Catch a Wolf

by A. Katie Rose

  I didn’t want to see the executioners arrive. I cared little to see their huge hooves before they knocked my head off. Under their immense power, I’d be killed instantly, with no suffering. That, at least, was good. Better this death, quickly, than the long, slow death I faced as a wolf. One hoof alone would bring instantaneous unconsciousness, if not immediate departure into the spirit world.

  I suspected I’d be easier to kill than Tashira, and that they’d rather execute a hated human than one of their own. They’d especially not want to execute the Sh’azhar’s own son. I still heard Rygel’s curses and threats and Shardon’s consoling voice, but they came from an unimportant distance. As I had done before, I tuned them out.

  Resigned as I was that my death was close, I felt no fear. My life as a gladiator taught me my death might come at any moment. Fear of death was useless, I knew. There was no point in fearing the inevitable. Death came to us all, it only mattered how we went.

  So here it was at last. I bowed my head, quelling the heart that wanted to race, stilling the lungs that craved new air. In an instant, I’d need neither to sustain me. Death waited on swift wings and I raced to embrace her. Vaguely, I hoped the wolves discovered another savior. They certainly deserved better than me. Hopefully, they’d find a savior who at least felt willing to save them, as I had precious little inclination.

  Ly’Tana. I smiled a little, thinking of her. I put her face within my mind’s eye, wanting her face to be the last thing I saw in this world. I saw her kitten smile, her tilted, emerald eyes, the sunlit flash of the diamond in her navel. Gods, isn’t she beautiful?

  I heard the immense hooves draw closer, scented the Tarbane executioners, felt their animosity, their dreadful hate like fireflies on my skin.

  I waited, patient, still smiling. ’Twas easy to smile while looking at Ly’Tana.

  Death incarnate arrived in the fading sunlight, the whisper of the breeze, my long-time, silent friend. She stepped up on silent wings to shield me, to take me into her embrace, to offer me her bosom. Here I am, my lady, I’m ready. Let’s go before I screw this up.

  Any moment now—

  Instantly, something blocked the sun, casting me into deep shadow. The proud, haughty wings of Death’s Angel found me and even yet sought to take me? While that seemed very unusual for one to arrive and take one such as me, it might be the norm for Death’s own winged angels. Yet, I felt no immortal presence, no chill of death, heard no flutter as of wings. What then?

  Bar. The wild thought careened into my head: he found us and even now fought to free me from my fate. Did he attack from above? Did he even now dive upon the executioners and drive them from me?

  Involuntarily, my eyes opened.

  Huge black legs framed by the tall green grass greeted my eyes.

  Bar hadn’t cast me in shadow.

  Tashira did.

  His enormous frame became a barrier, a stout, breathing protective fence. Firmly planted over me, his body shielded me from the oncoming executioners.

  “Stop, Father,” he said.

  “What means this?” The Sh’azhar asked.

  “It means I accept your sentence,” Tashira replied, his heavy tail swishing.

  From my spot on the ground with Tashira’s huge body and thick mane falling past his shoulder, I could see little as the father faced his son.

  “Why?”

  “If Raine is willing to die in my place,” he said quietly. “Then he’s someone worthy to serve.”

  “You only now figured that out?” Rygel screeched, darting out from behind his now lax guards. Shardon’s silver legs trotted behind him. Seizing my arm, Rygel bodily hauled me out from under Tashira’s huge body.

  Tashira eyed him with some humor. “Perhaps I’m slower than most.”

  “Then you two are meant for each other,” Rygel muttered, his hand under my shoulder.

  I needed him, for my legs felt like rubber. The aftereffects of my close brush with death, I surmised. “Thanks,” I murmured, regaining some stability.

  He promptly belted me across the jaw.

  His blow slammed me back down to the ground, my head ringing. I shook it, trying to clear it of the muzziness, my oily hair in my face. My jaw ached fiercely and I tasted blood. On my back, my elbows under me, I gazed up, astounded.

  “What the hell—”

  Rygel stood over me, his wheaten hair hanging in his face, amber eyes sparking with barely controlled fury. His aristocratic lips thinned into a white slash in his tanned face. He pointed down at me, his long slender finger a weapon.

  “You do anything like that ever again,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “I’ll kill you myself.”

  “Aren’t you a peach,” I muttered, trying once more to get my wobbly legs under me.

  He reached down. “Here. Take my hand.”

  I hesitated. “Not if you’re going to hit me again.”

  Seizing me by the wrist, he hauled me up. “I’m through for the moment.”

  I staggered a bit, finding Tashira’s big shoulder to lean against.

  “Why’d you do that?” Tashira asked, a protective note in his tone.

  His immense body stepped between us, pushing Rygel bodily from me. His rump, half-swiveled toward him, offered Rygel a silent but very effective threat.

  Rygel staggered a bit, recoiling, and glared at Tashira in return. I smothered a grin with my hand, wagging my jaw back and forth. The pain receded slowly.

  “I can’t abide stupidity,” Rygel snapped. “Especially from him.”

  Ducking under Tashira’s black neck, I shoved Rygel’s shoulder. “You hit like my sister.”

  “Next time I’ll use a rock.”

  The Sh’azhar eyed us with amusement. “My sons are in very good hands, indeed.”

  “That wasn’t very smart,” I said to Tashira, turning my back on the king for a moment. “Had you kept your mouth shut, you’d be free.”

  “At what cost?” he murmured, his muzzle at my shoulder. “I do have honor, of a sort.”

  “Honor is for morons,” I muttered.

  “Then I’m in good company.”

  “I really don’t want to hear it.”

  With Rygel still glaring, his hands on his hips, Shardon watching quietly from over his shoulder, I turned my back to them. Turning slightly away, I forced Tashira to also bend his head to remain even with me. I looked up to meet his brown eyes under the fall of his black forelock.

  “I don’t care what your sire says,” I said low, thickly. “You’re free to leave me at any time. You are not, and never will be, a slave. There’ll be no bonds upon you that you yourself don’t permit.”

  Tashira lifted his head and gazed about the peaceful valley, his nostrils flared. For a long moment, he didn’t speak and a half-hope raised in me that he’d find a loophole, a flaw, in The Sh’azhar laws that would permit him to remain alive and free. That hope quashed itself when his head lowered and his intelligent eyes gleamed with amusement.

  “Life here, in this vale,” he said quietly, “is a good one. It’s safe, pleasant, and its home. It’s also quite dull. That aspect has landed me in trouble more than once. As your valiant rescue proved.”

  He nuzzled my shoulder. “I suspect strongly that a few years with you will be a lifetime of adventures.”

  I sighed. “I soo didn’t need to hear that.”

  “Oh, come on,” Tashira teased. “You know you like adventure.”

  “Bite me.”

  His head tossed as his eyes lit with high good humor.

  This time Tashira stood quiet and trusting as I set the saddle on his back and tightened the girth. As his brother did, he turned his head to both watch me and nuzzle my arm. “That doesn’t feel so bad,” he commented.

  “Until his heavy ass is in it,” Rygel said, putting his own bridle on Shardon.

  I half expected Rygel’s sharp comment to alarm Tashira all over again. The rebuke rested on my tongue when the big black slowly eyed me up and down.
I waited, silenced, to see what he would do.

  “He’s not very big,” Tashira commented dryly.

  I chuckled and rubbed his neck. “You’ll do fine.”

  He willingly opened his mouth for the bit, working the simple metal bit around on his tongue, experimenting. Whatever his thoughts were on it, he kept them to himself. Yet, he showed no fear.

  Rygel turned back to The Sh’azhar. “I’m a healer, great king,” he said quietly. “Please permit me to heal you of your injury before we go.”

  The Sh’azhar glanced from his shoulder to Rygel in surprise. “Then I will owe you a debt.”

  Rygel grinned, shaking his head. “It’s on the house,” he said. “Consider it a gesture of goodwill between your people and mine. Maybe one day we will all be one people and no longer enemies.”

  “A good wish,” he said. “Very well. You may do what you will.”

  Rygel brushed his heavy mane aside. “You may not thank me,” he said in a warning tone. “It’s going to hurt like hell when I pull the arrow out.”

  If the Tarbane could shrug, The Sh’azhar would have shrugged his immense shoulders. “It is of no moment.”

  Giving him no time to prepare, Rygel yanked hard on the wooden shaft. It came out on a great gush of blood, its steel head tearing apart the soft flesh and hard muscle.

  Rygel immediately clapped his hands over the deep wound. He dropped into his healing trance faster than I had ever seen him do before, both his eyes and The Sh’azhar’s closing at the same moment.

  Tashira and Shardon stepped up close to my shoulders, watching Rygel heal their sire with an air of fascination. I noticed no few of the Tarbane also leaned close, their nostrils flaring, eyes wide. No doubt, magic was a stranger to them.

  As no one seemed to want an explanation, I offered none. I leaned against Tashira’s heavy neck, caressing his velvet muzzle. Without knowing fully how it happened, I knew Tashira and I formed a connection. I felt a bond with the black Tarbane, a tie that knotted itself in my heart. I glanced up into his liquid eyes, seeing for myself the bond he, too, felt for me.

  I knew that when the three years were up, I’d let him go. And his departure would tear an agonizing hole in my chest.

  After what seemed an hour, Rygel raised his head, blinking. The Sh’azhar opened his eyes as Rygel took his bloody hands away from the gleaming dappled hide. He brushed aside the thick mane, revealing a clean shoulder, free of any injury. The Sh’azhar lifted the leg and stomped his hoof experimentally onto the ground.

  “I’m healed,” he said, his voice slightly awed.

  “Try to avoid any more arrows,” Rygel said with a faint grin. Tiredly, he armed a faint sheen of sweat from his brow.

  “I will try,” The Sh’azhar replied, somber.

  As Rygel cleaned his hands on the grass, the Tarbane king spoke again. “I would speak with my sons in private.”

  Straightening up, I watched as Tashira and Shardon walked away, one to either side of their sire. Rygel joined me, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “What do you think he’s saying to them?”

  “Good bye,” I replied. “Write when you get work.”

  He laughed. “I’m betting he’s dispensing last minute fatherly advice. Don’t chase women, don’t gamble, watch your language.”

  Whatever he said to them, he spoke for a long while. The three stood, heads bowed, noses in a cluster. The Tarbane soldiers now dispersed, most grazing quietly, ignoring Rygel and I. The red leader stood off with a few of his stout fellows, swishing their tails at flies, also watching their king and his sons. If they spoke amongst themselves, I couldn’t tell.

  Idly, I glanced up at the sun, now cooling toward the west. Red and orange streamed across the tall green grass, giving the peaceful vale a soft glow. “We’re going to be late getting back,” I said.

  “The Tarbane can cover ground much faster than horses,” Rygel reminded me.

  I jerked my thumb at Rufus and his gelding, also grazing quietly. “And do we abandon them?”

  He grimaced and shook his head. “Of course not. Ly’Tana will worry.”

  “So she will,” I said. “Not much we can do about it, either.”

  So we waited, patient, for my part content to let the king spend as much time as he wanted with Tashira and Shardon. After all, he’d probably not see his sons for a long time. They must have talked for over an hour, perhaps longer. At last they raised their heads and in a comfortable trio walked back, their legs swishing through the long grass.

  Shardon stepped up to Rygel while Tashira greeted me with a nuzzle to my hand, his eyes bright.

  “Do you wish to say goodbye to your mother?” I asked.

  “She’s left this world,” he replied. “But she watches from beyond the stars.”

  My throat closed. I tried to swallow the lump, but it refused to budge. Taking a deep breath didn’t help either, for I couldn’t draw one.

  “Fare you well, my friends,” The Sh’azhar said.

  We both bowed low. “Perhaps we will meet again, Your Majesty,” I said, my voice thick.

  His eyes gleamed behind his forelock. “Perhaps we will at that.”

  Rygel vaulted onto Shardon’s back. “Somehow, we will send you news of your sons.”

  “Then I will be content.”

  I grabbed hold of the pommel of my saddle, readying myself to vault into it. An equine scream rose into the silence of the peace-filled vale. I wheeled in alarm, reaching for my sword.

  Ears flat, teeth bared, Rufus launched himself at Tashira. His attack came so swift, so unexpected, I wasn’t the only one taken by surprise. True to Tarbane form, Tashira dove to the side in a swift leap, both avoiding his attack and protecting me.

  Rufus lunged again, dashing past me, following him up, still screaming. I bolted toward him, no clue as to how to stop him. He wore no bridle, no halter, no rope. What’s the matter with him?

  “Rufus!” I yelled.

  Swifter than I, three Tarbane soldiers swept into the fray. Without using their teeth or hooves, they pushed him back. Much as they had done Rygel, using their muscled mass rather than violence, they put pressure on him, preventing him from another attack. Their huge bodies acted as a high muscled wall Rufus couldn’t get past. Behind their mass and flying manes, I could see Rufus still fighting and kicking, his ears flat, his eyes wild.

  Heedless of the danger, I dodged the wall of Tarbane. I ran up to him, throwing my arms around his thick neck, his mane in my face. “Rufus, cease! Rufus!”

  Rufus stopped immediately, his ribs rising and falling with every panting breath, his eyes ringed white. Foam dripped from his jaws. He tried to dance from me, but my arms about his neck acted like a halter. He stopped, his hooves still stamping, his thick black tail lashing like Bar’s in one of his foul moods. Beneath my hands, he trembled and shook and sweated.

  Murmuring, I stroked his neck, down his shoulders, rubbing under his mane, over his eyes. Hot sweat dampened his bay hide, its salty odor strong in my nostrils. Yet, slowly, under my ministrations he began to calm, to cool down. He licked his lips.

  “What’s wrong with you, you big fool?” I murmured, cupping his muzzle in both my hands and rubbing my nose against his. “Talk to me.”

  “He’s jealous.”

  Startled, I looked up. The Sh’azhar, flanked by Rygel and Shardon on his right and Tashira on his left, stood to my left.

  “He loves you,” The Sh’azhar said quietly. “He thinks you are abandoning him. If he can kill Tashira, you will love him again.”

  Gods above and below.

  I hugged Rufus around his neck, feeling about an inch high. What a lunk you are, I told myself. You’re too stupid to breed, thank all the gods you’re virgin, you haven’t yet passed on the idiocy gene.

  Of course Rufus did all he did. Not just from natural courage, though he had plenty of that. He did what he did for me. He did it out of his vast well of love.

  What a mess, I thought, res
ting my face against his sweating neck. I’d no choice but to ride Tashira. And by doing so, I’d break Rufus’s gallant heart.

  “I don’t speak very good horse,” I said, choking, not looking up. I kept my arms firmly around Rufus’s heavy neck, his mane in my face. “He doesn’t speak human at all.”

  “What would you have me tell him?” The Sh’azhar asked gently.

  I stroked Rufus’s damp hide with love. He trembled slightly, still sweating despite his apparent calm. I felt his fear. Not a fear of physical harm. He feared my rejection. He feared to lose my love. He feared I’d abandon him.

  “Tell him that I love him. Tell him I will always love him. Explain that my heart can love another, and still love him, too. There’s room enough for them both.”

  Under my hands, Rufus ceased his trembling. As The Sh’azhar spoke the silent equine language, he sighed down his nose and licked his lips. I felt him relax. He stopped sweating, his jaw digging into my shoulder.

  “Tell him I wish him to remain with me,” I went on, still stroking my first love down his proud neck to his shoulders. “He will always be with me, for I will never abandon him. If he agrees, I’d have him carry my sister. Ask him to love my sister as he loves me. Ask him to protect her as he protected me.”

  Rufus bumped his head playfully against my back, nickering, in response to The Sh’azhar’s silent voice.

  “He will,” The Sh’azhar translated simply.

  Lifting Rufus by the jaw, I nuzzled my nose against his, and laid my head against his huge white blaze. He nibbled my ear, snorting down my throat. I laughed, still choking on unshed tears but laughing. Somehow, strangely, I felt his fear die away, his anxiety lapse, his good nature return. My hands rubbed gently over his large, soft eyes, down his jaws, up over his ears.

  “I do love you,” I murmured. “Believe that.”

  Rufus nuzzled my cheek, snorting softly.

  “I think he’ll be all right now,” Rygel said quietly.

  “I think so, too,” I said.