Master Wolf

by Rose Estes

  Because of their great speed and the extreme steepness of the incline, they reached the bottom in a fraction of the time that it had taken them to climb its opposite side.

  The bottom was a wide ravine that held a goodly amount of water and was shielded by a dense overhang of spruce trees.

  The roan came to a stop on the far bank and stood, all four legs outstretched, braced stiff-kneed, head down, and blew great sobbing breaths, flecked with white foam. His sides heaved with effort, and his body was drenched with sweat.

  Mika dismounted and leaned against the exhausted horse, his own legs and thighs quivering with the tension of having gripped the horse so tightly. Together they slowly brought their breathing and their emotions under control. Mika patted the horse and rested his forehead against his neck. He stroked him and murmured softly, “Good horse. You’re the best.”

  Still moving slowly on rubbery legs that scarcely felt capable of supporting him, Mika searched for something to use to rub the horse down. Time was valuable and danger was still near, but the horse would surely founder unless he took the time to cool him down.

  But he could find nothing. His cloak was gone, ripped from his shoulders somehow, somewhere. His leather clothing was too hard and too stiff to be of use, and his bedroll was still tied behind the grey’s saddle.

  Sighing deeply and shrugging philosophically, Mika ripped the princess’s silk gown off at the knee. “Excuse me, Your Highness, I need part of your gown to wipe the horse down. You don’t mind, do you?” he asked as an afterthought, his hand resting casually on her upturned buttock. She was oblivious, of course.

  “There, Tam. You’re a witness,” Mika said to the wolf curled up on the ground, licking his wounds. “I asked her and she didn’t say anything, so I guess it’s all right.”

  The silk made a fine horse-cloth, and Mika stroked and wiped the weary animal clean with handfuls of moss, then dried it thoroughly with the soft silk cloth.

  The roan nodded his head up and down, contented and reassured by the gentle rhythmic movements, then rested his head on Mika’s shoulder and groaned deeply. Mika was taken aback, used as he was to the ornery nastiness of the grey. Startled, he stroked the velvety smoothness of the roan’s muzzle, and he breathed softly in his ear.

  Once the roan had cooled off, Mika led him to the stream and allowed him to drink briefly. Then he tied him to a low branch and left him to rest.

  He thought about removing the princess from the horse’s back, but decided that since she was still under a spell, and evidently not aware of any discomfort, he had best tend to Tam’s and his own needs first.

  Fortunately, the medicine bag still hung from his shoulder. He was glad that he had decided to keep it on his person. Opening the mouth of the bag, he carefully placed the contents on the edge of the mossy bank and studied them.

  There was the book, bound in leather, its thick pages frayed and worn, a small bone pipe, and a dried twist of wolf’sbane. There were a number of vials filled with healing potions and unguents, and several horns stoppered with wax plugs that contained medicinal salves. There was his father’s ceremonial wolf cloak, a variety of other useful items, and a small sack of the dried meats and vegetables that Hary had given to him.

  Mika picked up the antelope horn of healing salve and the sweat-stained silk cloth and turned his attention to Tam.

  Tam whined plaintively as Mika examined his wounds. Though none of the wounds were immediately life threatening, Tam’s thick pelt was ripped and torn in at least a dozen places from his head to his tail, and a number of the wounds extended deep into the flesh itself. Infection, if not loss of blood, could cause the wolf a slow, lingering death. The wounds had bled freely and that was good, for the dead flesh tha’. gathered in the jaws and teeth of the hyenas was rotting and putrid and could cause disease and death even if the bites healed over.

  Mika knew that he needed to clean the wounds thoroughly and then dress them with healing salve or Tam could sicken and die.

  First, it was necessary to find shelter, for even though there were no gnolls in sight, it was best to remain hidden.

  As their hiding place Mika chose an ancient blue spruce that towered high above him. He crawled under the broad skirt of the tree and found that, as he had hoped, there was ample room beneath its branches. Over the years, the lowest limbs had died and broken off, leaving a comfortable cavern. The fragrant branches draped around him like a living tent.

  As he was moving the wolf, who allowed himself to be picked up like a small cub, Mika noted a stout witch hazel bush and remembered that the leaves made a fine cleansing lotion. After he built a small fire next to the base of the trunk, he stripped several handfuls of leaves from the bush, then looked around for something that would function as a container. There was nothing. Nothing at all.

  Determined, his gaze fell on his own leather boot, not exactly the best recourse, but one did with what one had. He quickly crushed the leaves between two rocks and dumped the pungent grey-green mess into his boot, then filled it to the ankle with water from the stream, allowing the leather to remain in the stream until it was saturated both inside and out.

  When the boot had absorbed as much water as it could, Mika propped it over the fire with a tripod of green sticks. While he waited for the water to heat, he washed the strip of sweat-stained silk in the stream.

  The water soon came to a rolling boil, and Mika let it stew until the air was thick with the sharp fragrance of the medicinal leaves before he removed the boot from the fire.

  “Well, old boy, this won’t do much for my boot. I just hope you don’t suffer any ill effects. My brother always said my feet could be used as lethal weapons. Phew! It certainly smells strong enough.”

  Mika’s tone was jovial and confident, but inside, he was aching. Thoughts of Veltran-oba suddenly filled his mind. He remembered their friendly banter with a sense of acute loss and wished that his brother were here with him now.

  Tam looked away and growled, licking his lips constantly, nervously, as the sharp aroma filled his nostrils. He looked at Mika out of the corner of his eye and his head moved stiffly, his dewlaps twitching.

  “Calm down, boy,” Mika said soothingly as he stroked the wolf between his ears and scratched his throat. “You know I wouldn’t do anything to upset you unless it were necessary. You have to trust me. We’ve been together too long for you to start doubting me now.”

  The words, the tone, or both seemed to soothe the wolf, but Mika wanted to be certain he wouldn’t snap in fear or pain. He rummaged about in his supplies and filled the tiny bone pipe with crushed wolf’sbane and lit it. Trying not to inhale, he cupped his hand behind the wolf’s head and blew the smoke directly into Tam’s nostrils. After several puffs, Tam’s agitated heartbeat slowed and his pupils dilated. He was as ready as he would ever be.

  Dipping the silk cloth in the hot liquid, Mika began swabbing out the wolf’s wounds with the hot herbal brew. Soon Tam’s pelt was streaming with the fragrant fluid which pooled beneath him on the needle-strewn ground.

  Mika worked quickly, packing the clean wounds with the thick healing salves and stitching the jagged edges of skin together in the worst instances, while keeping the wolf calm with his voice.

  Tam began to move restlessly, showing signs of recovering from the effects of the wolf’sbane. Mika hastily filled the pipe again and, taking a deep pull of the narcotic smoke, blew it into the wolf’s nostrils. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to hold the smoke in his mouth and had no sooner exhaled the last of the smoke than he felt the familiar warm lassitude spread throughout his own body. Shrugging mentally, he took another pull on the pipe and blew it more or less in Tam’s general direction. Just to make sure the wolf was really out, he loaded the pipe again. However, Tam seemed to be sleeping, so he was forced to smoke it all himself.

  It took him a minute to think of what he was supposed to be doing. Then he remembered. Sighing heavily, he turned the wolf over and began cleaning the wounds o
n the other side. One of the hyenas had seized Tam’s tail in its teeth and in the struggle had pulled the flesh as well as the skin away from the vertebrae for the length of a finger joint. The flesh on either side was already swollen and discolored.

  Tam was still sleeping, but Mika felt nauseous looking at the mangled flesh and felt the need to fortify himself. “Only a puff,” he murmured as he relit the pipe.

  Eyes blinking dreamily, he put down the pipe with exaggerated caution and once more bent to the onerous task.

  “Ugh!” he said with a shudder as he rinsed the horrible wound with the cleansing liquid. “Now I know why I didn’t want to do this for the rest of my life!” But still, he felt grateful that he had learned the skill, for without it, his friend would surely have died.

  At last the awful injury was cleaned and the worst of the mutilated flesh trimmed away with his knife. Mika packed the remainder of the salve around the wound. There was a great deal of flesh still exposed, and Mika knew that it had to be covered or it would attract insects that would lay their eggs in the flesh. Mika sighed and smiled, then wrapped the pink silk cloth round and round the wolf’s tail and tied it in a knot. Tam would not be pleased and would do his best to remove it, but with luck it would stay until a scab had formed.

  Mika leaned against the rough trunk of the spruce, the branches coming down on all sides of them like a living wall, shutting out the outside world. The small fire had warmed the space, and he was tired and his head still ached. He stared into the fire and blinked. His eyelids drooped, then closed, and he drifted off into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  Chapter 16

  MIKA WAKENED SLOWLY. Everything hurt. His head throbbed and his eyelids were thick and swollen. His throat was dry and his stomach was cramped. Every single joint was stiff and sore. And he was cold. He groaned in misery.

  Tam added groans and whimpers of his own. Mika sat up and rubbed his head, which was now scabbed over with dry blood. His hands and arms were covered with Tam’s blood and his body was rank with old sweat. He could feel a line of blisters beginning to rise under the edges of his tunic at neck and shoulders.

  Mika flexed his arms and rolled his head cautiously, feeling the muscles complain at the smallest movement.

  Tam lay still, barely lifting his head from the ground. He tried to wag his tail, but even that small effort was too much, and he stopped after one feeble wave.

  “By the Great She Wolf, if we feel this terrible after such a little encounter, pray the gods we never have to go into a real battle,” muttered Mika.

  The roan, hearing Mika’s voice, whickered softly.

  Mika crawled out from under the overhanging branches and looked around carefully. The day was dark and grey. A dense rain-swollen cloud cover hung over the ridge, obscuring its upper reaches from sight. Mika stared up at the almost vertical drop, frankly astonished that they had descended it safely. No sane person would purposely choose that route unless he had a death wish.

  The roan was tossing his head impatiently, and as Mika untied him from the tree limb, he butted him gently in the chest with the flat of his head. Mika shook his own head in quiet amusement.

  He had been riding for almost as long as he had been walking and never had he viewed a horse as anything but an uncomfortable but necessary means of transportation. He had known of nomads who had an almost mystical relationship with their horses, but he had never felt such warmth for a horse until now.

  After leading the roan to the stream and allowing him to drink his fill, Mika tethered him in a patch of grass. Then he tended to the princess.

  She was beginning to look a little shopworn, Mika reflected as he untied her from the horse. He supposed that it was partially his fault for leaving her draped over the horse overnight. After all, there were limits to what one could expect from magic spells. Even one cast by the best of magic-users. For instance, her need for food and water was magically suspended. But even the best spell didn’t extend to clothes and dirt.

  The princess’s hair hung down over her head, all dusty and dirty with muddy drops where the horse had splashed water. Her dress was filthy and wrinkled and had torn in several places. Maybe she would look better right side up, Mika mused.

  But she didn’t. The princess was definitely a mess, and of course, she was still sound asleep.

  “This is getting tiresome,” Mika said between gritted teeth as he slung her over his shoulder and tottered toward the stream. “The least she could do is carry her own weight.”

  Mika sat the princess down at the edge of the stream and propped her up against the trunk of a tree. Ripping yet another strip off her gown, he dipped it in the cold water and rubbed it over her face. The water ran in muddy rivulets down her bosom, which no longer looked quite so attractive.

  In fact, the whole princess thing was beginning to pall. She was about as much fun as listening to a lecture on the medicinal properties of goldenwort.

  Other questions now presented themselves. Now that Recknass and Hary were dead, what about the mission to ransom the princess?

  And where would Mika take her if they ever got to Eru-Tovar? How would he locate the mysterious magician? And what should Mika do if the magician demanded payment in advance? Mika sighed and shook his head. All of these new problems made his head ache just thinking about them.

  He finally abandoned the cleaning of the princess as a lost cause and turned his attention to his own needs. Stripping off the sweat-stiffened leather tunic, his single remaining boot, and his loincloth, he waded into the stream.

  The water was cold but invigorating. Mika found a sinkhole near the edge of a greenery-hung bank and submerged until only his head stuck out, staying there until he felt the last of the tension ease from his body, as well as the multitude of aches and pains.

  After a while, he moved to a more shallow location where a layer of white sand lay thick on the floor of the stream. This he scooped up by the handful and rubbed over his body till his skin tingled and squeaked beneath his palms.

  Next he unbraided his hair and floated spread-eagle on his back, letting the current wash away the blood and the grime. Then he scrubbed his hair with sand, gingerly avoiding the still painful bruise.

  His skin was puckered and blue by the time he finished rinsing his few bits of leather clothing, knowing that they would dry stiff and unbending.

  Naked, his dripping clothes tucked under his arm, he returned to the spruce and crawled inside. He hung his clothes over several of the lower branches, restarted the fire, and added small bits of dry wood, enough to take the chill out of the air, but not enough to cause smoke which could be seen through the trees.

  Tam stood shakily and nosed his way out from under the tree, his pink bandaged tail looking very odd in the cold light of the morning. As Tam drank at the stream Mika dragged the princess under the shelter of the spruce and took stock of their situation.

  It seemed reasonable to expect that some of the drivers and nomads had escaped the predations of the gnoll army It also seemed logical to assume that the entire area was probably crawling with a large assortment of gnolls, hyenas, trolls, hyenadons, and nomads and drivers, all trying to either escape or kill each other.

  With any luck at all, most of them would leave the area soon, running and pursuing each other westward. Mika was concerned about Hornsbuck and Marek and Klaren and a few of the others, but not enough to join the fray. It made sense to stay right where he was, under the tree, until all danger had passed and he and Tam were in better shape.

  The more Mika thought about it, the more unusual it seemed that such an army of creatures would appear in the middle of the desolate plains. It was obvious they must have had some connection with the magic-user. Who in Hades was that man, and when would he turn up again?

  Tam crawled back under the tree, collapsed next to the fire, and began licking himself, his every movement a visible effort.

  Mika took his second boot, now washed by the stream, and scooped some water up. Mi
xing in a large amount of the dried vegetables and meat, he set it to simmer over the fire.

  It began to rain before the stew was done, big fat drops of water that splatted against the ground. But under the tree it was warm and dry. No rain squeezed through the densely matted branches. He was feeling safe for the first time in days.

  Tam wasn’t too interested in eating the stew, so Mika ate alone. He offered some to the princess out of politeness, but of course, she didn’t want any either.

  Dinner finished, Mika rinsed out his boot and hung it up to dry. His breechclout was dry, so he put it on, then busied himself with combing the tangles out of his hair. His head still ached so he left his hair dangling loosely about his shoulders. Then he rubbed some of the herbal ointment into his blisters and over a number of other cuts and scratches that covered his body.

  The unguent was soothing, spreading an icy cool across the skin, and Mika felt good, knowing that he owned the recipe for the mixture and had the knowledge necessary for making it. Once again, he felt grateful to his father for persevering in the face of his disinterest and said a quiet prayer of thanks.

  His quiet ruminations were set aside abruptly, for at that moment, the roan neighed and Mika felt more than heard the tread of heavy feet nearby.

  Gripping his sword, he crouched low, ready should anyone or anything attempt to invade his area.

  Tam raised himself up and growled once, his ears stiffly erect. Then, his posture eased, his ears lowered and his injured tail thumped softly on the ground. Mika knew that whoever was nearby was no enemy.

  Pushing the branches aside cautiously, Mika looked out and saw Hornsbuck and RedTail crashing through the underbrush, both sodden and miserable looking. They had not spotted him. For a moment Mika was tempted to let them pass by, but they looked so wretched that he relented.