The Wolf At War

by Terry Cloutier

  I looked away, feeling shame creeping along the back of my neck. I had been so focused on Grindin that I hadn’t even considered what would happen to my wife and babe once I killed the apprentice. Shana was only three months pregnant, but she had already assured me it would be a boy, even though I knew there was no way to be certain. I would miss the birth and so much more, I realized bitterly, sick with sudden indecision. I glanced back at Grindin, letting the hostility I felt for the man twist and writhe in my gut. Finally, I nodded, my weakening resolve buttressed by pillars of pure hatred. I looked at Jebido, feeling determination rise in me. “Shana will return to Calban after I turn outlaw,” I said firmly. “If the king decides to hang me, then I pray she will find happiness with another man and that he will raise my son as his own.”

  Baine snorted. “What nonsense is that?” He shook his head in amazement. “Your willful blindness is astounding, Hadrack. The law is clear whether you want to acknowledge it or not. The union that brought you two together also merged Calban and Corwick under one banner—yours. If you go outlaw, the king will have to strip you of land and title, which means Calban will be lost along with Corwick, regardless of Lady Shana’s claim to it. She will lose her title and be destitute, with a new baby and no husband to care for them. Is that what you want?”

  I gaped at him, understanding now what my friends had been trying to tell me. They were right. It wouldn’t just be me who would pay for Grindin’s death. It would be those that I loved as well. I dropped my eyes, staring at Angry’s twitching ears as I tried to come up with a solution that would satisfy my vow, as well as my duty to my family. Maybe I could have one of my men kill him, I thought, discarding that notion almost immediately. Grindin’s life belonged to me and the dead of Corwick and no one else. Besides, Son Oriell was the First Son now, and I knew such a ploy wouldn’t fool him. Finally, I sighed, out of ideas, knowing that even for my vow, I couldn’t sentence my wife and unborn child to the fate Jebido had described. As much as it pained me, I realized I had no choice but to let Grindin live.

  “I’m sorry,” I said to my friends, my voice thick with bitterness. “You were both right all along. I should have listened to you sooner.” I closed my eyes, letting the crushing disappointment wash over me.

  “There is something else, Hadrack,” Jebido said, breaking into my thoughts.

  “What now?” I asked, suddenly weary and feeling weighted down.

  “We still need to talk about the Cardians.”

  I opened my eyes and looked at him. “Who cares about them?” I said glumly. “They tried to kill me and failed. They don’t matter now.”

  “Did they?” Jebido said in a thoughtful voice.

  “Did they what?”

  “Did they fail?” I started to respond angrily, and Jebido held up a hand, stopping me. “Just hear me out, Hadrack. You told me the Cardians were sent here to kill you by someone named Lord Boudin. We don’t know who he is or why he wants you dead, but we do know who helped him.”

  “Pernissy,” I breathed out noisily, glad to have a new target to aim my hatred.

  “Yes,” Jebido nodded. “We don’t know what Lord Boudin is capable of, but we certainly know what Pernissy can do. He’s ruthless and cruel, but he’s also smart, as we have learned all too often.”

  “So, you think Pernissy sent the Cardians here, expecting them to fail?” Baine asked, his voice rising with interest.

  I just stared at him in surprise as Jebido shrugged. “Maybe. I’m sure the man wouldn’t have shed any tears if they had succeeded in killing Hadrack. But Pernissy knows our stubborn friend enough by now to recognize it would take more than a handful of bumbling Cardians to kill him.”

  I glanced between my two friends as they continued to talk, my presence apparently forgotten in their enthusiasm to piece together what had happened.

  “And he used Grindin as the bait, knowing the man was stupid and Hadrack wouldn’t be able to resist coming after him,” Baine said.

  “Exactly,” Jebido nodded. “By drawing Hadrack to Thidswitch, Pernissy knew one of two things was going to happen.” Jebido lifted a finger. “One, the Cardians kill Hadrack.” He flicked up another finger. “Or two, the Cardians fail in the attempt, and Hadrack kills Grindin, setting off the inevitable House judgment against him, which would force the king’s hand.”

  “So, either way, Pernissy was guaranteed to win,” Baine said as he shook his head in wonder. “It’s diabolically clever.”

  “Only if one of those two options actually happened,” Jebido replied, looking at me meaningfully. “He probably didn’t even consider that you might let Grindin live, which means he doesn’t know his plan failed, and we now have the advantage.”

  I turned and looked back at Grindin, who was listening with an expression of wild hope plastered across his ugly face. “Wiflem,” I grunted with distaste.

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “Cut that bastard’s rope and let him ride Haspeth’s horse.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “And Wiflem?”

  “My lord?”

  “If he says even one word during the ride back to Corwick, feel free to bash in whatever teeth he has left.”

  “Gladly, my lord,” Wiflem growled with enthusiasm.

  I glanced at Jebido. “You don’t need teeth to stay alive,” I explained. Jebido laughed as I leaned sideways and patted his arm affectionately. “I’m a fool,” I said under my breath. “I should have listened to you sooner.”

  “That’s true,” Jebido agreed. He winked. “But as long as you keep on listening to me, then there’s always hope for you.”

  I chuckled and nodded. “I’ll try to remember that.”

  “So, what do we do now?” Baine asked.

  I glanced behind me at the apprentice, trying not to let the hatred that I felt for the man cloud my thinking. The plan to ensnare me had been carefully conceived, and as Jebido had said, now that it had failed, we had the advantage. But how was I to make use of that advantage? Grindin’s robe hung on his thin body, covered in blood and filth. A section had torn along the hem and was dangling and flicking in the wind. “I need to go to the village alone,” I finally answered.

  “Why?” Jebido asked.

  I didn’t answer him. “Wiflem,” I said instead.

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “Bring me the Son-In-Waiting’s robe.”

  “His robe, my lord?”

  “That’s what I said.” I turned to Jebido. “They wanted me to kill the little bastard, and that is just what I’m going to let them think that I did.”

  4: The Piths

  We were less than three miles from Corwick Castle, and I was already picturing the enthusiastic greeting I knew Shana would give me when I saw the smoke over the hills to the southeast. My men and I paused on a ridge, and I felt a thud of dread in my stomach as we sat in silence, watching the ominous black tendrils rising high in the cloudless sky. I knew nothing ever good came from smoke like that in open country.

  “A grass fire?” Baine finally asked hopefully.

  I shook my head. The dark smoke was twisting and rolling upward in great plumes from at least seven or eight different locations at once. Burning grass and light brush gave off white smoke and burned in a line or ring. Trees and timber burned darker, but the southern hills in that direction seemed to have few woodlands. This was something else. “Whatever that is,” I said grimly, pointing. “It’s on my land and can’t be ignored.” I had lived in the village of Corwick until I was eight, but other than a trip to Bloomwood once, I had rarely left the town’s borders, so had little knowledge of the surrounding countryside. I had planned to change that when I became the Lord of Corwick, but a lord’s life is a busy one, I’d found out, and I had yet to make the time. I glanced at Jebido. “You know the land here better than anyone else. What lies to the south of those hills?”

  Jebido grimaced. “It’s been a long time, Hadrack, but if I’m not mistaken, there is a village calle
d Lestwick somewhere in that direction.”

  I nodded, having been afraid of that answer. I had heard of Lestwick, of course, though I had never been there. I remembered the Widow Meade’s husband had come from Lestwick and that he had been a cheerful man, with an odd, high-pitched laugh that always ended in a snort. A bear mauled the poor bastard when I was four.

  I urged Angry down the ridge, giving the big black his head as we reached flat ground and headed southeast, away from Shana and Corwick Castle. My men streamed out behind me as we galloped across the lowlands, with me fretting with worry the entire way. Finally, we reached the rock-strewn hills, where we were forced to slow as we began the ascent. Angry was the first to reach the top, and I paused on a circular, windswept plateau, waiting for the rest of my men to join me. Trees rose in a solid wall of green to the west, with a gurgling river gushing southward along its boundary. I was looking at the Little Run, I knew, one of the many offshoots from the mighty White Rock. Smoke swirled toward the plateau suddenly as the wind shifted, sending a voluminous, acrid black cloud my way. I coughed and waved at the clogging smoke as it descended on me, then signaled for my men to move forward.

  We crossed the rocky plateau at a canter and paused along the southern crest, staring down at an open plain dotted with grass-covered hills. The Little Run twisted and turned in sweeping curves around those hills before heading south, the cheerful, sparkling water tainted by sheets of heavy smoke that drifted from one grassy bank to the other. A village sat below us, close to a wide bend in the river dominated by a craggy bluff. The smoke was coming from the village, just as I had feared.

  I could smell the unmistakable scent of death on the wind as I kicked Angry down the steep grade while my grim-faced men followed. I glanced once at Grindin, who now wore only a grubby tunic, surprised to see a strange look on the Son-In-Waiting’s face. If I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn it was concern and empathy. We reached the valley floor and thundered toward the village, spreading out in a line, our weapons drawn. If whoever had committed this act was still here, I vowed, they would pay dearly for what they had done.

  “Wiflem!” I shouted when we were less than a hundred yards from the nearest burning buildings. I gestured to my right.

  Wiflem nodded in understanding, and he whistled for Tyris, Sim, and Berwin to follow him as they cut away at an angle, sweeping around to flank the settlement. The Little Run guarded our left, so Jebido, Baine, Niko, and I headed directly for the village square, with both Grindin and the extra horse tied to Niko’s saddle helpless to do anything but follow. Every house and outbuilding was ablaze, with many having already collapsed as the flames fed hungrily on the skeletal remains. The heat was gaining in intensity as we approached, and the sound of the wood snapping and the roaring flames was deafening as the wind helped to stoke the fires even further. I could see bodies strewn about everywhere, even several goats and a mule, and I started to curse over and over again as we entered the village. This was my fault, I knew. The people here had depended on their lord to protect them, and I had failed in that trust.

  I paused Angry in the village square as I looked around, the fury I felt inside threatening to unhinge me. Wind-driven black smoke swirled and twisted around the shells of the burning buildings like wraiths, making visibility difficult. I had seen this very thing before as a boy, and it was something that I’d hoped never to see again.

  Wiflem and my men appeared through the haze, all with identically grim faces. “They’re gone, my lord,” Wiflem told me. His eyes gleamed with anger, along with a promise of retribution. “They burned the Holy House.”

  “The Son and Daughter?”

  He shook his head. “No sign of them, my lord, but there’s a blood trail leading from the building.”

  I closed my eyes as Baine muttered angrily beside me. “How many were there?” I finally grunted.

  “At least forty, my lord,” Wiflem answered. He pointed behind him. “They rode from the south and went back that way when they were finished. It looks like they took some cattle and sheep with them, too.”

  “How long have they been gone?” Jebido asked.

  Wiflem shrugged. “Hard to say. Perhaps an hour or two, maybe more than that.”

  I glanced at the sky as I considered what to do. I had eight men, nine if you counted Grindin, which I didn’t. Chasing after the raiders with my tiny force would be risky, I knew, yet doing nothing rubbed me the wrong way. I could send for more men from Corwick, but that would take many hours and, by then, the raiders would be too far away to catch. I knew men like these moved fast after a raid, expecting pursuit.

  I sat in indecision as Jebido sighed beside me and wearily dismounted, moving to stand over the body of an older woman lying on her stomach. He crouched and gently rolled her over, then cursed. The woman’s dress had been slashed open down the front, revealing pendulous white breasts crisscrossed by livid red lash marks. She had been brutally raped, I saw. I closed my eyes as the heat from the fires worked at searing my brain from the inside. It was happening again, just like Corwick.

  Jebido stood and slowly retraced his steps, pausing to look up at me. “We both know who did this, Hadrack,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “No Ganderman would slaughter all these people like this and burn the House. This was the work of Piths.”

  “We don’t know that,” I said. Nothing had been heard from the Piths since their defeat at Victory Pass years ago. I didn’t want to think about what it might mean if he was right. I glared down at Jebido. “That’s what everyone said about Corwick, too,” I reminded him. My friend looked as though he was about to protest, and I added, “Even you.” I thought of the ploy Pernissy had used to blame the slaughter at Corwick on the Piths. Was it a coincidence that the bastard was free and the same thing had happened again? I didn’t know, but I was determined to find out. I turned to Wiflem. “Search the entire village. Someone might still be alive.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Wiflem said, pulling his horse around.

  “And Wiflem?” The soldier paused. “I want the Son and Daughter found.”

  “I understand, my lord,” Wiflem responded gravely.

  I flicked my eyes to Grindin, who I was surprised to see had tears rolling down his filthy cheeks. I snorted, not believing it for a moment. “Baine,” I said. I gestured to the apprentice. “Take this bastard back to the castle and lock him up in the White Tower. I don’t want to see his ugly face again until I decide what to do with him.”

  “You can’t be thinking of going after them,” Baine said.

  “Why not?” I growled, intent on doing just that.

  Then I heard the scream. The sound had come from the west near the river, though it had been very faint and brief. Had I imagined it? With the stubborn wind and raging fires, it was hard to be certain. I held my hand up for silence and listened, trying to hear past the crackling wood and roar of the flames as the wind swirled harsh smoke in my eyes. I had just about decided that I’d imagined the scream when I heard it again, this time lasting longer, with a higher pitch.

  I kicked Angry into a gallop, swerving around a burning barn as I headed for the marshy shoreline of the Little Run. The river looped in a wide bend before me and then straightened out, heading south. It was maybe fifty feet wide, with a dense forest along the opposite bank. I glanced to the trees across the water just in time to see a brief flash of bright yellow before it was gone, then the unmistakable sounds of men shouting in pursuit. I knew I had just found the missing Daughter.

  I reached the marshy shoreline and paused there. I had no idea how deep the river was, but there wasn’t time to go looking for a ford. I guided Angry down the muddy bank, fighting to keep from being unseated as the big horse plunged into the water without hesitation. The current was surprisingly strong, and the water quickly reached the stallion’s haunches before we were even a quarter of the way across. I could hear my men splashing into the river behind me, but I kept my focus squarely on the opposite bank as Ang
ry fought against the stubborn current. The water was much colder than I had expected, and it swirled and gurgled all around me as we forged deeper into the river. Eventually, the big stallion was forced to swim until only Angry’s head and my upper torso were all that showed above the waterline.

  I could feel the big black’s enthusiasm for the swim starting to lag just as we made it to the halfway point, and I breathed a welcome sigh of relief when Angry’s hooves found firm footing again. We reached the far bank and the big stallion powered out of the river, both of us shedding water like a rooftop in a rainstorm. I halted along the treeline, listening. The forest was still, broken only by the metallic jingle of bits, the clang of weapons, and the creaking of leather behind me as my men fought to get their horses across the river.

  I leaned down and patted Angry on the neck in gratitude for his effort. “Now,” I said, sitting up. “Let’s go find that Daughter.”

  Angry snorted, which I took for agreement, and we set off through the trees as my men climbed from the Little Run one by one and followed. I quickly located the area where I believed I’d sighted the Daughter earlier, and Sim dismounted, searching for tracks. The former outlaw wasn’t nearly as accomplished a woodsman as Sabina, but he was far from incompetent, and it was only moments before he located her trail.

  “The Daughter’s feet are bare and bleeding, my lord,” the big man said, standing to look west. “She went that way but won’t get far on those feet.” He gestured to the south. “Riders came from that direction, hunting her.”

  “How many?” I grunted.

  Sim grinned. “Only three, my lord. This will be easy.”