Catch a Wolf

by A. Katie Rose

  I rode Rufus through the open gate and paused to wait for Rygel. I never took my eyes off the pair as Rygel shut the gate and, with his magic, dropped the bar back into place from the other side. Now whoever had taken the Tarbane captive would never know how his prizes escaped. The guards would soon wake, never knowing they slept. They’d rise from the ground and resume their watch as though nothing at all had happened.

  The Tarbane would vanish like the ghosts they appeared to be.

  I bowed my head to them. “You’re welcome,” I answered, softly.

  Rygel walked up behind me, distracting me as he vaulted into his saddle. I glanced down, taking my eyes from the huge pair.

  “Good-bye—” he began and halted, his voice choked off.

  I looked up.

  The Tarbane were gone.

  I swept my eyes through the darkness, searching with sight, hearing and scent. They vanished.

  As though they were but a dream.

  “Well, now,” Rygel said softly. “What do you think of that?”

  “I think it’s been one hell of a night.”

  In the Tarbane’s absence, the horses calmed immediately. Rufus bent his neck and rubbed his nose against his foreleg. Rygel’s black shook himself, rattling Rygel from head to toe, and snorted down his nose.

  “These old boys need some rest,” I said. “We do, too.”

  “I want out of sight of this town,” Rygel said, glancing back at the silent gates. “What say we ride straight west for a while, get into a grove of trees for cover? I think there’s one at the top of a hill a few miles that way.”

  He jerked his head toward his right. I remembered there were no tilled fields in that direction. Most of the farmers tended their crops and herded their cattle, goats and sheep primarily to the north, east and south. The west were Tarbane lands, I thought. Right now, Tarbane territory seemed safer than human.

  “I’ll go along with that notion,” I answered, nudging Rufus into a fast trot. Despite the day’s travel, he was more than ready to work. The black gelding didn’t have his stamina and I hoped we weren’t running him too hard. Belatedly, I remembered Kel’Ratan’s speculation about Rufus: he was of Tarbane blood.

  I looked at Rufus with a new eye. That may be where his high intelligence, his strength, his uncommonly good looks came from. I rubbed his neck. I always knew there was something special about Rufus.

  “You owe me an explanation,” Rygel said, drawing me out of my reverie.

  “I don’t,” I replied.

  “You do.”

  “You won’t get one until you tell me which one ’tis.”

  “In that case, you owe me several,” he said. “But I’m interested in only one right now.”

  “And that is?”

  He eyed me askance. “You have never smelled fear before,” he said slowly. “How in the bloody blazes can you smell it now? How’d you smell their fear?”

  I examined my reins. I reckoned I did owe him that one. To people, emotions were seen on the face, in the language of the body. Animals like dogs, horses…and wolves could scent emotions. Especially fear. Although I had no real knowledge of how I came to start scenting an emotion like fear, I’d a pretty good idea.

  I fumbled for the words, floundering, wishing he weren’t so perceptive. Rygel waited patiently, another first for him. I shied away from my memory of what happened in the trees like a horse at the sight of a lion. He offered no verbal encouragement, but I felt it coming off him in waves. He was my brother after all.

  “Um,” I said slowly. “Back there. In the trees.” I jerked my head in the direction we rode toward, in the direction Ly’Tana, Arianne and the others camped. “I tried to turn myself into a wolf.”

  I felt his excitement rise, although he said nothing, nor made any movement. “And?”

  “I scared myself silly.”

  Whatever I thought he’d do or say, the kindly hand he dropped onto my shoulder surprised me. “I suppose that’s to be expected,” he said quietly. “Facing one’s worst fear is never going to go well the first time.”

  Shock jolted me. “How did—”

  He smiled, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight.

  “I’m your brother.”

  * * *

  I lunged out of my blankets, my instincts, wolf or otherwise, screaming the alarm. Seizing my sword, I bared it, ready to fight the unseen enemy from my knees.

  The sun broke over the horizon, its red-orange rays streaming across the grasslands. The morning lay silent, the expected day still an hour away. Yet, for now, dawn reigned supreme. The birds were first to greet the sun, chirping contentedly from the safety of the trees above.

  I blinked.

  A forest of legs captured my sight. Dozens upon dozens of equine legs met my eyes as I swung my head: red legs, black legs, grey legs, bay legs, piebald legs, white legs, brown legs. More legs than I could count in a lightning glance.

  I peered up.

  Angry Tarbanes peered down.

  A huge circle of Tarbane faces filled the sky above me. Tarbanes filled the tiny clearing within the grove where Rygel and I made our camp the night before. Many ears lay flat against their huge heads, though a few pointed curiously toward me. Long shaggy manes hung low, almost to my face. Nostrils flared as they sucked in my scent. Lips skinned back from teeth bared perilously close for my immediate safety. Huge hooves trod the earth inches from my legs.

  I gulped. I kicked Rygel.

  He stirred sleepily, hunching his shoulders under his blanket. “Go ’way,” he mumbled.

  I kicked him again. “We’ve got company.”

  “What?”

  He rolled over, his eyes fuzzy and indistinct. “Wolves?”

  I folded my legs under me, aiming for the most peaceful posture possible. I sheathed my sword and laid it across my knees, my intentions clear. “Guess again.”

  Rygel sat up.

  Instantly, a white Tarbane muzzle thrust itself into his face. He yelped, scrambling to get his legs under him. He sank back against my spine, breathing hard. He, too, knew better than to draw a weapon. I kept my hands away from my sword and raised them high.

  “Oh, shit,” he muttered, his back against mine, his hands in the air. “We’re in trouble.”

  “You think?” I snapped, trying for a smile as a black and white piebald face pressed close, ears flat, huge nostrils flaring redly.

  “Tell them,” he said wildly.

  “Tell them what?”

  “That we helped their friends.”

  “I think they know that, nimrod,” I snapped. “That’s why they’re here.”

  “What do we do now?”

  I looked around. “Surrounding them is out.”

  “Think they’ll surrender to us?”

  A huge chestnut bulled his way through the pack, his red mane falling nearly to the ground. White stockings came up past his knees. His long nose held a huge blaze that swept up and around his pale brown eyes.

  Like Rufus, I thought, distracted. By the way the others relented, stepped back, deferred to him, I reckoned their leader stepped forward. Ears flat against his huge skull, his huge eyes fastened squarely on mine, he breathed me in.

  And blew me out in a derisive snort. “You will come with us,” he thundered.

  I wilted against Rygel, astounded, flabbergasted.

  “What the—” Rygel stammered, floundering to his knees.

  “No questions! Get up.”

  We obeyed him, our hands in the air in the universal sign of surrender. Belatedly, I hoped they understood the universal language. Not that we could survive should we decide to fight, I thought, seeing the hate in their eyes, feeling their enmity on my skin. What did we do?

  “What did we do?” Rygel echoed my thoughts, his back to mine with his hands raised.

  “We trespassed on their territory,” I hissed. “We’ve been in their lands for over a week.”

  “Them?” Rygel obviously and suddenly remembered the watching e
yes.

  “Yes,” I said grimly. “I reckon they want retribution.”

  “You know nothing, human,” the chestnut spat. “Get on your beasts. The Sh’azhar wants you.”

  “The—”

  “Silence!”

  Rufus and the black gelding were nipped and herded toward us, their fright obvious. Rufus’s defiance from the night before was gone. The black gelding trembled until I thought he’d collapse. We’d unsaddled them the night before, but they wore their saddles now. Under the intense scrutiny of at least fifteen irritated Tarbane, we tightened girths, packed our bedrolls and mounted up.

  The leader set a fast pace, but not so hard that Rygel’s gelding couldn’t keep up. We followed behind his flowing red tail, and I hoped Rufus didn’t tread on it. That, I imagined, would irritate him to no end. The others loped and trotted in a huge herd all around us, providing no opening with which we might slip through to escape. Not that we could, I thought. Should we try, they’d have little trouble in running us down.

  Leaning toward Rygel, I whispered. “What’s a Sh’azhar?”

  “I’m betting that’s their king,” he answered, his voice hushed.

  As the chestnut leader paid us no mind and none of the others tried to silence us, I spoke again.

  “If they travel in large groups like this, how is it no one ever sees them?”

  Rygel glanced around cautiously. “I imagine they don’t. We must be a special case.”

  I got my bearings with a lightning look around. We travelled west, but somewhat to the north. Almost in the direction we, with the Kel’Hallans, rode to escape Brutal and his armies. We galloped toward the distant mountains, the first of the many ranges in the great north.

  Without turning my head very much, I surveyed our captors. Their awesome beauty took my breath away. Hugely flowing manes and tails brushed over the tall grass. Sunlight reflected off gleaming hair, their powerful muscles bunching and knotting under slick hides. Necks arched proudly, their shoulders and rumps rounded with equine perfection. Most stood hands high over Rufus, dwarfed Rygel’s black gelding. I did notice two or three that were not as large, but still looked far more powerful than any mere horse.

  The hills closed in. Short mountains rose higher and steeper, rocky, dotted with thickets of bramble and scrub oak. Trees grew thicker, not just patches dotting the rolling landscape, but a new forest growing thick and green. We climbed steeply, the footing under our mounts no longer grass and soil, but sharp rocks and chunks of boulders. Dead trees, pale white and naked of any bark, lay amid the broken rock. White-striped rodents whisked from view as a circling hawk screamed its annoyance.

  The chestnut loped toward what looked to me like a thick wall of trees. As we drew closer, I saw the appearance deceived my eye. Only at a certain angle and close up, could I see the narrow canyon. It looked like a natural hidden entrance to…what?

  Our Tarbane escort fell back, allowing us to go first, just behind the red leader. Once into the canyon, I understood. The steep walls permitted only two to run abreast. The sun didn’t reach here very well and long shadows filled the confined space. I glanced up. I nudged Rygel. After a quick questioning glance at me, he, too, looked up.

  More Tarbane stood atop the cliff, watching. Guards on the wall, I thought.

  The canyon wasn’t very long, perhaps less than half a mile. Bright sunlight gleamed from the other end. Past the red Tarbane’s large quarters, I witnessed what appeared an opening onto a meadow. Once out of the canyon, the sun blinded me. I blinked.

  The meadow, no a vale, was huge. If I was forced to guess, I’d estimate it about three leagues long and the same wide. Tall rocky hills, just short of mountains, surrounded it. Smaller hillocks rounded up through the grass. Thickets of pine, oak and slender elm trees offered shade from the sun. Like the Plains of Navak, flowers blossomed amid the green. The heady scents of buttercups and daisies mingled with wild rose and lilac that overwhelmed my sensitive nose. Bees collected the sweet nectar of the colorful flowers, dropping from one blossom to the next. Dogwood sprouted, attracting birds of all kinds to nest in their branches. Falcons, kestrels and hawks vied with jays, jackdaws, robins, and their smaller cousins, wrens and sparrows for coveted airspace. More granite boulders the sizes of houses dotted the tall green grass, smaller broken rock breaking up the vibrant colors.

  If I had a knife to my throat and was forced to name this place, I might call it ‘heaven on earth’. A vivid sensation of peace, a tranquility not found anywhere I else I’d ever travelled to or from, could equal this place for sheer harmony. It lay one with the gods and their creation. Had I not been taken captive and tripped over this place by accident, I might stay here, at rest, until the end of my days.

  I reckoned this vale the Tarbane home, protected from the weather and prying, human eyes. Riding further in, I saw dark shadows in the jagged mountains. Deep caves, I surmised. Protective caverns that sheltered families from the winter snows, the spring rains, the curiosity of men.

  Only three Tarbane stood amidst the vale. At least three that I could see, anyhow. I suspected more watched from hiding around the hillocks and the caves. I scented them, a wild odor mixed with the tall grass they ate for sustenance. If I listened hard, the faint sound of Tarbane tails sweeping the flies and whispering through the tall grass, the motions of those who refused to show themselves reached my ears.

  The red leader slowed his pace to approach the three.

  Or the one, I thought suddenly.

  A single huge grey Tarbane stood waiting, his dappled coat gleaming under the sunlight. A silvery mane fell from his high neck to sweep the tall grass at his knees. His tail lay across the grassy tops, as thick and full as a windless banner. Dark intelligent eyes gleamed from behind his silver forelock. He was almost too bright to look at without squinting against the glare.

  Two other Tarbane stood off to the side, to the big grey’s left.

  I caught Rygel’s quick grimace as he, too, recognized our friends.

  Our escort fanned out in a wide circle, surrounding not just Rygel and I, but the grey and black as well as the great silver leader.

  The chestnut approached the dappled grey at a methodical walk. He showed no obvious deference, but wheeled in behind to flank the huge grey. There he stopped, his head up, his ears pointed backward, his eyes carefully blank. If he were a soldier, I guessed his posture spoke of parade rest.

  The huge silver Tarbane stared at Rygel and I, impassive. I thought it prudent to dismount, and slid down off Rufus. Rygel followed suit. Unsure of what to do, I stepped forward slowly, showing both hands. I glanced quickly at the pair, standing off to my right. The blood from whip and chain on them both stood stark on their once silky hair.

  They stood with their heads low, their eyes and ears on us. We freed them from their captivity and torment. I half-thought they’d appear happy, or at least happier, than their current expressions spoke of. For some reason, I suspected they were on trial for their lives. Once more I smelled their fear.

  “I am The Sh’azhar,” the huge dappled grey said.

  Like his kindred, his immense equine body bulged on his shoulder, haunch and neck with perfect conformation. His stout legs and breadth of his chest made mincemeat of the finest horses I’d ever seen. Any horseman worth his salt might drool upon seeing him. No wonder the townspeople sought to capture these divine creatures.

  His dark eyes behind the thick fall of his forelock held no emotion I could detect: no hate, no derision, no welcome. As he obviously outranked me, I dropped to my knee and bowed my head in obeisance. Beside me, Rygel, too, bent his knee with respect, with homage.

  “Rise, humans,” The Sh’azhar said.

  We obeyed. I stood straight, my hands behind me, shoulders back, as though I were a soldier under inspection. I didn’t know what passed for deference among the Tarbane for their leader, but thought they might not like it much if we didn’t at least try to show respect for this huge grey beast.


  “Do you know why I ordered you brought here?” he asked.

  “Because we trespassed over your lands, Your Majesty,” I answered.

  “No.” His short answer ended on a long snort. “We drive away any human who try to settle or build in our territory. Any who come here are attacked in the night. They know not what drives them away, but they fear to come again. If they do not leave, we kill them.”

  “You?” I asked. “You’re the ghosts of Navak?”

  “Is that what they call us? Ghosts?”

  Now I understood. People who sought to build homes, till the land or graze cattle found themselves under attack by what seemed like evil spirits. Rygel couldn’t see the two Tarbane last night when my wolf eyes saw them as vague shadows. Somehow, they made themselves all but invisible in the darkness. Ordinary people could never, would never, know what attacked them in the darkness before the dawn. Their superstitions explained ghosts, the restless dead rising to drive them away. They’d flee, never to return, for the dead would always be there, claiming and defending their territory.

  “May I ask, great Sh’azhar, why did you not try to drive us away? We,” I indicated Rygel with a jerk of my head, “and our companions have been in your lands for almost a week.”

  Now amusement showed in those dark intelligent eyes. “Your companions, as you call them, are Kel’Hallans. Once, millennia ago, a great friendship existed between the Kel’Hallans and my people. Above all your human kind, we respect, and perhaps like, only the Kel’Hallan Horse Lords.”

  I dropped my head in a sober nod. “And as we obviously were travelling through without remaining, you felt unthreatened.”

  His great head dipped. “Just so. We do permit travelers to pass unhindered, but most of you humans, over the centuries, have learned to stay clear and avoid our territory.”

  “I understand, great Sh’azhar.”

  “I brought you here because of these two criminals,” The Sh’azhar said with a toss of his thick forelock toward the silver and black Tarbane pair.

  At the word ‘criminals’, their heads dropped even lower, eyes on the ground, their ears slack. Their fear-scent intensified.