Rygel spoke up. “How can they be criminals, great Sh’azhar? They were captured and tortured. What have they done wrong?”
“They found humans building not far from the walled human habitation,” The Sh’azhar answered grimly. “The town of Wil Dar. They asked permission to drive them out, but I denied them. Against my orders, they went anyway. They were trapped and taken.”
The Tarbane king eyed the two sidelong as Rygel and I exchanged a long glance. “I myself tried to rescue them,” he went on quietly. “Foolishly, alone and in daylight. Humans fired their bows and I was struck, and driven away.”
He shifted his stance, inviting me to peer closer. The broken shaft of an arrow protruded from his huge shoulder. His heavy mane concealed the wound and the traces of dried blood down his leg past his knee.
“Can we help you? My brother here is a healer.”
He tossed his head dismissively, his forelock dancing. “It is of no moment.”
“What will happen to them?” I asked, jerking my chin toward the errant pair.
The Sh’azhar’s great head swiveled toward me. “That is why I brought you here,” he said. “They owe you their lives. They must now serve you.”
“Um,” I began, catching Rygel’s wide incredulous eyes. “Serve us?”
The Sh’azhar gazed past us. Following the direction he stared, we slowly turned. Our eyes caught on our saddled horses standing quietly, their reins on their necks.
“As they serve you,” The Sh’azhar said.
My jaw dropped. “Oh, hey, that’s not necessary,” I stammered hastily, waving my hand toward the pair, frantic to deflect the king’s command. “We’re just in the neighborhood, you know, glad to help, no worries, mate, it’s all good, they don’t owe us anything at all—”
“That’s right,” Rygel chimed in, his voice hurried, panicked. “We’d nothing better to do, just out for some air, don’t you know, I think we’ll be on our way now. Thanks for the hospitality, Your Majesty, we’ll find our way out, and, hey, come by and see us, you know you’re always welcome, don’t knock, always nice to have friends come visit—”
He waved cheerfully, smiling, managing a short bow at the same time. I, too, found a bow somewhere, a faint grin and a short wave.
Shoulder to shoulder, we turned back to our horses—and froze.
A wall of very large and highly irritated Tarbane stood solidly between us and our escape.
“Uh,” I muttered, from the side of my mouth. “Maybe you could fly us out.”
“I thought you were afraid of flying,” Rygel answered, his own lips hardly moving.
“It’s high time I learned.”
“You will be permitted to leave,” The Sh’azhar said, “when you take them with you.”
Damn it all. Rygel leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Take them and then once we’re out of here cut them loose, what do you say?”
I nodded shortly. Together we turned back. We both recoiled upon finding a thunderous dark cloud on the big dappled face. How did an equine face show expressions as easily as a human’s does?
“You will not cut them loose,” The Sh’azhar said sternly.
“Oops,” Rygel muttered. “He heard that.”
“I did. So don’t bother with your paltry plans.”
“Listen, Your Majesty,” I said, stepping forward, bowing low. “It’s not that we don’t like them, we do. But your people are not meant to be our mounts. It’s beneath you.”
Oddly, The Sh’azhar managed to cock an eye over my shoulder toward Rufus. “And it’s not beneath him?” he asked.
“That’s different—”
“It is not different,” he replied firmly. “That one there comes from our blood, yet you ride him. He serves you with love and loyalty. Horses are our cousins, however distantly removed. Once upon a story, our people might have partnered with the Kel’Hallans in this manner. Unfortunately, evil entered the lands, split us apart, and we went our separate ways.”
I gestured toward the black and grey Tarbane, who listened intently to the discussion. “Look at them,” I argued. “They clearly want nothing to do with us.”
“What they want is of no moment,” The Sh’azhar said firmly. “They must pay their debt to you.”
“What if we refuse? Will you kill us?”
The Sh’azhar glanced from me, to the pair, and back to me. “No,” he said slowly. “We will not kill you. You will be escorted out and freed to go your way.”
“Good.” I turned to go. “We’ll take our leave of you, then.” I bowed low. “Your Majesty.”
“But they will die.”
I wheeled back, stricken. “Why!”
“It is our law,” he answered. “If a blood debt is not paid, the one that owes it must face execution.”
Fury roared through me. “It’s easy enough for you, the king, to dispense death,” I snarled. “Yet their lives are valuable, too.”
I thought he would grow angry in his turn at my show of temper and disrespect. The Sh’azhar pawed the ground with his blood-stained hoof. “Not as easy as you say,” he said quietly. “They are my sons.”
“What?” Rygel exploded. “You would slaughter your own children?”
“Not even I, The Sh’azhar, am above the law.”
Rygel and I stared helplessly at one another. “Please, great Sh’azhar,” I pleaded, my hands out, palms up in supplication. “Don’t do this.”
He didn’t answer me. Rather, he stared at his offspring. Whether he spoke to them in the silent Tarbane language or if they chose at that moment to come forward, I’ll never know. As one, they walked toward Rygel and I, side by side. Their pace was slow, but measured. As though they marched within the confines of a ceremony only they knew of.
Dappled silver like his sire, the grey halted in front of Rygel. “My name is Shardon,” he said quietly. “I owe you a blood debt.”
The black towered over me. He bent his huge neck so his face stopped inches from mine. I looked into the great, sad eyes. “My name is Tashira,” he said. “I owe you a blood debt.”
“This isn’t what I want,” I murmured.
“Nor I,” Tashira said. “But I must pay for my foolishness.”
“Trying to protect your lands and people is foolishness?”
“I disobeyed my sire and my Sh’azhar,” he said. “I was captured by men.”
“They are both young and headstrong,” The Sh’azhar said from behind us.
I turned. Rygel, too, wheeled about to face the Tarbane king, Shardon at his shoulder. The honor guard behind The Sh’azhar stiffened, as though expecting a royal command.
“In time they will grow some brains and learn to curb their impulsive, disobedient behavior,” the Sh’azhar went on. “Perhaps you might teach them.”
“I doubt it,” I muttered, running my hand through my hair. “I tend to be rather impulsive myself.”
“And I seldom obey,” Rygel added with a grin.
The Sh’azhar sighed. “Then there is no hope for them.”
Yet, his expressive eyes behind the thick fall of his forelock gleamed with amusement.
Rygel stroked down the long beautiful face of Shardon, who stood quiet, apparently enjoying the attention if his half-closed contented eyes told me anything. Somehow I couldn’t reach out to touch Tashira. I dared not, my throat thick, my breathing heavy. When I failed to extend a hand in compassion, Tashira nudged my shoulder.
“You’re a wolf,” he said, his nostrils flaring.
I sighed. “That’s what they tell me.”
“You’re both a wolf and a human, though how that occurred confuses me.”
“You’re not alone in that,” I replied, raising a small smile. “It confuses the hell out of me.”
“I like wolves,” Tashira went on. “Some of my good friends are wolves.”
My smile widened into something more genuine. The pervading chill left my spine and my muscles. I could now take my hand and caress his silken muzzle. “Pe
rhaps you could grow to like the man, too.”
“You, perhaps.” Tashira bobbed his head toward Rygel. “And him. But no others. Men hurt me. I will always hate men for what they did.”
“Not all men are like that,” I murmured, thinking of Ly’Tana. “Girls can be quite nice.”
“They hurt you, too.”
“They did. I’ve learned to control my hate.”
“But not your rage.”
I took an astonished half-step back. “How do you know that?”
Rygel glanced up from his deep communion with Shardon. “Didn’t you know? They can see into our hearts as clearly as we see each other.”
“That’s how I, we, know you are both honorable men,” The Sh’azhar said. “I have no doubt you will treat my children well.”
“There is still time for you to change your mind,” I said, turning to him, my back to Tashira. “Please. I don’t want this.”
“For that very reason I am grateful it was you who saved my son,” The Sh’azhar said quietly. “You are a man who’ll not abuse his servant. You won’t betray the trust I have in you.”
“You don’t know me,” I murmured.
“I know enough,” said the Sh’azhar. “I see a great deal.”
“I’m not perfect.”
The Sh’azhar lifted his head. “Did I speak otherwise?”
Another smile teased my unwilling lips. “You did not.”
“For a human, you’re not half bad.”
That raised in me a broader grin, against my will. “My brother here believes me to be gai’tan, the werewolf.”
“And this is important, why?”
A laugh broke from me. “I reckon that remains to be seen.”
“Wolf or man, you have honor. You’ll treat my son well.”
“Then I reckon neither of us has much choice,” I said.
“No,” he replied. “You don’t.”
I sighed. I rounded my shoulders in defeat, and half-turned about, finding Tashira over my right shoulder.
“Ready?” I asked him.
“No,” Tashira replied in a very small voice. Fear filled his great soft eyes.
“Neither am I.”
Rufus and Rygel’s gelding were nipped and herded forward by the guards who escorted us here. Rygel led the trembling black to Shardon’s side, where he began to strip the saddle from the docile gelding.
Rufus stood beside me, his warm, trusting eye on my face, his muzzle thrust into my hand. He seemed to want some affection, some reason to believe I thought more of him as an intelligent creature than a beast of burden. Of course I did. The gallant bugger jumped over a bleeding cliff for me, for gods’ sake. Good old Rufus, I thought. You’re the best.
Reluctantly, I loosened my saddle’s girth and spoke over my shoulder.
“How long?” I asked simply.
“Three years,” The Sh’azhar answered. “After that, they are free to come home, should they desire.”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
The Sh’azhar didn’t answer.
Puzzled, I ceased, and turned halfway around to look at him. His eyes rested on Shardon and Rygel. Following his gaze, I immediately understood. Had they been of the same species and of the opposite gender, I’d say they were in love. No doubt a deep and abiding connection already formed between Rygel and Shardon. Rygel set his saddle on Shardon’s back, Shardon’s head turned to nuzzle Rygel’s shoulder, his huge brown eyes liquid love.
I turned away.
“Don’t worry,” I muttered to Tashira, at my right. “The years will go by quickly and you’ll be free of me. I promise to release you the instant those years are up.”
He said nothing.
I suppose that should have warned me. Too deeply mired in my own reluctance and misery, I paid little heed to Tashira’s. I lifted the light, fur-covered saddle toward him.
With a panicked scream, he launched himself both backwards and sideways.
His violent motion spooked Rufus, who jumped, striking me in the shoulder. I kept to my feet, but barely, the saddle dropping into the long grass. I grabbed Rufus by the bridle, immediately preventing him from bolting.
Tashira backed away, ears flat to his skull. Had he been a human, I suspect he’d be sobbing.
“I cannot!” he cried. “I will not! Kill me, my father.”
“Tashira,” The Sh’azhar said sternly. “Cease this nonsense.”
Tashira raised his head defiantly, his tiny ears flat, buried in his mane. “I’d rather die, my father. I beg you, take my life.”
“You would rather be executed than lose your freedom for a short time? This man here—”
“Raine,” I answered simply.
“Raine will treat you with honor. He has a good and kind heart.”
“I don’t care.”
The other Tarbane, the royal soldiers, walked toward Tashira, stiff-legged, eyes fixed, their intent clear. If Tashira hoped for an opportunity to cut and run, they’d make sure he didn’t get far. They’d execute him on the spot should The Sh’azhar command his life.
“One more time,” The Sh’azhar said sternly. “Surrender to your sentence or die.”
Tashira’s head rose and his tail swept up proudly, defiant.
“Very well.” The Sh’azhar’s voice held a deep chill, a tone that meant death. I also heard a note of grief. Six Tarbane soldiers advanced on Tashira, ears flat, heads lowered, and hard-eyed. Their intent was clear: Tashira would die within moments, per their Sh’azhar’s command.
He watched them approach with calm courage, his stance neither defensive nor fearful. He’d make no attempt to defend himself I saw, I felt…I knew.
I did this. Dammit, this was my fault. Of course Tashira would rather die than live as a slave. Who would not? Anyone with a brain and a decent soul would rebel. I myself preferred death over slavery. How could I expect him to submit freely? In the hands of those who captured him, he’d probably fight to the death. A death he embraced with honor. In saving him from those who captured him, I condemned him to death from his own kind.
“Wait.”
I dropped Rufus’s reins and lunged forward, putting myself between Tashira and the oncoming executioners. Rygel stared at me in rising alarm.
“Raine, don’t—”
I ignored him. Dropping to my knee, I turned toward The Sh’azhar.
“If a life is forfeit for his crimes,” I said quickly. “I offer mine in his place.”
“Raine!” Rygel screamed.
He started toward me, drawing his sword. He didn’t get very far, however. Two Tarbane thrust their huge bodies between him and me, holding him back. Unless he dropped them in their tracks, they created a very effective barrier.
The Sh’azhar stared down at me. “Why would you do this?”
“His life is no less valuable than mine,” I answered. “As he owes his life to me, I freely give it back to him.”
“Our law must be fulfilled.”
“Raine!”
“By accepting my life over his, your law is satisfied, I’m thinking.”
The Sh’azhar stared at me, his eyes wide and glistening, glinting through his thick forelock. “You mean this? You will take the place of my son?”
“I will,” I said simply. “Freely. I would die before seeing his pure spirit enslaved. Having been a slave, and tasting sweet freedom, I know what he’s going through. I’d spare him that.”
“This is most unusual—”
Rygel fought to get around his Tarbane guards, frantic, his yells falling on deaf ears. I recognized the picture immediately: Shardon liked Rygel. Tashira didn’t like me. Shardon didn’t mind a few years of toting Rygel around. Tashira would never, so to speak, bend the knee. He’d rather be dead than take up even a temporary position as a beast of burden. His honor, his pride, forbade that. I guessed I didn’t much blame him. I didn’t take well to slavery, either.
As Shardon had freely accepted his sentence, I hoped they’d go soon. Depart,
I thought. Rygel, take your new friend and go. You don’t need to witness this. Let your last sight of me be that of me on my feet, defiant, ready to die. Go, braud, and be safe.
I’d prefer they go now, with neither Rygel nor Shardon witnessing me kicked to death by Tarbane hooves. Go now, and remember me as I once was.
“Go, Rygel,” I said. My breath caught in my chest. “Tell Ly’Tana I’m sorry. Ask Corwyn to stay with Arianne, she’ll need him. You have my leave to marry her, of course.”
“Raine, no! Don’t do this! Stop! Please don’t kill him.”
“See them all safe to Kel’Halla, Rygel,” I said. “Only you can do it. Protect her from Brutal, the big B. Do it, as one last favor to me.”
“Raine!”
“One more thing.” I looked long at the anguished face of my brother. “Tell her I love her.”
“Tell her yourself, dammit, don’t do this, please let him go, I’m begging you—”
“Remember I love you, Rygel. Above all remember that, my braud.”
“Raine! I swear I’ll kill you all if you touch him! Raine!”
I knew Rygel’s threat carried no weight. Rygel had no chance in hell of killing even one Tarbane with his sword, much less the hugely muscled soldiers who changed direction from Tashira and now advanced on me. The only way Rygel could kill them was by magic, and the edict against killing by magic would prevent him from using his powers. I glanced at Shardon. His new connection with Rygel would quite effectively keep him from harming any Tarbane.
Interesting, I thought. For the first time ever, Rygel’s fangs were drawn, impotent. He had no more power here than a worm in the dirt.
I looked up at The Sh’azhar. “Get him out of here. Please?”
He tossed his forelock. The Tarbane guards pressed in on Rygel, driving him with their sheer size and muscle mass. Implacable, ignoring his shouts and threats, they pushed him, and Shardon, away. Shardon’s voice drifted above Rygel’s shrieks and the implacable hooves of the soldiers. “Come, there’s nothing we can do.”
“Dammit, don’t kill him!”
“Are you ready for this?” The Sh’azhar asked me.
I nodded. “I am. Today is a good day to die.”
I lifted my face and shut my eyes. The sun felt good on my skin. If I am to die, I thought, let it be this way, a clean honorable death. Not the slow torturous, agonizing demise of a rabid animal I knew awaited me. Here, I’d die a man, a human, not furry, fanged beast. Here I’d die quickly, with no pain. Never before could I hope to die this easy.
Catch a Wolf Page 39
