“You obviously are a coward when it comes to the female gender,” Kel’Ratan said, grinning.
“Females always know how to make a male’s life miserable,” Tashira said. “I’m smart enough to know that much.”
“You need to let them know who’s boss,” Kel’Ratan said. “Keep them under your thumb. Barefoot and pregnant, I always say—”
He turned.
Face to face with Ly’Tana, he recoiled, brought up short as though choked by an invisible leash. His blue eyes suddenly widened in alarm, his mustache bristled. Close to panic, he opened his mouth. He backed up a step. Then a second, followed by yet a third.
Ly’Tana stood less than half his size soaking wet, yet she all but skewered him with her anger. Green eyes sparking molten emerald fire, she planted a sweet smile on her fair lips. She followed him step for slow step, her face uptilted to his, her hands firm on her hips.
“What’s that you always say?” she asked softly. “Barefoot and pregnant? Hmmm? What else?”
“Now you know I didn’t mean you, of course,” he stammered, still backing up. He spread his arms wide in a warm, all-encompassing gesture, his smile entreating. “You’re my cousin, after all—”
“And your future queen.”
“That, too, of course—”
“You’re an idiot.”
“I’m an idiot, sure—”
“Get out of my sight.”
Kel’Ratan gaped. “What?”
“Before I command you drawn and quartered on the spot.”
“There’s a nice spot over here,” Tashira called.
“Now wait—”
Ly’Tana pointed. Her long slender finger jabbed imperiously into the dim vacancy beyond the fire. Kel’Ratan prudently offered her a half-salute before turning and marching, with whatever dignity he still possessed, into the darkness outside the firelight.
Ly’Tana snorted, turning to face a laughing Rygel. That fool took one look at her face and instantly sobered. Hastily, he gathered dried meat from Arianne’s hands to concoct the pup’s evening mush. He carefully kept his eyes downward on his task.
Ly’Tana eyed me with speculation.
I raised my hands in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Coward,” Shardon said from the outer reaches, his mouth full.
“Never confuse prudence for cowardice,” I replied, knowing his keen hearing heard me although I pitched my voice low. “You’re out there and I’m in here. Remember that, my silver lad.”
“Wolves have more sense than you,” Tashira added.
“Shut up.”
I winced from my own voice, my head pounding in long thick strokes. If Rygel didn’t produce his promised remedy soon, I planned to throttle him.
Getting impatient, the pup set up a high-pitched crying, setting my teeth on edge. Clicking her teeth in genuine sympathy, Ly’Tana stepped behind me. Her small, strong hands squeezed and massaged the knotted muscles of my shoulders and neck. The pain eased a fraction. I shut my eyes and leaned back against her flat belly, unmindful of the stares her Kel’Hallan crew sent our way.
Despite his craving to become a warrior, Tor still knew his duties as camp cook. With Arianne’s help, and that of Witraz and Rannon, he distributed warmed roast meat, bread, cheese and berries he pilfered from gods knew where. As he served me first, I eyed the food before me with a roiling belly and thumping head.
“Here,” Rygel said, tossing me the bag of meat and nutrients for the crying pup in my lap.
“Where’s mine?” I demanded, rude.
“It’s coming, just relax.”
Ly’Tana left her massage of my neck and shoulders to sit beside me and accept the meal Tor offered with proper respect and down-cast eyes. I watched her eat from the tail of my eye and my gut heaved. Averting my head slightly, I fed the dark wolf his mush, feeling his needle teeth on my fingers. The odor wafting upward, warm meat and warmer wolf, gagged me.
Shutting my eyes, I faced away from the scents and breathed shallowly. That set my head to pounding and increased my dizziness. If Rygel didn’t arrive with the remedy soon, I wouldn’t have the strength to throttle him.
Ly’Tana reached up a slender hand, her mouth still chewing a mouthful of roasted meat, and touched my forehead. “You’re running a fever,” she observed.
I leaned into her hand, needing to lie down and cradle my head in her lap. Perhaps then sleep might conquer me and I’d wake in three weeks or so feeling better. The wolf squirmed, my feeding hand suddenly negligent. I straightened, smiling down into the concerned green gaze of Ly’Tana.
“It’s because you’re so near,” I said, bending at the waist to kiss her roast meat-tasting lips. She blushed, her face pink in the firelight, and giggled, almost choking on the food in her throat.
“Did you see that?” Tashira asked his brother.
“I did,” Shardon replied, his mouth full. “Why do humans do it?”
Their voices, pitched low, escaped every ear save mine. Had Kel’Ratan been paying attention, he’d hear the exchange. Yet, his annoyance outstripped my pain and he heard nothing.
As romantic as my urge was, it lasted perhaps ten seconds. I dug more mush to feed the whelp, his busy tongue and teeth making mincemeat of my fingers. Ly’Tana straightened, her stern princess façade coming down over her beautiful face. It might have worked, had not the blush remained. She slid amused glances in my direction. My head wanted to split.
Corwyn took a ground space next to Rygel, with enough room between them for Arianne, once she had served everyone. As usual, Corwyn scowled at her slavish activities. I knew he felt she shouldn’t act the role of servant, but I also knew she enjoyed the work. She felt far more comfortable as a slave than as a princess, and I wasn’t quite ready to push the issue. A quandary to be worked out later, I surmised. When I felt better. Perhaps in a year or so.
The warriors sat on their bedrolls, their horses tended, their work for the day done. They accepted the food Arianne and Tor offered with smiles of appreciation and thanks. Right and Left, of course, sat behind Ly’Tana, as silent as ever. Witraz and Alun, just outside the firelight, spoke and laughed together, sharing a friendship that made them closer than brothers. Yuri ate while he sharpened his sword, his brother Yuras on watch. Tor’s wooden practice blade lay on the ground next to him, waiting until dinner and chores were finished to begin that evening’s tutorial. Rannon sat on his bedroll, a rod or so from me, his long strawberry hair hanging low as he ate, his face shadowed and thoughtful.
Kel’Ratan emerged from banishment to sit between Rannon and me. While Tor took food out to Yuras, Arianne brought him bread, dried fruit, roasted meat and a tankard of ale. He smiled his thanks, conversing in low tones with Rannon. At all costs, he avoided any eye contact with Ly’Tana.
Ly’Tana, observing Kel’Ratan ignoring her, sniffed and rose to her feet. I summoned enough energy to watch her backside as she walked away, sword belted to her hip, her long, muscular legs made my lungs work harder to draw breath. Her backside under the tight-fitting leather skirt undulated in a most intriguing manner….
Between stuffing food into his mouth with one hand, Rygel handed her a tankard with the other. I hoped he gave her my long-promised remedy.
She turned, the tankard in her hand, to walk that captivating walk toward me. The diamond in her navel glinted in the gloom, catching the firelight and sending it flashing back in pinpricks of colored light. My head throbbed, my chest ached, I couldn’t breathe. Nor could I look away.
“Here,” she said softly, squatting beside me, her thick locks of red-gold hair brushing my bare shoulder. The touch sent shivers racing down my skin, and created tiny gooseflesh on my arms. “Drink up.”
I accepted the proffered cup, my fingers caressing hers in the crossing. Her angular eyes lit from within, her almond skin glowed a soft bronze under the light of the moon and stars. I drank from her eyes, finding myself lost in those emerald depths.
Until Ryge
l’s voice intruded.
“That should help your pain,” he remarked helpfully.
I almost threw the tankard at him.
Instead, I drank down the bitter-tasting stuff, keeping Ly’Tana’s eyes trapped with my own. Her slow smile eased the vile liquid’s slide down my throat. I think my heart beat in rhythm with hers, in long slow, thick strokes.
I threw the empty cup at Rygel.
“Hey,” he protested, dodging it. “What did I do?”
Ly’Tana, predictably, giggled. Arianne, in the act of sitting down with her own tiny meal of a piece of bread and a dried fruit, glared at me.
His bitter brew actually worked. Within moments, my stomach quieted, my head’s throbbing dropped to a mere fraction of what it once was. The dizziness that swamped me now vanished into the darkness. Ly’Tana’s light fingers sweeping my hair from my face finished the job the drink began. Her touch lightened my soul. I felt better.
“Eat, please?” Ly’Tana asked softly, her hand indicating the meal I never glanced toward.
While my spirits had returned with renewed health, my appetite hadn’t. I eyed the warm meat, the bread, and berries, with distaste. My belly still burned, however, with uneasiness this time.
I glanced away from Ly’Tana’s loving eyes with an effort. The unease in my belly grew and spread to my instincts. Something was wrong.
But what?
Utilizing my keen vision, I swept the small clearing and its surrounding forest, trying to uncover the source of my fears. I saw nothing save trees, dark shadows from the fire and starlight. The dark forms of men and horses, mere shapes in the darkness, failed to raise the alarm within me. I lifted my head, sniffing, scented on the breeze the danger that lurked without. Nothing. Only the odors of horses, leather, sweat, woodsmoke and roast meat returned to my nostrils.
Yet….
I inhaled again, allowing the aroma to linger on my tongue. Underlying them all, I scented an odor I couldn’t yet identify. A wild, musky scent I never encountered before.
Except, I had—
Earlier that day.
I listened with a wolf’s intensity, my hearing detecting only the night noises: a distant owl’s hoot as it hunted, the stealthy crunch of furred paws on dead leaves as a hunting cat roamed the forest. I heard, very far away, the sound of a wild pig family, grunting and rooting for edibles on the forest floor. Feral cattle grazed under the moonlight, munching the high-altitude grass and felt no threat of predators.
All these I discovered lay some distance from our fire. The only sounds close by were but the almost silent buzzing of night insects, the whisper of the breeze through the treetops. The snap of the fire, the low voices of the warriors, the tearing of the grass as the horses and Tarbane sought their own meals blasted the night.
From the depths of my memory, the big wolf’s voice rose. Beware, Chosen One, he’d said. I scent enemies.
“Raine?” Ly’Tana asked me, her voice concerned.
I tried a smile, but it didn’t fit.
Outside the circle of our camp lay a hushed, expectant silence. ’Twas not the evil silence of the Tongu, where the night breeze dared not flow. Occasionally, a bird fluttered amidst its home in the branches and leaves, getting comfortable for the night. The high-pitched drone of late summer mosquitoes sang in my ears. Wings whispered as bats caught unlucky insects on the fly. Yet, I heard not what I most expected to hear. No rodents rustled through the undergrowth. No night hunters on wing or paws caught dinner. No deer munched tender leaves and shoots, no bears overturned dead logs in search of grubs. No owls shared hunting calls or drifted from tree to tree on silent wings.
Under all that quiet, I listened to a stealthy, deliberate crunching of the ground underfoot. From my right, I detected the small rustlings of feet pressing last year’s leaves and broken twigs, the soft settling of paws on dirt. Behind me, bodies thrust through the scrub oak, the song of branches falling back into place after something big passed through resounded like distant thunder. Not far to Kel’Ratan’s rear, a nose sniffed the wind, its inhale sharp within my ears.
Together, those sounds meant only one thing.
We were surrounded.
I sat up straight, seeking Arianne across the fire. I found her wide gaze and captured it. Her grey-blue eyes filled with fear and a kind of tense waiting, much like the forest’s silence.
Around the fire, the Kel’Hallans sensed the disturbance in the air, in my tense posture, and fell silent. Their warrior’s eyes searched the surroundings for enemies. Finding none, they remained quiet, as taut as the silence around us, their hands resting on weapons. In the distance, Tashira and Shardon raised their heads, their nostrils sniffing, ears perked to catch any sound.
“Raine,” Ly’Tana began. “What—”
I fastened my anger on my sister. “What have you done?” I asked softly.
Arianne gulped, her long lengths of midnight hair concealing her face. “Nothing, I—”
The hackles on my neck rose. A low guttural growl rose from my chest, into my throat, erupting unbidden from behind my lips.
I rose into a crouch, the infant wolf in my left hand, my sword in my right.
In a silent wave, from all sides, wolves poured into the clearing.
Too many to count in a swift glance, the small camp filled with huge wolves. With a strange yet almost military, strategic precision, they surrounded each warrior with at least four wolves to a man.
A larger group ringed the outer reaches of the firelight, several branching off to circle the nervous horses. Like cattle dogs, they nipped and herded the horses into a tight clump, just outside the firelight. Tashira and Shardon trotted forward into our camp, politely escorted by no more than six great wolves. Tashira’s great head bent down, angling toward a huge wolf pacing him, one who gazed up at him with bright eyes and laughing face.
Bar, lying half-asleep in the shadows, rose in annoyance, his wings half-furled. His hisses and snapping beak deterred the pack not at all. He turned about, his front talons raised to strike, and his lion tail lashed from side to side. The wolves remained out of striking distance, but made it clear with lowered heads and sharp snaps of their jaws he should walk toward the light. He obeyed, reluctantly, probably more concerned about guarding Ly’Tana than any threat the wolves might offer him.
Three wolves sat their haunches to either side and in front of Arianne. They shouldered Rygel out of the way, his body toppling sideways with his legs still crossed. Keeping his hands clear of his weapons, he eyed me, obviously confused. Yet, he showed no fear as wolves shoved their large bodies between himself and his love.
A huge wolf with a dark grey coat and golden eyes planted himself firmly at Arianne’s right hand. Her head didn’t rise as high as his shoulders. Rygel sat still, his hands up in token surrender, unconcerned that a wolf twice her size sat between them. His body language and bemused expression informed me he passively accepted this very weird situation.
Corwyn accepted no such thing.
“Get away from her,” he growled, his red-silver brows lowered over his angry blue eyes. He bared his teeth, his sword slithering from its sheath as he slowly rose to his feet.
The wolf also growled, dark lips curling back from his white fangs as Corwyn stepped toward him, sword leveled. His dark ears flattened against his head. Stiff hackles rose on his shoulders.
The Kel’Hallan warriors rose to their feet, reaching for swords, bows, daggers.
“Stand down!” Kel’Ratan commanded. “Keep your hands clear of your weapons.”
Ly’Tana also rose to her feet, her right hand hovering over her sword. A huge wolf, his head even with her breasts and easily three times her weight stood a mere two feet from her. He was a dark grey, his shoulders as wide as a young bear’s. His ears stood upright, his muzzle closed over fangs that could rip her throat open with the barest effort.
Sensing his non-aggression in his stance and calm eyes, Ly’Tana straightened slowly, her hand withdrawi
ng from her hilt. She spread her fingers, palm outward, in a universal gesture of non-aggression. The wolf’s tail began to wag, slowly, back and forth, in approval.
In that same instant, Arianne stood up. Her right hand on the dark wolf’s head stilled his lunge at Corwyn. Her raised left hand, at shoulder height and palm out, stopped Corwyn cold in his attack on the wolf.
“Please,” she pleaded, her voice small, but firm. “He’ll not hurt me. Please sit, Corwyn. It’s all right, really it is.”
At her entreaty, Corwyn relented. He shoved his sword back into its sheath. He refused to sit, however. He stood, his eyes glaring at the now quiescent dark wolf.
The yellow-eyed wolf licked his lips, his ears now up, his long tail waving slowly back and forth. He watched Corwyn, not with aggression, but with something akin to admiration in his gaze.
“What the hell—”
Yuras’s young, deep voice filled the expectant silence and overrode the snapping, cracking of the fire and the soft sounds of wolves moving swiftly about their errands.
The young Kel’Hallan stumbled into the clearing and the firelight, herded, like Bar and the horses, by wolves with lowered heads, fangs gleaming white under the moon. He showed enough wisdom to keep his hands clear of his swordhilt, his blue eyes wide, confused and, while not afraid, actively concerned. When he reached the group of his brother warriors, the trio of wolves behind him trotted away, leaving him to whisper questions of Yuri and Witraz, standing nearby. I felt some small surprise when Tor refused to hide behind anyone, and stood forth as bravely as his Kel’Hallan mentors.
“Don’t move,” Kel’Ratan ordered. “Do what they want.”
“What do they want?” Witraz asked, backing a step or two from a huge, light grey wolf with amber-brown eyes that stood with bared teeth in front of him.
“They want us to stand still and keep our hands off our weapons,” Kel’Ratan said, his hands out, forward, empty of arms. “They’ve fought for us twice now. I durst think they want to harm us.”
Catch a Wolf Page 49
