“So you can’t talk to just anyone?” I asked, aloud so the others could hear.
“Not until after I’m freed. I’m limited to my priests and you. I’m allowed some tampering with people and events, for the Lords permitted that much. They know you must be allowed to fight the Guardian. You can’t do that if you’re dead from forces outside my realm or your control.”
“Just when do I have to complete this godforsaken task?” I asked the stars.
“Now see here—“
“The Lords of the Universe set a deadline,” said Elder. “If the Chosen One hadn’t appeared to fight and slay the Guardian two thousand years on the day his son was born, Darius can never be freed.”
“And that deadline is—?” I asked. “When?”
“At winter’s solstice. Less than five months from now.”
“I suppose I have to be there at noon sharp, too.”
“How did you know?”
My head sagged to the ground, my eyes staring at pine branches, not the stars. A broken branch stabbed me in the ribs, but I scarcely felt it. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Actually he’s not.”
“Nothing like leaving everything to the last minute.”
“I didn’t make the rules. You were born to fight the Guardian and free me. That is your purpose in this life.”
“Thanks.”
I half-rose, staring over my shoulder at Elder. “Just how do I enter hell to fight this Guardian? Is hell right around the next hill and down past the stone to the right? It certainly can’t be where any bloke can stumble into it. ‘I thought I’d go to the corner tavern for a pint, but I took the wrong turn and fell into hell. Sorry I’m late. What’s for dinner?’”
“Must you?”
“Yes,” I laughed, my head sagging back into the pine boughs. “I must.”
No few humans laughed, as did a few wolves. Others growled, under their breath. Kel’Ratan’s mustache bristled, Bar raised his head to stare, Tashira and Shardon bent their heads close together like errant children. Ly’Tana giggled, Arianne glared, Elder sighed.
“I can understand your worry, my son,” Elder began.
“What’s to worry, I find hell, kill a monster and free my daddy. Then all will be well in wolfdom. Piece of cake.”
Silence hit so hard, from within and without, with such a blow I turned my head to look back at Elder. I half rolled toward him, half on my back and half on my side. I lifted my head. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“It’s not as easy as all that,” Elder said diffidently, taking a few laps of water. “The entrance to hell is not only very far away, it’s at the top of the world.”
“I didn’t know the world had a top,” I said, confused. I rolled out of the pine branches to lie on my belly. Ly’Tana’s hand caressed my muzzle.
“Think straight north,” Elder said. “Beyond a ring of three mountain ranges, in the land of ice, lies the gateway to hell.”
“What is it” I asked. “And how do I find it?”
“Its doorway is in a deep cavern,” Elder said. “Amid the snowy mountains so far north that should you step past them you are now southbound. Inside that cavern is a doorway, a portal.”
“A portal into what?” Rygel asked.
“Into the world of the damned. Into another dimension.”
“Oh.” Rygel’s voice sounded curiously subdued.
“Um,” I began, uncertain. “Can I get back out? Should I survive, of course.”
“The portal is one way,” Elder said. “Getting in is easy. Getting out again, quite another matter entirely.”
My ears sagged. “I suppose it reads, ‘Abandon hope all ye who enter here’ over the lintel.”
“How’d you know that?”
I began to laugh again.
Rygel’s cursing in his own language brought my head back up, my ears inquiring. “What?”
“They just had to make the doorway there,” Rygel fumed, rising from his spot by the fire, wolves and Arianne to pace about.
“What do you know?” I asked.
“That’s where the dragons live, my prince,” he said, his amber eyes gleaming in the near dark.
I sat up. “Dragons?”
“That’s where the dragons, eons ago, made their home,” he replied grimly.
All eyes, formerly on me, now whipped to him. Rygel walked about slowly, a deflated wineskin dangling from his hand. I suspected he had imbibed rather heavily, from the pallor of his skin, the droopiness of his eyes. Yet, he smiled, a rather sweet, shy smile, one that had Arianne staring at him, jaw slack. I think she forgot to breathe. Darkhan, at her feet, growled.
Rygel’s head came up, his amber eyes all but glowing as he stared across the leaping flames at me. It had to be dragons, of course. Just when I had a dragon expert lying around handy.
“Did you have something to do with that?”
“I did tell you I can influence some things.”
“You knew I’d need Rygel?”
“Yes. For many reasons, including saving your life, since you didn’t want it anymore.”
Had I been human, I might have flushed.
“I didn’t have to work that hard. You two were drawn to each other like a magnet to iron.”
“Why did the gods approve of our brotherhood?” I asked, catching Rygel’s swift attention with my question. “Did you ask the gods to grant their blessing?”
“No. I’m cut off from my brothers and sisters. I can speak only to Calphalon.”
“Who is Calphalon?”
“The god of the dead, my jailor.”
“Were you responsible for Ly’Tana, too?” I asked, my eyes on her as she turned her head to gaze up at me as she listened to Arianne’s translation.
“No. Though I strongly suspect someone had a hand in that. Maybe someone besides me likes you.”
“You brought me the one person who could save my life, the other gods saw fit to grant us ehlu’braud, and someone else blessed me with the perfect mate?”
“I reckon so.”
“I am so not liking this.”
“What’s not to like?”
I sighed. “Just how am I supposed to get through the dragons? Do you have an answer for that, too, wise-ass?”
“You’ll find a way.”
“Dragons.” I flopped back into the pine branches. “Gods above and below. Just beautiful.”
“In the high mountains, to the very far north,” Rygel went on after listening to my one-sided conversation with Darius, his head cocked slightly. “In the land of ice and snow lies their territory, dragon land. The Tarbane believe them to be evil beasts,” he said, including the Tarbane, the wolves and all the half-drunk, rapt humans in his lecture as he walked about, gesturing grandly. “They, among all those who walk or crawl upon this earth, have the greatest stigma against them. They fly, they breathe fire, they can’t be slain by any means known to humankind.”
He had the spellbinding effect of a master storyteller. Sitting up, I kissed Ly’Tana’s cheek with my tongue, her worried green gaze staring up at me, my son in her arms. Not to worry, I wanted to tell her. I couldn’t. Not just because she couldn’t understand my language. I didn’t speak because I would have lied. There was certainly plenty to be worried about.
“The unicorn holds the record for purity,” Rygel went on. “The minotaurs are well-known for their fierceness in battle. Yet, the dragons are the kindest of creatures. They kill only to feed themselves, and offer thanks to the spirits of those they slay for sustenance. They are devoted to each other, live only for peace, want only to be left alone. Their only flaw is their temper.”
Rygel grinned, his forefinger pointed upward. “Offer them respect and they’ll do just about anything for you. Piss them off, you better run fast.”
Human chuckles abounded about the fire, wolfish tongues lolled in humor. Only Elder, Ly’Tana and Arianne and I exchanged worried glances.
“Dragons prefer to live in the
chilling cold, for their flames keep them warm, rather too warm to be comfortable. Sub-temperatures offset that excessive warmth, and enable them to live in their deep caverns with ease. Their fires can burn anything on this earth. Stone, steel, iron, it matters nothing.
“They are beautiful, kindly creatures,” Rygel added. “While their tempers can ignite hotter than their flames, they live for peace. They have wisdom, knowledge and have a genuine love for life. They enjoy music, though while they don’t play instruments, they do sing.”
“The Lords created the most awesome beast that ever lived in the dragon,” Elder said. “They may even be sympathetic to our cause.”
Rygel shook his head sadly. “They are extremely territorial, Elder. Since they do not intrude upon the lands of others, they feel none should intrude upon theirs. They, on average, despise humans, for humans are often evil and warlike. They tolerate very few invasions into their lands. A few fly south, primarily on investigative journeys, to inquire as to what else passes in the world. They take home what they learn in order to better protect themselves.”
Rygel paused to glance about the wolves. “How they feel about wolves, I’ve no idea. They may allow us to pass, unhindered. Or they may kill us out of hand for trespassing.”
“I doubt they even know their lands encompass the entrance to hell,” Elder said quietly.
Rygel bowed respectfully toward the aged wolf. “I agree, Most Holy,” he said. “They took those lands for themselves eons ago. I doubt many dragon souls find themselves in hell.”
Rygel sat back down, next to Arianne.
I collapsed back into the pines.
“Great,” I said. “So I slip past fire-breathing dragons, dance into hell, kill a monster and set you free? Just like that?”
“That was the idea.”
I groaned, and shut my eyes.
“I’m a dead wolf.”
“You’re a pessimist.”
“I’m a pessimistic dead wolf.”
“Your soul won’t come to me for many years yet.”
My laughter dried to dust. I tasted it on my tongue. My soul. I sat up, pine needles falling from my shoulders in a shower. Should I fail….
“Yes. Your own soul is in jeopardy.”
I never gave my own soul much thought before. I fought to survive, I fought to win. I scarcely thought of what might happen to my soul after I was dead. What was there for me in the afterlife? Until now, I never believed there was such.
“There is.”
“Can you foresee this?” I asked. “That I’ll survive?”
I heard the answer in Darius’s hesitation.
“No.”
“Despite all, you can’t see everything.” I kept this question just between Darius and me.
I sensed something similar to a sigh. “No, I can’t.”
Ly’Tana, sensing my distress, stood, leaving the pup to waddle about on thick stumpy legs.
“Papa?” he asked, his sapphire eyes gazing upward.
Ly’Tana hugged me close, burying her face in my dusty fur. Past her shoulders, the Kel’Hallans sobered a bit after Arianne’s translation, the wolves, those who hadn’t drunk much, gazed at me with hope and faith. The wolves who imbibed heavily watched me with grinning jaws and wagging tails. The wine gave them hope aplenty.
Elder, hearing both sides of our conversation, put his grizzled head on his paws and sighed. “You will not fail, my son. Trust in that.”
“Sorry, Elder, I said, past Ly’Tana’s head. “My faith departed some time ago.”
“Your life didn’t include your suffering.”
I lifted my ears. “What do you mean?”
“When you were born, I planned Tuatha would come to you when you were about twelve years old. At that age, you’d learn quickly, yet were young enough to accept the tutoring of a wolf.”
My voice dropped into grimness. “I can guess what happened. My uncle and his barbaric hordes interfered with your plans.”
“Correct.”
“What happened, Your Highness?” Kel’Ratan was half-soused, but his words emerged flawless. I suspected, however, the wine made him bold enough to ask, despite his clear-headedness. No one, until now, ever dared ask me what happened to my family.
I looked about, observing the alert stance of the wolves, the interest of the humans. By the way Witraz leaned forward, his one eye eager, he hung on every word of Arianne’s translation. Rannon and Alun, also, the more private of the Kel’Hallans, ceased drinking and sat up straight. Yuri and Yuras bent blonde heads together, braids swinging, their eyes on me as they murmured together. Their words, overheard by Tor, captured his interest, his mouth slack as his brown eyes widened. Only Left and Right watched me with impassive expressions, as always.
They all clearly wanted to hear the tale. Bar raised his head again. Tashira and Shardon took a few steps closer. Silverruff lay down near his father, head on his paws, his eyes bright. Elder accepted the reprieve from talking to lay his head on his son’s big shoulders to rest. His eyes closed, but his ears told me he wasn’t asleep.
I glanced finally at Arianne. She remembered me, and knew, because I told her, she was royal. Yet, she never knew what happened to our parents, or how the Khalidians enslaved us. She stood, waiting to interpret my story, with anxious pleading eyes. Without words, she told me how desperately she needed to know. She never asked me what had happened to our parents, how we came to the Khalidian Federation. She asked me now, with those magnificent grey-blue depths.
I shut my eyes, turned my head away. “Do I have to?”
“No, but I think you should.”
“I don’t want to. I’m not ready.”
“You are.”
“I’ve never told anyone.”
“I know.”
I took a long shuddering breath.“You’re a bastard.”
“And then some.”
Ly’Tana’s emerald gaze, as liquid as the Tarbane’s, glistened under the light of the stars. She smiled up at me, her hand smoothing across my face, my head, over my ears. How could she still love me, love the beast? I’m not a man, nor a wolf. I could never be truly at home among either. She should leave me, go home, forget me. I am nothing.
“You are everything. To her.”
“Before I do this,” I said, shutting my eyes against her love. “Answer me a question.”
“Of course.”
“Did you love her?”
“Who? Your mother?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it wasn’t really like that.”
“Great.” I sighed. “I’m the product of a one night stand.”
“I do miss her. Does that help?”
“Not really. But it’ll have to do.”
I lay down, sweeping Ly’Tana into my chest with my paw. She lay against me, within the folds of my front legs, her head against my shoulder. Her loose, sweet-smelling hair cascaded around her like a silken, red-gold cloak. My adopted son, loudly complaining of the inattention, snuggled next to her, between her ribs and the angle of my elbow. He promptly went to sleep, as the hour was far past his bedtime.
“Rygel?” I asked.
“My prince?”
“As you speak wolf as well as my sister, will you please interpret?”
“My prince, ’twould be my honor.”
Arianne sank down to the ground, wrapping her tiny right arm around his waist. With her left around Darkhan’s heavy neck, she drew him close. With both who loved her offering her closeness and comfort, she waited for my tale with a new hopeful, expectant expression. I reckoned she, at least, deserved to know what happened.
“I was nine years old,” I said, beginning my sordid tale. I nodded my muzzle toward Arianne. “Arianne perhaps five years old, maybe six. Five made up my family: my father, King Camlach, my mother, Queen Raia, and a sister, Abba, between Arianne and me. My father ruled Connacht with a just and fair hand. For more than five hundred years, my blood kept the enemy from our borders. There hadn’t
been a war for supremacy in more than six hundred years. The nobles, the people, for the most part, were content and loyal.”
In the shadows, I saw Corwyn perk upright, his eyes bright in the light of the fire. He listened with an intensity the others lacked. His family had been loyal followers of my family for generations uncounted. Vaguely, I wondered if he’d remain loyal to a royal wolf.
Rygel’s low voice interpreted my words to those who could not understand, the Kel’Hallans. Bar, as well as Shardon listened to him closely. Tashira, however, understood me perfectly.
I eyed the half-empty wine tankards and deflated skins, my throat dry. Elder had his water, the others who wanted it, wine. Yet, before I spoke a word, Rygel rose from his sitting position. With a skin in his hand, he emptied it into a cup, under the sniffing noses of interested wolves. His care in navigating enormous furry bodies suggested he had difficulty walking. Yet, his bow to me held enough elegance and grace to belay my suspicion. His wink held no mockery as he handed the cup to Ly’Tana to set where I could reach it.
I eyed him with confusion.
He smiled with yet another amber wink. “I’m your brother,” he murmured. “Remember?”
“Invite her to have some,” I jerked my muzzle toward Ly’Tana.
“I thought you’d never ask,” Ly’Tana said, after Rygel relayed my message.
She drank deep, and, wiping her sweet lips, put the cup where I could reach it. Rygel walked carefully back among the disappointed wolves and sat down next to Arianne, who slid her arm around him again. Darkhan grumbled sourly before lying, head on paws, yellow eyes on me and Arianne’s hand buried in his ruff.
I took a few laps, feeling the wine sink into my belly. It quieted the worst of my nerves and soothed my throat.
“I didn’t know my uncle, Metavas, very well,” I went on. “He was several years my father’s junior and a royal Duke in his own right. He kept mostly to his own estates, tended his court and his people. No one realized he plotted to take my father’s throne and recruited for his allies the Ja Mata barbarians from the north, in Matari.
“I woke that fateful, mid-summer morning to a terrible foreboding,” I began, my voice low.
A memory long submerged rose to nudge me in the ribs. Had I bare skin rather than fur, gooseflesh might break out like a savage rash. My memory of that restless night, one I’d long since forgotten, of wolves running through my dreams. Wolves running, howling, calling—
Catch a Wolf Page 53
