Lupine [Moon Child Series Book 2]

by Candy Nicks

  "You're a coward who hides behind a woman's skirt."

  The insult was lost on Finn, but not on Ancel.

  "Kandar. You realise what you've just said?"

  "I'll write a song about it. Finn—the man who never left his mother's breast. The man who wouldn't fight for his woman's honour."

  "You're drunk.” Ancel weighed up the situation, twirled the knife and re-sheathed it in one smooth movement. “Go home and sleep it off. Finn, I apologise for the insult. I hope you will excuse my guest's indiscretion."

  "I'm no coward. I just don't want to fight"

  It was like trying to hold down a volcano by sheer force of will. Naima didn't dare let go. Finn showed no sign of giving ground, despite his reluctance to fight.

  Kandar, instead of backing off, dipped low and scooped up his glove.

  "This woman belonged to me until you turned her head. Fight me for her, you coward. It's my right to challenge your claim.” The glove flew through the air, hitting Finn on the cheek, dislodging his eyeshades. He clawed at his face and re-adjusted them, blinking away the sudden brightness.

  "Don't provoke me,” he said. “If you fight me, you won't win. I don't want your blood on my hands."

  "You're terribly sure of yourself."

  "Oh yes."

  "Move away from Naima and we'll settle this now."

  Finn stepped sideways. Before Naima could follow, Ancel yanked her away again. This time his tone invited no argument.

  "Never stand between two fighting men,” he said. “You'll only make things worse. It's you they're fighting over."

  "Yes.” Her mouth was almost too dry to form words. The two men were circling, Finn moving in time with Kandar in a stance that appeared more defensive than adversarial. Naima had no real understanding of battle tactics; she could only feel the emotion pouring from Finn and hope she was reading it right.

  Ancel stepped fearlessly back into the fray. “Stand down, both of you. Right now,” he ordered. “Come inside and we'll talk this out."

  Kandar's laugh echoed about the courtyard. “You've gone soft, Ancel of Faylar. Talk? You could talk this idiot into the ground and still have to knock some sense into his head. I demand the right to fight for your daughter."

  "And I refuse you that right,” Ancel said. “I've given my daughter leave to choose her own husband."

  "You would sully your name with this? Do we even know which tribe he belongs to?"

  Finn lifted his head, tilting his chin proudly. “Romana, I was born in Romana."

  Kandar threw up his hands in mock horror. “Travellers? Could this get any worse? Naima's a pure-bred Faylar. I can't believe you'd allow this."

  "How dare you!” Naima snapped. Ducking under her father's arm, she launched herself at Kandar, circling his biceps with both of her arms. “I challenge you,” she cried. “For the honour of Faylar, fight me."

  He was as immovable as Mount Helios, shaking her off as if she were a flea. Stumbling, she fell to the ground. Kandar immediately bent to help her up only to find himself flat on his back beside her, Ancel towering over him, his fist tightly clenched from the punch he'd landed on Kandar's face.

  Naima rolled and leaped to her feet. Carine stood to one side, pale-faced and clutching at the swing-chair post for support. Finn was at the edge of patio, bent at the waist, fighting for breath. Feeding off the heady cocktail of emotion.

  "I can't fight it,” he said. “Help me."

  "You won't have to fight him.” Ancel kicked Kandar with his boot. “Get up and go home. When you're sober, you can offer formal apology for this insult.” He offered Kandar his hand and waited while the man wiped away the blood pouring from his nose. Kandar took the hand and allowed himself to be hauled upright. A mark of deference for his transgression.

  "You are a true Eagle warrior,” Ancel told him and briefly touched a fist to his heart. “I salute that. But, never forget, we're not in Eyrie now. I won't have my family or my blood insulted, do you hear?"

  Naima watched Finn battling for control, hoping the lull might have calmed him. Mindful of her father's words, she held back, not wanting to increase the swirl of emotion by adding her own.

  "Hold on, Finn.” She spoke quietly, glad that her father and Kandar had ceased shouting at each other. Finn needed calm, time for the violent emotion to dissipate.

  And so did Carine. She returned a weak smile when Naima raised her eyebrows in question. Carine's skin had turned the colour of unfired pot-clay and she remained upright only because her hands appeared to have locked themselves around the post and refused to let her fall.

  Kandar shook his head, spraying bright droplets of blood onto the paving stones. He jammed a sleeve under his gushing nose. “I hear,” he said thickly. “You ignore me at your peril. Look at that. What the hell's wrong with him?"

  Kandar remained relentless, a juggernaut determined to trample everything in its path. Finn's face twisted in agony. He glanced at Naima just as Carine's hands finally gave up the struggle to hold on to the post and allowed her to crumple slowly to the patio. The dull crack of her skull on the stones had Ancel bellowing out her name in shock. At that moment, Sol appeared in the doorway, his arms full of wooden horses, eyes round as the twin moons.

  Naima stood frozen in place, unable to decide which of the two people she loved to go to first. Ancel had Carine safe—she took a step towards her, weighing that up in two heartbeats. But when she spun around to help Finn, the space where he'd been kneeling was empty.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 11

  She hadn't chosen him. Finn skulked in the shadows of an unfamiliar street and gave full rein to the oh-so-familiar self pity. Away from the drama, he'd managed to get a grip on his wolf and subdue the urge to rip Kandar's throat out.

  What now? He backed into a wall and slid down the stones to the dirt floor. Pain ripped through his chest, making it hard to breathe and harder to harness his wolf's sight. No energy left for the beast, leaving the man cast adrift in a strange world.

  Why hadn't she followed him? He screwed up his eyes and stared into the light, searching for the shape of her. Every sense strained for her footsteps, her scent. The lilt of her voice. Nothing, except for the sound of what he supposed might be the clop of horse's hooves on stone and the whine of the wind funnelling down the narrow space between a wall and a row of low buildings. A knot of disappointment twisted in his gut. How naïve they'd been to expect him to fit into a society he had no experience of.

  He tipped back his head and breathed deeply and evenly, forcing his hammering heart to slow down. The years of programming wouldn't be broken in the blink of an eye. When provoked, his wolf appeared—up until now things had been that simple. Now life was happening so fast, he couldn't process it. The complexities of living with others remained completely beyond him.

  Which way had he run? He remembered the grass beneath his boots, the rough scratch of stone on his fingers. The guilty relief of being away from the watching eyes, at last. Was he near the house, far from it? He had no idea how much ground he'd covered.

  Something wet landed on his cheek. Rain? He held out his hand and caught the cold splashes on his palm, heard the pattering of the drops hitting the earth. Pressing his back to the wall, he pulled off his eyeshades, tilted his face to the sky and offered himself to the elements. A million new experiences awaited him out here in the world, yet back at the house, he'd begun to feel that he'd simply exchanged one prison for another.

  He listened to the lulling music of the rain and, when the downpour eased, shook out his hair and dried his eyes with his knuckles. How could he go back, knowing Kandar would be waiting? Whatever Ancel said, Finn had recognised the challenge.

  He thought of Carine, pretending she didn't care a jot about Paradise or the Pit. All through the meal, she'd struggled against the effects of the poison tainting her blood. Finn put his head in his hands. The faint smell of her festering wound had pleased him. If Carine died, so did
the stupid notion that he could help redeem her. Was it so wrong to put his own life above those of others? He pondered the question, sitting with his knees drawn up, waiting for someone to find him. Naima would understand why he'd bolted. He'd kiss her, make love to her and tell her how sorry he was. And then...

  And then she'd spend the rest of her life leading him around, speaking for him, dressing him. And he'd spend the rest of his life letting her.

  He lifted his head and turned it to the left, to the right. He remembered the wall, the compacted earth dotted with grasses and wild plants beneath his feet. The rain puddling on the ground smelled sweet and clean, the soaked earth beneath it rich and complex.

  He sniffed and caught the distant scent of roasting meat overlaid with the stench of animals and other smells for which he had no words. Music drifted on the thermals, familiar, like a distant memory. He cocked his head and heard the piping of a carousel, the sound of children squealing with delight. The crack of a whip. Men's voices. His hackles rose and he began to shake as the wind cooled his wet skin. Freedom wasn't just the absence of a cage, he realised. If he lived in fear of discovery, he'd never find peace.

  Dead or alive? What price had they put on his head? He hauled himself upright, using the wall as a marker and crept along its length, his body pressed to the cold stone. The brief rest provided some meagre energy for his wolf. Through its eyes, he saw another higher wall set with a pair of sturdy wooden gates that were propped open and guarded by a pair of bored-looking men holding blast-guns. A man hefting a large sack walked through and out into the meadow beyond, the manoeuvre accomplished with no more than a nod of recognition from the guards. The image wavered and blurred. Curse this blindness, Finn thought with an oath. Why did the Goddess expect him to pay for the sins of his ancestors?

  He ducked back into the alleyway. Why not simply tell the guards his name and ask them to find Naima? Hell no. His wolf had wanted to kill Kandar. Being anywhere near the man meant taking a risk he couldn't afford—not now when it was so unpredictable.

  Beyond the walls, in the meadow, might be the man who would end this, finally. The best trackers would have no problem following the trail he'd left them and the trading fair would be perfect cover. Finn moved farther into the shadows and slid down the wall. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to relax—difficult when the risk of discovery was very real. Easing the tension lessened the pain and allowed him to recoup a little energy. The encounter with Kandar had left the blood thrumming in his veins, his senses on edge. Not the best of times to deliberately summon his wolf, but he needed it.

  Calm down. Let it through slowly. Breathe and be one with the beast. Don't fight it. It won't hurt you if you just let it come. A father's words to a trusting, innocent child. Memories of the betrayal made Finn's blood boil, negating his careful relaxation. When he thought of the men who'd stolen his life, he wanted to change and take out his anger on the whole of the human race.

  Once he'd learned how to control the beast his captors fed it a steady diet of agitation and pain and turned him into a killer. He remembered with disgust, the live animals they'd left as sacrifices in the cage. The looks of fear and surprise with which his tormentors had met their hideous deaths. A gory spectacle for the paying public. They wanted blood. He'd more than given it to them.

  Breathe and stay calm. Lead the wolf gently to the fore. If he broke the beast's addiction to high emotion there might be a chance for a normal life.

  Naima's kindness—Finn thought of the way she'd coaxed him back from the dead, how she'd never given up on him. More reluctantly, he thought of Carine. If she'd performed half the good deeds Naima claimed for her, the woman must be a living saint. Did saints roast in the Pit? Surely not?

  Eventually, his eyelids drooped. Then, it seemed only moments later that he jolted upright. How long had he been sitting on the dirty alleyway floor? He rolled his shoulders, pushed back his wet hair and blinked. The sky appeared brighter, the storm passed for now.

  Standing, he made his way back to the entrance and peered around, cautiously. His wolf inched forward. One of the guards was tucking into a huge hunk of bread, the other pissing on the stones. Finn closed his eyes and took control of the wolf. Deliberately, he unbuttoned his shirt.

  His focus sharpened as the wolf's mortal cage expanded and melted away. The wolf dropped low on its haunches and took in the lie of the land. Assessing the danger, it calculated the distance to the wall and the chances of crossing it without being shot. More reckless than the man, it trembled with anticipation, already experiencing the thrill of the chase, the adrenaline rush. Briefly, it remembered the challenge in Kandar's eyes and growled, low in its throat. Finn had left his mate in the hands of a rival and it should be there, defending its claim.

  From somewhere deep inside, the man's restraining hand held it back. A heart bound with too-strong a rope would cease to beat. Naima was with her family, and safe. Whatever she chose, would be her decision alone.

  Trust her. If she loves you, she will be there for you.

  Sound advice. The wolf turned its attention back to the wall and decided against a reckless charge. Whether he made it, or not, the guards would cry wolf, and a hunting party would soon be hot on his tail. A rogue wolf within the Settlement could only mean one thing to those who knew what they were seeing. He must also remember to take the man's clothes.

  Wasting time. Already, the man was struggling through, unable to hold the wolf at full strength. Decide and do.

  A heavily laden cart pulled by two huge, cattle-like beasts lumbered into view and made its way ponderously towards the gate. In a flash, the wolf was nestling amongst the piled-up fleeces and leather skins, its own pelt blending with the cargo. The guards took little notice of the driver negotiating the opening between the gates. He turned the cart for the nearer Settlement stalls.

  By the time the cart pulled to a halt, his passenger was once again a man. Finn fell from the tailboard onto the muddy grass, the eyeshades back in place, grabbing at a piece of old sacking to use as a cover for his head and face.

  He rolled between the wheels as the driver jumped down and made his way to the back. Using his elbows, Finn crawled the length of the cart and emerged in front of the fuzzy outline of a person who gave away her gender with a startled, high-pitched shriek.

  Shoving past her, he made for a patch of light that he hoped, signalled a break between the stalls.

  "Bloody travellers. Take that.” The woman let loose a string of curses. Something whizzed past Finn's ear and landed with a thump on the ground. “Thieves, the lot of them."

  Finn forced his wolf forward, uncaring that his agitation made it potentially violent. He needed to see or face potential disaster. Two large wagons lay straight ahead, between them a narrow channel. He threw himself into the opening and clutched at the wagon side-rails to steady himself, already dizzy with exhaustion. His senses were on overload from the barrage of new sounds and smells hitting him from all sides. The scent of the woman he'd nearly mown down in his flight overrode them all.

  "There he is."

  Finn saw a flash of brightness then a dark bulk blocked out the light.

  "Come here, I'll show you.” A hand grabbed at his shirt and hauled him towards the bulk, who Finn realised must be the driver of the cart. Without thinking, Finn lashed out, half man, half wolf. The driver yelled and stumbled back clutching his arm.

  "Bastard bit me,” the man said, incredulous. Finn didn't wait for the rest. Using every last drop of energy, he held on to his wolf's eyes, sprinted towards a copse of trees and threaded his way through the trunks, all the while listening for the heavy tread of the driver's footsteps following.

  Nothing. He fell to the ground and rolled onto his back, choking with the effort of dragging air into his abused lungs. Far too close an encounter. Yet, instead of the usual fear and anger, he found himself filled with a heady elation.

  He laughed, spluttering through wheezing breaths, and fingered the rough
cloth of his prize. He'd almost earned a beating for a piece of smelly sacking. Goddess, what a rush.

  The wolf retreated and Finn lay back, the dappled light playing on his face. For a brief moment, he forgot everything except the thrill of being free.

  * * * *

  Ancel looked almost as bad as Carine. They didn't need Doctor Pietr to diagnose her illness.

  Carine shifted, restless and agitated, pushing away the wet cloth Ancel just as stubbornly pressed to her heated cheeks.

  "Blood poisoning.” The doctor confirmed their worst fears. “There will be a critical period followed by either a swift recovery, or...” He glanced at Ancel and bit back the word. “Taraga, and lots of it. Get the wise-women in, the healers. We need to throw everything we can at it."

  "Tell me she'll live."

  The doctor regarded Ancel and appeared to be weighing his chances of leaving the room alive if he voiced his diagnosis. “Some people recover,” he said carefully. “The whim of the Gods.” He shrugged.

  Or the Goddess, Naima thought. Should she tell her father the whole story? How would Ancel's knowing, help them? If there were the slightest chance of Finn retrieving the Soul Cleansing Stones, her father would force him to do it. At gunpoint, if necessary.

  "Naima, prepare the taraga and stay with her. I can do nothing more. Call me it you need me."

  The sound of Doctor Pietr's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

  "Keep someone with her at all times."

  "Yes, of course.” Naima answered mechanically, her mind too numb to take in the past few hours. Had Finn returned to the cabin or followed Kandar home?

  "If I find who did this,” Ancel choked out. “I'll tear him apart with my own hands."

  Naima laid a hand on Ancel's whitened knuckles. “You don't mean it. Loosen your hold, you're hurting her."

  Ancel's hand relaxed under hers. “Don't I?"

  She didn't dare ask him if he'd worked out that Finn could have been free at the time of the attack. Damn Kandar and his stupid macho posturing.