Black Dog
Knights of Black Swan
Book 13
Victoria Danann
Copyright 2018 Victoria Danann
Published by 7th House Publishing
Imprint of Andromeda LLC
Read more about this author and upcoming works at VictoriaDanann.com
PROLOGUE
The story of Helm’s birth (from A Summoner’s Tale) serves as prologue to this story. It begins in the New Forest of the Irish kingdom of elves, with a very pregnant Elora Laiken and Blackie both wounded in a battle fending off attackers from Elora’s dimension of origin. Elora and Blackie had spent time observing the wolf pack that lived in the New Forest under an ancient dolmen.
The story, originally told in pieces matching the timeline of other simultaneous events, is presented here as one continuous narrative.
There was no way to tell which hurt worse, the fire in her shoulder or the sting in her thigh. Elora told herself it was irrelevant because either way she was going to have to get up. The temperature in the New Forest of northeast Ireland was dropping fast and the only alternative was to sit there and freeze to death.
Sleet had started coming down as hard as rain. By the time she made it to her feet, the ground had iced over. When she tried a step, her boots first crunched on the ice and then slipped out from under her. She came down as hard as you would expect of an alien with her weight differential; at this stage of her pregnancy that was two hundred sixty-six pounds.
When she felt herself falling, she twisted at the last second before she hit the ground so that she landed on her back and not on the baby. That was the good news. The bad news was that the shock of the fall along with the jolt to the wounds in her shoulder and thigh sent temporarily paralyzing waves of pain through her body. The fact that the impact had also robbed her of breath for a full minute of panic seemed so minor in comparison that it was hardly worth mentioning.
She lay on the icy ground waiting for the pain to subside, thinking that the fall was going to leave one of those bruises that would start out black then go from that to dark blue to purple to green to yellow. It was going to be around a while. She knew all about bruises like that.
Doing a quick introspective assessment, she went over the list. She had two bullet wounds, an injured dog, no sat phone, record-breaking sleet, and the temperature was plummeting. At least she had a base line to work with.
Can't get any worse.
As she sat up, she confirmed that one should never tempt fate by saying things can’t get worse. They always can. The motion of sitting up had brought with it a sudden gush of liquid followed by the shocking feel of warm fluids running, spreading down her pants leg. Her first reaction was to suppose she had involuntarily wet herself as a sort of post-stress release.
Her second reaction, which was horrifying, was the stray thought that it might be her water breaking. She asked herself how she would know the difference. She'd never had a baby before. Still, on some level she did know the difference and knew that she’d better get her thoughts together because the checklist had just been revised.
Now she had two bullet wounds, an injured dog, no sat phone, wet pants in freezing rain, temperature plummeting... um, oh, yes, and a baby coming.
Ram's quiver, the one he'd had since he was a boy, had been crushed in the fall and would probably leave a fine outline of its own in the form of a bruise imprinted on her back. She hated to leave his bow behind, but sentimentality over inanimate objects was a luxury she just couldn't afford at the moment.
After pulling herself over the icy ground to where Blackie lay, she put her hand on his shoulder. "Hey, my friend. Here's the deal. We've both had better days. I can't carry you and you can't stay out here. We're going to have to drag ourselves the rest of the way to the wolf den and we're going to do it together."
While she was explaining the situation to her dog, she conjured an oddball image of herself in a comic strip about one of those crazy old women who talks to dogs or cats like they can understand language. Elora knew that Blackie didn't understand words, but she'd heard experts say that mammals high up on the phylogenetic scale receive telepathic images. So she tried to form pictures of what she meant in her mind as she talked to him.
She got to her knees and started forward stifling a curse when she put weight on the knee that was attached to the damaged thigh. The same thing happened when she put the slightest weight on the hand that was attached to the wounded shoulder. If she hadn’t been pregnant, she would have just crawled on her belly, but why think about that when it was, obviously, out of the question?
For Blackie's sake, she did her best to sound encouraging. "It's only thirty feet. Piece of cake. Let's race."
Blackie stared at her for a few seconds with amber brown eyes that seemed to say, "Please don't make me". It broke her heart to see him like that. Those eyes usually communicated a bright energy that said, "I'll do anything for you. Name it".
"Come on," she repeated, putting a little more firmness into her tone and a little more urgency into her eyes.
He heaved a big sigh then valiantly pulled himself up on three legs with a long low groan that broke her heart.
They started forward together, him hobbling with one back paw up off the ground, her stifling a scream every time she put down a right hand or a left knee. She kept her mind off of it by concentrating on getting the dog out of the weather, talking to him the whole way.
In that position their heads were about the same height. She stayed shoulder to shoulder with him. Even though the weather had grown unbearably cold, he was panting. She had known the first time she laid eyes on him that he was extraordinary, a far cry from your garden variety dog.
"Aren't we a pair? Remember the soccer field at Jefferson Unit? Remember how glad you were to be out of that cage? And we played frisbee and ran and ran and it was so good. Wasn't it? We're going to do that again. When we get out of this, we'll get you fixed up good as new. It's just twenty more feet now. Twenty more feet. Look how much closer we are.
"Have I ever told you how glad I am that you're my dog?"
At that Blackie reached over and gave her a lick on the cheek.
When she realized that he was, in his own way, also trying to encourage her, a tear escaped without permission. It fell on the icy ground in between her hands. She reached up and swiped her cheek with the back of her right hand, chastising herself. "Wuss."
Blackie glanced at her.
"No. Not you. Me. You're my hero.
"Remember the time you saved me from the bad vampire? I'm absolutely positive you're the most magnificent dog who ever lived. Look here, we've only got ten feet to go. Nothing for a Black Swan mascot. Right? Made in the shade."
With ice falling on their backs then melting from the heat of their bodies, they were both made even colder by the wet. She coaxed the dog the rest of the way to the lair hoping with all her might that the wolves would let them in when they got there. When they were just six feet from the entrance, snow started to fall and laid a blanket of solemn quiet on the forest.
Ram's primeval forest went supernaturally silent. There was no wind in the giant trees. No sound of song, skitter, or peck. Just quiet. Elora had the stray thought that the pairing of beauty and the possibility of death was surreal. When she looked back, she saw that flakes had dusted and started to cover the beautiful coats of the fallen wolves and the trail of her blood made a sharp and grisly contrast to the pristine white of new snow. No matter. It would be covered soon enough.
Life goes on.
They reached the mouth of
the dolmen lair. There were no sounds and no sign of wolves. She hoped she and Blackie wouldn't be turned away, because the shelter of the den was their only chance of survival. She'd never heard of a wolf pack accepting overnight guests, but since working for The Order she'd learned of much stranger things.
Blackie had to go in first. Elora reasoned that it would be easier to push him down a hole to the cavern beneath than it would be to pull him in. Once he understood what she expected, he put himself on his belly with a series of whimpers and groans and wiggled himself down the dirt ramp. She didn't hear any protest coming from inside which was a very good sign.
She was just barely able to fit through the entrance with her tummy so distended. It was torture to pull herself down on her side, but that was the only option, given the pregnancy and the placement of her wounds. She was still losing blood, but she didn't really have time to give that much thought.
The lair was surprisingly clean. Just hard packed earth. It was also considerably warmer than outside, not exactly balmy, but there was a ten-degree difference. She smelled water. Apparently there was an underground hot spring that leaked warmth through some holes in the rock at the rear of the cavern. Clean, warm water at the top of the world.
"Nice digs," she said to the wolves. "Thanks for having us."
She pulled herself away from the entrance toward the back hoping that the combined body heat of the pack and the warmer air coming from the spring would help to keep the one of them who didn't have a fur coat - that would be her - from freezing.
There was just enough light coming in from the mouth of the den above for Elora to count seven wolves. That meant they had lost six. Because of her. Flame and Luna had survived. And Stalkson. But not Point Wolf, the Greeter. She started to feel teary about that, but forced her thoughts in another direction. She could feel guilty about the wolves and grieve for Point Wolf later.
Elora found a place near the back of the cavern to sit against a wall. Blackie hobbled over on three feet and lay down beside her. Out of habit as much as anything, she reached out and ran a hand down his back. It would be impossible to say which one of them was more comforted by that contact.
She didn’t allow herself to linger in self-pity. She needed to get out of the wet pants. No matter how cold she’d be without them, she’d be even colder with them on. Trying to maneuver against the wall, she rearranged herself into a semi-sitting position and reached for the boots that had to come off before the pants. That was when the first contraction stole her breath.
Smelling the amniotic fluid, the wolves were curious. That mess on the cavern floor had been surrounding Elora's baby half an hour before. Flame and Luna came toward Elora, sniffing the air.
Blackie, who was lying on his side, exhausted, saw the two wolves advancing. He leapt to three of his feet in one fluid motion with his ruff standing up and growled low in his throat until Flame and Luna tucked their chins and backed away. When the contraction ended, Elora took in a long, deep breath and put her head back against the rock behind her.
"Okay. So we're in for it, Helm. When we get out of this, we're going to have to work on your timing."
It seemed like it took forever to get the boots and then the pants and underwear off. The pants hadn't gotten wet above the crotch, so thankfully she had a butt-size dry square to put between her bare behind and the cold dirt.
Her socks were wet so she couldn't put them back on, but she thought her toes stood a better chance inside the boots than outside. By the time she had finished the pants-off project, her body began to register exhaustion. Or maybe blood loss. Or both. The fact that she hadn't actually peed herself didn't mean that it hadn't been a stressful day. She would have loved to drift off to sleep. The only thing that was stopping her was the relentless pain in her shoulder that tag-teamed with the relentless pain in her thigh. But of course, a contraction could get them both to sit down for a break.
Hadn't she read somewhere that the brain can only process one pain at a time? What else did she have to do but test scientific theories? Not much going on at the moment that was more important than rating pain and, after the trip she'd made to the current dimension, she was an expert on pain. So she tried it out.
If she was thinking about the pain in her shoulder she didn't experience the sensation of pain in her leg. If she was thinking about the leg wound, the hole in her shoulder was nothing more than an intellectual idea. If she truly focused on how cold it was getting, she didn't feel either one. Well, what do you know?
All such internal discussion came to an abrupt end each and every time a contraction hit. The only thing that could distract a woman in mid-contraction was loss of consciousness.
For no real reason except something to do, she decided to start keeping track of how far apart the contractions were. Thanking goodness for small favors, Elora was grateful she hadn't forgotten her watch. Fortunately, it was a sports model with a light. For the time being, there was just enough light in the lair for Elora to see shapes. She suspected that the wolves could see a lot better than she could. When the sun set, it would be black as pitch in there.
She pushed the little button to light the face. Four fifteen. It would be getting dark about six thirty and the sun wouldn't come up until eight. If Ram didn't find her before six thirty, there would be thirteen and a half hours of darkness. And there was no way he could find her in the dark. Blackie might be able to do it. If he wasn't with her. And if he wasn't injured.
Maybe she should have told Ram where she was going. She wished to the dead and fickle gods she had told him where she was going. She wished she'd remembered the sat phone even more. Of course Ram couldn't find her before six thirty. That's when she would be expecting him to arrive at the cottage. Just before dark.
Elora pulled the plaid puffy down as far as it would stretch over her bare legs and wrapped her arms around herself, tucking her hands under her arms to get her fingers warm. Blackie was snuggled up to her left side which helped a lot. The wolves curled their bodies into circles, noses under tails, and nestled together for warmth. Every now and then Stalkson would leave the den for a while, then return to growl and nip at another wolf to get them to surrender their spot. Position was arbitrary. It seemed that Stalkson thought that displacing another wolf was always preferable to looking for an unoccupied space. Maybe he was saying, "Thanks for keeping that warm for me."
As she sat there in the low light of the cavern, trying not to think about how much she hurt, she replayed in her mind everything that had happened to her since she'd arrived in this dimension. The Ralengclan's words echoed in her mind. Even if she had been living an illusion that was constructed around her like an elaborate fiction, even if there was another story of which she was completely unaware, it had nothing to do with her or her life in this dimension. She was not a Laiwynn princess. She was a Black Swan knight who was about to be somebody's mother.
When the next contraction started she looked at her watch. Ten minutes after five. Nearly an hour.
She woke to a contraction. It was dark and she was disoriented for a few seconds. She pushed the little watch light button. She must have been so tired she'd gone to sleep in spite of the constant throbbing of the wounds. In the pale green light of the watch, Elora saw that Luna had curled up on her right side and Flame was draped over her legs.
Being surrounded on three sides by the warm bodies and soft fur of canis lupis probably went a long way toward relaxing her enough so that she dozed off. Apparently Blackie had decided to trust the females to come closer.
It was six forty-five. Ram would be home by now. She pictured him coming home to a cold dark cottage and knew he'd be crazy with worry.
For several hours the contractions had seemed to be all over the place. Two that were an hour apart would be followed by another in twenty minutes. Finally the birthing process settled into a regular rhythm of thirty-minute intervals.
For the hundredth time, she replayed the conversation with Ram about packing up
and moving to be near the clinic - just to be on the safe side of things.
"Great Paddy, Ram," she said softly. "If I live through this, I swear I'm going to be more careful. I bet you're worried out of your mind. I'm so sorry."
Blackie raised his head to see if she was talking to him, sighed, and went back to dozing.
The contractions were five minutes apart. Some of them were excruciating enough to bring back memories of the journey that delivered her to the dimension where she now found herself in the dark, birthing her baby alone, well, alone except for seven wolves and a dog.
Sometimes she shouted obscenities aimed at her husband and only wished she could grab him by the hair and mock him in person saying, "So! There's no danger of pregnancy, my girl. Humans can't get pregnant by elves, Elora.
"Too manly to wear a hot pink condom, are you? From now on you'll wear condoms with hot pink lace if I say so!"
When the labor pain began to subside, she would regret her tirades.
"Helm, I'm ashamed for filling your little ears with such things. Please don't tell your father I said those things and especially don't tell him the bad names I called him. He doesn't act like it, but he has tender feelings. One time I called him a dickhead and thought he was going to cry.
"He also hyperventilates if he gets scared that something is going to happen to me. He's probably having trouble breathing right now."
She thought it must be getting even colder outside because she had reached the point when she couldn't make her teeth stop chattering. Either it was getting colder or she had lost so much blood her body temperature was diving.
Let it be the cold. Let me live to see this little boy.
"Don't worry, Helm. Your daddy will come for us.
"Have I told you he's a hero? The very best kind?
"He goes about quietly saving the world while acting like it's no big deal. One time I saw him put his body between a knife and a woman he didn't even know. She probably wasn't worth one of his nail clippings, but he doesn't think like that. He doesn't stop to evaluate who most deserves a place on the planet. He just does the epic thing instinctively.
Black Dog: A Christmas Story (Knights of Black Swan Book 13) Page 1
