Lady of the Haven (Empire Princess Book 1)

by Graham Diamond

  “Sleeping,” replied the mariner. “You’ll find Trevor near the fire and Stacy in the big tent with the other girls.”

  The wolf nodded and barked something in a low snarl to his companions, then returned to the common tongue. “I have news, Elias. Perhaps you’d like to come with me to find them.”

  Elias nodded and followed the wolf while the soldiers watched curiously. Trackers and hunters had been coming and going all week, at all hours. This was the first time any had returned with something to tell.

  Elias rousted Trevor and Stacy from their beds, and the three of them followed Casca down toward the inlet, the roar of the tide filling their ears. The outline of the Brora loomed dimly against the black sky. There, everyone sat down along the sands.

  Casca looked from one face to the next and in a low voice said, “We drew close to the white wolves this morning.”

  Stacy’s heart leaped. “Where?” she panted.

  “Far from here, Khalea. We followed the tracks of a herd of caribou that came down to graze in the hills. We suspected that white wolves would follow. We heard their howls, and we followed closely behind. We returned their cries with hunting calls of our own. The air became still, as if Aleya herself held her breath. There was no reply.”

  “Are you certain they heard you?” asked Elias, concerned.

  The wolf nodded soberly. “They heard. Our call traveled as far as their own. But they made no reply. We continued to follow the tracks, but soon there were none to follow. They were gone. To where I cannot tell. But gone they were.” And he glanced at his companions hesitantly.

  Stacy put cold fingernails against her colder lips. “Do you think they saw you, even though you couldn’t see them?”

  Casca nodded. “They know these lands well, Khalea. A wolf could hide and observe from many places, and we would be none the wiser. Yes, I believe we were seen.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Trevor. “If they saw you, why did they hide? Why didn’t they greet you?”

  Stacy frowned. “It’s possible the very sight of different wolves without white pelts caught them by surprise. Remember, they’ve never seen wolves like ours before. They might yet contact us.”

  “The hunters will return to the mountains, to their dens, and consult the sage,” Cicero told them gloomily.

  “The what?” asked Elias.

  “The sage. The mystic. The wolf who reads Balaka, the stars, and serves the packs as soothsayer. He’s second only to the lord of the pack — and frequently second to none. The hunters may well be frightened. The sage will tell them what must be done.”

  “And what might that be?” asked Trevor, shifting his weight uneasily.

  “A number of things,” replied the girl. “He could tell them to set aside their fears and greet our wolves openly, or he could tell them to send their best trackers and seekers down the mountains to watch us. The sage might want to know more before he takes further action.”

  “Like what?” Trevor demanded.

  Casca growled uneasily. “If we are considered a threat, they will send a fighting pack against us. The warlords will sit in Council and call us out as enemies.”

  “But we’re not their enemies,” protested the soldier. “We’ve got to demonstrate that.”

  “Yes,” growled Casca. “But as long as they hide from us, we cannot tell them otherwise.”

  “We should have gone into the mountains right away,” said Stacy. “At least we’d have been in their lands, and they’d have been forced to deal with us.”

  “In light of this,” Trevor said, “that would probably have been even worse. No, the best thing is to carry on as before. But we might have to go into the hills, anyway. From what you and the other Rangers have said, it looks like there won’t be much winter game for us around here. We may need to send out a hunting expedition to follow the caribou.”

  Elias peered up at the sky. Already the frosts had settled; the trees were withering. Any day now the first snows would begin. “We’ll have to send out quite a large party,” he said, frankly, “if we hope to bring back enough game to see us through.”

  Trevor nodded. “We will. A well-equipped one. Stacy and her girls can lead some of my men.”

  “The herds are large,” growled Casca. “And don’t forget, the white wolves will also be in the hunt. They depend on the herds as you do.”

  Stacy shrugged. “All the better. Let them see us and watch us. It should show our peaceful intent.”

  Trevor looked at her sternly. His eyes were cold. “Don’t try to approach them,” he warned. “If we go into the hills, it’s for food, and food only. The other order still stands. Our wolves will be the ones to make contact.”

  Stacy’s eyes smoldered, but she said nothing. She realized Trevor was intent on being as cautious as possible, but she believed that a clear opportunity at hand would be lost. But there was nothing she could do.

  Elias held out his hand; a tiny drop of moisture fell across his palm. It was merely the lightest of flakes, but its meaning was clear. The snow had already begun.

  *

  Two days later, in the early evening, just after the first rough cabins were finished, the company of the Brora huddled close to their fires and the warmth of their new shelters. It was well past midnight. The snow had all but stopped, leaving the ridge ankle-deep in white. The fires were dim; there was faint candle glow from inside the cabins.

  Stacy’s restlessness made her bundle herself warmly and leave the Ranger cabin to walk among the trees. Her black boots dug soft tracks in the fresh snow. A tartan scarf was wrapped around her neck, half covering her face, leaving only her eyes exposed.

  The feeling of the cold and the snow depressed her, but it was stunningly lovely country, she had to admit, what with the ever-present snow-capped peaks hovering against a starry velvet sky. It was exactly as Old One had said. But here, on the ridge, a stone’s throw from the inlet and the sea, she felt trapped. The same feeling as in the Valley, when life came to a standstill and the cold, bleak winter months set in.

  “A penny for your thoughts.”

  Stacy turned, startled, to see the silhouetted form of Elias coming toward her. He was wearing his river jacket, a heavy skin lined with a thick, bluish pelt. A bear pelt, she saw, glancing at the thick collar lifted up to his ears. Rugged leather boots were tightly drawn, knee-high, like her own. And she remembered that he had been wearing those same boots the first day they had met in the Haven, so many memories ago. Her heart beat faster, romantic dreams rekindled.

  “Do you have a penny?” she asked.

  The mariner shrugged and shook his head, smiling.

  “Then I shan’t tell you.”

  Elias pursed his lips in a mock pout. He looked into her dark eyes, ever mysterious, and caught the sparkle. “Shall I guess?” he asked, holding her gaze.

  “All right.”

  He leaned his frame against the side of a snowbound pine and raised his eyes toward the stars. “Knowing you, I suppose you’re thinking of the hunting expedition?”

  Stacy shook her head. “I’d rather have been thinking of a forest of eternal summers,” she said softly. “Do you think somewhere in this world of ours there might actually be such a place?”

  “‘Somewhere’ is a big place,” said Elias with a sigh. “Somewhere is where you yearn to be if you’re unhappy. But who can tell? Perhaps such a forest does exist.”

  “I’d like to believe it, Elias. And one day I’d like to find it.”

  The mariner moved his hand boldly and touched her chin with his finger. “Maybe we can find it together, Stacy.”

  His words were gentle and caring.

  “Do you say that to all young women?”

  “No, only girls with forest ways. And then only if they’re aristocrats.”

  “That narrows it down some.” Stacy smiled. “Why are you always teasing the nobility? Aren’t you high-born yourself?”

  He was slightly taken aback.

 
“I heard you come from an aristocratic Valley family,” she said. “You gave up your title.”

  Elias frowned. “Who told you that?”

  “Spooner did. A long time ago.”

  He cast dark eyes down at the snow and nudged at it with the toe of his boot. A strong gust of wind swept down from above and scattered fresh snow over their faces.

  “Spooner was right,” he said at last. “My family was aristocratic. But when my father died, my older brother naturally took over the household. He attained all the rank and title and land. Younger brothers are often doomed to secondary lives under those conditions, you know.”

  Stacy nodded. She knew.

  “I came to Rhonnda, fell in love with the river and the city and never went back. That is, except for the Council business. But if I seem to make fun of aristocrats, it’s because I know what they’re like. As you said, I’m one of them. Cut my finger and my blood’s as blue as your own.”

  Stacy laughed. “I feel better already,” she said.

  Again the wind gusted from above, sending the snow swirling. Elias shivered. “Brrr. Shouldn’t we get back inside?”

  The thought of the warm fire was enticing, but Stacy shook her head. “You go. I want to stay out a bit longer. I don’t like that feeling of being confined. Out here, I can make believe I’m free to wander wherever I like.”

  “Like Cicero,” said Elias with a smile. “I’ve known that wolf for years, and, you know, he’ll never change. No matter how frigid the weather, how violent the wind, he’d rather shun a warm room and go huddle with his companions at the side of a cold hill.”

  “What did you expect? A wolf can’t be cooped up like a hen. It makes us irritable.”

  “Ah,” said the mariner with a grin. “Us? To whom am I speaking? To Lady Anastasia, or to Khalea?”

  ‘I sometimes wonder myself who I am,” she admitted. “I mean about who I really am. The forest ways are in me; they always will be.”

  Elias nodded. “Who do you want to be, Stacy? You can be Khalea if you like, but I’d like to think of you as just a girl.”

  His eyes were warm, his voice soft and kind and caring. Stacy brushed loose hair away from her cheek and smiled. “Alryc thinks I’m a vision of Bartok.”

  Elias laughed and shook his head. “The old devil! He would! But everyone sees you in a different way. To your hunters you are Khalea, a huntress. To the Ranger girls, you’re practically one of them — as well as their leader. To the soldiers and my crew you’re your father’s daughter, an aristocrat from the Valley. To a mystic like Alryc, you probably are some vision in Bartok’s poetry. And to Trevor, despite all this military carrying on, well, he sees you like a fairy-tale princess.”

  “And to you?” she asked, batting snow-flecked lashes.

  “Me? I suppose I blend a little of each.” He let his eyes run over her shapely form. Even wrapped and bundled as she was she seemed lovely. He kissed her hand, then gazed lovingly into her eyes. “I won’t fill your head with my personal feelings,” he said. “I’ll save that until we’ve done what we came here to do. Love clouds the mind. It’s worse than wine — and the hangover lasts a lifetime.”

  With a dimpled smile she looked up at him. “That was very good, Elias. I didn’t know you were a poet. Bartok himself would be envious.”

  Elias smiled. “Then consider it a gift, my lady. A present from me to you. Keep the thought with you when you go off hunting in the hills.”

  Stacy felt happy. All around snow continued to swirl; icicles began to drip from the boughs; wondrous peaks stared down at them from above. This new white world seemed to be pages from a book, and she was a part of it. And best of all Elias was at her side.

  “I almost forgot to tell you,” he said. “That’s why I came out here, to look for you. Trevor and Alryc are going over the plans. The expedition’s been set for the day after tomorrow.”

  “Who has been asked to go?”

  “Besides you? Melinda and Robin. The rest will be soldiers. Except for Alryc.”

  The girl looked puzzled. “Alryc? Why is he going along?”

  “To draw us some good maps of the hills while you’re there. In any case Trevor will put him to good use one way or another.”

  “Trevor’s coming, too?” Her brows lifted.

  Elias nodded. “He insists on it. I’m to take charge of the camp and the work on the ship while he’s gone. He may be afraid that the white wolves will attack, and he wants to be there. If you ask me, I think he’s worried that you and the other girls will be in danger. He feels responsible.”

  Stacy sighed. That would be like him, she knew. Ever gallant, ever the gentleman. He would risk no life ahead of his own.

  “I told him that letting the Rangers go at all was a mistake,” Elias said flatly. “A hunting party of soldiers along with a few of our wolves could have done just as well. Trevor disagreed.” Elias’s eyes darkened, his lips pressed tightly together. “If anything should go wrong...”

  Stacy reached up and touched his lips with her fingertips. “Nothing will,” she whispered. “Trevor was really right, you know. The Rangers and I know more about lands like this than his troops ever will. If there is trouble, we’ll know how to handle it. Besides, Cicero will be with us. And together we’re a pretty rugged duo.”

  He held her hand and kissed her lips ever so lightly. A lump rose in his throat. “I know you’re tough and wily, Stacy. I know you could fight your way out of Hel if it came to it. But don’t take any foolish risks. I’d hate to make that long voyage home without you.”

  “You won’t. I promise. I’ll be a good girl.”

  “I don’t want a good girl. I want a smart one. Keep those bright eyes open and your dagger close.”

  Standing on her toes, she hugged him tightly. “I always do. That’s the first thing you learn in the forest.”

  Chapter Twenty

  In the cold white hills the hunting party awoke to a morning of overcast and snow. They had departed from the inlet two days before, leaving Elias and Casca behind with the main body, and so far they had encountered no trouble, though Cicero and Snorri, another of the wolves, reported signs that white wolves were shadowing their movements. Stacy, Melinda and Robin prepared a breakfast of warm broth, while Trevor and Alryc rousted the others out of the tents. As they hunkered around the breakfast fire, sipping at the warm broth, Stacy breathed the cold morning air with satisfaction. The hunting had been good so far. Only the day before, she had tracked a small herd of white-tailed deer, felling two before nightfall had forced her to return to camp. The first task of the day would be to retrieve and butcher the two deer, lying hidden in the snow at about an hour’s distance. At this rate, they would be able to return to the inlet within a week.

  After breakfast they left camp and started off through the snow, bundled in hooded jackets. Stacy led the way, Cicero at her side. The others followed her tracks. The trail became laborious. Snow-laden boughs groaned above their heads as they inched slowly up the next hill and down the path that Stacy had marked.

  Within minutes after their departure the winds began to blow fiercely, and the snow began to deepen. Folds in the land filled with huge drifts. Their walking became more hazardous with every step. At this rate Trevor knew that by afternoon they would be trapped in a blizzard.

  At last they came to the spot where Stacy had felled her two deer. The girl stood waiting for them, lips trembling, face as white as the snow. Trevor took one look and knew something was wrong. Stacy was visibly frightened; she ran to his side and pointed frantically to a small clump of thick brush leading past the iced stream and winding out of sight at the crest.

  “They’re gone,” she panted, pointing to the site.

  “Gone? What are you talking about? How could they be gone?”

  “I don’t know. But they’re not here. Look — see that ravine? That’s where I left them. They’ve been taken. Dragged away.” She stood frozen in anguish.

  Trevor’s eyes narr
owed. His face tightened under his tartan scarf. “Are you sure, Stacy? Maybe this is the wrong spot. The drifts —”

  The girl shook her head fiercely, sending the mane of hair flying. “I’m not wrong. See that tree? I marked it with my dagger.” She brushed aside a thin layer of snow from the trunk and exposed a deep K in the trunk. K for Khalea.

  Trevor frowned uneasily. “I see it,” he said. “Could white wolves have found them and dragged them off?”

  Stacy fretted, and looked about. “I doubt it, Trevor. Wolves don’t usually —”

  Suddenly there came a faraway wail. A low cry that shattered the air and cut through the wind like glass. Trevor froze. Alryc reached for his sword. Melinda and Robin held their breath and quietly drew arrows.

  Cicero twitched his ears and stood perfectly still. Once more that fearsome wail was heard — this time from an opposite direction. The mountain wolf snarled lowly and turned to Snorri, who stood listening from across the bank of the frozen stream.

  “What is it, Stacy?” asked Trevor anxiously.

  Stacy put her finger to her lips and listened keenly. The distant cry was repeated again, but louder, closer.

  “It’s a warning,” she whispered to the soldier.

  “A warning? To whom?”

  “To us, I think. Trevor, listen. Something’s wrong. I don’t know what, but the white wolves are not threatening us. They’re communicating danger.”

  “Then why don’t they speak with us? Stacy, I don’t understand this.”

  The girl whirled. From off in the bushes came another sound — but not the silent moves of a wolf. It was a low grunt. A strange deep-throated sound, one that she could not identify. She drew her dagger and stepped uneasily toward the bushes.

  Trevor grabbed her by the arm. “Where are you going?”

  “Something’s lurking, Trevor. We’ve got to find out what it is.”

  “Stay put, Stacy. That’s an order! I don’t want anyone out of sight.” The command was firm; she held her place.