In a Wolf's Eyes

by A. Katie Rose

  “I’ll settle with Leoda later,” Rygel muttered thickly, recapturing my attention. “Come with me now.”

  As he led her toward the stairs, Tia dropped her pretense at reluctance and hurried at his side. A few other interested stares also watched the pair mount the stairs to the chambers above.

  Rygel remembered my existence for one brief moment. “Eat your fill, kinsman, but save some for me.”

  I watched their hasty ascent up the stairway, Rygel’s grip on her hand never slackening its possessiveness. An instant later, a door slammed. I imagined I could hear the sounds of lust from above, but shook my head to dispel it.

  As I ate, I began to think.

  Chapter 6

  Bar

  I stood vigil over my friend.

  We had arrived at the abandoned and empty Monastery of Jefe early in the evening after riding hell-bent for leather through the city streets. On through the palace gates, the gate guards far too busy controlling the riots in the streets to shut them before we galloped past. We joined the multitudes fleeing the fighting, the riots, the fires, leaving the choked Federal road to travel fast across the rural countryside.

  I doubted Brutal could organize a chase so quickly, given his injuries, his father’s death and his brothers’ rebellion. While we needed to ride, hard and fast, for the border, I felt we also must honor the fallen. We must send Sele on her journey to Nephrotiti in proper fashion. I ordered a night’s rest at the monastery, then we would ride for the border immediately after Sele’s funeral.

  Witraz set Sele down gently, almost tenderly, on a pallet hastily put down next to the hearth in the central hall. I washed and dressed her, combing her long dark hair and arranging it about her slender shoulders, making her as fair in death as she was in life. I paid no heed to the subdued activities around the hall, scarcely noticed when someone built a fire next to her. Tears streamed in a steady flow down my face.

  My task completed, I took my sword and set it before me, bared, and watched over her through the night. I did not command anyone to watch with me, but Witraz took his unsheathed sword and stood next to me, silent. Alun took his place near her head, his blade also in his hands, his dark face and jade eyes as unmoving as though chiseled from granite. Kel’Ratan took a stance near her feet, his head unbowed, his blue eyes as fierce as ever. If I occasionally caught from the tail of my eye his thick mustache quivering, what was I to say?

  I doubt anyone slept that night. I let my eyes wander over her pretty, well-loved face lit by the hearth fire while my mind wandered back over the years. Sele and I grew up together, under the watchful eyes of Kel’Ratan and my father, King Gareth. Witraz, too, a few years older, along with Alun and Kael, joined us in our quest for trouble and adulthood. Regarding them as the siblings I never had, we rode, fished, fought, trained, hunted and learned as under one mind, one spirit. All five of us, young hotheads, as spirited as our horses and yet naught but giggling apprentices to the Kel’Hallan warrior society. We earned our swords together, shed blood for each other, cried, laughed, danced, quarreled and exulted in the hot fires of youth.

  Sele at age eight, ever the romantic, set her sights on marrying Alun one day. As the object of her hunt for a husband, Alun found the prospect horrifying as a young adolescent. As a teenager, he concluded that girls were rather interesting creatures. I caught them kissing behind my father’s stable one autumn afternoon. Alun was sixteen, Sele fourteen. I never confessed to having witnessed this, and watched their love grow over the years. I suspected they waited for me to marry before asking my father for his blessing on their union.

  Throughout the ride to the monastery, Alun rode silent, never speaking, his expression a mask of stern neutrality. Several warriors, including Witraz, Rannon, Kel’Ratan and I, tried to speak to him. He neither looked up, nor spoke. My heart worried over him at the same time it grieved for Sele. I loved her as the sister I never had, but Alun would have married her, fathered her children. Now she was gone and we both remained behind to mourn her loss. Lady’s blood, of all the things to happen, this was the very worst.

  Damn you, Sele! I wanted to scream. You knew better! You knew better! How could you leave me like this? Damn you! More tears flowed free down my cheeks, unchecked.

  I not only grieved for my sister, my friend, but also mourned the loss of the happy future Sele and Alun might have had. I mourned their unborn children, the children I would have sponsored.

  It was the longest night of my life.

  Come dawn, I walked slowly out of the hall’s doors, leading the somber procession. I held my sword erect in front of my face, my steps measured and slow. Alun, Witraz, Kel’Ratan, Rannon, Left and Right carried her bier. The rest of the warriors followed behind, their bared swords also in their hands and carried before their solemn faces.

  Well away from the monastery, in the high grass of the mountain meadow, her funeral pyre stood waiting. As her pallbearers lifted her onto it, the warriors gathered in a tight circle around her.

  Her weapons would go to a new warrior apprentice, a youngster who would recite her legacy in the Great Hall before my father’s throne. He, or she, would swear an oath to fulfill our code of honor, Kel’Atanya’WA, the code of the Horse People. The code Sele lived and died by. The codes we all lived by, Kel’Atanya’WA, the Way of the Warrior.

  I, the heir to the throne of Kel’Halla and leader of my small band, intoned prayers to the Lady, the sacred warrior goddess of our land, Nephrotiti.

  “Holy Mother,” I prayed aloud, “receive our prayers.”

  “Holy Mother, receive our prayers,” the group intoned.

  “Sacred Lady, hear us.”

  “Sacred Lady, hear us.”

  Kel’Ratan, in the position of Second, lit the fires of Sele’s funeral bier. I chanted, raising my hands to the sky.

  “Our sister has left us, Most Holy Lady of the Stars.”

  “Sacred Lady, hear us.”

  “A warrior true, she died with her sword in hand.”

  “Sacred Lady, hear us.”

  “She died with honor. She died with loyalty in her heart.”

  “Sacred Lady, hear us.”

  “Our warrior sister, Sele of Brava, lived and died under Kel’Atanya’WA. Our code of the warrior. Your code of the warrior.”

  “Sacred Lady, hear us.”

  The conflagration grew, the heat searing. Under the holy fires, Sele’s body crisped, blackened and began to burn. I stood fast, tears from both the heat and grief stung my eyes. I smelled her, the thick oily scent of burning meat.

  My voice thick, I went on. “Accept her, Sacred Lady. Find her worthy to ride beside you beyond the stars. At your right hand, she will wield the sword of courage, of loyalty, of truth.”

  “Sacred Lady, hear our prayers.”

  “In your warband will she fight beside you. In your Most Holy company will she find peace. In your strength she will live again.”

  “Sacred Lady, hear our prayers.”

  My warband intoned their responses to my prayers, their voices caught under the dull roar of the flames as they spread upward. The red and gold flames licked Sele’s body, burning, consuming. The smoke impelled her soul to heaven. It spiraled upward, at first dark gray, then a lighter shade, always drifting upwards. Up, toward our Lady of the Stars. I fancied I saw Sele’s familiar and much-loved, wicked smile in the whirling gray mist. My eyes strained to see more, to see not just her smile, but also her whole face, to see her entire beautiful soul set free.

  Was it hopeful wishing? Or reality come true? I wanted nothing more than to see her spirit rise from the ashes, to soar free and unrestrained to the right hand of our Lady. Did my eyes burn from the visions of her rising? Smoke and tears, the more cynical side of me sneered.

  “Good-bye, my love, my sweetest friend,” I whispered as the smile, if it was her smile, dissipated into the swirling smoke. “I love you, Sele. I miss you. Lady above how I miss you!”

  Seeing little through the veil of
my tears, I finished the chant with my throat thick and my voice rough, dropping my arms to my sides.

  “Sacred Lady, we implore you to find Sele of Brava worthy. A warrior fit, she fought for honor and for justice. Her spirit shall join her fathers. Her song will be sung in the Great Hall.”

  “Sacred Lady, hear our prayers.”

  May our beloved Lady bring us together again one day, my sweet girl, I thought, stepping away from the fierce heat. I bowed low to the fallen, my tears flowing free yet again. I turned away, unable to watch as the holy fire consumed her body. Heat seared my back as I stared up into the cloudless blue sky, wishing we had never come to this accursed Khalid.

  Alun finally broke. Dropping to his knees, he wept, his body wracked by sobs of utter despair. When others would have gone to him and offered comfort, I gestured for them to leave him alone. I knew him well enough to know he needed this moment to grieve by himself, without the sympathy, no matter how well-meaning, of others.

  The mourners walked away, saluting me as they passed, sending doubtful glances over their shoulders at Alun’s forlorn figure, weeping in the dirt. I would watch over him until he spent his grief. When he was ready, I would bring him back to the monastery. I walked a short distance away from the blazing heat to allow Alun some semblance of privacy, a spot in the shadow of a tree where I could watch both him and the activity at the building.

  “Ly’Tana?”

  I did not turn around or answer. The fire roared behind me, distance muting the sound. Kel’Ratan eyed Alun’s prostrate form in the dirt for a moment, then tuned to me.

  “How long are you going to let him do that?”

  I shrugged. “However long he needs, I suppose.”

  “Well, we need to be on our way,” he said. “Within the hour.”

  I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the storm about to follow. “You lead the others home. Alun can stay here with me.”

  His eyes, watching Alun in his grief, snapped back to mine.

  “Don’t even think—” he began.

  “I am staying here,” I said firmly.

  “Why?”

  “Someone needs to remain behind and report on what Brutal is up to. I elected myself for the job.”

  Kel’Ratan scowled dangerously. “Ly’Tana, you need to return to your father and explain this dust-up.”

  I snorted. “You can explain as well as I. He will understand.”

  If anything, Kel’Ratan’s scowl deepened. “You duty is to return to Kel’Halla with the rest of us. Remaining here only increases the danger to you.”

  I sniffed, putting my hands on my hips. That should have warned my cousin not to push me further, but he stubbornly continued to glare, oblivious to anything I had to say. I wondered briefly what perverse sense of humor the Goddess Nephrotiti must have if she created such bull-headed men.

  “My duty compels me to remain here and report what further occurs here. If Broughton intends war, I can do more good here than at home.”

  “Then appoint someone else. Not you.”

  “I’ll not risk the life of anyone else,” I snapped. “Not here. If anyone should die as a result, then it should be me.”

  “Then someone dies. Another Kel’Hallan dies here.”

  I kept my voice below a shout, but barely. “My life is mine to risk.”

  “Nay, it is not,” he growled. “Your life belongs to Kel’Halla. You are Gareth’s only child. Your life is the last we should risk.”

  “If I died, then you would be King, cousin.” I grinned. “You’d make a far better King than I would a Queen.”

  For a moment, his face grew so dark and murderous I almost flinched back. His blue eyes flashed, his lips thinned into a pale slit under his bristling red mustache. He leaned close to my face. I refused to back down, and met him angry stare for angry stare.

  “You know bloody well I don’t want the throne,” he hissed. “I’ll fight anyone…anywhere…anytime,” he ground out the words, “who might want to put me there. I’ll bloody force you onto that chair and tie you to it, if that’s what it takes. You will be Queen, Ly’Tana, if I have to crown you myself.”

  I blew out my anger on a gust of breath that blew my hair off my brow. I hated it when he said things like that. It was too bloody hard to argue against such devout loyalty. “Can’t you just trust me to know what I’m doing?”

  “If your father discovered I left you here alone, what’s left of my hide might cover a pillow.”

  “I do not need your protection, Kel’Ratan,” I snapped.

  “You will when that temper of yours gets you in trouble so deep I’ll need a team of six to get you out.”

  Glancing around the grounds, I noticed the others studiously ignoring our exchange. My people paid such close attention to their tasks, I could almost see their ears flapping as they caught every word. Even Alun sat up, tears running down his face in rivers, but his sobs had ceased.

  Like parents caught arguing in front of the children, I seized Kel’Ratan by the arm, I dragged him further away, out of earshot. Among us, the gossip was usually minimal, but it still occurred. At least I could give them less ammunition.

  “You will do as I say,” I gritted. If I could have flayed him with my eyes, I would have. Unfortunately, he was not much impressed. He merely stood with his arms folded, watching me calmly.

  “Nay,” he said quietly. “I won’t.”

  “Why, you treacherous—”

  “I am sworn to your father,” he said, still disconcertingly calm. “Not you.”

  Silenced, I stared at him. The thought of commanding the others to tie him across his horse and depart at my order crossed my mind. They at least would obey me. I hoped. Kel’Ratan held the fierce loyalty of many in the group, for he was an able and generous commander. As a landed Duke, almost half had pledged their swords to him as their liege lord. “I will permit you to come along under one condition, cousin,” I said.

  His eyes narrowed. “Condition, Ly’Tana? Your father would thank me if I put you over my knee and paddled your bottom.”

  Furious, I glared at him, wishing he were not so big that I couldn’t turn him over and paddle his bottom. See how he liked that. “If you come along—if you do—you will obey me and do exactly as I say. No questions. No arguments.”

  He increased my fury by lifting a brow as he looked down on me. He knew how much I hated it when he did that. “If I agree with the commands you issue.”

  “And if you don’t?” I knew I should not have asked that the moment the words left my lips.

  “Then I’ll tie you across your horse and take you back home.”

  He could not have read my mind. He just could not have.

  “Go away,” I snapped. “I’m busy.”

  “Just don’t take too long about it.”

  With that, he sauntered back toward the monastery to join the others in packing for travel. Fuming, I watched him go for a moment. I was the ranking female here, I was supposed to get in the last word.

  Whirling, I stalked across the meadow to Alun, who sat with crossed legs beside Sele’s still burning pyre. I kept my eyes firmly on him, and not on the blackened corpse that looked like a bundle of burnt twigs wrapped in a deer hide.

  Sitting beside him, I put my arm around his shoulders and pulled him to me in a tight embrace. I held him, letting his tears wet my leather vest. I did not speak, but crooned in a soft singsong, nonsense voice, the kind of nonsense that soothed from time out of mind, goddess alone knows why.

  I don’t know how long we sat thus. An hour maybe. His grief spent for the moment, Alun pulled away from me, a tremulous smile on his lips. I brushed his strawberry hair from his face. Taking his face in my hands, I looked deep into his swimming, bloodshot eyes.

  “We will see her again.”

  He nodded, and rose to his feet. Taking my hand, he pulled me up with him. I stood, brushing dirt and grass from my short skirt. Keeping my hand prisoner, Alun brushed it with his lips, his tear
s dropping wetly to my skin.

  “I would die for you.”

  I choked on a short laugh, my throat thick once more. “Just not too soon, all right? Not until we’re both old and withered and gray.”

  My jest received a short smile in return. He walked with me back to the monastery, hand in hand, two old friends sharing a deep, abiding love for the one who had left us. I embraced him again, feeling that he would be all right now among the rest of the warriors. He spent the worst of his grief weeping beside her bier.

  Rannon greeted him with an affectionate thump to the shoulder, Witraz nodded courteously to me and flung an arm around his neck. Leaving Alun in their care, I walked through the milling, packing warriors and their horses to the short stone wall that divided the courtyard from the meadows and orchards.

  Kel’Ratan sat nearby, trimming his nails with his dagger, patiently waiting for me come to his terms. I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms. I sighed.

  “We’ll take seven warriors with us,” I said finally. “Nine of us should remain undiscovered easily enough. I want Witraz and Rannon. Give Yuri and Yuras a chance to prove themselves. And Alun. Even if he wasn’t the best with a bow, he has the right to avenge himself. I suppose you should include Left and Right, since they won’t leave anyway. I want no women.”

  He nodded without speaking, his blue eyes somber. I could see it in his face: he knew why I wanted only males. I could not bear to risk the life of another female warrior. Despite our heritage of both male and female warriors fighting for King and country, I could not bear to lose another Sele. All these girls meant something to me. I wanted them home, and safe.

  He sat quiet, drawing an odd design in the dirt with a stick. As furious as he often made me, Kel’Ratan understood me, understood my moods, my furies, my pain. He’d been my best friend since infancy, always my guardian and too often my brother. I hoped that the man I loved and married one day would be like him.

  A tingling sensation, a queer feeling like icy fingers trailing over my skin rose and grew. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I rubbed my neck, startled. It felt as though eyes, malicious eyes, watched me. Without making it obvious, I scanned the horizon, the hills, the trees. I saw nothing I would not have expected.