That was until Rygel came along and offered me hope.
Hope. I choked back a laugh. Or was it truly a sob?
A clean death in the arena would have spared me a long, agonizing death by strangulation.
I will be a wolf when I die, I thought.
I remember my fangs, snapping and biting deep into whatever killed me. I remember my paws, catching and sliding off the stone floor of a cavern. The hands, if they had been hands, delving deep into the very thick, protective ruff around my vulnerable throat.
I shuddered, my breath caught in my chest. I hugged my arms around myself, my flesh pimpled cold despite the hot summer night. That was an unclean death, a dog’s death. I’d die like an animal in a cage.
I’d die a wolf.
I straightened. Gods above and below, if I become a wolf I will die. Horribly. I closed my arms over my torso and bent over them, my gut churning as though to hurl up my dinner at roughly the speed of sound.
My skin broke out in gooseflesh. My chest tightened, my throat burned, my breath came and went in quick, harsh pants. Gods, all I had to do was remember the vision and it brought out a flurry of the shakes.
Why did this come to me? Why did the gods pick me for this cosmic jest? Oh, hey, let’s make this guy a werewolf and watch him stumble about trying to figure out who he is. Ha ha ha. Let’s make him die an animal. Grab a snack and watch.
I sobered, slowing my harsh gasps, regaining some semblance of gladiator control. Maybe it won’t happen. Rygel’s wrong, the wolves are wrong, my gut’s wrong. Gai’tan? Werewolves? Chosen? It’s all so—so ridiculous. Me, how can I be a creature that could not possibly exist?
I released my upper body, flexed my arms, and tried to relax. I forced the vision away, called it a nightmare and found a laugh at myself. It’s all nonsense, really. Werewolves don’t exist.
“You never knew there were griffins, either.”
I stared wildly about, thinking someone spoke aloud, perhaps from behind the trees. I spun around, facing this way and that, trying to see everywhere at once. My night vision at its peak, no shadow remained undiscovered. No one from camp had awakened and followed me to torment me. No strangers stared at me from behind a thick oak clump.
I was quite alone.
Perhaps I imagined the voice. Shaking, I returned to my task of watching the stars, pondering life’s imponderables. Maybe if I never turned myself into the werewolf that didn’t exist, my fate might be averted. While I thought that possible, my gut knew I hoped in vain. Somewhere, somehow, somewhy, I’d die a wolf.
Whether I willed it or not, I was also a wolf.
“You’d best learn to accept it, my son.”
The words came from everywhere and yet nowhere. Not in my ears, certainly. In my mind? Was there someone else in my head besides me?
Scared silly, I wheeled around, my steel in my hand.
“Show yourself,” I grated hoarsely.
Nothing answered save the light breeze rustling through the forest leaves, the faint sounds of night creatures stalking through the trees, sleeping birds rustling amidst their branches.
I listened hard, with all the strength of my hearing. Faintly, I heard the snores of my companions, not so very distant. I heard the sound of what sounded like deer munching on leaves and grass. I heard a rodent die in the jaws of a fox, the crunching of tiny bones. All the sounds one might hear in a forest at night.
My heart slowed a fraction. I returned my blade to its sheath. I drew in a ragged breath, not realizing I had held it for those long moments. Come on, boy. Chill out.
I wiped sweat from my brow. “Leave me alone, whoever you are,” I muttered thickly. “I want no part of it.”
“We don’t always get what we want.”
That had to be my imagination. Of course it was. I chuckled, working spit into my dry mouth. Or mayhap I’m mad as a privy-bound rat. Unheard voices don’t come to the sensible and sane.
I nodded wisely to myself. I’ve done lost my bloody mind. That’s all. This vision of my own death, the talk of gai’tan and werewolves merely screwed up my sense of reality. That’s all. It happened to the best of us.
* * *
Sitting beside the fire after eating hardly any food at all, I stared into the flickering flames. With the exception of Alun, who drew first watch, all of us sat around the fire in moods varying from indolence to sharp irritation. The latter, from Arianne, Rygel and to some extent Kel’Ratan, was directed at me. Ly’Tana seemed not to mind that I had not spoken much that day and ate even less, she offered me silent and strong support with warm glances from her emerald eyes.
A short distance away, Alun stood with his back to the flames, so the light couldn’t impede his night vision. Ly’Tana, her hand in mine, sat beside me, Kel’Ratan opposite. Flanked by Rannon and Witraz, Kel’Ratan suddenly yawned. His irritation deflated like a loose bladder. Bar lay drowsing behind us, so close I wondered absently if he’d mind if I used him for a pillow.
Tor stood up from his spot beside the fire, arms akimbo. “You promised,” he complained.
“Right now?” Yuri yawned. “It’s late.”
“What did you promise him?” Ly’Tana asked.
“He wants to learn to fight, Your Highness,” Yuras answered.
“They promised a long time ago,” Tor continued, aggrieved. “But they never do.”
Yuri voiced his hot protest. “We’ve been busy.”
“Show him a few things,” she said, waving her hand. “It’ll keep him happy.”
With twin sighs, the brawny, blonde warriors stood up. Tor’s delighted grin put the fire to shame for its brilliance. Just outside the firelight, the boys drew their weapons. Yuri gave Tor his sword. A faint grin found my mouth, without my permission, as the tip hit the ground. The smallish Tor couldn’t lift it.
“Here,” Corwyn said, getting up from his place next to Witraz. “I have something that might help.”
He disappeared into the darkness beyond the firelight for a moment, reappearing with a plain wooden sword. “I don’t know why I packed that,” he said gruffly. “I reckon I thought it might be of some use.”
Why did he suddenly look at me?
Ly’Tana snickered, nudging my ribs. Damn it all. Corwyn returned to his place, his blue eyes as wide and innocent as Rygel’s. Damn him.
“Raise your blade,” Yuri said. “No, higher. That’s it.”
As the lesson began, I caught sight of a shadow moving slowly toward us. My heart beat a rapid tattoo against my chest wall as a huge, shaggy mass, silhouetted against the darker shade of the forest, crept nearer.
It paused a moment. Twin green eyes glowed like lamps under the fire’s light. Whatever it was, it passed Alun by without his raising the alarm.
Frozen, I watched as it hitched slowly closer. My alert face, my fixed stare alarmed the others. Ly’Tana dropped my hand to seize her sword. Gasps and curses abounded as the warriors rolled to their feet.
“Don’t move!” I barked.
I have no idea why I spoke thus. The words came from swift instinct, from a source deep within my soul. Its fuzzy outline gave no indication of what the creature was or what its intentions were. Without knowing what I knew, I knew they must not harm it.
My gut said something important was at stake, and that harming the creature was the worst kind of disaster.
My royal blood, my size, my voice of authority, had their uses. The Kel’Hallans relaxed their bodies, but their hands still hovered over weapons. They remained in place, yet ready to fight should the need arise. Always ready for a battle, they were, but I knew this was a contest they stood no chance of winning.
At the commotion, Alun raced back from his post, his sword in his hand. At my sharp gesture, he stopped, staring at the silent shadow. He stood, silent, obedient to my command to remain still.
Rygel came to his knees, prepared to push Arianne behind him, to shield her. Corwyn, too, hovered over her, protective, alert. Kel’Ratan rolled to hi
s feet, hunkered low, his sword already in his hand. Ly’Tana knelt in the dirt, her hand on her hilt, her slender jaw clenched. Behind us, Bar rose to all four feet, his wings half-furled. I half-listened as his tail lashed from side to side, raking the brush. Yet he, too, obeyed me and stood fast.
Of all of us, Arianne alone hadn’t moved a muscle, hadn’t eyed the creature with alarm or fear or concern. She watched with her magnificent eyes wide, curious…teary. Unbelievably, she smiled, a small, tremulous smile, her teeth gleaming in the faint light.
The shadow lurched closer.
From the edge of the trees, it circled, just out of the firelight. Left and Right sat in obedience to my harsh command, yet twisted around on their haunches to keep it in sight. It moved behind Kel’Ratan, still indistinct, green eyes glowing like twin evil lamps. He turned to watch it, his sword pointed toward it.
It moved forward again, slowly, now behind Witraz. As it came toward him on his blind side, he spun and knelt in the dirt, facing it, keeping his weapon close.
I was next. The shape paused, eyes glowed that eerie, strange green. Something fanned the air behind it. I half-noted a faint shadow blurring, moving back and forth, before the low throaty whine reached my ears.
“Lady have mercy,” Ly’Tana whispered.
She spoke for me, for I was incapable of speech.
The huge, shaggy, silver-grey wolf limped closer, into the firelight. She ignored the insignificant humans who sat in thrall. She paid little heed to the armed warriors who might rise up and kill her out of hand.
Her eyes, calm, amber-brown, no longer glowing green fire, rested on me. Her right front leg couldn’t hold her weight. Thus she limped forward on her remaining three limbs. Her wagging tail still fanned the night behind her massive shoulders. Something dangled from her mouth. With the darkness and shadows moving as though alive from the dancing fire, I couldn’t tell what it was. A dark ball, it hung, curled, from the she-wolf’s jaws.
She crept closer.
Another low plea emerged from the grievously injured wolf.
Suddenly, with no warning, tears choked my throat. A wedge of raw emotion seized me in its merciless grip. I wanted to howl. The urge to howl, to throw back my head and howl to the moon, to run on four legs, my pack behind me—
I did none of these things.
I sat, frozen, unable to breathe, as the she-wolf laid her pup in my lap.
Now with the firelight upon her, I saw the damage done to her body. Her right front leg looked broken, from the impossible angle her shoulder exhibited. Blackened, dried blood crusted her ribs and spine, and once dripped down her hind legs. Her wealth of grey fur lay matted and filthy against her scrawny, thin body. Starved, gaunt, dead on her paws, I half-wondered how she still lived.
Her eyes—
Her wise and knowing eyes glowed bright and happy as she gazed deep into mine. I saw/felt her agony, saw/felt how she shoved her pain behind her peace and tranquility. She had discovered both, and safety for her son. Now that she found me.
I knew, without knowing.
She lurched on three legs, her son in her mouth, for leagues. She followed like a scent on the wind my presence, a bright beacon deep within her soul. Onward she limped, nursing her son only when necessary, ravaged by pain and a deep longing. Trailing the only prey she’d never kill.
Her long, wet, warm tongue lapped my cheek, dried the tears I hadn’t known had fallen.
Turning away from me, she staggered toward Arianne. Heedless of Rygel, who scrambled hastily out of her way, she lay down. Her head rested in Arianne’s lap, her enormous furry, bloody, frame dwarfing my tiny sister’s body.
With a deep sigh, the sigh of someone coming home after a long absence, the she-wolf rested. Her agony retreated for a time, granting her a respite from its strident voice. My presence before her quelled her pain into naught much more than a nuisance.
Her lively, intelligent, peace-filled eyes, still lay on mine.
“The poor thing,” Ly’Tana murmured. “What happened to her?”
“The storm,” Arianne answered sadly. Her hands stroked the wolf’s ears, down her neck, burrowed like mice into the long lengths of her silver-grey fur. Like a blanket, her midnight hair cascaded forward to enclose the wolf behind its heavy curtain. Rygel, in order to see, brushed it over her shoulder to flow down her back.
The she-wolf sighed again, in contentment.
“They denned in a small cave,” Arianne continued, sniffing back her tears. “She and her mate. They felt safe there despite many of their brothers fleeing the storm’s wrath. They remained, confident in their security. They guessed in error. Their den collapsed. Her mate was killed by falling rocks.”
Arianne’s tiny hand gestured toward the sleeping pup in my lap. “They are both old, their pack long gone. This is their only whelp, their final son. She protected him with her body from the collapse. Now she is broken and dying.”
“Rygel?” Ly’Tana cried, her tears falling. “Can’t you heal her? Save her?”
Rygel, who had drawn his legs under him once the she-wolf showed no indication of hostility, rose as far as his knees. “Of course, I should’ve—”
Snapping her eyes from me, she twisted her neck to glower at Rygel, her eyes glowing a deep red. The she-wolf lifted her head from Arianne’s lap and snarled. Her deep-throated rumble began in her huge chest and radiated outward. The firelight gleamed on her exposed fangs. I noticed despite her advanced age they were the length of my hand, very white and very sharp.
Rygel froze. He may be the world’s most powerful wizard. He might change himself into the world’s most dangerous animal. But right now he feared an old, dying and lame wolf half-lying on the lap of a scrawny girl.
Her once mild eyes slanted with evil intent, the wolf issued her decree. We stupid humans may not have understood wolf speech, but her meaning was clear: Rygel touch her, Rygel die.
As Rygel sat back down, hands raised, her snarling subsided. The failing she-wolf relaxed once more under Arianne’s hands.
“She’s dying,” Arianne said, her tears streaming down her pale cheeks. “It’s her time to go. She wants to be with her mate.”
“But,” Ly’Tana began, helpless, bewildered. “Her mate is dead.”
“Wolves mate for life. He’s dead and she’ll join him in the afterlife.”
“Wolves have an afterlife?” Kel’Ratan asked, clearly baffled.
Arianne once more translated. “She is old. She wishes for peace and rest from toil. She’s been reborn many times and she’s weary.”
The wolf’s head lifted from her lap, her eyes fixed on me. She licked her muzzle with a long pink tongue around her greyed muzzle and white whiskers. Low whines mixed with growls emerged in a language I understood without knowing how or why.
“She has faith in The Chosen One,” Arianne translated, her small arms wrapped about the old wolf’s great shaggy neck. She rested her cheek upon the old one’s head. “He will save them all.”
The she-wolf gently shook her off, and tenderly swiped Arianne’s cheek, kissing away her tears with her warm tongue. I knew she thanked my sister for her translation and blessed her at the same time. Gently removing herself from Arianne’s arms, the great wolf stood. Her tail waved gently back and forth behind her.
Arianne dropped her arms to her lap. “Good bye, my brave sister,” she whispered. “Fare thee well on thy journey.”
The she-wolf stumbled over to me. For a long moment she licked her pup, her son, who slept in my lap.
He stirred, whimpering, a faint whining on the air. He knew she was leaving him, realized she was never coming back. He struggled, putting weak legs under him, to follow her. He cried out, in protest, a sharp shrill cry of pain. Then he dropped back, helpless, within my crossed legs.
His tiny pink tongue met her huge one as she licked his dark, fuzzy face. Whether she spoke to him or not, I had no idea. Yet, something seemed to pass between them. He quieted, his small face raised to her
s as she washed him with her love. At last, under her warm nurturing, he collapsed, and slept.
Lifting her face to mine, the she-wolf’s wet tongue caressed my face. She rested her muzzle on my shoulder. I might have managed to shut out her brethren in the hills, but I could not shut her out. I could not bear to. She needed me as much as I needed her.
Like Arianne, I stroked her ears with my hand, drawing as much comfort from her strong presence as I offered. I felt her pain, sensed her grief at leaving her son, and wondered at her joy for her reunion with her life-long mate. I rejoiced at her freedom, yet grieved her wisdom would leave this world. Her loss would render me lost without her.
She withdrew, sat back on her haunches, and gazed at me. Her right paw hovered midway between the ground and her broken shoulder. Sorrow warred joy in those intelligent amber-brown depths.
“Don’t leave me, wise mother,” I murmured, grief multiplying in my soul.
“I must, dear heart,” she replied. “I grieve for him. I need to be with him. My time here has ended.”
I don’t know how I heard her. Not within my ears or my mind. It seemed that all I had to do was look at her and I knew what she said. I also knew I didn’t want her to go.
“I need you.”
“One will come to guide you.”
“I’m afraid.”
“Fear not, my son. For you are the best of us.”
Her tail gently stirred the dust as she glanced around at the humans, still held in thrall. She gazed long at Arianne, weeping within the folds of Rygel’s arms. She looked long at her sleeping son in my lap. She raised her muzzle finally, her deep eyes bright, contented, as they gazed into mine. “Chosen One, you will do well.”
“But I will die.”
Her intelligent eyes never wavered. “We all die, my son.”
“But—”
“Death isn’t to be feared. It’s but another path our paws must follow”.
“I’m afraid.”
“Have faith, Chosen One. Should you die, your death will not be in vain.”
“Wise mother—”
“I must go.”
She glanced once more at the pup in my lap, then at me. “He’s your son now, my dear.”
Catch a Wolf Page 22
