Like Rygel, the Kel’Hallan warriors raised empty hands, expressing their peaceful intentions. Unconquerable, the bravest warriors of mighty Kel’Halla raised their hands in surrender to a measly pack of wolves.
In response, the wolves offered lolling tongues and wagging tails. We’re not here to harm, their postures said.
“They’re not after us,” Kel’Ratan said, mustache bristling, his confused blue eyes on me.
The largest wolf yet, owning a silver-grey coat and a light grey strip perhaps two inches wide running over and under his neck like a collar, literally pushed Ly’Tana away from me. He used no bared teeth, no flattened ears, no aggression save his bulk pushing her, forcing her to put distance between us. Without the use of her weapons, her slight weight a non-issue for the wolf, she stumbled away. I caught a wild green glimpse of fear before the wolf put his immense bulk between Ly’Tana and myself.
Bar hissed, his tufted ears flat, his predatory eagle’s eyes on the silver-ringed wolf, his wings half-furled. There was no mistake. He’d kill anyone, anything, that stood between Ly’Tana and himself.
Bar advanced, stiff-legged, ignoring the ring of snarling wolves. His head lowered as he stalked the big grey wolf. His ears flattened, a nasty, feral growl rose from his chest and ended on a menacing hiss.
That boy stopped in his tracks and watched Bar come. Making no move to defend himself or fight, he waited. With his head high, ears erect, his tail waved gently from side to side. He held his ground, firm in his stance of calm, non-aggression.
Confused, Bar hissed again, lion tail lashing, huge wings flapping in irritation.
Ly’Tana stepped between them.
She backed into Bar, his head towering over hers, and faced the wolf. With her arms spread across Bar’s immense chest, she effectively stopped him in his tracks.
To the big leader, she spoke quietly. “He protects me.”
The wolf grinned. Jaws opened wide, tongue lolling, his grey tail swept from side to side. Without words, he spoke a language understood by all: no worries.
“Let him sit here,” she asked. “That way he’ll be comforted, and realize you aren’t here to harm me.”
The silvered grey leader woofed once.
“He said it’s all good,” Tashira translated helpfully.
Calmer, mollified, Bar sat down. His wings settled against his back and his lion tail no longer lashed. Rather, its tufted tip twitched spasmodically. Ly’Tana also sat, legs crossed, in the safety between his front legs.
That left me.
I looked around slowly, seeing how effectively the wolves isolated me from the others. As easily as dogs herd a flock of sheep, they had cut me from the pack and isolated me. Nor could I expect help from anyone. It appeared, to me, that my so-called friends would rather surrender to animals than defend their own. So be it.
My eyes flattened. I growled, a savage, ripping sound that rose from the depths of my chest and radiated outward. I spun my sword in a tight circle, making it whistle, making it sing.
So, the wolves wanted me. If they wanted me alive, they could think again. “Come on, big boy,” I snarled. “Let’s dance.”
The grey wolf’s eyes snapped to me. His hackles rose on his shoulders. He turned from Ly’Tana and faced me, his tail stiff. Yet, his aggression ended there. He neither accepted my challenge, nor retreated. No wolves made any kind of aggressive move toward the humans, horses, Tarbane nor Bar. They stood passively by and watched, waiting to see what we would do.
Despite my antagonism, the grey wolf grinned, his red tongue lolling from between razor sharp, white fangs. His ruff flattened out, and his tail swayed back and forth against the light of the fire. He met my threat as he had Bar’s: with calm, a refuse-to-rise-to-the-bait attitude. His laughing eyes told me, clearly, he called my bluff.
The huge wolf who shouldered Ly’Tana away from me approached. Past his leader, across the middle of the camp, he walked, his calm brown eyes on mine. Unconcerned about the sword in my hand, he strode firmly forward and sat down. Not more than an arm’s length from me, he sat and waited. His tail flopped lazily back and forth in the pine needles. I stopped my sword’s spinning. What in the bloody name of hell did he want?
A strange vibration in my left hand dropped my gaze from the huge wolf to the tiny one. I dared not believe what I heard.
The pup in my left hand growled.
A savage, tearing snarling emerged from a muzzle no bigger than my finger. Dark lips curled back over needle fangs. Not just hackles rose from his shoulders, the baby fuzz over his entire body stood on end. He looked like a frightened cat puffed into a small, dark, hairy ball. Yet, this whelp felt no fear. He felt only a terrible, unquenchable fury against those wolves that threatened his father.
Me.
Unfazed by the baby’s defense of me, the wolf looked into my eyes. Then back at the furious pup in my left hand. And again, up into my face. He extended his muzzle toward the pup, and looked back, up, into my eyes.
I understood.
“Yes,” I said hoarsely. “Get him out of danger.”
Cautiously, slowly, prepared for an attack, I placed the snarling ball of dark fur at my feet. Unmindful of the white fangs that threatened his paws, the big wolf picked up the furious whelp by the scruff of his neck. As gently as his mother had, the wolf carried him away.
The pup screamed, not in fear, pain or anguish. He shrieked from sheer rage. His white teeth gleamed in the firelight as he sought to bite and tear the huge mouth that had him in its grip. He struggled to twist inside his own skin to rend and slash the enemy that dared to take him away from me.
The big wolf strode firmly toward Arianne. Opening her arms, she took in the squalling, enraged pup, and held him close. He continued to squirm, yowling, until her hand caressing him had its calming effect. He slowly quieted in her arms, whining low, her midnight hair enveloping him in its comforting lengths.
I whirled my sword again. In a come-hither gesture, I invited the silver wolf to come close.
“Surely you’re not afraid of lil ole me,” I sneered under my blade’s high-pitched whistle.
His tail gently fanned the air.
I curled my lip, my own snarl. “You want me? Come and get me.”
He declined the invitation. Instead, he sat down, amber-brown eyes amused. His tongue lolled between sharp fangs. That irritated me to no end. How dare he laugh at me. I started toward him, my singing sword spinning, its razor edge cutting the air with a thin skreee—
He suddenly stood up. Not in self-defense or aggression. He turned his body sideways to me, clearly stating in wolfish body language I was less important than what caught his attention. His head and ears perked upright, the pink muscle of his tongue caught between sharp fangs as he gazed into the forest to my right.
My sword ceased its song of its own volition.
My head creaked on my neck as I turned it, following the big grey’s gaze.
Three shadows emerged into the firelight from the dark, shadowed depths of the trees.
Flanked by two big wolves, an elderly, skeletal wolf limped into the camp’s center. His muzzle grey with age, his silvery-grey fur lank and matted, his right front leg failed to touch the ground, the once grand wolf slowly closed the distance. His escort kept the slow, dignified pace, neither looking left nor right. His firm, halting gait never wavered as he stepped past the ring of wolves and stunned humans.
He ceased several rods from me, panting lightly. He sat down. Not with fear, or concern he had come too close to me and my sword. He sat because his weak, frail body forced him to sit, and rest. Gazing at me, his dark brown eyes lit with the fire of youth, of hope, of happiness—and love.
His expression alone stopped me cold.
His ragged tail swept dirt and leaves side to side, his aged bones slow and audibly creaking. His warm gaze never left mine. The pair flanking him also sat, in an almost military formation, their eyes straight ahead, ears perked forward.
&nbs
p; The younger version of the old wolf walked toward him, whining, his ears flat, his muzzle low to the ground. Not with fear or pain or weakness.
He spoke his wolfish language of deference, of homage.
Lying down, his tail swept back and forth, the biggest wolf rolled onto his back.
The biggest wolf present subjugated himself to the weakest.
I might have killed him in an instant, sheathing my sword in his belly. Not only was I too flabbergasted to move, but kill him as he paid homage to his leader? How cowardly was that?
Confused, I considered my limited knowledge of wolves. Since when did a young, strong male defer to the old and weak? The strong survived, the weak fell by the wayside. ’Twas nature’s way, and that of men, to no small extent.
But, I thought, as I utilized that murky object I called a brain, what was it Tashira called them? Civilized. Just as the Tarbane were cultured, civilized creatures, and dragons were reputed to be, maybe men clung to the lower rungs of the ladder of enlightenment. Perhaps these wolves were more rational than mankind.
The young strong leader, commander of this pack and this organized and bloodless attack, lowered himself and bared his throat to the old one. Suddenly, I, armed as I was, stood second best now that the leader arrived.
The old boy nodded once to the younger wolf, his gesture offering both blessing and permission at the same time. I blinked. How did I know that? I didn’t, but I did. The same way the big wolf understood, as he rolled back to his paws, his tail swinging. His happy grin widened as he turned back toward me.
Now all pairs of eyes were on me: human, lupine, equine and Tarbane.
Yet, the old one looked not at me, but away, his old eyes searching elsewhere. He turned his grizzled head to his right. He turned, I thought, toward Arianne, holding the pup in her arms, her wealth of midnight hair cloaking them both.
No, not at Arianne, I suddenly realized.
He stared at Rygel.
Rygel rose from his butt, to his knees and finally to his feet, his wolf guards stepping away to give him room. Like one in a dream, he stumbled into the circle of firelight and men and wolves.
Horror eclipsed my vision. Gods above and below, this isn’t happening. Tell me he’s not walking toward me, armed to the teeth with more magic, more power, than I could ever hope to have. No, I thought in panic, you’re my brother, you can’t—
“Braud,” Rygel muttered, his long wheaten hair swinging as he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry it’s come to this.”
“Don’t, Rygel,” I babbled, stammering. “Don’t do this. I swear, I’ll—”
“He commanded me.”
Desperately, I snapped. “I command you, I command your loyalty, damn you, stand down—”
“I’m sorry.”
I knew what he was about to do. I read it in his mind, in his body. Dammit, how did he make a shield? Panicked, I sought to remember how he, and Ja’Teel, made shields. They both made them, in a fraction of an instant. They both created shields that kept out magic of all kinds. I needed one, but how—
“I’m so sorry.” Real tears ran down his cheeks. “Forgive me, please.”
“Rygel!”
He didn’t raise his hands. He didn’t have to. His cold magic hit me all the same. Like a thunderbolt of ice and wind, his power struck.
Instantly, I changed.
I panicked, feeling the chill leach into my bones, bones that suddenly converted into shapes never meant to be. My head elongated, stretching into a head with a muzzle. Huge teeth filled my mouth. Hands that once held a sword now grew into paws with short, retractable toenails. My sword dropped, with a ringing clang, to the ground. My ears grew long and furry, and flattened to my head in my fear.
In panic, I stumbled back, confusing one pair of legs into the two pair that now crumbled beneath me. A huge tail swung to aid the balance that I was a stranger of. I tried to cry out. Only a wolfish howl rang forth.
The daemon, rage, always ready to protect me, rose with a vengeance. Once an enemy, now a much needed friend and ally, he took over.
I snarled, my inner daemon rage seizing control. My eyes narrowed, my huge fangs bared against my enemy. I felt my hackles rise, not just on my neck, but on my shoulders and down my spine. My tail, stiff behind me, swept low under me to help defend my genitals and lower belly from the attack I knew would come. I backed up, finding a low pine tree that would prevent any enemy from circling around me to lunge against my undefended rear.
A shadow rose from the fire, speaking my name, approaching. Rygel. Maybe. I lunged forward, leaving the protection of the pine. I snapped my jaws together, snarling, ferocious, fear and rage all but blinding me. The figure halted, then back-stepped so quickly he almost fell down. Fear, its rank odor permeating my sensitive nostrils, gusted from the retreating shadow. The daemon, me, us, would kill anyone who came near. Anyone, that is, who had the courage to try again after Rygel’s hasty retreat.
“Raine!” Ly’Tana screamed.
Through slitted eyes, I watched her spring from the protection of Bar’s front talons and propel herself toward me. Bar screeched in raw fear, his talons reaching to pull her back. Back, away from the savage fangs of a demented wolf. He might have been fast, in his protective instincts.
Ly’Tana, in her boundless love, proved much faster.
Bar missed by several inches, his talons, safely curled to avoid hurting her, swung wide, past her lithe, running form. He shrieked again as she bolted out of his range. He started after her, but three wolves planted themselves in his way.
Ly’Tana, don’t, I tried to cry. Don’t come near me. I know not what I’ll do.
I fought to subdue the daemon, call him to heel. I failed, and he slipped from my grasp as Ly’Tana plunged toward me.
“Ly’Tana, stop!” Kel’Ratan bellowed.
The Kel’Hallan warriors jumped to their feet, their yelling voices adding to the chaos and din. Wolves barked and growled, lunging to their paws, their bodies pushing the humans back into place. Distantly, a horse whinnied. Tashira bolted forward, calling my name, but no fewer than six wolves rushed to the fore, planting themselves between him and me. He half-reared, striking out with one massive hoof, and his ears buried in his mane.
Crying, inarticulate, Ly’Tana cannoned into me. Her strong yet frail arms reached as far as they could around my heavy shoulders. Her tears matted my fur, her small breasts pressed against my foreleg. Impervious to my dripping fangs, inches from her vulnerable neck, Ly’Tana hugged me.
Like a dash of cold water to my face, I realized what she’d just done. Her selfless act cast her into the reach of a dangerous animal caught within a senseless, primeval rage. Her simple faith told her that I’d never, in a thousand years, or ten dozen lifetimes, ever harm her. No amount of blind fury could, or would, ever change that. Her trust, her love, her courage, and her small, tiny, heaving body did what nothing else might.
It calmed me.
“Raine, Raine, Raine,” she sobbed, her slender arms reaching as far as they could. They didn’t even meet halfway around my shoulders. “Calm down, it’s all right. I promise, it’s all good. Stop, trust me, we’re cool, you and me, we’re cool. Shush now. Ssshhhhhh.”
The daemon fought on, unwilling to relinquish control, his snarls challenging any and all to a fight. Stand down, I commanded him, back off. I struggled, forcing him back into his cage, grappling for the upper hand. I must stop him before he hurt someone. Dammit, obey me.
Through a wolf’s eyes, I witnessed the silver wolf stand between me and the old one. Other wolves sought to protect the humans, their former enemies, planting themselves firmly between themselves and my evil. They protected Tashira, despite his wild eyes and rampaging body, forcing him away and talking to him with low growls and barks.
Bar still screeched, demanding Ly’Tana stand down and return to him. Kel’Ratan, his voice high and womanish, shrieked her name. “Ly’Tana! Ly’Tana!”
Left and Right, her
faithful twins, ignored the wolves and tried to dodge around them. Two wolves brought them to earth with paws snagged around ankles. Two more sat on their shoulders, pinning them solidly to the pine-needled ground.
Resistant to all the drama, the fire snapped and crackled, consuming the wood someone generously fed it in what seemed a lifetime ago.
Despite all, Ly’Tana’s strong hands pulled my head down. Her face, tight against my panting muzzle and sharp teeth, murmured soothing, nonsense words. The daemon, still fighting for his freedom, snapped my teeth close to her ear. Her loose hair buried us both in its red-gold softness as she disregarded the potential threat my fangs presented.
I breathed in its sweet scent. Its clinging tendrils forced a sneeze from my sensitive nose. Her knowledge, no her simple faith, finally forced the nasty daemon to throw the battle’s victory to me and retreat. In a swift instant, I realized: not even the daemon, loose, ruthless and vengeful, could ever, would ever, consent to do her harm.
He subsided, retreating, coiling back upon himself, to rest once more within my soul. He slept, until I needed him again.
My tongue lolled between my sharp fangs as I gained control of my fear. Trembling, I bent my head down across her back, trying to cease my heavy panting. Ly’Tana’s warm scent of leather and lilacs and sweet, simple Ly’Tana offered some small degree of comfort. Her strong fingers delved into the depths of my shoulders, urging relaxation, offering love and trust. She knew I’d die before harming her. She had faith enough I’d know it, too.
I knew then, absolutely, that I loved her beyond all thought, all reason, all logic. I loved her more than my own life. Had she but requested it, I’d cheerfully open my vein and bleed myself dry at her feet. I supposed that wasn’t the best of times to realize it, but there it was, staring me in the face, unflinching.
Calm, I licked her tears from her cheeks in soft wolf kisses. Between her sobs, she laughed, choked, swiped her cheeks and giggled. Hiccupping, she kissed my muzzle, laughing into my eyes.
“You big oaf,” she said, snuggling her face into my fur.
Bitch, I tried to reply, but lacked coherent means of expressing the word.
Catch a Wolf Page 50
