loose to find his supper. Ly’Tana, with Rygel’s help, set up two small tents a short distance from the fire ring. I eyed them dubiously.
“For you and Arianne?” I asked.
She shrugged. “She can share one with me. The other is for you.”
“I don’t think my royalty need go that far,” I said, smiling. “Let Kel’Ratan have it. I’ll be more than comfortable by the fire.”
She sniffed. “You are royal. You should start acting it.”
“I suspect you act royal enough for both of us.”
Kel’Ratan guffawed from his place building a fire. Rygel roared with laughter, staggering away, out of reach, of Ly’Tana’s sudden fury. Arianne, predictably, giggled.
“Bastard,” Ly’Tana hissed.
Seizing a chunk of wood from Kel’Ratan’s stack, she lunged at me, swinging hard. As much as Witraz had, I spun away, still laughing.
A warrior to the core, she followed me, swinging, her attack fierce and furious. Had she landed a blow, I might have suffered a broken bone or three. As it was, I ducked and danced
out of her reach, staying just out of harm’s way. From his place just under the trees, Bar watched with awe. He still held his left wing out, frozen in the act of preening it.
Ly’Tana finally swung too wide, leaving herself exposed. I seized her within both my arms, pinning hers to her ribs. Falling to my back, I took her down with me, her red-gold hair cascading over us both. Shrieks of rage and violent curses blistered my ears. Still laughing, I rolled until she lay under me, listening to her call me every filthy name under the sky.
Keeping her pinned with my weight and my left arm, I brushed her thick, sweet-smelling hair from her face. I exposed her green eyes sparking fire, and grinned down into her red, furious face.
“Boor,” she spat.
“Wench.”
I nuzzled her nose with mine, still smiling. That brought a lessening of the fury, and a slight relaxing of her body. Yet her glare might fair split a granite boulder in twain.
“You’re horrid,” she snapped.
“I know,” I replied, smiling. “But you love me anyway.”
She never could control her emotions. Ly’Tana dissolved into helpless giggles, her laughter now as free as her previous fury.
Her humor, as usual, infected me. I laughed with her, delighting in the way her head fell back, her kitten teeth flashing in the sun, her tears leaking from the corners of her exotic angular eyes. Damn, but she was a treasure. She was a gift to the earth from the gods themselves.
Still laughing, she kissed me full on my mouth.
“I hate you,” she claimed, drawing breath for the first time. Still laughing and kissing every part of my face she could reach, she exclaimed, “I hate you, I hate you, oh how I hate you.”
“Ah, m’lady,” I sighed, nuzzling my lips under her jaw as she giggled and hiccupped. “You’re breaking my heart.”
“Good.” Her tone tried to snap, but the sound that emerged was more akin to a squeak.
“Are you two through yet?” Kel’Ratan asked caustically. “If so, there’s work to be done. It’s getting dark.”
“Are we through?” I asked her, my nose a fraction from hers.
“I’m not sure,” she managed to drawl through her breathless giggles. She planted one more kiss on my grinning lips. “Now we are.”
Standing up, I brought her to her feet with my hand in hers. Ly’Tana, upright and brushing dust from her leathers, noted for the first time the spectacle we had just made of ourselves. She blushed furiously. Not the embarrassing, volcano spewing hot lava kind of blushes I always managed to create. She turned a delightful shade of pink. Only women could blush beautifully and make it endearing.
“Show’s over,” she said to the warriors, frozen in their tracks. “Everyone back to work.”
With grins and salutes, they obeyed her. The toil of building a suitable camp for the night resumed. Tor sorted out cold pork and venison while Arianne set a pot of water on a hook over the firewood in anticipation of a fire. Bar preened his left wing again. Kel’Ratan grumbled sourly.
“This bloody wood is too bloody wet,” he complained, striking his flint and steel again. The spark withered and died. He struck again, only to have the same result. The spark would not ignite the rain-dampened wood.
Suddenly, the wood whooshed into a huge blaze. Sparks snapped out of the wet faggots, white smoke belting upwards.
Startled, Kel’Ratan fell back, cursing, diving away from the sudden heat, the licking flames.
He glared at Rygel. “That’s not funny.”
Rygel’s brows rose and his eyes widened in the first sincere expression of bafflement I’d yet seen. “I didn’t do it.”
“Whatever,” Kel’Ratan growled. With a heavy stick, he arranged the blazing faggots to his satisfaction. “Don’t bother lying about it.”
“I swear,” Rygel said, defensive. “I was busy over here.”
“Next time you want to help,” Kel’Ratan snarled. “Don’t.”
Rygel, his mouth comically dropped, looked around. “Who could—”
His tawny eyes fell on me and narrowed. I whistled an aimless tune as I picked up Rufus’s right front leg to examine his hoof.
“What did you—” he began.
I winked at Ly’Tana. “I called fire once before. I reckon I remembered how.”
Ly’Tana fled before the giggles caught her again.
* * *
I lay dying.
Gasping, I struggled for breath, for life, my paws catching, sliding, catching, sliding, off the cold floor of the cavern. The hands about my neck tightened, tightened, their grip shutting off all hope of breath. I snapped my jaws shut, my fangs biting hard into its heavy neck. Its thick, hot gore pooled in my mouth.
My eyes bulging in their sockets, I saw Ly’Tana, broken, lying cheek down, her red-gold hair blackened with blood from the huge gash in her head. Glassy, emerald eyes stared blankly ahead at her killer. At what now killed me.
Where were the others?
Who they were I didn’t quite remember, but knew Ly’Tana and I didn’t fight alone. Most probably they, too, were dead from whatever killed Ly’Tana and now choked the life from me.
Within moments, I’d be dead from whatever had its vicious grip around my thick neck and heavy ruff, cutting off all hope of breath. Just as I strangled the life from the lion so many years ago. I killed the lion and now I paid full score for that sin.
I struggled, trying to get my legs under me, to use my massive weight to break the death grip the creature had on me. Its strength made a jest of mine. I bit deeper, chewing through its thick, corded muscle, seeking its vulnerable carotid.
My sight dimmed, my lungs shut down. Numbness cascaded down my body, down my legs and even into my tail. My struggles were those of a newborn whelp in its mother’s jaws. My panic, my fear grew as the darkness grew closer. No! I don’t want to die!
Despite my thick fur, icy, bone-chilling cold settled into my body, sank into my bones.
The cold fingers of death.
Ly’Tana!
She was gone.
My panic caused a brief stir in my paws, as though I ran from my fear. Yet, I knew I moved not at all.
The hands squeezed tighter. I felt the bones in my neck yield, bend, begin to break. Anymore and they would shatter like dead twigs.
Ly’Tana vanished. Only the cold and the darkness remained.
Snap—
* * *
I woke, drenched in sweat, gasping, dragging in lungfuls of sweet night air, wheezing, the scream snagged in my throat—
I grabbed for my neck with numb, human, fingers. Skin, not fur, met their panicked grasp. I breathed in through a nose not a muzzle. I touched human flesh where a slave’s collar had once lain, not a wolf’s thick ruff.
Relief poured through me like a torrential river.
I was a human, not a wolf.
I was alive and breathing, not dead from a shattered neck on cold stone.
In panic, I looked down at myself, ran my hands down my chest, over my tunic. No fur, no paws, no tail. The teeth in my mouth were not the long, deadly fangs of a wolf.
My ragged breathing slowed as I glanced around, taking in my bearings, calming myself.
The fire burned down low. Around me, huddled in blankets amid its faint glow, the Kel’Hallans snorted, mumbled and tossed in their sleep. I turned my head, my neck joints creaking loud in the silence. Ly’Tana lay beside me, snoring softly, her arm curled under her head.
She’s going to wake with a throbbing arm, I thought, haphazard.
Behind me, Arianne’s light breathing emerged from the small tent. Rygel’s silent form lay next to it, his head on his saddle, his body wrapped tightly in his blanket.
Sweat still streamed from my head down my face. With a shaking hand, I wiped it away, trying to calm the tempest within me with deep, ragged breaths. My throat still ached from the dream/memory of being choked to death by an unseen force.
That was no dream, I thought, rising to my feet.
&nb
sp; That was a vision, in truth.
I just witnessed my own death.
My knees tried to give out and collapse me into the fire. I locked them until they agreed to obey me, all the while practicing my breathing. Ah, the sweet sensation of dragging in one life-offering breath after another. I relished it as a starved man relishes a rare cut of hot beef.
When the world steadied, my knees cooperated, and the rivers of sweat reduced themselves to streamlets, I walked to the edge of the forest. My trembling forced me to walk slowly, however.
I glanced up at the stars. They shone down brightly, like the fires of heaven, their movement across the black sky measured and steady. By them, I gauged the time: after midnight, but several hours till dawn. Witraz stood the late watch.
Through the thin trees, I saw him, dim against the faint moonlight. He stared out into the night, his back to the fire’s coals and me, his single eye alive to the night. He hadn’t noticed my awakening in a blind panic.
Ah, good. My nightmarish vision was discreet, at least. I felt some surprise that I hadn’t woken everyone in camp. Not even Bar stirred from his nest behind the small white tent.
The cool, still night air felt good against my hot neck and face as I stepped silently through the scrub oak, the brambles, among the rocks and the trees. A hunting fox bolted from me, when my silent step brought me within a hair of treading on his brush. A horned owl observed my passage, her wide eyes meeting mine as she stared down and I stared up. She clicked her beak several times as though in disapproval.
Finding a large rock to sit on, I eased myself down. With the forest this thin, I could look up and see plenty of stars through the branches. I ran my hands through my oily hair, lank with damp sweat, down the back of my neck to my face.
Never before had I feared my death. After facing it time and again in the arena, I knew it could come at any moment. Sometime, somewhere, I’d make a mistake and an opponent would plunge a blade into my chest.
Once upon a time, I had even craved it more than anything, wanted to die so badly I tasted its sweetness on my tongue, felt its seduction along my skin. I desired its inviting freedom from slavery as an alcoholic hankers for his wine. Death, then, was an old friend, waiting to greet me with a warm embrace and a lover’s kiss.
Catch a Wolf Page 21
