Wolf's Eye

by Rae D. Magdon

  “I thought you were sure it was Hosta.”

  “I am,” Larna said, hurrying to defend herself. “But if you are having any feelings about this…”

  “I will tell you,” I promised. “I want to punish the traitor, too.” There was a pause as I gathered myself, angry at the needless waste of lives. “I saw Elaran die.”

  Larna was shocked. I squeezed her hand to keep her from moving and hurting herself. Even though she had been a little jealous of Elaran’s attention, she looked very upset at the news. “You… saw him die?”

  “His throat was slit open,” I said softly, remembering. “I saw the blood spill out.”

  “Oh, Catie…” I could tell that Larna wanted to take me in her arms and comfort me. She was probably frustrated that she could not. Instead, I shifted my weight so that I was leaning on part of the bed, close enough for her to touch. She ran her fingers through my hair. I leaned in to her hand. “I am sorry.”

  “He was young.” My voice trembled, but did not break.

  “He was brave. He fought for his kingdom.” In that moment, the words felt hollow and empty. Was a kingdom really worth a lost life? But a kingdom was more than a place on a map. A kingdom was its people. A life lost protecting other lives was not wasted. Larna was right.

  …

  Chapter Nine:

  Over the next few days, we traveled, injured and all. Now that the Queen knew where our camp was, we could not stay. The quick scouts left first, packing light. On the second day, the seasoned warriors followed. On the third day, the bulk of the camp left. That was the group that Larna and I traveled with.

  Some carried the injured – in wagons, stretchers, on tents strung between lines of people. The healers watched them with hawk-eyes. They were worried and fretful. I was grateful that Wyr healed faster than humans. Larna’s injuries were almost gone and so were mine.

  “It must have been a hard decision,” I commented. Larna and I were near the front of the party, walking side by side. “Some of them will probably die.”

  “We all would have died if we were staying,” said Larna.

  “What about the ones still waiting to go?” We had left the most serious cases back for another few days with a handful of guards, but that was all Jett Bahari could spare.

  “What else could he do? We must be moving away, fast. The Rebellion has to survive.” But I could see the tightness in Larna’s forehead, the weariness in her brown eyes. She did not like it, either.

  For most of the morning, we walked in silence. The tone of the march was somber. All of us were remembering the battle and those who had fallen. The path through the mountains was rough and narrow. Sometimes, we had to move forward in single file. One of the larger carts had to be left behind, and its contents were carried.

  Larna watched over me silently, always ready to help. She held out an arm when I made a difficult step and caught me when I stumbled. She treated me like a lady. Her chivalry was endearing. I doubt that she consciously decided to act that way. It was such a large part of her personality.

  “It is not over yet, is it?” I asked, observing the harsh set of Larna’s jaw, the stiffness in her shoulders.

  “No. There is one more battle left to fight. The traitor,” she reminded me.

  I had pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind, not wanting to drag them up. But now, I knew that they needed to be dealt with.

  “You still want to challenge Hosta?”

  Larna’s voice was firm. The decision was made. “Yes.”

  For the first time, I thought about what that would mean for me. I would have to watch my lover fight. Hosta was not a foolish young pup or an old, toothless elder. He was young, strong, and clever. I believed that Larna could win, but he would not make it easy.

  “Are you afraid for me?” Larna asked, noticing my silence.

  “I am your mate,” I said, as if that explained everything. Larna gave me a look. “You will be fine,” I said, reassuring her. Secretly, I thought that I was the one who needed reassuring, not my lover. “You are well enough to fight?”

  Larna rolled her eyes. “Yes, Maman,” she grumbled, bending down so I could see the back of her skull. I could not tell where it had been sliced. Even though I had been a Wyr for what felt like a long time now, our rapid healing rate still seemed strange to me.

  An ugly image of Hosta’s teeth closing around my lover’s throat flashed before my eyes. I bit my lip, shaking my head to clear away the grisly picture. It was not a vision from the future, only something from my imagination. I tried to forget it.

  “Cate?”

  I put a hand on Larna’s arm, pleased to feel the warmth of her body through the fabric of her shirt. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

  It was the truth. I was thinking. I decided that if Hosta even came close to hurting Larna, I would charge in to the fight and save her whether it broke the rules or not. Nothing was going to happen to my Tuathe while I could stop it.

  …

  We reached the new campsite in the middle of the day, but there was so much to do that Larna and I could not get away until almost nightfall. Our entrance into the pack’s section of camp was not very daring or grand. We came into the clearing as if we had every right to be there, walking past a tall pine and towards the tents. I stayed a few steps behind Larna. My eyes flicked to either side, watching for any threat to my lover. The instinct to guard her was strong. Usually, Larna was my protector. This time, I was hers.

  We felt their eyes before we saw them. Three at first, then six, then seven, watching us carefully. They slid into their wolf bodies; gray, stretching shadows between the trees. Larna’s shoulders lifted and her brow lowered over her bright eyes.

  Then, Hosta came. He did not flutter around us like a silent night moth, keeping his distance as the others did. His stance said that he was Alpha and he was not afraid. He and Larna stood facing each other, bristling. Their eyes were locked.

  “Why are you here?” said Hosta. His teeth were clenched, and so were his fists. “I told you to be staying away from us.”

  “There is a traitor in the pack.” A long pause. “I think you know who it is.”

  Hosta’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have proof?” Not ‘how should I know?’ or ‘who do you think it is?’ I did not trust him or his words.

  “Why did you banish me with an old, stupid law?” Larna countered.“I would never hurt an innocent human and I am not mad. You did it because you were jealous.”

  “I did it to save you!” the words cracked sharply. All of us took a surprised breath, even Hosta. I pulled closer to Larna’s side.

  “You make no sense,” Larna said, finally. “You banished me unfairly. You scared my mate. You sent us into the Forest, injured, after we fought for this pack. I challenge you, Hosta. I call for you to step down or fight me.”

  “You are making a mistake,” Hosta tried to warn her. Larna brushed him off.

  “Fight me, or step down.”

  Hosta did not give her an answer. Instead, he kicked off his pants, sliding into his wolf body. For a moment, I wondered why he did not take half-shape to fight. Some deep-rooted instinct inside of me answered my question. This was an old tradition, older than the Wyr. It hailed back to full-blooded wolves. Hosta’s shirt tore and he shook off the fabric scraps. Around us, everyone who had not changed began stripping. I followed them. This time, I did not take pleasure in seeing Larna’s naked body. I could only imagine that beautiful skin torn and bloody.

  Larna’s left flank twitched once. I knew I was dismissed. I backed away, but not without an unhappy growl. It went against my instincts to let my lover fight alone. I would kill Hosta myself if anything happened to Larna.

  The other wolves came out from behind trees and around tents. We formed a tight circle, sides and legs pressed together, sharing heat. The night wind chilled our bones. I could not look at Hosta. I only saw Larna. Her ears were pressed flat against her head. Her claws tested the earth under her feet. She and
Hosta began a twisting circle, trying to find the slightest hint of imbalance or hesitation. Two pulsing bodies curved toward each other, showing teeth, but not growling.

  In the ring, we held still as stone, waiting. Our ears were lifted, our chests were heavy with our breath. I recognized some in the circle. Aria, Goran, and Yerta, but they were strangers to me now. They were more like statues than friends.

  Larna’s sharp, challenging bark cut through the trees and the still air. All of us raised our fur. Muscles rolled beneath skin. Teeth ached, ready to snap or grab or tear. Blood beat through the circle, joining us as we prepared for the ancient ritual. My eyes searched for Larna’s. I wanted to reassure her and be reassured. But she did not glance at me.

  Hosta exploded forward, claws stretched, lips peeled back. Larna caught the blow with her shoulder. Blood smeared over her fur as she snapped at his muzzle. Both of them had connected, but Hosta had first blood. His muscles bunched and curled and he rushed again. Larna met his charge again, trying to grip his throat. They moved back again.

  They danced together, leaping forward and back. Rushing and dodging. Their teeth clipped as they darted in and out, trying to catch a soft throat or belly, scratch out an eye. Larna’s paw slipped over a loose patch of earth and her footing shook. Hosta saw and lunged.

  Larna’s neck was exposed for one heartbeat. I was sure that Hosta’s jaws would close around it and tear out her throat. But her head ducked down and she snapped Hosta’s leg bone in two. He screamed as only a wolf can scream, tucking his leg to his chest. White splinters of bone stuck out of his skin like tiny spears. His eyes were glazed with fear and pain. Finish it! I shouted in my head. Rip him open before it heals. Do it for me.

  But she did not. I could tell she wanted it. A wolf in a fighting circle hardly ever lets their opponent live. But Larna backed away. Instead, she lifted her head and howled. The howl was echoed around the circle. We cried to the mountains and sky, to every person or animal nearby.

  Suddenly, there was a very human cry of pain. The wild call stopped. Hosta had changed back and he was huddling in a tight ball, holding his arm. Trying to claw at his vulnerable, naked skin was Yerta. Deep red gauges ran along his back. Blood was everywhere. Hosta’s body twitched in pain.

  Quickly, several wolves ran forward and forced Yerta back. He was wild with rage, but not strong enough to break through their barrel chests. Larna changed back. Even as a naked woman, she looked powerful and strong. A leader. She knelt beside Hosta. He was sprawled on his stomach, but lifted his head to look at her. His eyes were losing the light of life.

  “I did it – to… to save… you…”

  “What?” Larna asked softly, disbelieving.

  Hosta’s voice was weak, but everyone in the circle could hear him. We listened closely. “Brother… you betrayed me. Betrayed us… all… He – he told the witch where our camp was.”

  “Why?” All of us were thinking the question. I looked at Yerta, but he was still a wolf and could not answer. The guarding circle drew tighter around him. Tears of pain and betrayal stung my eyes. How wrong I had been…

  “And you protected him,” Larna accused, still wanting to blame Hosta.

  “He is my brother. I knew he would hurt you next… the strongest left…So I banished you – to save you. I thought, maybe… I could change his mind. Stupid…”

  There was silence for a long moment. Nothing but Hosta’s raspy breathing.

  “Cate. I dinna want to frighten you. Larna… I was angry – jealous… I hated you. For-give me…”Larna put a soft hand on Hosta’s shoulder, in a place where the skin was not torn. A shudder passed through him and Hosta’s eyes closed forever.

  “You.” Larna turned to Yerta, who was shaking with energy and fear. He was much smaller than Hosta, not built as sturdily, but still dangerous. “Change back. Now.” Yerta did not obey. “Change now or I will have your throat ripped out.”

  Slowly, he shucked his wolf hide, but stayed crouched on all fours. “Why did you betray your pack? Your family?” At first, he did not answer. “Speak!” Larna barked.

  There was cold hatred in the gray eyes I thought I knew. Everything was so backwards. “My whole life, I was an outcast…” He was no longer looking at us, but remembering a long ago time. “Then, the witch gave me the Gift. I was stronger. Faster. I knew things would be different – better. But you…” His focus returned and he looked at every Wyr standing in the circle. “You made me Pekah. I was right back where I started. I would not become the last again. I will not! Not this time!”

  Wildly, crazily, he charged. The circle blocked him, but he tried to claw his way out.

  “Kill him!” Larna ordered.

  Someone tore out his throat. When he fell limp, all of us looked to Larna.

  “I am Larna. I am Alpha of the Farseer pack. Will anyone challenge me?”

  There was silence. Only the nightbirds made a sound. No one in the circle breathed.

  Again. “I am Larna. I am Alpha of the Farseer pack. Will anyone challenge me?”

  Nothing.

  A third time. “I am Larna. I am Alpha of the Farseer pack. Will anyone challenge me?”

  Silence, and then a great roar went up from the circle.

  At last, Larna walked to my place at the edge of the battlefield. She stood before me, the others beside me backed away. I changed into my human body with a few groans of pain, ignoring the burn of magic and standing up to greet her.

  Because we were human, with proper human mouths, Larna took my lips in a hard kiss. She was officially claiming me as hers, announcing our engagement. I was truly her mate now, but she had won my heart long ago.

  One by one and then in small clumps, the rest of the pack changed. Knowing that I was still shy about my nakedness, Larna stood in front of me. Modesty was useless among the Wyr, but it was hard to drop old habits. Larna held her arm backwards to touch my waist, still blocking the view. “Be digging a grave for our brother, Hosta, so we can return him to the earth. Drag that trash,” she pointed at Yerta, “out of camp and leave it for the deathbirds to pick at.”

  …

  “You are a Beta now, you know,” Larna said, turning in my arms as we rested on her cot. We had gone to bed together. Larna was exhausted, almost asleep by the sound of her voice, but I was wide-awake and excited. My heart was still pumping fast, even though the fighting was over.

  I looked at her curiously through the dark. It still surprised me that I could see her face in the blackness with my wolf-sight. “A Beta?” I repeated. A horrible thought rushed to the front of my mind. Did the Alpha Female need to have a male for her mate?

  “Oh, little bird, no,” Larna cooed, rocking me in her arms. She could read my mind. I loved it when she treated me like this. Like something small and precious. “You are my only. When there are two Alphas, one is male and one is female, but they could be brother and sister… they are not always mates.”

  “But you are the only Alpha right now…”

  “Maybe someday, I will be choosing another one.”

  “Why didn’t Hosta let you be Alpha, too, if there can be one male and one female?”

  Larna snorted. “Because he didna like me… I thought you knew that.”

  I shook in her arms, relieved. Her chest was so warm and her skin was so soft. Larna was the most wonderful thing in the world. I would not have been able to share her. “I belong to you,” I sighed. The place between Larna’s neck and shoulder was warm against my face. My lover made the perfect pillow.

  “Were you afraid when I was fighting?” Larna asked. She already knew the answer, of course. Maybe she wanted to hear me say it.

  “You are a better fighter than Hosta,” I said. “I expected you to win. But I never would have imagined… about Yerta…”

  “I know he was your friend,” said Larna, sounding sad. “I am sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about me…”

  “Lovers worry.”

  “Were you scared?” I ask
ed.

  There was a pause as Larna chose her words. “When I was fighting Hosta, yes. I was afraid that you would be left alone if something… happened… Who would protect you if I was killed?” I ran a hand over Larna’s back, feeling smooth skin and muscle. She pushed into the touch like a cat.

  “You will always be my protector. You were lucky tonight, Larna. The Saints must have been watching over you.”

  Larna kissed my nose, her eyes still closed. “Mm. How long were you saying you lived in Seria?”

  “Long enough to hear them talk about the Saints,” I said. “They have a Saint for everything. Most of what they say about God – the Maker – is the same as in Amendyr. Except they have a lot of silly rules.”

  Larna cracked one eye open. “Silly rules?”

  “In Seria, they say we are not supposed to do this…” I kissed the corner of Larna’s mouth. Her lips twitched against mine and she smiled.

  “What about this?” Larna whispered. Her body rolled over mine, her familiar weight covering me. My fingers threaded through her hair. We kissed again.

  “That too.” There were many soft touches and sighs, sharp breaths and a tear or two, as I showed Larna exactly what people were not supposed to do in the eastern kingdom. Apparently, Larna was not that exhausted after all.

  …

  Chapter Ten:

  The funeral began just after sundown on the next day. In the very center of camp, a great bonfire had been stacked high above our heads. Smoke rose into the darkening sky, swirling up towards the stars. It carried our grief, our prayers, and our hopes with them. At first, the large tower of flame let out cracking, popping noises, but they grew quieter or we grew used to them.

  The Amendyri people had burned their dead for thousands of years. It was tradition. Maybe that was one reason the Kerak seemed so monstrous to us. Using the ashes of the dead for dark magic was a terrible crime. Since there was no time for a funeral at the battlefield, most of the bodies had been burned quickly and their ashes scattered or buried. Some of the families in camp kept them.