Master Wolf

by Rose Estes

  It was then that Mika made his move. Riding up alongside Hornsbuck, he spoke.

  “You remember when you said that if I did not tell you what was happening, you would take the men and ride away?” he asked. Hornsbuck nodded.

  “Well, I think that the time has come to do just that,” said Mika. “I think it is our only chance.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Hornsbuck.

  “Look ahead,” said Mika, gesturing toward the series of peaks that rose before them.

  “We are entering some sort of watershed, a place where the hills form a series of ridges like the spread fingers of a hand. I suggest that we split up into many different parties, each of us choosing one of the fingers to climb.

  “The gnolls will be unable to decide what to do, which path to follow, or how to divide themselves. They will not likely fight among themselves while trying to come to some agreement.

  “Eventually, of course, they will follow. But we are bound to gain some time through their confusion. Once over the top, we will regroup at some place that we decide in advance and then make our way to the city in safety.”

  Hornsbuck looked at Mika in admiration, while examining the plan for some flaw. He could not find anything wrong with Mika’s logic, although there was something odd, something he could not place, in the man’s attitude.

  “There should be no more than two or three of us to each group,” said Mika. “I will go with Hary or some of the drivers.”

  “No,” said Hornsbuck, convinced by Mika’s demeanor. “Go with the giant. He should have someone to protect his back since he has his hands full.”

  “If you insist,” Mika said quietly, turning his head aside so that Hornsbuck could not see the smile of triumph that flitted across his face. As he wheeled his horse around, the grey nearly trampled on TamTur, who was inexplicably skulking behind.

  Tam whined low in his throat and backed up a few steps. Hornsbuck stopped and looked at the wolf. RedTail touched noses with Tam and looked at Mika with uncertainty.

  “What’s the matter with Tam?” asked Hornsbuck, recognizing the disturbed tone in the wolf’s voice.

  “Nothing to be concerned about,” Mika said smoothly. “He’s highstrung. Gets this way once in a while.”

  Hornsbuck stared at Tam with narrowed eyes. He had never thought Tam to be highstrung, but still, a man knew his own wolf better than anyone else, and it was considered a serious breach of nomad etiquette to meddle between another nomad and his wolf. Hornsbuck held his tongue.

  A council was quickly called and instructions given. Mika listened intently to Hornsbuck as he carefully described the point where they should reconvene. For the first time since the gnolls appeared, a feeling of elation swept over the men as they grasped the possibility of escape.

  Hary and Recknass looked as though they might choose to disagree with Hornsbuck’s directions, which paired Mika with Recknass and separated him from the company of the others. But as Hornsbuck spoke, delineating the reasons for the small parties, they remained silent, for his stature had risen among the men.

  Mika conducted himself in a cool, detached manner, speaking politely to the giant and expressing concern for his imperiled mission. Recknass eyed him suspiciously but could find no fault with Mika’s words. Still, Mika knew by the way that the man watched him that he was far from being a trusted friend. But as he led the giant into the dark hills, he smiled to himself; friendship wasn’t what he was after.

  TamTur trotted after the two men, then wagging his tail slowly, he looked back at Hary, Hornsbuck and the rapidly dispersing riders and whined unhappily. His dark eyes rested on Mika’s back as the man rode into the shadows, and he whined again. Then, head hanging dejectedly, knowing that something was terribly wrong, he hurried after the man who was his bond companion.

  Chapter 14

  MIKA HAD CHOSEN HIS ROUTE carefully. He led the giant up the spine of the low ridge. Deeply eroded rock fell away steeply on either side and it was necessary to pick their footing with great caution.

  After a time, the ridge flattened out and then disappeared completely as it merged with the flanks of the higher slopes. Here there were trees, and the heady scent of the short, wind-battered firs gladdened Mika’s heart. He increased their pace, feeling safer. Here, a man could do many things and not be seen. The forest was a good place for secrets.

  Once he heard a noise, the rattling of a rock falling, and he turned swiftly but saw nothing. He began to suspect that they were being followed, but no matter how closely he watched, he saw nothing to confirm his suspicions. Even Recknass was uneasy, turning his big head from side to side as though anticipating an ambush at every turn.

  “Seek, Tam,” whispered Mika, directing the wolf’s attention back down the trail. But Tam merely looked at him with sorrowful eyes and whined plaintively, refusing to obey.

  “Damn wolf!” cursed Mika, and striking out with his booted foot, kicked Tam squarely in the ribs. “Seek, Tam! Seek!” he commanded, and Tam slunk off into the brush with his tail curled beneath his belly, ears flattened against his skull.

  Recknass looked at Mika with a curious, calculating gaze. His arms tightened around the princess protectively, as though any lingering doubts had just been erased, and he steered the roan stallion several paces farther to one side, widening the gap between Mika and himself.

  Mika sneered at the giant and began planning just how he would separate him from the princess.

  Tam slunk along behind him, his mind numb. Nothing in his world had prepared him for the change in the man who was half his being, half his reason for existence. He could not understand why Mika was angry with him.

  It was Mika; of that he was certain. At least the body was Mika’s. It looked and smelled the same, but everything else was different.

  Tam had bonded with Mika at an early age. It was a bond that would take them through life and, if necessary, death. For it was not uncommon for a wolf or a nomad to give up his life to protect his companion. But the unhappy and confused wolf did not understand why his bond companion was acting so strangely.

  There it was again! The faint scraping, the soft sibilance of foliage whispering across clothing. Mika stopped, listened, held up a hand gesturing for Recknass to wait. The giant obeyed, pulling up the roan and halting under the shelter of a large pine.

  Mika slipped back down the trail, creeping from one tree to the next, crouching in the darkest of shadows, searching for signs of gnolls. How could they be so close? There was nothing to be seen other than a swaying tree branch. Funny. There was no breeze . . .

  Mika was perplexed. Gnolls were not clever creatures, nor were they given to slinking and hiding; straightforward bashing and battering was more their style. Perhaps he was just paranoid, suspecting entrapment where there was none. If only that damn wolf had done something besides stare at him with stricken eyes!

  Mika crouched in the shadow of a large spruce tree, watching the trail until he became convinced that no one was following them.

  So intent was he on looking down the slope, that he failed to notice the figure standing behind him until it was too late. A heavy branch lashed out. Sensing the movement at the last second, Mika turned his head and so received a glancing blow on the thick of his braid rather than a direct hit on his temple, but he crumpled wordlessly in a silent heap at the foot of the tree.

  Tam was crouched some distance away where a scornful Mika had left him, commanding him to stay. His ears pricked forward at the sound of the blow and the soft grunt that followed. He hesitated for a brief moment and then went to investigate.

  That brief moment was all that was needed for the attacker to escape from sight. Tam saw only Mika lying at the base of the tree, slumped and unconscious. Tam sank down beside him and began licking the blood that welled up through his Master’s hair. Tam would not leave Mika’s side until the man either recovered or died.

  This was what Hary had hoped for, if he even spared a thought for the nomad who sto
od between him and all that he desired.

  Hary had labored loyally in the service of his king, first admiring and then adoring the beautiful child who was his daughter. As she grew into young maidenhood, his adoration had turned to love and then to longing as he yearned for that which could never be his. He had sought out the most dangerous of missions, hoping to subdue his rising obsession. Then, when that failed, he had hoped to gain the princess’s admiration through his daring exploits. She barely noticed.

  When the princess first fell into the magic-induced coma, Hary had viewed the journey to barter her recovery as his last chance. He would find the person responsible and force him to remove the spell. It was Hary’s hope that the princess would then see him for the person he truly was and appreciate the skill and effort that had freed her. Her appreciation might then grow into love and she would accept him as her mate. Such dreams had driven Hary on, and as Eru-Tovar drew closer, allowed him to believe that he might succeed. Until Mika appeared.

  As the nomad showed more and more interest in the princess’s wagon and ultimately discovered her presence, Hary came to fear that it would be Mika she would come to appreciate once she wakened.

  Mika was tall, handsome, and full of life. He projected a carefree, reckless attitude that promised laughter and good times and more. Hary felt dull and boring in comparison. He was afraid, no, he was certain, that Mika’s dashing personality would appeal to his beloved princess. Hary would cease to exist in her eyes.

  The more Hairy thought about it, the more obvious it became that he would have to do away with Mika before they reached Eru-Tovar.

  But the storm and the army of gnolls had set his plans awry, forcing him to depend on the nomad rather than kill him. Now, at last, his opportunity had come.

  Even if the nomad were still alive, the gnolls would soon take care of that. Hary and the princess would be gone long before they arrived. He hurried up the ridge, anxious to be with the princess once again.

  But as he burst out of the trees and entered the little clearing, Recknass the giant looked at him with surprise, his arms tightening around the princess as though he suspected that something was wrong.

  Hary slowed his pace. He had forgotten Recknass. Now he searched for the words that would reassure the immense brute.

  Recknass was not one of Hary’s minions. The princess herself, as a small child, had chosen the giant, pointing prettily with one tiny finger at the hulking brute as he paraded past the throne with a hundred other brutes of similar size and qualifications. The fellow had been her creature and obeyed her every wish with blind devotion since that day

  Hary knew that Recknass had always viewed him with suspicion, but then, Recknass viewed all men that way, all men who dared to even look at his young charge.

  Not content to glower, the giant had killed several men who had ventured too close to the princess after being warned away. Patience was not his long suit. One fellow had had his head wrenched off his shoulders. Two others had merely had their backs broken over the giant’s huge thigh. Hary knew that he had to be very careful.

  Recknass took a step toward Hary, peering behind him into the dense cover of trees.

  “Mika thought he heard some gnolls following,” Hary explained. “He wants us to go on. Hornsbuck changed his mind and told me to join you in case you needed help with the princess.”

  The excuse sounded logical to Hary, but Recknass seemed to doubt him, staring out of his one good eye with disbelief.

  Shouldering Hary aside, Recknass dismounted from the roan and, still holding the princess, began walking down the slope in the direction that Mika lay.

  The blood rushed to Hary’s head and throbbed in his temples. A red veil fell before his eyes and his breath grew strangled and harsh.

  It was not fair! Even the giant, a huge stupid brute whom the princess treated like a large dumb dog, chose to doubt his word in favor of the nomad, a man who had injured him cruelly while openly plotting to steal the princess!

  A blind fury rose up in Hary’s mind, a mindless madness fed by long years of frustration and unhappiness. Seizing a fallen branch from the ground, he struck the giant a mighty blow on the back of his head. Recknass staggered. Hary struck again and again and at last the giant fell, toppling to the ground like some massive, lightning-struck tree, burying the princess beneath him.

  Hary dropped the branch and steadied himself against a tree, his breath rasping in his throat. Slowly, his mind cleared and he looked down at his handiwork.

  Recknass lay sprawled on the stony ground at the base of a small tree on the steep slope. He lay face downward, the back of his head a soggy mass of blood and purpling skin. Here and there, bits of white bone poked through the skin. Yet still, he clutched the princess safely in his arms.

  Closing his mind to the unspeakable act, the violation of all the codes he had lived by, Hary bent down and tried to turn the man over so that he might free the princess from his grasp. Then, as he touched the giant’s arm, he felt a faint pulse beating beneath his fingers, and he realized with a shock that the man was still alive!

  Hary was overcome with a terrible irrational fear that Recknass might revive at any moment, reach up and grab him around the throat and strangle him!

  He began to tug at the giant, pulling and pushing, struggling to turn him over, terrified of the stentorian breathing sounds the giant made. At last the princess came free, and Hary sprawled in the dirt holding her in his arms.

  Time seemed to come to a halt as he gazed down on the face of the woman he worshipped. He tenderly brushed a wayward curl aside from her brow and then noticed a smear of the giant’s blood staining her bodice. It seemed sacrilege.

  He ripped his scarf from his neck, and daubed at the blood. As he did so, he felt something move under the soft silk. It was a hard object. Bewildered, he noticed a thin gold chain and drew it forth from between the cleft of her breasts. Dangling at the end of the chain was a crystal bead which he recognized as belonging to Mika!

  Hary sat back, shaken to the marrow of his being. He felt his heart break within him and he was overcome with grief. The wolfman had been there before him. The princess was no longer the pure innocent he had adored.

  It seemed apparent that somehow the nomad had persuaded the giant to let him have his way with her, although such a thing seemed unlikely, for the giant loved her too and would never have let another man touch her, unless . . .! No! It all seemed too terrible to consider. Mika AND the giant?

  Hary’s mind whirled. Yet think as he might, his thoughts kept returning to the same conclusion. To his jealousy-ridden mind, there seemed no other explanation.

  He sat there for a long time, cradling the princess in his arms, grieving for what had been and what would never be. In his bitter and lonely misery, Hary now admitted to himself the folly of his love and realized that the princess would never love him. It had all been but a foolish dream. She would never be his.

  Then a strange coldness came over him and he looked at the sleeping princess in a different manner. Why not? Who would ever know? Not Recknass.

  Not Mika. It was only fair. They had had her and so would he.

  Some time later, some thirty yards down the slope, Mika wakened with a terrible, pounding headache. TamTur was pawing at him, whining and licking him full in the face as he dragged himself to a seated position.

  “Stop,” Mika said with a groan, turning his head to avoid the wet endearment. Mika loved his wolf as much as the next man, but he drew the line at slobbery kisses.

  There was some terrible commotion going on somewhere close. The noise echoed and thundered in his ears and he put a hand to his aching head. To his surprise, it came away sticky with blood.

  Mika stared at his hand stupidly and tried to remember what had happened. But nothing came to mind.

  He could remember climbing the slope with the princess and the giant, but his memories of that period were wrapped in a strange fuzziness as though he had been sick.

&n
bsp; His mind was clear now, free of whatever sickness had gripped it, but still he couldn’t seem to remember anything that would account for his presence under the tree. What was he doing here? Who had hit him and why?

  It hurt to think. Mika would have liked to lie down, to rest. But there was all that noise. A man couldn’t possibly rest with all that racket. Sounded like fighting.

  Mika groaned. Maybe he had better go and see what was happening. He struggled to his feet, fighting the waves of dizziness and nausea that washed over him. He planted one foot resolutely in front of the other and staggered uphill, gripping the trunks of trees and overhanging branches to pull himself along. Tam was close at his side, whining happily and giving little leaps, trying to lick Mika’s face.

  “Down, Tam. Behave yourself,” growled Mika, fending off the wolf. “Go see what all that noise is about and leave me alone.” But Tam ignored his orders, his concern for Mika far greater than his interest in outside events.

  As Mika dragged himself up the rocky, tree-covered slope, there was a terrible pain-filled shriek and then there was silence. Muttering to himself, holding his pounding head, Mika tottered into the small clearing and stopped in open-mouthed amazement.

  The two horses, the roan and his own irritable grey stood tethered to tree limbs, contentedly browsing on the tender tips of branches.

  To the left of the horses, lying on the downhill edge of the clearing was the giant, Recknass, flat on his back, his skull a bloody ruin.

  Mika gawked at Recknass in total disbelief, his headache totally forgotten. Someone had actually killed the huge brute! Mika could scarcely comprehend it. His mouth flopped open and he stared at the man thickly as though something would change or understanding would dawn if he only looked long enough.

  But nothing changed and understanding did not dawn, no matter how long he stared. Closing his mouth, Mika blinked, gulped, and then gazed on the rest of the strange scene.