Coragan slapped the spindly branch from before his face and ducked to avoid another. They were all about him, low-hanging trees that surrounded the road and grasped at him like dead, skeletal hands. Behind him, the wolves were closing, drawing ever nearer. He could hear them in the woods, racing along at breakneck speeds. Some even seemed to be overtaking them. Coragan and his companions were riding hard down the old road toward the river. Why the river, he did not know, but it was Borak’s idea; what the man knew and how he knew it, he had yet to reveal—they did not have the time—but without Borak, he and Galladrin would surely be dead.
Death. To dance with the Scythe-Bearer. It must come to all in time, but if Coragan had his way, the Death Lord’s Sickle would find no mark tonight. At least not amongst them. Now, as for Lucian ...
A great snarling grey wolf leaped out from the trees ahead. It ran across the path and howled, nipping at the heels of Borak’s horse. In response, the horse kicked wildly, but as quickly as the wolf appeared it just as quickly vanished among the trees on his right. Coragan frowned. That had seemed like an attack meant to frighten ... a deliberate attempt to panic the horse, but that was impossible. Wolves were only animals, after all. Surely, they could not think like that! Off to the left, more dark shapes were flitting among the trees.
Cursing, Coragan let one hand slide free of the reins and reached down to grab his crossbow. He unhooked the thong from his hip and pulled the weapon up. It wasn’t loaded. “This is going to be fun,” he muttered. He pinned the crossbow against his side with one elbow in a precarious position. He knew that at any moment the reins might jerk and pull the weapon loose, but unfortunately, there was no other place he could put it while riding at full gallop. He reached over his back and grabbed a quarrel. Another wolf appeared.
This time the creature came for Coragan. It charged head on down the path with jaws gaping wide and eyes burning with lupine fury. White saliva dripped from a great red tongue and great puffs of steam thundered forth from a fiercesome maw. Coragan swore. He had seen some strange things tonight but this was utterly insane. One on one, wolves simply did not charge mounted men. Perhaps, a lone man on a crippled horse in midwinter, or an injured footman. But a man on horse at full gallop? Never! They should be swarming around, trying to overwhelm with sheer numbers. Not this—
He pulled the quarrel from its quiver and jerked the reins to the side as the wolf leaped up. The great paws came down, bracing across the horse’s flank while the creature’s jaws lunged toward the bounty hunter’s throat.
Coragan reared back with the bolt and stabbed. Though not a dagger it possessed a sharp point and a sturdy shaft. The make-shift hand weapon drove into the wolf’s neck, and for a brief moment, the bounty hunter felt a warm liquid burble across his hand. The wolf’s jaws snapped shut inches from his face, then the creature’s head jerked to the side and pulled the quarrel from Coragan’s grasp. The beast tumbled to the ground and yelped as it fell beneath his horse. Glancing back, the bounty hunter saw a shadow rise up from the dirt. It wobbled a moment, then limped to the shelter of the nearby trees.
Looking down, Coragan grimaced. In all the tossing and bumping his crossbow had fallen free. By some miracle it had tangled itself in his stirrup. Unfortunately, at full gallop the weapon hung very much beyond his reach. Though secure for the moment, he knew he would need it soon.
Ahead he could see the river, perhaps fifty horse strides away. It cut a dark swathe across the ground, snaking through the tangling trees like a great serpent through grass. The road he followed led straight to it, then bent down to run along beside it. Over the din of pounding hooves, he faintly heard the sounds of splashing currents.
Another wolf appeared on the path and Coragan drew his sword. The wolf paused in the center of the road and three more dark shapes circled out to join it. They joined together as one, then spread out like a fan. A line. A defensive line. Scattered from one side of the road to the other in a stagger formation, the four wolves formed a menacing barrier between man and river. As Coragan watched, he vividly recalled the behavior of the rat in the mirror room. The rodent had appeared as if beckoned and had made short work of Galladrin’s rose. Servants. Rats and wolves. They all served Lucian.
Up ahead, Borak slowed. Without a weapon he had little chance against four mad wolves, particularly ones guided by a scheming intelligence. The warrior needed his one good hand for the reins, and without it he could not wield his axe. Further down the road, Galladrin fared no better, perhaps even a little worse. The rogue’s frantic horse bucked and snorted furiously, every breath drawing the scent of the wolves that hunted them. An inexperienced rider, Galladrin was having a difficult time staying in the saddle. There was no possibility of a charge on his part.
“I guess it’s up to me,” Coragan muttered. “I just wish I had a spear.” He dug his heels into his horse’s side and the stallion surged forward. The wolves saw him coming and howled a challenge. Then, as one, they moved to meet him. Horse and wolves clashed and Coragan lay about with his sword, hacking and slashing. But the dark shapes kept coming. Great white teeth snapped; sometimes at the horse, sometimes at the reins themselves, but more often than not they were directed at the man.
Coragan swung and cut a solid blow across the eyes of the first wolf; if such a beast could be said to scream, scream it surely did. Howling and crying, it fell to the ground in violent paroxysms of pain. Frantically, it kicked its paws in the air, then rolled spasmodically onto its back. It twisted to all fours, driving its head into the ground, then began to run; not straight and away, but round and round with its face in the dirt as if trying to spin like a top. Coragan would have finished it, but his blade was too short and the wolf too near the ground. Again, he found himself wishing for a spear.
Without warning, Coragan’s horse began to panic. A beast not trained for war and battle, it reared up, whinnying in terror despite Coragan’s skill. Coragan scrabbled desperately for a handhold, nearly dropping his sword in the process, then dug his knees into the stallion’s sides and wrapped his hand tightly about the reins. The horse’s forehooves hit the ground with a thud and it began kicking wildly in all directions. It caught one wolf in the ribs with a hoof and sent the creature sprawling across the road. Coragan rocked forward with the concussion and nearly lost his balance. At the last moment, he caught himself and braced his forearm across the horse’s neck. Again, the stallion lurched up, and this time he fell from its back and landed hard in the dirt.
Almost immediately, the forest came alive. Wolves were everywhere. His horse went down screaming beneath a swarm of black shapes. Stumbling to his feet, Coragan lifted his sword, then stared at the scene in growing horror. His horse lay on the ground struggling, while about it ten wolves churned in frenzy. They snapped and tore, ripping terrible wounds in the animal’s sides and withers. Whatever force had driven them to attack the man and not the beast was gone. They seemed driven by hunger now, and in moments had killed the horse and begun to feed. Coragan continued to watch in fascination: for the moment, they seemed to have forgotten him and his companions.
To the right, and just up ahead he could see Borak astride his horse. Man and beast edged toward the river, steering wide of the feeding wolves. The warrior, a well-trained horseman, found that that proximity tested even his formidable skills. His horse snorted nervously, fidgeting about in wide-eyed terror, ready to break into a run at the slightest provocation.
A little ways back, Galladrin still struggled to control his own horse. Where Borak’s horse stood shaking, Galladrin’s pawed the dirt and bucked violently. Suddenly, it bolted. The horse launched forward down the road, startling the wolves and drawing two from their meal. They snapped at its heels, but it raced away. Somehow, the rogue managed to guide the frantic beast and it plunged headlong into the river. The wolves howled at the edge of the water but did not enter.
Cautiously, Coragan moved to the side of the road, giving the feeding wolves a wide berth. He signaled
Borak to proceed, and the warrior nudged his horse closer to the river.
Coragan stopped. On the ground, a short distance from the wolves, his crossbow lay tangled in the stirrup. If he could get it, he could ... what? Sit up in a tree and pick the wolves off? He had only ten quarrels left, enough for the wolves here if he downed one every time, but he could hear the sounds of others approaching. Still, it was a handy weapon to have. After deliberating for a moment, he decided to take a chance and crept toward the weapon, crawling quietly on his hands and knees.
The growling wolves ripped into horse flesh with their teeth, and slobbered white foam and blood. Coragan paused. Ahead of him, two wolves started quarreling. A large brown wolf feeding on a leg snapped at a smaller grey that had come too close. The small grey snarled in reply, then yelped as the brown bit it in the shoulder and shook it to the side. After a brief scuffle, the grey broke free and limped away. It wisely sought meat elsewhere, circling to the other side and sinking its teeth into the horse’s back. Coragan suppressed a sigh of relief as the wolves went back to their meal. The large wolf stood with its back to him and like the grey fed voraciously. If any wolf saw him, it would be the great black one on the far side next to the grey. Positioned directly across from him, the creature only had to look up and it could not help but see him. Coragan crept forward. He was almost there ... another two feet. He stopped, reaching with his hand and stretching his arm to the fullest. Now, just inches away, he dragged his knee another step ...
A blood-covered muzzle looked up from its meal and yellow lupine eyes locked on his face. Coragan met the stare and froze. He forced the air slowly from his lungs and took a calm and deliberate breath, all the while praying his heart did not burst inside his chest. The black wolf growled in warning, sputtering blood and saliva. He was so close. He could feel the crosspiece of the weapon beneath his fingers. If he could just ... Coragan closed his hand and pulled away. Without hesitation, the wolf charged.
Coragan backpedaled toward the river, whipping his sword before him while the great black wolf rushed forward with three others in its train. The bounty hunter, on foot now, with no horse between him and their teeth, and no one to back him up in battle, steeled himself for a terrible onslaught. He slashed at the first wolf as it approached and drew a mortal gash across the beast’s throat. It spurted blood, yet the creature continued forward, its advance unfazed. Its jaws clamped shut on the edge of Coragan’s cloak and gave the fabric a violent yank. He fell to one knee as the beast thrashed its head. The bounty hunter struggled to rise, but another wrench pulled him back down. He heard a tearing sound and the fabric ripped away. The wolf shook its head a moment, gnawing on the piece of wool. Realizing its prey was free, it stepped forward, then collapsed.
Before Coragan could recover, another wolf leapt toward him, its paws extended as if it had claws and its drooling mouth opened wide to reveal its vicious teeth. The bounty hunter stumbled backward and fell on his back. Desperately, he lifted his sword as the wolf came down. The lupine eyes registered an almost human level of surprise as it landed on the blade. Its body slid down the metal, and warm blood flowed across Coragan’s shirt.
Suddenly, pain shot through the bounty hunter’s arm and agony along his shoulder. With a shove, Coragan toppled the dead wolf from his chest, braced it against his feet and pulled his weapon free. He ignored the mounting torture and stabbed past his ear, eliciting a pained yelp. He gained perhaps a heartbeat’s respite while the wolf recovered, then it leapt on him again, snapping and snarling. As Coragan struggled, the fourth wolf appeared, snapping its jaws onto his boot. It found only weak purchase on the thick leather, but it kept the bounty hunter trapped on the ground. He kicked at the newcomer once, then slashed at the wolf behind him. Both times he failed to find a solid mark and the wolves returned in fury.
There was a flash of movement and something blue. The wolf behind him yelped in pain, then stopped moving. “Need some help?” Galladrin asked, pulling his rapier from the body. Coragan almost smiled. The rogue, dripping wet from head to toe, his dark hair clinging to his face, nearly looked the part of a lost, homeless beggar. His tattered, ruined shirt left much of his torso exposed, and the third of a cloak hanging from his neck certainly failed to compensate. His nose, red from cold, and his pale, purple lips, only added to the effect. He would have looked comical if not for the blood on his blade and shirt, and the pack of wolves around them.
Coragan grunted in reply, then struggled to his feet. Free of one assailant, he turned to face the other. He struck out with his sword and found his mark. The fourth wolf yelped a final time, then fell to the ground with his blade buried in its chest. Unfortunately, other dark shapes now gathered.
The wolves had grown in number and they spread out before the two men in a wide array. Coragan counted twelve shapes on the road and saw more flickering amongst the trees on either side.
“Let’s head back toward the river,” Galladrin said. “They don’t seem to like the water much. There’s a small island where we can hold up.” The rogue seemed all too calm for Coragan’s taste. For himself, his blood raced and his breath came short.
Coragan forced himself to relax as they backed toward the banks. “Borak?”
“He’s already there, looking after our two remaining horses. He’s alive, but I’ve seen him looking better ... he said to hurry.”
Both bounty hunter and rogue edged cautiously toward the river, unwilling to turn their backs. The wolves advanced snarling, yet slowly, and always with their eyes locked on the two men. Coragan felt numb with apprehension. What are they waiting for? Suddenly, a flurry of activity arose on either side. Leaves and twigs crackled and two pairs of wolves charged toward the men from either flank. Tactics? They’re trying to outflank us?
Both men turned as one, ran the remaining few steps, and dove headfirst into the icy currents of the forest river.
Drasmyr (Prequel: From the Ashes of Ruin) Page 32