Catch a Wolf Page 2

  He started, his eyes flattening to mere slits, his knuckles white on his wide leather reins. Aborted attack on me or not, shield or no shield, he drew his sword and would have spurred his horse at Wolf.

  Wolf twirled his sword, an action so fast the blade whistled shrilly. Controlling Rufus with his knees, his left hand extended slowly toward Brutal as he persuaded the stallion to prance toward Brutal’s flashy black. His fingers moved slowly in a ‘come hither’ gesture. I heard his nasty grin in his words: “Let’s dance.”

  Brutal’s eyes widened. His rush faltered. At the last instant, he recognized the stupidity of charging Wolf. He knew, as did we all, he’d not the fighting talent nor the experience to challenge the Bloody Wolf. He stood not a snowball’s chance in hell of surviving such an attack. He’d die and quickly.

  In a feigned show of reluctance, he allowed his High Priest to stop him, to turn him aside. As he had with me, he turned on Theodoric in a rage, as though he truly wanted to take Wolf on, head for head.

  “Sensible decision,” I said quietly. I chuckled derisively, deliberately antagonizing him. “Don’t battle the Wolf. A stray cat might make a really humble meal of your remains.”

  “How dare you!” Theodoric screeched.

  I flicked my glance toward the fat man. “Your new scars become you, sir.” I pointed with my bow toward the cuts I had made in his face. “The ladies simply adore a battle-scarred warrior.”

  Inarticulate with rage, Theodoric’s round, pudgy face turned nearly purple as he choked. His double chin wobbled as he trembled, his eyes bulged so far from their sockets I half-thought they’d tumble out and roll down his fat cheeks. This time, however, Brutal put a calming hand on Theodoric.

  If looks could kill…. Unable to vent much more, Theodoric contented himself with venting his rage by spitting on the ground toward Mikk’s hooves.

  “Perhaps his Most Gracious Majesty will allow me his sloppy seconds,” Theodoric rasped. “If he hasn’t managed to tame that foul mouth of yours, I will.”

  “Of course you can have a taste of her,” Brutal purred through the spittle, with an expansive gesture toward me. “I’ll leave her alive enough…barely. She’ll know it’s you taking her.”

  I let my gaze travel up and down Theodoric’s pudgy body, insultingly slow. “Well, now,” I drawled. “I’d have to see the goods before I decide if you are man enough for me.”

  He drew his narrow rapier, bloodlust in his pale eyes, his heels thumping his bay’s sides to charge. I lifted my bow before the bay reacted to the spur.

  “By the by,” I went on mildly, my arrow trained on his left eye. “Have they dropped yet…peewee?”

  Theodoric’s fury might yet have sent him forward, onto my waiting death. However, he, too, realized the well-armed warriors to either side of me weren’t there because of their good looks. Should I perchance miss, he’d be cut into dogmeat before he could wield his blade accurately. He reined in, the gelding’s mouth opening wide against the pain of the sharply curbed bit, almost falling on his haunches in his effort to cease his forward motion.

  “Quiet!” Brutal bellowed.

  Theodoric calmed instantly, relaxing his reins and shoving his sword back into its sheath. He eyed me coldly as his horse stood still, champing his bit and swishing his tail in equine anxiety. Ja’Teel glanced across at him, smirking, no doubt enjoying Theodoric’s inability to keep his emotions under control as Brutal watched his High Priest with a sour expression.

  After taking a deep breath, Brutal glanced past my shoulder to Corwyn.

  “Drop your weapon and bring that little tart to me right now, Cephas,” he said, his voice tight, apparently unaware of Corwyn’s true name. “Prove your loyalty and I will forgive your treachery. You will be reinstated into your former position with me posthaste.”

  I craned my neck to peer over my shoulder, curious to see what Corwyn’s reaction might be. I wasn’t much disappointed. Corwyn made a gesture not commonly seen in palaces, but Brutal clearly knew what it meant. In base terms, the gesture essentially told Brutal to do what Wolf always called the anatomically impossible. Once more, a snort of laughter broke free of its bounds and earned me another frozen glare of hatred from Brutal.

  “I will have your laughing, lying tongue speared on my fork, bitch,” he snarled.

  I could not help the temptation that swept over me: I repeated Corwyn’s gesture.

  Before Brutal could erupt in an appropriate, spittle-spewing response, Wolf spoke.

  “Your new pet doesn’t stand a chance against my brother,” Wolf said conversationally, as though we all stood about the garden, discussing politics and the weather with drinks in our hands.

  In outrage, Ja’Teel puffed himself up. “Of the blood royal, I have the power—”

  Instantly, the shield melted.

  Like a heated tallow candle, it oozed slowly down the four walls that surrounded us. Where once it was invisible to my eyes, it now glowed a pale reddish orange like the late sunset’s clouds. Boiling, curling downward, dripping huge blots like melted wax to the cobbles, it slid ever so sedately down. I was starkly reminded of cheese curds I once flung against the wall as a child. This, as they did, slid down to puddle on the cobbles in a heap.

  Ja’Teel gaped like a landed fish. Brutal jerked back as though the melted shield burned him. Theodoric alternated jerking his reins and spurring his horse, forcing the beast to jump about on stiffened legs.

  “What was it you said, cuz?” Rygel asked politely, his eyes burning hotter than his magic. “Something about my powers?”

  “Im—” Ja’Teel choked and tried again. “Impossible.”

  “Ta ever so,” Rygel murmured.

  Rygel retaliated with a sharp blast. Wind the force of ten hurricanes, narrowed within the confines of the street, blew the three horses off their hooves. They slipped and slid as though on ice, tripping, scrambling to maintain their footing, they slid backward as though a divine hand pushed them. The black stallion fell, whinnying his terror, and tossed Brutal flat onto his back. Over the howling gale, I distinctly heard his breath whoosh from his lungs.

  Theodoric’s bay horse fell to his knees and slid across the cobblestones, bloodying his legs. Theodoric gripped his mane in his fists, his pudgy face the color of last night’s drinking binge and screamed. His tonsils looked as brown as his gelding, and far less appealing.

  Ja’Teel’s yellow mare made the mistake of turning tail and running. The wind pushed the poor horse’s quarters up underneath her, her blonde tail whooshed up under her belly. Like a swift hand toppling a kitten, the horse fell back, crushing Ja’Teel beneath her weight.

  Suddenly, a great shudder travelled through the buildings around us. I glanced away from the wind-blown idiots to see the soldiers on the rooftops rapidly disappear. In a cloud of dust and wood, the roofs above collapsed, taking down with them all the royal troops and their crossbows.

  “Corwyn!” Wolf suddenly shouted. “Ride! Ride now!”

  Brutal rose first, staggering to his feet under Rygel’s dying windstorm. Dust from the collapsed buildings blew in small whirlwinds and eddies as men stumbled from the wreckage. Theodoric also gained his feet, groaning and cursing, fumbling to drag his blade from its housing. Staggering, he forced his portly body between us and Brutal.

  Seeing his movement, I returned to myself and drew my bowstring to my ear. Chaos erupted around me, yet I had no eyes, no ears, for any sight or sound except the fat man before me.

  Judgment day.

  Its barbed steel head took him full between the eyes. The force of its blow snapped his head back on his neck and knocked him flat to his shoulders. Arms outstretched to either side, perhaps in supplication to his dark god, he quivered for a moment, then lay still and silent. His pale eyes, quickly glazing in death, stared sightlessly up at the dim stars, the slender shaft stuck proudly upright between them. A small ribbon of blood traced its way from the wound and pooled beneath his scarred cheek.

  Bru
tal gaped at his High Priest’s corpse in horror.

  Rygel stirred into life, drawing his sword, his black half-rearing in response. Wolf twirled his blade again, making it sing, his big bay sidling sideways in a short, high-stepping prance. At my side, Kel’Ratan cursed under his breath. His sword at the ready, he emerged into my view, his bay snorting, ready for battle.

  Corwyn on his ugly red roan flew past me, spurring hard, dragging the grey mare with her terrified passengers behind him. Arianne’s hair blew back in the wind, Tor clinging like a limpet behind her. Through the dust and shadows they fled, Corwyn obeying his liege lord’s command to keep his sister safe.

  Out of the roiling dust and dark shadows, men boiled from the remains of the shattered buildings. Most had injuries, clutching broken arms or ribs or heads, howling or crying out in pain. Many others walked about, stunned, in a state of shock. Those I could ignore as little threat.

  I could not, however, ignore the far too many troopers still on their feet and ready to fight. Crossbow bolts whizzed past. One flicked through my hair, another brushed past my nose. I saw Wolf’s bay wheel to meet the charge of a half-dozen troops, a crossbow bolt stuck, still quivering, in his saddlebag. I lost sight of Brutal in the ensuing chaos, though Ja’Teel still lay where he fell. Dead or unconscious, I suspected, hoping for the former.

  “Alive!” Brutal screamed, his voice rising above the din. “I want them alive!”

  At their master’s cry, the Federates changed tactics. They ceased launching crossbow bolts at us, and instead drew swords. A soldier in the trappings of a captain bellowed orders, forming his men into a tight ring around us. At his command, the Federates advanced, interlocking their shields, swords and spears held ready.

  Sounding too much like his namesake for my comfort, Wolf snarled. His huge bay half-reared, ears flattened to his skull. A chill ran down my spine as Wolf kicked his stallion forward. The beast, already on his hind legs, lunged hard and fast, into the steel wall before him. Not even the Federation’s finest could withstand the sheer brute strength of Wolf and stallion. The wall dissolved into a milling band of shouting, screaming men as sword and hooves went to work.

  Kel’Ratan launched his stallion into the fray, his sword raised alongside Wolf’s as they both cut and slashed, stabbing and hacking into the mass of troops before them. Rygel, too, entered the mix, wheeling his black to confront the Federates behind us. To my surprise, his sword whirled in a deadly arc, killing any who ventured too close to me. To me? I put the significance of this past me to concentrate on killing and staying alive.

  I nocked arrow after arrow, sending them into the faces, throats, and heads of any Federate soldier I saw. All dropped, but many more ran forward to take their places. Quickly running out of arrows, I drew my sword. Spurring Mikk up beside Kel’Ratan, I slew a Federate who would have stabbed him in the back, killing another with a slash to his throat when he sought to pull me from my saddle.

  I caught a glimpse of Brutal limping out of the whirling chaos, supported by two troopers. A tight knot of purple and gold soldiers formed a protective ring, dropping their bows and drawing swords. Should we turn on the High King, we’d be forced to fight through them.

  Mikk, war-trained and battle-hardened, flattened his ears and kicked, slashed or bit any trooper who ventured near his deadly teeth and hooves. The Federates seemed at a loss as to how to deal with a horse trained to work as a weapon, and spent many useless moments dodging his kicks and strikes. As many fell to his teeth and hooves as my blade, and within moments, the enemy fell back, preparing to regroup.

  Their regrouping gave me a chance to catch a glimpse of Wolf and Kel’Ratan, their horses’ rumps turned toward each other. Their swords rose and fell, almost in unison as they each protected the other’s vulnerable back. Beside me, Rygel’s blade dripped red with blood and his black’s legs and chest ran thick with it. The black may not have been any more battle-hardened than Wolf’s bay, but the gelding knew danger when it threatened his rider and sought to retaliate in a most unequine fashion. Impressed in spite of myself, I watched as the black spun on his front end and kicked a retreating trooper out of his vicinity before dropping to all four hooves.

  The brief respite allowed Rygel to drop the reins on his gelding’s neck and pause, his eyes closed. I had no time to guess what he planned to do. An instant later, an enormous concussion ripped through the darkness, a flash of light brighter than ten suns lit the night sky.

  The soldiers fell back, most falling to the ground, covering their ears, blood dripping redly from between their fingers. Rygel’s magic, I noticed, while not killing his enemy, incapacitated them as efficiently as though he stabbed every one through their hearts in less than an instant. Bows dropped from limp hands, and arrows collapsed alongside soldiers. Swords fell to the stony cobbles with steely high-pitched metallic shrieks careening through the night air.

  Immediately, I understood. Rygel couldn’t concentrate on calling upon his powers if he was too busy defending himself. The best wizard that ever lived needed spare moments with which to work. The soldiers’ need to regroup gave Rygel that moment.

  Over the cries and moans, a stray crossbow bolt twanged through the darkness with the shrill whine of wind hissing through feathers. Someone let fly despite Rygel’s blast of power, perhaps a soldier who aimed without intending to pull the trigger. Struck by Rygel’s power blast, his hand clenched—

  I caught a brief glimpse of it from the candle of my eyes, a streak darker than the darkness surrounding it.

  It struck Kel’Ratan squarely in the chest.

  I screamed.

  Kel’Ratan’s jaw sagged in shock. The jolt sent a quiver through his heavy frame. He froze, and even in the dimness and distance, I saw his face drain of all color. His sword raised high, in preparation to attack, slowly began to slump and drop, falling from his now lax hand.

  All coherent thought escaped my mind. Only a savage agony, as though the arrow had struck me rather than Kel’Ratan, ripped into my heart. I felt it shatter, felt it break into a thousand tiny pieces, the fragments tearing my chest, and my life, apart. Please, my Lady, my Lady, anyone but him. Not Kel’Ratan, please Lady, no.

  As fast as I kicked Mikk toward him, Wolf spun his bay in a half-circle and reached him first. Before Kel’Ratan could topple from his saddle, Wolf grabbed him by the back of his neck and lifted him straight up. Kel’Ratan was a large and robust man, but Wolf picked him up as easily as if he weighed no more than Tor. He tossed Kel’Ratan’s limp body across the pommel of his saddle, face down, leaving me to catch his sword before it could fall to the cobbles.

  Wolf gave me no time to feel panic over my cousin. With scarcely a pause, he kicked Rufus straight toward Brutal and his small knot of bleeding, cursing protectors. I dropped my reins on Mikk’s neck and with a sword in each hand, kneed him in Wolf’s wake. Rygel charged his mount up beside mine, and like a heavy wedge with Wolf as its tip, we hit the ranks of soldiers massed before us.

  Before they could collect themselves and offer much defense, Wolf dealt out death as though he were an angel vomited up from hell. None withstood him. His sword stabbed and slashed, cut arms off at the shoulders, lobbed heads from necks, struck terror into those who had yet to meet him.

  The knot around Brutal exploded. Men staggered away, out of the path of Wolf’s murderous Rufus. From behind, I caught glimpses of his flattened ears, lips skinned back from huge white teeth. His deadly hooves struck again and again, flailing out even as he galloped, courageously strong despite the enormous weight of two huge men on his back. Enemy blood drenched him from hoof to ears.

  Brutal, the High King, the latest scion of a long and noble line, stood aghast as Wolf and his bloody mount bore down upon him at a gallop. His fingers clenched the armored arm of the nearest trooper, his dead eyes now alive in his panic. Ten or twelve soldiers recovered enough to close ranks, offering a shield against our onslaught. Still others fired their crossbows, hoping to take Wolf down be
fore he reached their King. Swords gleamed in the dim light of the moon.

  The enormous fighting machine of horse and rider romped like the god of death himself through the ranks, maiming and killing any still foolish enough to stand in its path.

  Men scattered to each side, falling, clutching swords raised to strike at the huge shadow that pushed past, and missed, their blades spun from their grips without harm. Dead bodies littered the cobbles, acting as stumbling blocks for those who still sought to fight and kill, tripping helplessly and ignominiously flat on their backs.

  Brutal, undefended now, stood almost alone and nearly defenseless. Die, coward, I half-thought, unable to connect coherent thoughts together.

  Of course, Brutal did what any good coward would do under the circumstances.

  He fainted.

  Weakened legs crumbled beneath his suddenly dead weight, his eyes rolled up into his head; I saw the light of the moon glinting off those pure white spheres. He fell bonelessly to the cobbles among the corpses of his loyal men. Wolf’s sword whistled over Brutal’s sagging head, cutting hair not flesh. Brutal’s lifeless brown hair drifted slowly downward in a spiral to land on his limp shoulder.

  I forced my grief aside as more troopers ran out from behind homes and warehouses in a vain attempt to halt our flight. Rygel’s sword rose and fell, catching any who escaped Wolf’s onslaught. My pair of swords, one in each hand, caught many a gallant trooper on their blades. I had received the best possible training from the best arms masters that had ever lived. I could fight equally well with either hand, each blade working independent of the other.

  The fight ended as the last line against us fled, not yet willing to die for their King. We galloped madly into the darkness, leaving the dead, and the bloody wounded, and the frightened, panicky living behind.

  Brutal killed Kel’Ratan. He murdered a good man, my cousin, my best friend. The scene replayed inside my head, the bolt striking Kel’Ratan in the chest. My heart wailed silently, the pain stabbing deep once more. Kel’Ratan! Where have you gone? Tears fell unchecked to splash upon my saddlebow. Kel’Ratan! Come back! You swore to never leave me! You broke your sacred oath. You left me behind! Come back!