The Wolf's Call

by Anthony Ryan

  Vaelin turned his horse away from the ugly spectacle, sheathing his sword and trotting towards the two figures still sitting on their ponies a short distance away.

  The woman with the long white scarf offered him a demure, welcoming smile as he reined to a halt, dismounting to offer a bow, which she acknowledged with a small incline of her head. The stories of her beauty were clearly not exaggerated, although her features possessed a warm vitality very different from the doll-like mask of Governor Hushan’s third wife. However, Vaelin found himself sparing her little more than a glance before his gaze was drawn to the woman at her side.

  She’s barely changed, he thought, drinking in the sight of her. The same dark eyes, the black curls of her hair tied into a neat, sensible ponytail. The same angry scowl that told of a deep and unwelcome judgement.

  “Oh.” Sherin sighed in a tone of infinite weariness. “Go away. You’re spoiling everything.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Vaelin found his tongue incapable of forming words as she continued to stare at him, the judgement in her gaze cutting deep. “I . . .” he began, then promptly faltered to silence before trying again. “I thought you were in need of help . . .”

  “Then you were misinformed.” Her gaze softened fractionally as it shifted to Sho Tsai reining to a halt nearby. He dismounted before striding forward to offer a deep, respectful bow to the Jade Princess.

  “Blessing of Heaven,” he said before bowing to Sherin. “Good woman Unsa. I come on the orders of the Merchant King . . .”

  “I’m sure you do,” Sherin cut in and Vaelin watched the captain do some faltering of his own. He also saw Sherin’s expression soften further as she took note of the hurt her tone provoked. “Your concern honours me, as always,” she said, slipping from the back of her pony and moving to clasp his hand. “But you shouldn’t have come.”

  “How could I not?”

  Watching their eyes meet, Vaelin suddenly knew himself to be the worst of fools. Come halfway across the world to save a woman who no longer knows me, he thought. He wondered if this had been the Messenger’s final barb, a last ugly jape before he slipped into the void. Vaelin’s gaze tracked from Sherin’s hand entwined with Sho Tsai’s to the mutual affection he saw shining in their eyes. She’s right; I was misinformed. He wanted me to see this.

  He was therefore grateful for the distraction when the Jade Princess let out a laugh and leapt from the saddle, clapping and jumping in girlish delight as Erlin guided his horse through the carnage of the Stahlhast’s demise.

  “Young wanderer,” she greeted him as he dismounted, throwing her arms around his waist and pressing herself close. “You came to see me again and it’s barely been two decades!”

  Erlin winced at the strength of her embrace before laughing and gently easing her back. “Careful,” he said. “I’m not so young now.”

  “Oh.” The Princess reached up to pluck at his greying hair, her fingers moving on to play over the deepening wrinkles in his forehead. “How?”

  “A very long story.” His smile turned to a frown of concern. “And you? They said you might be ill.”

  “Just a small ruse.” She shrugged and giggled. “I had to go on an adventure with my new friend.”

  “Dai Shin!” Vaelin turned at the sound of Tsai Lin’s voice, finding him pointing to the eastern horizon. Squinting, Vaelin managed to make out the silhouette of a lone rider who promptly vanished a heartbeat later.

  “Gone off to tell his friends all about us, I assume,” Nortah said. He wiped a rag along the length of his sword before sliding it into the sheath on his back. “Sister,” he said, inclining his head at Sherin. “Good to see you again.”

  It took Sherin a moment before her brow creased in recognition. “Brother Nortah. It seems I am beset by not one but two ghosts today. You are supposed to be dead, are you not?”

  Nortah spread his hands. “A long-settled misunderstanding.”

  “You cut the Battle Lord’s hand off, as I recall.”

  “I did, and later served under him in the Liberation War. The world is ever a place of contradictions, don’t you find?”

  “Contradictions,” Sherin agreed, casting another glance at Vaelin. “And lies.”

  “To your mounts if you would, honoured ladies,” Sho Tsai said, preparing to resume the saddle. “That scout will be hastening to bring word of our presence to his kin. We need to be many miles south before nightfall.”

  “You have my leave to depart,” Sherin told him. “As for myself and the Princess . . .”

  “You will mount up and ride!” Sho Tsai snapped. The set of his shoulders told of a reluctant harshness, but one he wouldn’t shirk. “Or I will have you bound to your saddles.”

  “We are not here on some mad jaunt,” Sherin shot back. “Our mission is of great import.”

  “And what exactly is your mission?” Vaelin asked, watching Sherin turn to the Jade Princess in exasperation. The ancient woman gave a tight smile accompanied by a fractional shake of her head that seemed sufficient to still Sherin’s tongue.

  “There is no time for this.” The captain hauled himself into the saddle. “You can explain yourself when we make camp.” He stared down at her, matching her defiant glare with implacable determination. “Now, Honoured Grace of Heaven, please resume your mount and follow me.”

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  They reached the riverbank by dusk, Sho Tsai insisting they push on until the sun had almost fully dipped below the flat line of the horizon. He organised an even tighter perimeter than the night before, fully half the company standing watch with crossbows primed. Tsai Lin was also set to keep a close watch on the river.

  “Order any passing boat to heave to,” the captain said. “We’ll get the ladies and foreigners aboard, then lead the Stahlhast away whilst they make safe passage to Keshin-Kho.”

  As the Dai Lo bobbed his head in acknowledgement and hurried off towards the riverbank, Vaelin noticed how the Jade Princess’s gaze tracked him. Her eyes were narrowed in a shrewd appraisal that contrasted greatly with the near-childlike manners she had exhibited so far. He watched her move closer to Sho Tsai, asking a question in a voice too soft to hear. There was a palpable wariness to the captain’s nod of response, though she seemed satisfied, the warm smile returning to her lips as she touched a hand to Sho Tsai’s armoured forearm. This time Vaelin was able to catch her words: “He is a credit to you. The Servants of the Temple chose well.”

  Sho Tsai merely nodded again and moved on, snapping out orders forbidding any fires to be lit. Consequently, the evening meal consisted of hardtack and dried beef. The Jade Princess and Erlin maintained a softly spoken and cheery conversation throughout the night, which contrasted with Sherin’s stern and unyielding silence. She sat opposite Vaelin, moonlight catching the outline of her face but features unreadable in the gloom. He could, however, feel her anger and took some small comfort in the fact that it wasn’t directed entirely at him. Sho Tsai had attempted to question her on the nature of her mission only to receive a curt and loudly spoken response: “It doesn’t matter now.” She hadn’t said a word since.

  “This is worse than the supper I had with Mother after she caught me with that stable hand,” Ellese muttered.

  Vaelin heard what may have been a laugh from Sherin, albeit a very small one. “A Cumbraelin accent,” she said. “You’ve journeyed far for one so young.”

  “My uncle needed me,” Ellese replied.

  Sherin’s face tilted toward Vaelin, then away again. “Uncle?”

  “Well, not in blood. He and Mother won the war together, you see.”

  “Not without the help of several thousand others, my dear,” Nortah pointed out.

  “Yes.” Sherin’s voice was faint but Vaelin could hear the bitter resignation in it. “I had heard the Realm had suffered another war.”

&nbs
p; “This one needed fighting,” Nortah said. “Rest assured of that.”

  There was a pause, Sherin’s head lowering a little. “Aspect Elera, is she well?”

  “When last I saw her. It has been a good long while now.” Nortah turned to Vaelin. “You would know better than I, brother.”

  “I had a letter from her not long before we sailed,” Vaelin said. “She writes every month to advise on my sister’s well-being. Aspect Elera continues to head the Fifth Order, which has grown in size and import under the queen’s patronage. These days there is not a village in the Realm without a healing house.”

  “Lyrna.” Vaelin could hear the smile in Sherin’s voice. “They call her the Fire Queen here. The woman I knew wanted little more than to read, write and tend her garden. War transforms us all, it seems.”

  She wasn’t transformed, Vaelin thought. When you knew her, she was just waiting. He didn’t bother voicing the notion. Sherin had always been more inclined towards perceiving the best in people. “Caenis died saving her,” he said. “He was Aspect of the Seventh Order by then.”

  “Seventh Order? You mean to say it was real?”

  “It still is. An entire Order of the Faith dedicated to study of the Dark, now openly acknowledged and recognised by the crown after centuries in the shadows. The Realm is greatly changed.”

  “It must be markedly more peaceful at least, for the queen to permit this intrepid quest of yours.”

  The sardonic lilt of her voice kindled a small heat in his chest. He had forgotten how easily she could stir his pique. “She didn’t permit anything,” he said. “I am here on my own agency, as are my companions.”

  “Apart from Sehmon,” Ellese pointed out, chewing on a mouthful of beef. “He used to be an outlaw but he’s Alum’s servant now,” she explained to Sherin. “Uncle spared him the hanging he gave his relatives. Well, some of them were beheaded actually . . .”

  “Ellese,” Vaelin said, bringing her verbal torrent to a halt.

  “So.” Sherin’s face turned away from him once more. “The Realm is greatly changed, but you are not.”

  “Much has happened,” he said. “And I have much to apologise for . . .”

  “I don’t want your apology, Vaelin. I want you to go back to your tower and leave me alone.”

  She got to her feet and moved away, a slender shadow in the dark. He watched her walk to where the Jade Princess sat talking quietly with Erlin. There was a brief murmur of conversation before Sherin disappeared fully into the gloom.

  “Captain!” the Princess said, tone bright with enthusiasm as she got to her feet, clapping her hands. “Gather your men. In payment for their brave service I would like to sing them a song.”

  “A song, lady?” Sho Tsai said, his tone one of utter bafflement. “I don’t think . . .”

  “But I do!” she cut in with a laugh. “And I speak with the authority of Heaven, don’t forget.” She clapped her hands again and wagged a finger at him. “Hurry now.”

  Sho Tsai hesitated a moment further before calling to his sergeant. The Red Scouts were duly drawn into a yet smaller perimeter. Half were ordered to keep facing the Steppe, whilst the rest all stood staring at the Jade Princess, eyes rapt in expectation of hearing a song blessed by Heaven.

  “They look like worshippers in the cathedral,” Ellese whispered.

  “That’s because they are,” Vaelin whispered back. “Hush. I suspect you’re about to hear something quite special.”

  He watched the Jade Princess run a hand through Erlin’s thinning hair. He couldn’t see her smile in the dark but the fondness and the sadness in her voice were unmistakable. “It was truly wonderful to see you again, young wanderer,” she said, dipping her head to press a kiss to his cheek. Rising, she straightened, drew a breath and sang her first note, and the world turned to utter blackness in an instant.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  He awoke with the dawn, finding Sherin looking down at him with an impatient scowl. “She says you’re needed,” she told him in a flat voice, touching her toe to the sword lying at his side. “So is that, apparently. Pick it up and let’s go.”

  Vaelin blinked and got to his feet, scanning the camp and finding himself surrounded by slumbering bodies. Corporal Wei lay with his head resting on his sergeant’s breastplate, snores loud in the morning air and a contented smile on his misshapen lips. The only exception was Ahm Lin. He gave a grim smile as Sherin embraced him. “Please,” she said, drawing back and blinking damp eyes, “get away from here. Go and be with your wife. You have cared for me long enough.”

  “True friendship is rare,” he replied. “And not easily forsaken. You know I had to come.”

  Sherin wiped her eyes and nodded, enfolding him in a final fierce embrace before turning away and striding towards where the Jade Princess stood holding the reins of their ponies.

  “She did this,” Ahm Lin said, nodding to the princess. “One note of her song and they all fell into the soundest sleep.”

  “But not you,” Vaelin observed.

  “I have a song of my own.” He shrugged. “It’s no match for hers to be sure, but I believe it protected me.”

  Spying Nortah, Vaelin moved to grasp him by the shoulder, shaking it hard.

  “They won’t wake until she allows it,” Sherin called from the back of her pony. “And she won’t allow it until we’re many miles north of here.”

  “Why do this?” Vaelin demanded, advancing towards the Jade Princess. “These men came here to save you. They’ll be defenceless like this.”

  She replied with an aggravatingly coquettish smile, raising an eyebrow at Sherin. “Is he always so . . . forceful?” she asked.

  “It varies according to circumstance,” Sherin said before fixing Vaelin with an expectant glare. “The sooner we’re gone from here the sooner they’ll wake. If you care about their well-being, you’ll get your backside on a horse and come with us.”

  “What about him?” Vaelin’s finger lashed towards Sho Tsai’s unconscious form. “Don’t you care about him? Leaving him here for the Stahlhast to slaughter . . .”

  “Rest assured they’ll soon forget about this incursion when they have me.”

  Sherin raised her hand at Ahm Lin in farewell, a sad smile on her lips. The mason raised his own hand in response, though it appeared his wariness of the Jade Princess forbade him coming any closer. “Stay or go,” Sherin told Vaelin, tugging her reins to turn her pony and kicking it into motion. “I’m tired of this.”

  The Jade Princess lingered a moment before following her, casting a wistful glance at where Erlin lay slumbering. “I would have done this sooner,” she said with a note of apology. “But I so wanted to talk to my old friend for a time.”

  “Wait,” Vaelin said as she gathered her reins. He felt a sore but unwise temptation to wrest them from her grip, knowing if he did he would find himself waking with the others some hours later. “Why are you doing this? Why willingly place yourselves in the hands of the Stahlhast?”

  “Come along and find out,” she laughed, spurring her pony into a canter.

  Vaelin watched her ride off into the dust raised by Sherin’s pony, biting down a curse before hurrying to his horse. “Brother,” Ahm Lin said, moving to his side. “I would come, but . . .”

  “She scares you,” Vaelin finished. He tightened the saddle’s cinch before hauling himself up. “And well she should. Better if you stay here in any case. The captain will have need of your song.”

  “You wish us to follow?”

  “No.” Vaelin scanned the Steppe, wondering how many eyes had already witnessed this bizarre waking. “The princess won’t allow it, and the Stahlhast are sure to bring greater numbers to meet us. Tell him he should go south and wait until your song brings a clear notion of where to find us.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”


  “Then he’ll have a war to fight . . . and a lover to avenge.”

  He paused to survey his companions, arranged in a loose circle of unconscious bodies around the smoking remnant of their fire, his gaze settling on Ellese. In slumber her features were even more youthful than usual, birthing a sense that he was about to abandon a child in hostile country.

  “I ask you to have a special care for my niece,” he said, leaning down to clasp the mason’s hand. “She is not as strong or worldly as she appears.”

  Ahm Lin returned his grip with fierce assurance. “I will.”

  Vaelin felt a pang of gratitude for the way the mason kept his features as expressionless as possible, though the moistness of his eyes was a clear sign of his thoughts.

  “I trust your song, old friend,” Vaelin said, forcing a smile before kicking his horse into a gallop, riding hard to catch up with Sherin and the Princess.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  They came upon the battlefield when the sun had reached noon. At first Vaelin thought the ugly dark smear marring the yellow-green blanket of the Steppe was the result of a summer grass fire, but his experienced eye soon picked out the bones. They lay blackened or bleached upon the dry earth, many pierced with arrows, withered fletchings making them resemble cornstalks growing from between ribs or sprouting from empty eye sockets. Shattered lances and broken crossbows lay about the field, and many of the bodies still wore armour. Some had been reduced to nothing but bone whilst desiccated flesh still lingered on others. Vaelin paused at the sight of a man lying beneath the remains of a horse, drawn by the gleam of his breastplate. It was more elaborately decorated than the others littering this ground, with inlaid swirls of silver and Far Western script etched onto the steel. One half of the man’s face was a grinning skull and the other a mask of leathery flesh. The crows had taken both his eyes, however.