“If you did,” said the second voice, Tom. “The big B would crucify you once her and him were caught.”
The big man in the shadows leaned back. His teeth gleamed in a swift grin. “The B won’t catch him. Her neither. They’re both way smarter than B. Trust me for it, he and she will never be caught by the big B.”
* * *
Few roamed the dark shadowed streets as Rygel and I mounted our horses. Riding past the darkened buildings, I agreed with Rygel. There were far too many of Brutal’s former army about to feel comfortable. Despite their desire to do nothing but ride hard for the closest border, the enemy was still the enemy. While I felt no danger emanating, I didn’t like being there. I wanted out. Badly.
“We can ride around for an hour or so,” Rygel murmured. “If we haven’t found it, it isn’t here to be found.”
I didn’t reply, didn’t waste a nod he couldn’t see in the dark. A few lamps had been lit, but for the most part the town lay in darkness. As though everyone shut and shuttered after dark and never opened up before dawn. I couldn’t even see lights behind chinks in between closed doors and jambs.
At a quiet walk, even our horses’ hooves sounded muffled. As we rode, the few people we did see vanished. I saw no City Watch, no guards, no late beggars. Glancing up, I saw no guards on the walls. As though we rode through a deserted city long abandoned by all save the ghosts and Brutal’s former cavalry.
Rygel peered through the dark at the buildings we passed. “Temples, yes,” he whispered. “But nothing like what I think the Huhtamaki monks would occupy.”
I saw the tall dark temple consecrated to Usa’a’mah, the usual armored and armed priests who guarded others like it curiously absent. It stood as silent as everything else we rode past.
“Let’s try over this way.” Rygel pitched his voice one level above inaudible.
We rode past silent homes and markets, shut tightly for the night. Torches failed to burn invitingly outside. A few more, smaller, taverns and inns hosted the same scene: former cavalry horses tied to rails. Should an army commander wander into town, he’d recognize them in an instant. Hopefully, these men would escape the Federation and find new lives, and new hopes, elsewhere.
Whether the townspeople recognized the deserters and remained indoors, just in case, or if this was the normal evening for Wil Dar, I’ll never know. My alarm instincts remained on high alert. My hackles rose on my neck and stubbornly refused to flatten.
Down a few more streets and several turns found us at the end of town. No more taverns or homes, but shut businesses, warehouses and closed markets greeted my keen night vision. Only a few buildings remained before we hit the city wall, but many railed pens spread outward in a large maze. If there were cattle in them I’d suspect this the cattle market. Like everything else, the faint moonlight shown down on emptiness. Just beyond them lay the high city wall, with no guards atop. We just discovered a dead end.
Rygel flipped his hand, indicating I should follow. “We can check down this way, and if there’s still nothing then there are no monks in this very weird town.”
We rode perhaps a half block. I reined in.
Rygel rode on for a few rods before he discovered I wasn’t there, and halted. I paid him scant attention. A strange scent drifted on the light wind, an odor sent my flesh into pimpling. Lifting my face, I sought to identify it, to roll its flavor over my tongue. It wafted, then waned, only to return fresher on the next small gust of breeze.
“What?” Rygel whispered.
“Don’t you smell that?”
He sniffed loudly. “Smell what?”
“Blood and fear.”
He froze. His face glowed pale as it turned toward me. “I don’t know why that should surprise me. You’re a wolf after all.”
I didn’t answer him, held rapt as I was by the strange odor. Nudging Rufus, I walked him toward the pens, my nose leading me. The scent grew stronger. To my eyes, the pens lay empty and silent. There was nothing there. I almost turned about, prepared to leave.
Wait. What was that?
Rygel didn’t speak as I dismounted, but followed suit, sliding down from his saddle. Like me, he left his reins on his gelding’s neck.
Leaving the horses to stand and wait, I crept forward. Walking at a low crouch, presenting a smaller profile, I edged my way toward the cattle yards. The moon glimmered down on a very pale figure at the furthest corner of the pen. I squinted. It looked like a horse. If it was a horse, it was like no horse I’d ever seen.
I thought it was alone. I started to take another step when an enormous shadow moved. I froze. Peering into the darkness, I saw a shape. The moon flicked off a rounded rump. A second horse. This one so black it blended perfectly into the darkness. Only its chance movement gave it away.
“What do you see?”
I couldn’t believe it. Rygel saw nothing.
Taking his hand, I pointed with it, hardly daring to breathe. Staring intently into the dark, Rygel’s eyes flicked back and forth, unable to see what I now saw clearly.
“I don’t see a bloody thing,” he murmured.
“Use your bloody magic.”
He seized my wrist and gripped hard enough to hurt. I didn’t speak, but glanced at him, inviting him to share.
“Don’t you recognize it?” he hissed. “That’s a Tarbane!”
Instantly I recalled Ly’Tana and Kel’Ratan’s lecture of the legendary horse creatures. Descended from the gods, they said, as intelligent as men, faster, more powerful than any common horse. Creatures bound to their own laws and kings until man’s evil destroyed their once peaceful relations with these noble beasts.
“What’s it doing here?” he muttered, still peering into the darkness.
“Two. There are two of them.”
Rygel hissed lightly through his teeth. “They must know we are here.”
“They do.”
I also recognized the sensation of being watched. In our travels across the empty fertile grasslands of the Navak Plains, they watched us. Both Arianne and I sensed their eyes, and their peaceful intentions. Watched by Tarbane, we were. We trespassed on the Tarbane’s lands, and they made sure we didn’t intend to linger.
The black one shifted again. This time, with the wind just right, I heard the faint chink of metal. Chains.
“They’re prisoners,” I murmured.
“Prisoners? How in the hell can they be captured? No one has ever done it.”
“Someone did it. And I’m going to let them go.”
I started up. Rygel’s strong hand on my shoulder dragged me back. “You do realize, braud,” he said. “Once you free them, they might just kill you. They’ve no reason to thank us.”
“I don’t care. I’m going. Stay here if you want to.”
Being Rygel, of course he didn’t. Right beside me he crouched, stalking forward, staying low. Under the lowest rail we crawled, aware these valuable captives might be guarded. I paused, casting about with my better night vision, scenting the air. Listening with everything my ears had to offer, I heard nothing but the light breeze. I saw and smelled no guards. As we crept closer, I saw why.
Both Tarbane wore head collars of heavy chain that bore chain leads down to solid bolts in the earth. Cuffs of solid steel had been clapped around each front pastern, also chained to the big bolts. Not only couldn’t they possibly escape, even with their greater strength, they could barely move.
They froze as we approached, turning their heads slightly to watch us slink forward. Delicate ears pointed toward us. Nostrils flared. The heavy aroma of fear increased, making my stomach roil in protest. The stench of blood grew ever stronger. The pale grey’s coat ran with gore from the chains about its head, its legs and the whip marks that streaked its dirty coat. While the black one’s coat hid it’s injuries, I knew someone whipped and beat it as well.
I needed to do something about the fear. “I don’t know if you can understand me,” I said, my voice soft. “We’re not here to h
arm you. We want to free you.”
“Yes,” Rygel said, slowly approaching the grey, his hand extended, palms up and out. The universal sign of peaceful intentions. “If you let us close, we can get the chains off you.”
I stepped closer, cautiously to the huge black, my own right hand out, palm up. I let it see clearly that while I was armed, none were in my hand. Inspiration struck me. I quickly unbuckled my sword belt and dropped it to the ground.
“What—” Rygel began.
“Do it,” I hissed.
Despite the lack of wisdom of approaching dangerous creatures unarmed, Rygel obeyed me. His weapons fell beside mine.
“Now you see us,” I said quietly. “We are unarmed. Will you allow us to approach?”
The black’s head dipped slightly. It snorted softly down its nose. I accepted the gesture as equine permission. Rygel and I spread out, me toward the black, Rygel toward the grey. It was chained about two rods away, facing its companion. I inched toward the black, a beast more than twice the size of Rufus. The darkness hid it’s gender.
Its muzzle extended toward my hands slightly, its nostrils quivering as the beast took in my scent. In my nose, the odor of fear dropped considerably. I glanced over toward Rygel. He grunted as he struggled with the mechanism that closed the chains together around the grey’s head. The grey stood stock still, as though movement would halt the procedure of freeing it.
My fingers found the locking mechanism around the black’s head. Of course, there was no key in it. Perhaps our rescue attempted would end in failure. Not even my strength could break it.
Wait. Strength. I had another strength, one that came from Rygel. Not sure how to use magic, other than starting fires, I thought back to what Rygel said once: the brain was a muscle. He used his brain the same way I used my muscles. All right, let’s give it a whirl.
I took a deep breath and touched the lock. Breathing out, I imagined it snapping open. Then I exerted my will, the same way I willed the fire to burn the wet wood at the camp. Instantly, the lock obeyed me.
Behind me, Rygel’s also opened with a short crack. Mine might have been better oiled, for it made little noise. I slid the chain out of it, the black considerately lowering its head so I might remove it without knocking the heavy steel over open wounds. I gathered the lengths in my hand to avoid it dropping with a clash and alerting anyone we stole their prizes.
“Now your feet,” I whispered.
Rygel removed the steel head collar from the grey and crouched at its very dangerous front hooves to free those. I did the same, very much aware of the beast’s power. Once the chains were off, it could kill me before I could roll swiftly away, out of reach.
Again, the steel cuffs were locked. With a little practice, the cuffs opened under my mental command. Despite being unlocked, rust in the hinges caused the bloody things to stick closed. I used both hands to wrench them open with grunts and whispered cursing. At last I set the cuffs quietly aside and stood up.
The big black never moved, even once it was free of the chains. Dark eyes watched me, its fear gone. I wanted to reach out my hand and stroke down the strong, delicate face. I had no idea what a Tarbane might like for affection. Thus, I kept my hands to myself. Hearing noises from behind, I glanced back.
Rygel walked toward me, the grey behind him, it’s nose to his shoulder. Almost as if belonging there. He stopped beside me, the two Tarbane standing side by side to face us.
“You’re free now,” I murmured. “If you care to keep company with us for a while, my friend here can put the guards to sleep and open the gate. You can go home.”
The two put their heads together as though in a whispered conversation. Rygel grinned and clapped me on the shoulder.
“Damn that felt good.”
I couldn’t help it. I grinned back as he leaned comfortably against my shoulder, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Yes,” I murmured. “It most certainly did.”
I heard no noise, no voices, but their decision was obvious. The pair raised their heads and gazed down at us, their huge liquid eyes bright. I don’t know how I knew, but somehow I knew they agreed to come with us.
“Let’s go,” I said, turning.
As I bent to pick up my sword belt, I wondered if weapons in our hands might make them change their minds. But as Rygel and I rearmed ourselves, they looked on with the innocence of children.
We ducked through the wooden rails of the pen. Our new companions merely broke into a trot and easily jumped over. I cocked my head, listening for the sound of their hooves on the hard packed earth. I heard nothing, even with my heightened hearing.
“When they want to,” Rygel murmured, understanding, “they can move as silently as cats.”
“I reckon so,” I murmured, heading for the horses.
Our new friends, if they could be called friends, waited patiently while our slower two legs caught up.
To my shock, the presence of the Tarbane hand an unexpected effect on our horses. Rufus pinned his ears, his teeth bared, the white ringing his eyes. He danced sideways, keeping his head facing them, wanting to flee, but unwilling to leave me. Sweat dampened his neck. His tail swept back and forth, reminiscent of Bar’s lion tail when angry.
Rygel’s black stood shivering, sweating, all but paralytic with fear. His head held high, his eyes ringed with white, he had locked his legs into steel rods. Any tiny start would sent him exploding into blind panic. I’d no idea why he didn’t flee, galloping away at top speed in a desperate run from what frightened him so badly. Perhaps he, like Rufus, felt unwilling to abandon his rider.
Rygel went to him, murmuring soothing words, caressing his black sweaty neck.
“Easy, lad,” I said to Rufus, stroking his face.
For a moment I thought he might bite me. He flung his head back, ears flat against his skull, half-rearing, striking out with one savage hoof. His teeth snapped together on nothing as he shook his head fiercely. I glanced over my shoulder. The black Tarbane stood there, watching us with bright eyes. I offered an apologetic half-shrug.
“He seems a bit scared of you,” I said. “Give me a moment.”
It took a few long minutes to quiet the horses enough that we might vault into our saddles without them bolting out from under us. I turned Rufus around, Rygel and his black beside me. Rufus didn’t much like the pair behind us, either. His tail lashed violently, and he pinned his ears flat, yet he walked forward quietly enough. The black gelding calmed once Rygel was in the saddle, but foam still lathered his neck and flanks.
Had I not known they were there, I’d never have known. The Tarbane moved as invisibly, as easily,through the darkness as hunting owls. Like ghosts, they followed behind us, almost invisible in the darkness though they walked but a few paces behind. I exchanged a quick glance with Rygel, who, predictably, grinned.
“There’s a gate not far from here,” he said quietly. “It’s just down this way. It faces south, however.”
“I don’t care,” I replied. “As long as we’re out of this god-forsaken town. I don’t think our friends care either.”
They offered no comment, if they had any to make.
Within a half-mile, the gate loomed in the dark distance. Rygel reined in and turned in his saddle to face the Tarbane.
“I’m going to put the guards to sleep,” he said in a low voice. “We’ll walk up and then I can open the gate. We don’t want to alarm anyone who might be close, so I’m going to shut it behind us and lock it.”
They said nothing. I doubted I could understand them even should they decide to talk. I suspected they communicated like Bar. If he spoke with his eagle’s chirps, screeches, hisses, they’d communicate with whinnies, nickers, neighs, or squeals. I didn’t speak that language well.
Rygel nudged his horse back into a walk. The guards lounged against the wall of their guardhouse, gossiping in low voices. The first humans we’d encountered since leaving The Hog. I felt a strange sort of surprise at the sight
, as though never having seen people before. I counted eight of them.
“Here goes nothing,” Rygel muttered.
He made no movement to indicate he used his magic, but one by one the guards collapsed. Almost in a heap, four fell outward rather than inward, onto and into each other. The rest sank into sitting positions, with their chins on their chests, and their backs against the walls.
The sounds of their snores crossed the open space in an alarming rise of noise. If we heard it so clearly, so could any other guards nearby or on the wall that we hadn’t yet seen. I clenched my fist and twisted, sending my own mental will out toward them. The snores ceased immediately. Rygel stared at me. Then he shook his head in irritation.
“We really need to work on your technique.”
“Later. Our friends are late getting home. Their parents will be worried.”
Rygel chuckled under his breath. We passed the now silently sleeping guards, the Tarbane eyeing the downed guards with concern. As Rygel dismounted to fuss with the huge bar across the wooden gates, I gestured toward them in an effort to reassure.
“They won’t wake up until, er,” I paused, uncertain as to when they would wake up. “Um, until they’re supposed to.” I finished lamely.
“Very well put,” Rygel said, raising the bar up and over the wall. He swung one of the gates wide. And bent low at the waist, arms flung wide in one of Rygel’s dramatic showman’s bow.
“Your freedom awaits you,” he intoned.
The Tarbane walked past me, past a grinning Rygel and through the gates. As one, their heads raised, their nostrils flared as they hesitated. Scenting home and friends and freedom, I gathered.
They both turned and against the faint starlight I saw there was something strange about their heads. Something about the shape, the delicate features, that seemed similar. While the black was bigger, thicker and heavier, the grey was more slender, with a racer’s fine lines. Yet, somehow, I had no doubt they were brothers.
They turned toward us. Bright eyes shimmered in the moonlight. While I never expected to be thanked, somehow I knew we had been. The same way I knew they were male, and brothers. Without telling me, they told me.
Catch a Wolf Page 37
