Rowankind (3 Book Series)

by Jacey Bedford

  Corwen blew on his carving to clear it of shavings and looked up, raising one eyebrow and giving me a cool stare.

  “Again? We’ve only been home for two weeks.”

  “Two weeks and still no word from Mr. Twomax.”

  “His goblins know where to find us.”

  “I know London’s not safe,” I said, “but that’s where the Heart is heading, and I need to see Hookey. And perhaps Mr. Twomax and Mr. Tingle—”

  “Twomax and Tingle will send word when they have news, and as for the Heart, you could call her to you anywhere along the coast.”

  I can summon the Heart because of the sliver of magical winterwood spliced into her keel, so if I called her, she would come. The crew long ago learned to follow when she turned contrary to wind and water. I thought about where I might meet up with my ship.

  “I’m too well known in Plymouth and South Devonshire. Besides, there are several troops of redcoats stationed along the Dorset coast, and the Royal Navy guards the Bristol Channel.”

  “How about Bideford?”

  North Devonshire. I considered the suggestion. It wasn’t a bad idea. Though there was a new Mysterium office in Bideford, the townsfolk had always disliked their interference in town matters. In fact, the reason there was a new office was because the townsfolk burned down the old one.

  It would take the Heart five days to reach Bideford and add eight days to their journey, but it would only take us one day if we went via Iaru and the Okewood. It would give us a little time to talk to the Lady of the Forests and try to solve the question of Freddie. Corwen thought he was improving, and that it might be time to ask the Lady to allow him to change to human again.

  Corwen still felt responsible for him, though I could see a time when Freddie would have to take responsibility for himself.

  I didn’t know when that would be.

  Maybe never.

  How was it I could see to the root of Corwen’s problems, and Corwen could see to the root of mine, but to our own we were blind?

  Corwen had never spent long periods of time as a wolf. Though the Lady had hoped time as a wolf would help Freddie’s self-control, I thought he was rapidly turning feral. There was the aging problem as well. He aged seven years for every one year spent in wolf form. He was barely twenty minutes older than Corwen in human time, but already there were flecks of gray around his muzzle.

  “If we go via the Okewood, I can talk to the Lady about Freddie while Hartington accompanies you to Bideford.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of riding to Bideford alone. I’ll go in breeches.”

  In truth, the disguise wasn’t as good on land as it was at sea. My sailors had known my gender, of course, and the crews of the ships we engaged usually only saw me in the heat of battle. On land I looked like a young man hardly able to grow a beard, but as long as I didn’t attract attention and kept my voice low, I could pass.

  “I’d still feel better if—”

  “I know. All right, if Hartington is available, I don’t mind the company. He may be away on some errand, of course.”

  Since the Fae had opened the gates of Iaru for the rowankind, some dangerous magical creatures that should never mix with humans had been let loose into the world, and the Lady was directing her people to recapture them and send them back to Iaru, uninjured if possible. Hartington was one of her trusted agents. He was also Corwen’s best friend.

  * * *

  “We’re going to the Okewood, Freddie.” Corwen addressed the wolf. When in wolf form himself, Corwen was perfectly capable of understanding speech and communicating with nods and head shakes as well as the occasional yip. I wasn’t sure how much Freddie understood. He hid inside his wolf, letting it take over and relinquishing all responsibility for his actions.

  “Are you coming?” Corwen asked.

  Freddie didn’t so much as flick an ear in Corwen’s direction, but there was something about him that told me he’d understood.

  “Suit yourself, but you’re not staying here,” Corwen said. “Do you want me to put a leash around your neck?”

  Freddie growled, a low rumble in the back of his throat.

  “Fair enough. We travel in an hour. Be ready.”

  An hour later Freddie was waiting for us. Corwen had saddled Dancer and Timpani. I wore my breeches, a linen shirt and neck cloth, a wine-dark waistcoat which helped to disguise my shape, and a dark blue jacket. A tricorn hat covered my hair which was pulled back in a cue. I fancied I looked like a young gentleman. Corwen’s status as a gentleman was in no doubt. He wore buckskin breeches and a dark green coat, but no hat on his silver-gray hair. Most people tended to take him for older than he was, but he’d been born with gray hair, the same silvery shade as his wolf pelt.

  “Ready, Freddie?” I asked as the big brown wolf rose from his supine position and trotted to the garden gate.

  Dancer and Timpani flared their nostrils, but otherwise ignored him.

  I unpicked David’s working and the barrier around the cottage fell away.

  We crossed into Iaru with no problems.

  “Don’t go wandering off, Freddie,” Corwen said. “If you slip through another gate accidentally, there’s no knowing where you might end up.”

  Freddie couldn’t answer, but he stayed close enough to Timpani for the horse to flatten his ears and snake his head around to snap in the wolf’s general direction.

  “Enough!” Corwen checked the big horse, then he turned to me. “Want to find the gate to the Okewood?”

  The Okewood was situated in the real world in Devonshire some ten miles northeast of Plymouth and twenty-five miles south of Bideford. On a map it looked to be twenty-five miles wide and thirty miles from north to south, but inside it seemed endless, maybe not as strange as Iaru, which was a whole world, but definitely one step removed from the rest of Devonshire. There were hamlets within the Okewood, but the inhabitants kept themselves to themselves. I suspected most of them were either magically inclined or not entirely human.

  I’d been practicing. Corwen always found the right gate with ease, but he’d had six years of being the Lady’s henchwolf before I ever met him, so he was used to magical byways. I was still learning how to find them, not only the byways themselves, but the right ones to take me where I wanted to go.

  I nudged Dancer out in front and let my instinct take over. I’m pretty sure Corwen used his nose to find the right path, but I didn’t have the advantage of a wolf sense of smell. Even in human form his nose is keen. Instead of using my nose, I let my eyes and ears take over. My eyesight is good, but my ears are better.

  I turned my head this way and that, noting the sound was muted in some directions, the pressure a little different on my eardrums.

  “That way,” I pointed.

  Corwen grinned. “Right first time.”

  “I’m getting better.”

  “Yes, you are. Freddie, come back!”

  Freddie had passed through the gate from Iaru into the Okewood and was streaking along in front of us.

  “I swear I’ll put him on a leash, so help me if I don’t,” Corwen said.

  But he hadn’t yet, and I knew he was worried about damaging Freddie’s already delicate ego. The wolf had not attempted to bite anyone since he’d snapped a few tail hairs from Aileen Reynard. Corwen thought it was progress. I wasn’t so sure. We touched our heels to our horses’ flanks and set off after our problem brother.

  We found Freddie in the glade which Charlotte and Olivia called home. He was rolling on his back, submissively offering his throat to Livvy, while the little girl gently pulled his ears and twined her fingers in his furry ruff. Freddie had always been fond of Livvy. I saw Corwen relax. He swung off Timpani to greet Charlotte.

  Charlotte, all rowankind, had been Reverend Purdy’s housekeeper in Bigbury, South Devonshire. She’d fallen in love
with Henry, the Reverend’s son, and they’d married, illegally, of course. Olivia, half-rowankind and half-witch, was the result of that union. Henry had registered as a witch when he turned eighteen, but nothing had come of it until four years ago when redcoats had turned up on his doorstep with papers and he was spirited away to the army without even time to pack a bag.

  His family had heard nothing from him since.

  Livvy had grown into a self-possessed little girl who had rescued Freddie, or at least saved his soul, when they were both imprisoned by the Mysterium in the Guillaume Tell. Had it not been for Livvy, Freddie might have been truly mad by the time we found him. Instead, he was only half-mad.

  With much relief, we collected Freddie and retired to the bower which we thought of as ours, though could anyone truly own such a place?

  After turning our horses loose to graze—they never appeared to go far, but we suspected they found better grazing in Iaru—Corwen, Freddie, and I retired for the night. It was a little cramped with three, but Corwen didn’t trust Freddie enough to let him out of his sight, which was inconvenient as far as our marital bliss was concerned. Instead of anything more intimate, we simply snuggled together, my back against Corwen’s chest.

  “I asked around. Hartington will be back tomorrow evening,” Corwen whispered. “Perhaps he can keep an eye on Freddie for a few hours.” I pushed back into him, wriggling against bits of him that were standing to attention. “I do hope so.”

  * * *

  In the event, Hartington was late and didn’t arrive back until the morning after we’d been expecting him. He’d had some trouble with a troll and had come back for reinforcements.

  “He’s big,” Hartington said as we walked down to the stream together. “Bigger by far than the pair you rescued from the Guillaume Tell.”

  Those two trolls were now happily guarding one of the gateways to Iaru with their own bridge. Once a troll settled beneath a bridge, they were extremely difficult to dislodge. They weren’t evil creatures, but they were stubborn, clumsy, and enormous. They could kill without meaning to or injure simply by trying to pick up a human who refused to pay their toll, either in coin or in kind. They loved gold but would happily take a person’s only milk cow as fodder or five sheep out of a flock of twenty without realizing the puny humans couldn’t afford such losses every time they crossed a bridge.

  It was a pleasure to be free of Freddie for an hour or two. We’d left him dozing in the bower with instructions to wait there. There were plenty of people around in the camp, from the Lady’s woodland creatures to a few rowankind who didn’t want to cross into Iaru.

  I left Corwen and Hartington chewing over the methods by which trolls might be separated from their bridges, and wandered upstream, enjoying the mildness of the early spring day.

  That’s when I heard the snarls and a childish voice high with fear.

  Olivia!

  And Freddie.

  Not in the bower where we’d left him.

  I ran.

  13

  Freddie

  WHEN YOUR BROTHER-IN-LAW is two hundred pounds of angry wolf, normal rules of family etiquette don’t apply.

  I pushed Livvy behind me and stared down the big brown wolf, snarls and all.

  I knew I should have avoided confrontation, but enough was enough. I checked the dagger at the back of my waist but didn’t pull it. It was my last resort, but if it was Freddie or me, I’d damn-well stick him with eight inches of steel. Maybe I’d try and stick it somewhere nonlethal.

  Maybe.

  I didn’t think Freddie would do the same for me. If he lunged, it would be for my throat. I’d seen him do it before, though it had been in the heat of battle.

  I put one foot back to brace myself against his charge. A twig snapped beneath my boot heel, sharp in the clear spring morning.

  A dappled shape resolved itself among the young silver birches to my left. Hartington flowed smoothly from animal to man.

  “Don’t move, Ross.”

  I wasn’t about to move. To turn and run would only tempt Freddie to give chase, and his four legs were much faster than my two.

  “Corwen’s on his way.” Hartington kept his voice low.

  I didn’t have long to resolve this. Corwen loved his brother and would try to make excuses for his bad behavior. I wasn’t about to let Freddie get away with snarling at Livvy. The child didn’t believe Freddie’s wolf would ever harm her, taking risks with him that no one else would ever take, but Freddie had once admitted that humans smelled like food. I knew he loved the girl in his own way, but I wasn’t sure that was enough to protect her.

  “Look after the child,” I said to Hartington. “I’ll take care of Freddie.”

  I snatched off my neck cloth and wrapped it around my left hand and wrist. It wasn’t much protection against wolf teeth, but if Freddie came at me, the best defense was to shove something between his teeth before they reached my throat, and that might have to be my hand or forearm. One of the worst mistakes you can make when you get bitten by a dog of any size is to pull away. That’s when teeth tear flesh as well as puncture. Of course Freddie wasn’t a dog, but the same principle applied.

  “Freddie, enough!” Freddie was oblivious to human speech when he was angry. “Back off. Leave Livvy alone. Leave!”

  Freddie’s snarls had grown in intensity, and his lips were drawn all the way back from his teeth.

  I heard Hartington taking the girl gently to one side, not running, but edging back into the shelter of the trees.

  Freddie turned his head to follow the child’s movement.

  “No! Look at me!”

  I must have gotten through to him because his eyes snapped back to mine. I expected him to drop eye contact, but he didn’t. This was serious.

  “Back off, Freddie. You’re letting the wolf win.”

  I stepped to one side. To continue eye contact with me, he had to move so that Hartington and Livvy were out of his sight line.

  “To me, Freddie. Look!”

  I snapped it out like an order, and he jerked his stare back to meet mine.

  “Back off!”

  He dropped into a low crouch, the kind that comes before a spring.

  I decided to change tack, though I didn’t take my hand from the hidden knife. I laughed and stood upright, relaxing. “You know, Freddie boy, one day someone will take you seriously, and you’ll end up in a trophy room or as a wolfskin rug. Better wise up and settle down.”

  He wasn’t coming any closer, but he was still showing a full set of fangs.

  “Come on, that’s enough. You and I need to come to a better understanding now we’re related. Corwen won’t like it if you eat his wife. Who else would put up with him?”

  I thought the snarl was a little less intense.

  “For Corwen’s sake we should try to stay friends. Come on, what do you say?”

  Even after all these months I didn’t expect him to back away, but maybe he realized what he’d almost done to Livvy. I can imagine that would scare anyone in their right mind.

  He whined.

  “No excuses, Freddie. It’s unacceptable to growl, snarl at, or bite any human, especially those under the protection of the Lady.”

  He whined again.

  I didn’t let him finish. I stepped in close and booted him under his jaw. He went down like a stunned ox.

  “If you ever snap or snarl at Livvy again, I will beat the living daylights out of your mangy hide. Don’t think I won’t.”

  “You’d better believe her, brother.” Corwen’s voice came from behind me.

  “How long have you been there?” I asked.

  “Long enough. You seem to have my brother under control.”

  “For now.”

  “We’ll talk about the rest later. Reverend Purdy’s arrived. Charlotte’s maki
ng tea. Our presence is required.” He put one arm around me, but as he squired me out of the grove, he spoke over his shoulder, lightly, as if me kicking Freddie was an everyday occurrence. “Come on, Freddie. You have an apology to make.”

  “What did he do this time?” Corwen said under his breath as we left the grove of trees.

  “Snarled at Livvy. I mean seriously snarled.”

  “Oh.” The tone of his voice said it all. “Did he mean it?”

  “I’m sure he did. I was truly frightened for her.”

  I heard the soft padding behind us that told me Freddie was following. By the slump of Corwen’s shoulders, I saw he had heard it, too. It appeared Freddie was not yet able to face the world as himself.

  “Are you coming to apologize to Livvy?” Corwen asked, but Freddie’s only response was to slink away in the direction of our bower.

  “I thought for a moment we’d got his attention,” I said softly.

  Corwen turned and watched until Freddie slunk out of sight, then he huffed out a breath. “I thought he was getting better, but he isn’t. I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “Perhaps the Lady can help.”

  “I’m afraid the Lady might look for a permanent solution.”

  “She hasn’t hurt the kelpie.”

  “Diana is a killer, but she’s also intelligent. She knows how to curb her instincts because she knows the Lady will end her if she looks like a threat to anyone, magical or mundane.”

  I’d come to an understanding with the kelpie last year when we’d fought the redcoats together in order to bring the rescued magicals to the safety of the Okewood.

  “You think the Lady would hurt Freddie?”

  “I think she’d put him down like a dog if he attacked Livvy. He’s on his final warning after the sprite incident. The Lady has a soft spot for the child. She doesn’t say, but it’s obvious.”

  “What can we do?”