The Crowded Shadows

by Celine Kiernan

  Christopher rubbed his head, looking confused. Wynter came and gazed up at him until he met her eyes. When he finally turned to her, she shocked him by stretching up and kissing him softly on the lips. He kept perfectly still for a fraction of a second, then he pressed his mouth down on hers so that their lips parted delicately against each other. They didn’t touch, except for that singular exquisite contact. But, just before they parted, the tip of Christopher’s tongue brushed gently against Wynter’s and it felt like he had run his hand all the way from the top of her head to the soles of her feet.

  She pulled away with a small sigh and the two of them stood for a moment, their eyes shut, their heads still tilted at the angle with which they had ended their kiss. Then Razi coughed softly behind them, and they turned away from each other, blinking. When they hit the trail again, Wynter was smiling and Christopher hummed quietly to himself as they got underway.

  The storms moved in by dusk, and they hurried to set up camp in the rapidly encroaching twilight. They had just enough time to get their belongings under canvas and lay out their bedrolls before the sky opened in a tremendous, bruising downpour.

  They dived into the tent and lay in the dark, listening to the rain batter itself into the unresisting forest. At Wynter’s feet, Razi drew up his cloak and curled against the pillow of his saddle. Christopher tightened his arms briefly around her and she felt him kiss her neck before settling down to sleep.

  There had been no more sign of the other travellers. As she fell asleep, Wynter thought about them out there somewhere, no more aware of her presence in the world than all the little animals of the night. She imagined their two camps as seen by God, minuscule and insignificant, their paths little threads laid on the map of the world, intersecting once and then never again. Overhead, the thunder finally made its appearance and she jumped as it bellowed its anger to the sky. Christopher took her hand and settled his forehead against her back. Razi snored softly in the gloom. Wynter settled deeper into the warmth of her cloak. After that, sleep pulled her swiftly down, and the world bled away into darkness and muffled sound.

  Sons of Wolves

  Around midmorning the next day, the sun finally came out. The joy it brought was short-lived, however, as midges descended in a vicious cloud, and everyone sighed and pulled their scarves up around their faces. Wynter was swatting at the flies and grumbling miserably to herself when Razi jerked his horse to a sudden halt, blocking the path. Warily, she pulled Ozkar neck and neck with his big dark mare. Christopher pulled up behind them, silently watchful.

  Razi was staring intently ahead.

  “What is it?” hissed Wynter, peering into the forest and seeing nothing.

  “Shhhh,” Razi held up his hand. “Listen.”

  They sat for a moment, their horses blowing and stamping beneath them. Then Wynter heard it, quite a distance away-hammering and the sporadic shouts of men. Somewhere up ahead, a large camp was being set up, or more likely, it was being struck, the travellers getting ready to leave after having waited out the rain.

  Wynter glanced at Razi. Perhaps they had found the owners of that little silver bell.

  The three of them slid from their saddles, secured their mounts and took off on foot through the trees. They came to a halt at the base of a small hill, where they crouched, pausing to catch their breath. The camp was on the other side, out of sight, the men shouting to each other as they did their work.

  Christopher went to crawl forward, and Razi snagged him by the sleeve, tugging him back into hiding “I want you to stay here, Chris. Keep an eye out for guards, while I go take a look.”

  Christopher sank back into the leaves. “What?” he said, puzzled.

  “I mean it; I want you to stay here. I want you to warn us if anyone comes.”

  Christopher tilted his head back and looked Razi in the eye. Then he turned to Wynter, searching her face. She looked away, letting her attention slip up to the brow of the hill. Christopher’s eyes narrowed. He knew they were keeping something from him. “Let Wynter keep watch,” he said flatly. He broke free of Razi with an upward swing of his arm and began a determined crawl to the top.

  “Shit,” spat Razi.

  Wynter sighed and they began to crawl after him.

  Neither of them could match Christopher’s stealthy speed, and he gained the brow of the hill while they were still only three quarters of the way up. Wynter glanced up to see him pause at the skyline and then cautiously raise his head to look down into the camp. She turned to see if Razi was watching, then jumped, startled, as something dark and low rushed past her down the slope.

  She pressed herself into the leaf cover, convinced that some big animal had launched itself over the hill. But it was Christopher, crawling frantically backwards through the leaves, heading for the base of the hill at tremendous speed. He shot past so quickly that Wynter was looking down on him before she knew it. His face shocked her, it was so terrified. His teeth were bared, his eyes staring as he propelled himself away from whatever it was he’d seen.

  Razi reached for him and missed, and Wynter understood at once that Christopher had forgotten that they were there. He was possessed only with the desire to get away, and as she watched, he hit the bottom of the hill, gained his feet and fled.

  Razi paused for only a moment and then he, too, scurried backwards to the bottom of the hill. Wynter hurried after him. They hit the ground running and took off after their friend, speeding through the trees in silence, trying to keep up with Christopher’s terrified pace.

  They arrived at the horses to find Christopher clumsily pulling his mare’s tether from the highline. Even as Wynter ran towards him, he was flinging himself into the saddle, so she veered for Ozkar, expecting them all to mount up and ride as far and as fast as they could. Razi, however, ran straight across the clearing, wrapped his powerful arms around Christopher and snatched him bodily from his mount.

  Christopher released a sharp cry as Razi heaved him backwards, then he lapsed into an eerily silent frenzy. Razi had grabbed Christopher’s right wrist as he snatched him from his horse and he pinned Christopher’s left arm against his body as he pulled him down. But even with both arms restrained, Christopher writhed like an eel, and it took all of Razi’s immense strength just to stop him from slipping free.

  “Wait now,” Razi murmured. “Wait …”

  With a growl, Christopher shoved back with his heels, and Razi staggered backwards to keep from falling.

  Wynter watched helplessly, overwhelmed by Christopher’s soundless, blind panic. He seemed to have lost all track of who they were and what they wanted with him. She had no doubt that, had Christopher been able to reach for his knives, Razi would have suffered for it.

  Christopher threw his head back, attempting to butt Razi between the eyes. The blow would surely have broken Razi’s nose had it connected, but he seemed to be expecting it, and had already twisted so that Christopher’s head struck his shoulder and not his face. Wynter was amazed at how calm Razi was. His deep voice remained soothing and quiet, and his face was almost expressionless as he continued to ask their friend, “Wait… wait, Christopher… wait …”

  Then, without breaking his strange composure, Razi suddenly lifted Christopher off his feet and shook him, quick and hard, as if trying to rattle his fear from him. “Wait,” he said loudly.

  Christopher stilled instantly, his head pressed back against Razi’s shoulder, his face blank. His breathing was rapid and terrified against Razi’s straining arms, and Wynter was appalled by how white he was, at how wide his eyes were.

  Razi lowered Christopher to his feet without releasing him. “Chris,” he murmured. “Can you understand me?”

  Christopher’s eyelids fluttered and he nodded.

  “Just wait a little moment. Just a moment and then we can go. All right?” Christopher didn’t reply. Razi, his arms still wrapped tightly around him, turned his head against his friend’s hair, trying to see his face. “I just need to know a few
things, then we can go, all right?”

  Wynter did not like the way Razi was holding Christopher’s mutilated fist captive against his chest. He was so much bigger than Christopher, and it seemed brutal, somehow, and cruel. She opened her mouth to tell Razi to release him. Then Christopher’s clenched hand relaxed suddenly against the fabric of his tunic. His eyes slid towards Razi’s voice, and something made Wynter lower her hand, and stay silent.

  “Was it the Loups-Garous?” murmured Razi.

  Christopher nodded stiffly.

  “Was it André’s sons?” Christopher jerked his head in another nod and Razi tightened his arms, drawing Christopher’s hand even further across his chest. “Was it that pack? David’s pack?”

  “Aye,” whispered Christopher. “David’s pack.” The sound of his own voice seemed to wake him, and Christopher became aware of Razi’s arms around him, and of where they were. He flushed and his face creased up with embarrassment. He shifted miserably, shrugging his shoulder, and then his arm. He twisted his wrist against his friend’s grip, and Razi slowly released him. Razi tried to keep a comforting hand on his shoulder, but Christopher shrugged him off with a little wincing movement and stepped away, rubbing his wrist.

  “Sorry,” he whispered, avoiding Razi’s eyes. “Sorry… it was the shock. That’s all. Just the shock.” He lifted his eyes to Wynter and looked away immediately. “Sorry,” he said again. He looked at his hands, snarling in disgust at the way they were trembling.

  “Look at me!” he hissed. “Look at what they still reduce me to. I’m… I’m bloody palsied. “He broke off with a little cry of self loathing, staggered towards the horses, seemed to change his mind and veered away again. He ended up just stumbling in a circle. “Shit,” he said, finding himself back where he’d started. “Shit.” He lifted his hands to Razi in a helpless gesture. Razi just stood watching, his arms hanging impotently by his sides. Wynter reached for Christopher’s hand. His fingers closed briefly on hers, but then he broke free of her grip.

  His sturdy little mare was strolling free, her reins trailing perilously on the ground between her hooves. Reflexively, Christopher crossed to her and fixed the tack. He did not come back to his friends when he was done, but stood with his hand on his horse’s neck, staring blankly into the trees.

  Wynter tore her gaze from him. “What are Wolves doing here, Razi?” she cried. “I thought Jonathon drove them out.”

  Razi turned burning eyes on her, and she stepped back at the unexpected rage in his face. In a sudden flash of understanding, Wynter realised that Razi had been handling Christopher as he would a bolting horse. He had been dominating him, using his own strength and will to quell Christopher’s panic and calm his fear, and now that he had succeeded, all Razi’s self-possession had deserted him, leaving him seething and furious.

  “Why are they here, Razi?” she asked gently.

  Razi just pushed past without answering and crossed the clearing with his head down like an angry bull. Swinging into the saddle, he pulled his mare around, yanking the reins with uncharacteristic brutality so that the big animal tossed her head and snorted in protest. He jerked to an aggravated halt at the tree line.

  “Come on!” he snapped. “We’re heading out.” Then he pushed his horse through the undergrowth and into the trees without waiting for the others to mount up.

  The heavy foliage made it difficult to ride close and they kept splitting up and coming together, drifting into single file and then separating again. Wynter watched the others come and go through the screen of leaves and the intermittent trunks of the trees. Christopher slouched in the saddle, clucking his horse around obstacles and through patches of light brush. Razi, deep in glowering thought, was thoroughly unapproachable. He stayed well ahead of them, setting a ruthless pace that neither Wynter nor Christopher chose to question.

  Eventually, the undergrowth thinned a little, and Wynter took the opportunity to pull up beside Christopher’s horse so they rode two abreast for a while. He did not look at her, though she kept glancing his way, and after a while she leaned over and touched his arm.

  “Christopher,” she said quietly. “Are you all right?”

  “Oh, aye!” he said. “I told you, it was just the shock.” He steered his horse one-handed around a stump, and forgot to look at Wynter again when they got back on course. “I hadn’t expected them here, you see. Razi had told me they wouldn’t… If I had known, I could have… I would certainly have… you see …” He seemed to realise that he was talking in fragments and shut up, snapping his spine straight and taking a deep, aggravated breath through his nose.

  Razi rode on in silence, his back rigid.

  “I ain’t usually such a coward,” Christopher said suddenly. Wynter frowned and reached for him in protest, but he side-stepped his horse away from her and kept looking steadily ahead. “It was the shock,” he said firmly, as if she had disputed the fact. “I just didn’t expect to see them here, so I weren’t ready. At home, I know they’ll be there, I expect to see them and I can steel myself. That’s the… it was just the shock.”

  “At home?” she said. “In the Moroccos, you mean? You see the Wolves there?”

  He glanced at her and away again. “Sometimes. When they’re in town. Their estates are very close to Razi’s. They are our neighbours.”

  Wynter turned to look at Razi, but if he felt her eyes boring into him he didn’t show it. Their estates? she thought. The Wolves have estates in the Moroccos? She had always thought that they lived feral, like wild animals. She had always imagined them crouched in filthy dens, or lurking in caves, swaddled in dirty furs.

  She looked at Christopher’s ruined hands. His left hand was resting on his thigh, his right loosely holding the reins, guiding his little mare on her way. Wynter had assumed the Wolves had done that to him, but surely—she glanced again at Razi. Surely whoever had done that to Christopher didn’t just wander about Algiers day after day? Dear God! Surely Razi would have made them pay? It weren’t your place, Christopher had said, to sacrifice a kingdom for the sake of revenge.

  Wynter’s face flushed with building anger.

  “Razi said they wouldn’t be here,” said Christopher softly, as if talking to himself.

  “Chris?”

  At the sound of Razi’s voice, Christopher’s head snapped up. “Aye?” he said.

  Razi brought his horse to a halt and half turned his head towards them. They pulled up beside him.

  “You travelled for how long with the Wolves?” he asked. “Nine months? Ten?”

  Jesu, thought Wynter.

  “Over ten months, counting the boat and the trek through the muh… the markets.” Apart from the stumble, Christopher’s voice was perfectly even and calm. Razi turned to him, his face well schooled. Christopher met his eyes without hesitation.

  “This is how they always travel?” asked Razi. “This obvious? With the pack all together?”

  Christopher nodded. “I never once saw them try to hide,” he said. “They set up their tents every night, nice and comfortable. If they have guh… captives with them, they give them bivouacs and sometimes fires, but the Wolves sleep in the big tents with their… with the… the ones …”

  “Aye,” said Razi, holding up his hand, and Christopher ground to a grateful halt. “Do they stay close to camp? Can we expect them to wander? Go hunting?”

  Christopher shook his head. “Unless they are raiding, no. They like their comfort, the Wolves.” He drifted off for a moment, his face blank. Wynter looked at his uncharacteristically dull eyes and felt a solid block of rage rising in her throat; it was like a lump of unchewed meat. “If they’re raiding, or moving in for a… for what they call a visit, then the camp is set and most of the brothers go… visit… while the others stay and watch the goods.” Christopher made no attempt to correct the word this time, his mind far away. Then his eyes snapped into focus and he looked sharply at Razi. “But they don’t raid here, do they, Razi? They don’t visit, do they?”
Christopher’s voice was hard suddenly and bitter. “You said they wouldn’t be here at all.”

  Razi winced and almost looked away. “So,” he said tightly, ignoring Christopher’s comment, “do they tend to travel fast, Christopher? Once they’ve struck camp? Will they cover much ground?”

  “They ain’t got any goods with them,” said Christopher holding Razi’s eye. He was almost belligerent now, daring his friend to look away. “Just property, so, yes, Razi, they’ll travel fast. Where are they going?”

  Razi shook his head; he looked away into the trees. He seemed to be deep in thought. Then he half-turned his head to speak over his shoulder again. “Christopher,” he said, his voice soft, “were I to get to my knees now and beg of you to return home, would you misinterpret it as an attack on your courage?”

  Christopher blinked and looked up into the leaves above them. His eyes were bright, the broken sunlight making them glitter. For a moment he seemed very young, and Wynter wanted to put her arms around him. She wanted to tell him that it was all right. If he needed to leave, it was all right. She would not judge him for it.

  “You’d come too, of course,” said Christopher, but Razi just smiled and shook his head. He glanced at Wynter.

  She shook her head. No, Razi. I will not leave.

  “You can get on your knees if you wish, Razi,” said Christopher hoarsely. “It would be amusing to see. But it would avail you naught but muddy britches.” He tried a watery grin on for size. It slipped away a little too soon to be effective and his eyes never lost their tightness, but Razi obliged with a snort.

  He pulled his horse around and moved on without comment.

  “What are we going to do, Razi?” called Wynter, unable to keep the dry anger from her voice.

  Razi kept his horse moving forward. “We’re heading for the Indirie Valley, sis. Remember? We’re looking for Alberon.”

  She willed him to turn around so that he could see how enraged she was. When he didn’t, she called after him. “What are we going to do about the Wolves?”