Catch a Wolf Page 3

  Though my father’s younger brother’s son, he was more than my cousin. He stood beside my cradle when I was born, my mother’s birth blood still on my swaddling bands. Ten years old, he was, cutting his arm with his sword. Bathing his own blood on the steel, that same sword now clutched in my grip, he swore a sacred oath to protect me always. An oath he had sworn, a holy oath on our Lady’s honor, to never leave my side while I yet lived. More tears rolled down my cheeks, I choked back a sob. Kel’Ratan! Don’t leave me!

  Inside my grief, a new emotion rose.

  Rage.

  He’d been murdered by that brutal scoundrel. By escaping Wolf’s blade, High King Brutal failed to pay for his crime. He must pay for Kel’Ratan’s life with his own.

  Brutal yet lived. He fainted and escaped Wolf’s wrath.

  He’d not escape mine.

  I reined Mikk in. He half-reared as his quarters slid under him, his legs splayed. His hooves skidded across slick cobbles. A reddish haze crossed my vision. My fury soared on swift wings, blinding me to all that was sensible and sane. Brutal killed Kel’Ratan, the best of men. Vengeance was mine, my right, as his nearest blood kin.

  I wheeled Mikk about with my knees. He obeyed, skidding to a stop, turning, half-rearing, shaking his head.

  “Ly’Tana!”

  Wolf’s deep shout made me hesitate, look back. He and Rygel had also reined in, their mounts curveting and plunging. I heard their shouts, witnessed their frantic gestures. Come back!

  My fury overrode their shouts. Under my hate, my blood-rage, sanity and good sense fled.

  I spun both swords in my fists as Mikk reared high, screaming his war challenge to the night. He danced with the shadows, his front hooves boxing the air. Joy mixed with the fury rushing through my veins. I felt deliciously hot, seeking Brutal through the red crossing my sight.

  The swords in my fists spun again, living steel in my hands, the souls of the blades crying out for revenge. Thirsty for blood, they sang in my hands, cutting the air with shrill cries. I, Brutal’s chosen archenemy, gave them voice, caused them to sing. ’Twas easy to make them spin, to make them sing. Just the right flicks of my wrists….

  Nudging Mikk with my heel set him to prancing sideways, his neck arched. Sharp snorts timed perfectly with his dancing hooves resounded through the now silent darkness. I spun my bloodthirsty swords, hearing their pleas for the blood of those who killed Kel’Ratan.

  The royal troopers, those healthy enough to find me threat enough, surrounded Brutal as Mikk and I approached. Toward their bared swords I rode, his trot so smooth I could have poured wine into a chalice of silver without spilling a single drop. Mikk danced closer, striking fire from beneath his hooves, sparks that lit the night like summer stars falling to earth.

  “Ly’Tana!”

  I ignored Wolf’s shout as I might ignore a buzzing fly. Brutal shoved his troopers out, away and toward me, commanding they die for him. The heat in my blood rose higher, my rage climbing until I could scarcely see through the haze. Come here, you pig.

  Mikk waltzed closer. The song of my swords rose in a sharp crescendo, hoof-spun sparks brilliant light in the deep darkness.

  “What’s got into her?” Wolf’s voice demanded.

  “Ma’aliki’kai.”

  “In my language!”

  “Battle madness!” the harsh voice roared. “She’s out of her mind!”

  Not really, I half-thought. I’m pissed.

  I halted my swords’ song at the same moment I gripped Mikk with both knees. He reared again, readying himself, bunching his quarters, to charge.

  I screamed a single name.

  “Brutal!”

  He heard me. Frantic, ducking behind his men, he urged them forward. With curses, with striking hands, Brutal forced his soldiers out and away, facing my attack. They reluctantly obeyed, loading crossbows, leveling swords, their eyes shifting toward one another uneasily.

  Mikk’s front hooves struck the cobbles. He broke into a dead gallop as I raised both swords. Die, Brutal.

  He slithered to a rearing halt as a black shadow blocked his path.

  My lifted swords dropped and the red haze receded a fraction as Rygel’s black gelding raised his front hooves, boxing Mikk’s face. Forced to duck aside, Mikk leaped sideways, dodging the blows and sliding on the cobbles. Regaining his balance, Mikk leaped forward under my knees at the same moment Rygel’s firm hand clamped down on his bridle.

  Mikk slewed to the side, the slick footing beneath his hooves more treacherous than Rygel’s actions. His mane in my face, blinded by red and black, I blinked away tears and raised both blades.

  “Princess—”

  I cut off his one choked word with one sweep of my steel.

  The world stopped dead.

  He stared deep into my eyes. My arms crossed, my right sword threatened the left side of his throat. My left sword tickled his carotid on his right. Should I wrench my arms outward, his head would spin off his neck, spraying purple blood. I half-wondered if he prayed I do that very thing and end his pain forever. I tilted my head to one side, considering. Kill him and Brutal both. After all, Rygel and Brutal hated me anyway because of a peculiar happenstance that I’d been born female.

  Beyond Rygel’s wild mane of wheaten hair, the King’s soldiers hustled Brutal back, shielding him. Cavalry recovered enough to trot forward, their mounts sluggish, lining the street between me and my prey.

  The heat hadn’t departed my veins, nor had good sense returned. Someone had to pay for Kel’Ratan. Since Rygel stopped me from killing the true villain, perhaps his blood might suffice.

  “Princess.”

  Rygel’s soft voice didn’t entreat. It didn’t beg. His amber eyes showed no fear, nor did his body try to retreat. With his black horse quiet, lathered and blowing, he waited for me to see sense.

  “Ly’Tana!”

  While I’d not turn my head and take my eyes from my enemy, I did slide my chin over my shoulder slightly. In my peripheral vision, I saw Wolf waving both arms over his head.

  “He’s alive! Kel’Ratan isn’t dead.”

  Kel’Ratan? Alive?

  I looked back at my former betrothed as he cursed his soldiers, cuffing their heads, ordering them to loose their bolts. Despite his need to catch me alive, I suspected he gave up on that notion and wanted me dead instead of free. Casting quick nervous glances in my direction, they cocked the arms of their crossbows, inserting the bolts, lifting them, aiming—

  My glance found his.

  His skin met my steel as he dropped his head once, in a short nod. “It’s true, Princess.”

  Like a dropped anvil, my rage fell apart. With Kel’Ratan alive, I’d no need to avenge his death. The red haze wavered and collapsed. I relaxed my hands and my swords fell away from Rygel’s neck. Thin tendrils of blood seeped where the edges caught him, yet Rygel dipped his brow in a quick bow. “We should—”

  “I know.”

  With a sword in each hand, my reins slack on Mikk’s neck, I squeezed hard with my knees. Mikk climbed the moonlit air again, wheeling on his haunches. He screamed his war cry to the gods themselves, his challenge echoing through the silent streets. Before his front hooves even hit the cobbles, he lunged forward. He was in a dead run the instant his hooves struck the ground, carrying me back toward Wolf and Kel’Ratan.

  His black pounding hard behind us, Rygel’s magic shielded us from the soldier’s belatedly loosed bolts. Steel-tipped warheads dropped to the stonework behind our galloping heels, or whined off his shield, lost in the darkness. The royal troopers, and Brutal, fell far behind and vanished behind several streets and rounded corners.

  “Grab my reins,” Rygel ordered me tersely. “Keep my horse running straight.”

  I obeyed. I awkwardly sheathed my bloody sword to free up a hand. With Kel’Ratan’s sword in my right hand, I took the black’s rein in my left. I had no limbs available for Mikk’s reins. Leaving them lax on his neck, I guided him solely by my knees. I leane
d back to ease Mikk’s heavy gallop to keep him side-by-side with the slower black gelding.

  Hands now free, Rygel put them on Kel’Ratan’s head as Wolf shifted Rufus closer to Rygel’s horse. I glanced about us, seeing the dark homes and buildings fly past, hearing the occasional dog bark as we galloped by, the sound receding into the distance quickly.

  Kel’Ratan’s bay stallion galloped just behind me and to my right, free of any constraint. As our warhorses had more intelligence and loyalty than the average horse, I wasn’t much surprised. Kel’Ratan had raised this stallion from a foal, nursed him with his own hands after his dam died delivering him. The bay adored Kel’Ratan, as blindly devoted as any worshiper to his god.

  Feeling eyes upon me, I looked up and to my left, over Rygel’s bent head. Wolf stared at me with that inhuman, predatory cold stare. His eyes, icy grey with that strange ring of black watched me, unblinking. How many men met those dreadful eyes before they died? All memory of our kisses, the bond shared between us, fled under the chill of those cursed eyes.

  Kel’Ratan’s sword, much heavier than mine, dragged at my right arm. How in Nephrotiti’s name had I spun it, made it sing? Could I defend myself with it, should Wolf choose to attack? Unable to look away, I rode, mesmerized by their icy chill.

  “You little fool,” Wolf growled. He sounded more wolflike than ever. “What the bloody hell were you doing?”

  “Leave her alone. It’s not her fault.”

  Rygel’s calm voice broke my trance. I dragged my eyes away from Wolf’s, and studied instead the cobbled stones before Mikk’s galloping hooves. I almost killed an innocent, a friend. Had I sliced Rygel’s head from his shoulders, I’d have also slain Kel’Ratan. Brutal may have struck the blow, but my swords finished the task. My guilt was a great as his. The memory of my rage seemed distant and indistinct, yet I still found the flavor when I thought of Kel’Ratan dead. Had he died….

  “I guess I lost my mind for a moment,” I murmured.

  “Lost your—” Wolf choked.

  My fury flared anew. “What would you do if you lost your best friend to that murdering fiend?”

  Wolf cut his eyes to Rygel, then averted them just as quickly. He shut his teeth, his silence speaking volumes. Had Rygel died, Brutal could never escape Wolf’s bloodthirsty vengeance. I knew he wanted to say more, saw it in his clenched fists and tight expression. Yet, he kept his comments behind shut teeth.

  Just as well. If he wanted a fight, verbal or otherwise, I’d be happy to oblige.

  Several moments and many blocks later, two dark shadows emerged from the darkness and stood in the street to await us. Corwyn and his charges. By mutual voiceless consent, Wolf and I slowed our mounts, keeping the black gelding between us. Rygel remained in his spell as we slowed from a fast gallop before sliding to a halt beside Corwyn’s horses.

  They had waited quite some time for us, evidenced by Tor’s indolent body. He faced backward over the grey mare’s rump, leaning against Arianne’s back and yawning mightily. Less at home on a horse than Tor, Arianne still clutched the mare’s mane in both fists, her knuckles white.

  Corwyn eyed us calmly, taking in Kel’Ratan and Rygel, his blue eyes venturing from my dress, now more red than white, to Wolf’s evident anger. “What kept you?”

  Wolf snorted. “Don’t get me started.”

  “Raine?”

  Arianne’s timid voice softened the black scowl on Wolf’s face. Its hard planes softened, his arctic grey eyes warmed enough to quiet my anger. He conjured up a small smile for her, his hand reaching out to pull the midnight hair from her tiny face.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” he said. “I’ll never not listen to you again.”

  Her face brightened immediately.

  Corwyn nodded at Kel’Ratan, still slumped over Wolf’s saddlebow. “Will he live?”

  Panic at the thought of Kel’Ratan dying surfaced once more, my heart hurting physically. Treacherous tears trailed down my cheeks, my throat shut down so tight I couldn’t breathe. I closed my eyes, silently reciting a calming chant my arms master taught me long ago, designed to return my focus, set me back onto the path of serenity and courage. My breath returned slowly, and with it a new determination.

  The distraction helped loosen pain in my chest a fraction. I could look at Kel’Ratan’s still form and Rygel’s bent head without howling to the moon like a lunatic. I could breathe—a bit.

  Wolf watched me with worry, his icy eyes now filled with compassion. Till now, I never noticed how easily his eyes could be read, as though his every emotion showed through clearly, even if his facial muscles never moved. A strange, yet attractive feature the man owned.

  Rygel stirred, shaking his wheaten head as if to clear it, straightening slowly in his saddle. He answered Corwyn’s question, since neither Wolf nor I could.

  “Yes,” he said slowly. “He’ll live if we can get him to a safer place where I can work on him.”

  My heart ceased its wretched silent wailing, and sang in joy, much like my swords had done.

  “The bolt missed his heart,” Rygel went on, sweat tickling down his cheek. “But I have to get him somewhere quiet and soon. The arrow’s lodged in his lung. He’s bleeding into it and still may drown in his own blood.”

  “How soon?”

  Rygel took his reins back. “Now. He’ll die within the hour.”

  Wolf cocked his head, considering his blood brother through narrowed eyes. “Unless?”

  “Unless I get him to the monastery,” Rygel replied, his tone sharp. “But you need me to get you out of this hell-hole first.”

  “I think—” I began

  “Don’t bother,” Rygel snapped. “Come on. We ride.”

  Arianne took a tighter hold on the mare’s grey mane. Tor turned around, raising his butt off the mare’s rump with his hands, lifting a leg and rotating his body around. The mare took his action philosophically, sighing down her nose. Corwyn reined his ugly roan about, taking the mare and her passengers with him, to a spot behind Wolf. Rygel took the lead, nudging his black into a brisk trot.

  Beside me, Wolf edged Rufus close to Mikk, our legs tangled together in our stirrups.

  “I apologize for being angry,” he said softly, his face near my ear. “But if you ever scare me like that again, I’ll—”

  I quirked a brow. “You’ll what?”

  “Spank you.”

  I lifted my head and stared down my nose, giving him my most imperious expression. “You’ll try.”

  His eyes flicked to my bow and empty quiver. A faint grin surfaced and disappeared quickly. “Shrew.”

  “Beast.”

  “Bitch.”

  “Ugly oaf.”

  “The gates are just ahead,” Rygel called over his shoulder. “Around that next bend. Once we strike the plaza, we need to charge as fast as our horses can gallop.”

  “Then what?” I asked.

  Rygel turned his head over his shoulder again, briefly. I caught a quick grin more wolfish than Wolf’s. I decided henceforth to keep such silly questions behind my teeth.

  Forced to flog his exhausted black into a faster pace, Rygel lashed his reins across the gelding’s neck. His horse lurched into a shambling run, then picked up speed, leading the charge across the plaza. Torches flared in the distance, marking the big gates, shut and stoutly barred for the night. I spotted smaller flares of flame tossing back and forth as gate guards heard the thunder of hooves marking our approach and ran to their defenses. What defense could they launch in the face of Rygel’s magic? Hadn’t I learned, along with Brutal and Theodoric and Ja’Teel, never underestimate him?

  His plan was both simple and effective. He blasted the gates into exploding shards, and sent the watch guards flying. Gouts of flame climbed high and lit up the night sky as the noise of his blast echoed throughout the quarter. A spectacular fire gobbled greedily at the huge gateposts, setting nearby buildings aflame. Men cried and screamed, some shouted orders, many others spew
ed either curses or prayers. Most fled from the conflagration in terror, too many with their clothes on fire. Yes Brutal’s simple, run of the mill soldiers fled for their lives.

  Rygel never does anything by halves, I thought, grinning.

  Splinters and chunks of burning wood cascaded around us as we galloped madly through the smoke and chaos. Only a few soldiers had wit enough to fire their crossbows. In their panic, their aim flew wide or fell short of their mark. We rode well out of arrow range, bolts and firelight within moments.

  Rygel reined his lathered and panting black to a halt nearly a mile from the flaming gates. We slowed to gather around him in a half-circle as he wheeled about to face us. I brushed my fingers over Kel’Ratan’s drooping mane of red hair, wishing briefly he’d raise his face and say something—anything—to me. Kel’Ratan! Don’t die on me now.

  “My prince,” Rygel said, offering Wolf a hasty half-salute. “I’ll have to go on without you.”

  “What?” I almost screamed. “What about—”

  His tawny glance shocked me into stillness. “I’m taking Kel’Ratan with me.”

  Even Wolf eyed him with a weird mixture of faith, worry and panic. “What do you mean?”

  Rygel slid from his gelding’s saddle and tossed the reins to me. “He’ll not survive the ride to the monastery. I’ll transport us both to a place where I can work on him.”

  “Er,” Wolf began. “Transport?”

  “Not enough bloody time to explain.” Rygel stalked to Wolf’s flashy bay. “Give him to me.”

  Obedient, Wolf allowed Rygel to drag Kel’Ratan’s inert body onto his sturdy strength. Ducking to swing Kel’Ratan’s arm over his shoulder, he straightened. My cousin half-stood, half-lay across Rygel’s broad shoulders, his damp red hair concealing his face.

  “Ride to Jefe as planned,” Rygel ordered crisply. “I’ll meet you there.”

  “But—”

  Rygel shrugged Kel’Ratan more comfortably over his back. “Make me breakfast when I get in,” he said, grinning.