“You,” I whispered into his fur. “It was you outside the tent that night.”
“What!” Conon growled as Risk whined, sounding embarrassed. “You came into the camp like that?”
“It’s past,” interrupted Skeever. “Let it go—“
“You endangered the entire crew!” the minotaur roared furiously. “The captain was right to put you in a cage!”
Risk’s hackles rose and his lips pulled back in a snarl.
“Enough!” snapped Skeever. “The BOTH of you! We’re inches away from a horrible death and we do NOT have time for your bickering!”
But Conon clearly wasn’t done. Ignoring Risk’s growls even as they slowly rose in volume, the minotaur stepped right up into the wolf’s face. His irises were blood red, and his anger seemed to be flowing off him in waves like heat from a stove.
In a low furious tone he spoke: “how could you risk her that way?”
The wolf’s eyes flashed, and Risk’s long jaws opened. His teeth glistened with saliva, which dripped from his snarling lips to pool on the temple’s stone floor.
Conon’s glare deepened. “Gonna bite me, dog?”
Risk stood, the sudden movement nearly bowling me over. I staggered, and quickly righted myself, before hurrying to put between the wolf and the minotaur. Reaching up to Risk’s lowered head, I wrapped my arms around his jaws, and to my surprise, they closed easily with just the slightest hint of resistance.
“Skeever’s right,” I said, staring into the wolf’s massive eyes. “We need to go, NOW.”
The wolf blinked, and in an instant, all the hate and rage that had been directed at Conon vanished. Risk slipped his muzzle from my grip, and turned to look out over the side of the mountain. If an animal could look determined, then that was definitely the expression on the wolf’s face. Suddenly, he lay down, lowering himself to perfect mounting height. I reached up, and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Are you sure you can carry us all?”
“He’ll have to,” said Skeever, already scrambling up onto the wolf’s back.
As Conon lifted me up to sit just behind Risk’s shoulders, I couldn’t help but mentally disagree. It wasn’t because I believed he was a bad person in anyway, though he and I clearly disagreed on some social issues, and he’d certainly shown a greater propensity for flashes of sudden anger than I had expected when we’d first met. Though Conon had shown that as well over the last few days, so they were definitely more alike than I think either of them would want to admit.
But my bodyguard was exactly that: my bodyguard. He had a contractual obligation to do whatever he could to protect me. Up to, and including, putting his own wellbeing in jeopardy it would seem. But that obligation did not extend to anybody else. He defended the ship because both he and I were on it, but what need had he to protect the rest of the crew? As long as he and I made it safely back to the ship and off the island, I somehow doubted Risk would have many tears to shed about the fate of a bunch of smugglers. Especially when he’d already been quite verbal about his distaste for several of them.
He could just as easily fling me onto his back and take off, leaving the others behind. And yet he lay still as all four of us, including the undoubtedly heavy minotaur, took our seats.
I leant down over Risk’s shoulders, chest pressed to his back, to whisper in one twitching ear.
“Thank you. I mean it. For everything you’ve done.”
Risk stood, and I had to throw my arms around his neck to stop myself sliding right off. Skeever was cuddled up behind me, a bit too close if I was being honest, with Harmon behind him, and Conon almost at the wolf’s tail. Risk was certainly big in this form, but four riders seemed to be pushing it just a bit. It didn’t feel like coincidence either that I seemed to have ended up in the best riding position.
He stepped up to the edge of the room and jumped. I screamed and wrapped my arms tighter. We landed in one of the garden tiers around the temple’s peak. Rushing forward, we leapt a low wall, and down into the next tier. It was all I could do to hang on. I’d ridden horses in my youth, but that was nothing like this!
A furious howl echoed from the temple as Risk leapt out of the last part of the garden and down into the jungle below.
We were back on the winding path, but now there was a river of molten rock sliding down through the trees towards us. Risk quickly turned and raced away, under the strange archway and away from the temple. I had no idea if a giant wolf was capable of outrunning a lava flow, but right now, it was all we could do.
Suddenly, the side of the hill cracked open ahead of us, spewing hot gas and a boiling geyser. I screamed and ducked, spots of scalding water peppering my head and neck. The broken skull of the apparition lunged at us from the ground, teeth bared. Risk leapt, front paws coming down on polishing bone, as he used the apparition as a springboard.
I could hear the skull snapping beneath us as Risk soared over its back and landed heavily further down the hill.
I looked back. The apparition was in terrible shape. It’s once-full body was now thin and weedy, the mist pouring from its eye sockets and the crack in the bone.
No! It shrieked after us, its words trembling and weak. You must… return… It took a stumbling step forward, its legs bending this way and that like they were made of rubber. You must… you must… return…
The molten lava was still flowing down the hill, hissing and spitting embers into the forest, setting the trees ablaze. As I watched, the burning tied washed over the apparition. Its head came up once, mouth open in a scream as a frail paw flailed, as though trying to swim. Then, in the next instant, it was gone.
Risk ran like the wind was lifting his heels, managing to keep ahead of the pouring magma. The fire in the jungle wasn’t so sluggish, however and within minutes, we were racing through a tunnel of fire. Embers and burning leaves showered down around us, as Risk did his best to avoid them.
Skeever stiffened behind me a second before a branch, completely burnt through, came loose with a loud crack, landing on the path in front of us. Risk almost reared, and it seemed to take all his self-control to keep his front paws on the ground and not throw us off. I could feel his heart pounding beneath me.
The ocean was visible through the trees now, and my heart leapt. We were almost there. Risk dodged around the burning branch, and burst out of the trees and onto the sand, skidding to a stop. My breath caught. The beach was empty, but for some scattered torches and the smouldering remains of the central fire. I gasped. The Seacow was gone.
Skeever reached around me and gave the wolf’s ear a tug.
“That way,” he ordered, all but pulling Risk around towards the path Conon and I had taken to the hot spring. “To the cliffs, hurry!”
Risk growled and shook his head to dislodge Skeever’s grip, then set off up the beach.
The cliffs soon towered over us, vast and seemingly impenetrable. Risk sniffed around for a bit before dashing back into the jungle. At first, I thought he was following my old trail, but he sprinted past the cave entrance without even glancing at it. Far past the cave, there was a break in the cliffs, and a path curved away behind the massive rock face.
On the other side, there was a thin path with the cliff wall on one side, and a sheer drop down to the ocean on the other.
“Hey!” exclaimed Harmon.
I looked out over the ocean and spied the Seacow not too far away. My eyes widened. The mast! It was a tree, an entire tree. Canopy and all. Had the crew had so little time that they’d taken that big tree in one piece and just stuck it into the deck? The rigging and sails had been hung from the tree’s upper branches, and the trunk was still covered in bark.
Risk winced as Skeever stood up on his back, his mirror in hand. We waited with baited breath as he signalled the ship. Would they even be looking though? Surely, if they’d left then wouldn’t they think us already dead?
Frustrated, Skeever pulled Risk’s gun from his pocket and fired it into the air. I
winced and covered my ears. Skeever signalled with the mirror again, and this time, it seemed someone was looking back at the island because a second later, there was a series of frantic flashes. The Seacow leaned to the side as it pulled around, and started heading back to the island.
“Keep going,” said Skeever, putting the mirror and gun away, and sitting down again.
As soon as the man was settled, Risk took off up the cliff path, hugging the wall as much as he could. Around the bend, a sharp spear of rock stuck out over the ocean, and The Seacow was pulling up and dropping anchor beneath the cliff point.
Risk came to a stop, and Skeever slipped off his side. He ran up to the edge of the cliff and watched the ship as Conon and Harmon dismounted as well.
“Righto then,” said Skeever suddenly as Conon helped me down. “I’ll see you back on the ship.”
Then he dived off the cliff.
With a shout, the two minotaurs rushed to the edge.
“Oh I see,” said Harmon. “Clever.”
And a moment later, he too stepped off the cliff.
“Alright you next,” said Conon turning to me.
“Are you crazy?” I exclaimed.
He wanted me to jump off a cliff? I’d already done something like that once today, I had no interest in doing in again.
Behind us the mountain boomed, fresh torrents of fire and ash shooting up into the sky. The cliff shook and golf ball sized rocks started to shower down on us.
“Get moving,” Conon ordered.
“But—”
“Go,” he snarled, picking me up and tossing me screaming from the cliff.
I plummeted towards the ship, the rushing wind whipping the tears from my eyes. My heart was in my throat, and for a terrifying second, I felt this would be the end.
Then the deck of the ship came rushing up to meet me. I barely saw the great stretch of canvas cloth before I hit it with a great whump. I bounced once, twice then came to a rest, panting as though I’d just run a marathon. Then one end of cloth lifted, and I slid sideways off it and onto the deck.
I skidded to a halt and lay panting on my back. About half the crew were standing around the edges of one of the massive holes in the deck, holding the edges of a huge swath of crudely-stitched sail cloth. Far above, I saw a dark figure leap from the cliff, then a moment later, Conon was landing safely in the makeshift net. He recovered much faster than I, and rolled himself out of the canvas. The moment his hooves hit the deck, he was at my side and trying to help me stand.
“I’m fine, really,” I assured, waving him away as my racing heart slowly calmed. “Just a bit puffed.”
I looked up again just as the wolf leapt for freedom. Risk rolled forwards in the air, the dark haze shrouding him again. As he shrunk back to his regular human shape, it gave the weirdest optical illusion as though he was hanging in the air and coming no closer to the ship before suddenly he too was caught by the canvas.
I sighed and let my head loll back with relief, tired eyes slipping closed. Finally. Everyone was safe. An unfamiliar hand pressed against my forehead, and my eyes snapped open again. Theron was peering down at me, a grumpy expression on his face.
“Sore?” he asked. “Anything broken? Concussion? Feel ill?”
I shook my head. “Just exhausted.”
“Alright, then.” He stood and turned to Conon. “That needs seeing to. And DON’T tell me it’s nothing, I can see it’s not.”
“Don’t mind me,” I said with a smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Conon let Theron drag him off, and I slumped back again. Above me, the branches of the main mast swayed in the breeze, trickling the occasional leaf down onto the deck. I still couldn’t believe how they’d managed it. How did someone make a mast out of a whole tree, branches and all? It was probably one of the most ridiculous things I’d ever seen, and given the past week of my life, that was saying a lot.
I eventually grew sick of lying on the deck and having everyone walk around me. Pulling myself to my feet, my body protesting at the prospect of movement, I moved to lean against the ship’s railing. The ship was moving again, sailing away from the quaking island, and I watched the column of volcanic ash climb higher into the sky, as it faded slowly into the distance.
When it was little more than a black speck on the horizon, Skeever appeared next to me, and half draped himself over the railing. His eyes were slightly unfocused, and he looked almost sea-sick. He would groan every now and then, ducking his head like he was going to be sick. He never did, though, and his failure to seemed to make him feel even worse.
“You don’t look well,” I noted.
“Would you believe I got used to the solid ground?” he replied weakly.
So he was sea-sick.
“Maybe you should go have a lie down?”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” he replied. “But I always feel worse. Fuck, I need some air.”
He reached up and pulled the wrap off his face, baring a whiskered, though otherwise hairless rat snout.
I’d suspected since I’d first seen his tail that he was more than just a short, skinny human. I’d assumed Nezumi, if only due to their relative commonness within the human kingdoms, for otherkin anyway, but the Dirka on the other hand, I’d only ever seen in pictures.[14]
Skeever’s eyes closed as the ocean breeze washed over his sweaty face, some of the colour already starting to come back into his pale cheeks. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes again and tilted his head to look at me.
“Surprised?”
I shrugged. “I suppose so. It doesn’t bother me.”
He hummed softly, and looked back out over the ocean. “I don’t exactly advertise it.”
“I’ve noticed. Is this something you’d prefer me not to mention as well?”
“I’d appreciate it.”
Heavy boot steps on the deck interrupted our conversation and signalled the captain’s arrival. He all but ignored me, his entire focus centred on Skeever. He laid a paw on the shorter man’s head, scratching gently with his rounded claws. The movement loosened the Dirka’s scarf further, pulling it completely off his head and revealing thinning ginger hair.
“Still not used to it, eh?” asked the captain, speaking as though I wasn’t there.
Skeever merely sighed, clearly enjoying the feeling of the claws threading through his hair. He was obviously still feeling unwell, but the impromptu head massage seemed to be having some positive effect.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being on the ocean,” he said after a little while. “Some enforcer I am… I’m sorry.”
Something about the tone in his voice suggested that he was apologising for more than just being sick, and the sigh the captain gave said the bear knew as well.
“It’s alright,” replied the captain softly, his tone heavy. “I understand.”
Skeever stiffened and I saw his hands clench into fists.
I excused myself. There was something very personal going on between them, and I didn’t feel comfortable intruding even as much as I had. It was strange they’d felt comfortable talking in front of me about anything at all, but I thought it best to give them some sense of privacy.
Chapter 19:
The Stowaway
Risk was sitting in a corner on his own near the bow. Next to him was a fresh water barrel and a platter of meat jerky from the galley stores. I watched him pour himself a drink from the spigot on the side of the barrel, and hurriedly gulp it, before pouring himself another one. With his free hand, he scooped up a piece of jerky and started gnawing on one end like a dog with a bone.
He still looked terrible, starved, dehydrated, and completely exhausted. I had to wonder if at any point during his time in the brig he’d been properly fed. But even if he hadn’t, Risk had arrived at the temple looking like he’d been starved for weeks if not months, not just a few days. He’d felt underweight in his wolf form as well, and had gone to sleep almost the moment we were safely back
on the ship. It made me wonder just how much energy he used when he shifted.
My friend had never appeared to have this problem, though she’d had the benefit of three filling meals a day every day from the school dining hall. She’d never had to worry about going without for any stretch of time. Maybe shifting was just that exhausting, and Risk was feeling the brunt of it after having gone a few days without. But that still didn’t explain why he’d been in such bad condition. Had he shifted on the ship?
“If you’re gonna keep staring, you might as well draw me.”
Risk’s words made me jump. I hadn’t realised I was watching him so intently. I hurried to apologise, but he dismissed my concerns with a wave on his jerky filled hand.
I joined him beside the water barrel, but politely declined when he offered me the plate. Food wasn’t really on my list of wants at the moment and besides, Risk clearly needed it more than I.
“So,” I began. “Shape-shifter?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“I had a friend in school who was one.”
Risk tensed, cup to his lips. “That so?”
“Yeah, she could turn into a cat. Didn’t do it much and, well I say friend, but I only knew her from my dormitory. Figured it’d probably be rude to just bombard her with questions about it. So I don’t know much beyond what I’ve read.”
“Many books on shifting?” he asked, his casual tone sounding a little forced.
“Some history of, but most are targeted at teens. You know, ‘your body is changing’ literally ‘here’s how to deal with it.’ That kind of thing. I never ended up needing them, so only glossed over a couple.”
“What do you think of shifters?”
That was an odd question. What did I think of them? I only knew the one, two if I counted Risk, and I’ve never had cause to think there was a need to have an opinion. Shifting wasn’t political or religious, some people just were.
The Island of Wolves Page 19