I spotted some animal tracks at the edge of the path, in a passing wave of moonlight. I stood in the saddle and angled my leg past Madame Strineau to climb down. I strode to the tracks ahead and bent over them.
“What is it?” Madame Strineau asked.
“Wolf tracks,” I said. “And feathers.” I could hear my own disappointment.
“What does it mean?” she asked, breathless.
“It means there were wolves here. The normal ones, that eat chickens and leave smaller paw prints. Not the kind that carry off small children.”
“We’re going the right way, aren’t we?” she asked.
I glanced about. “This is the direction Michel gave me. Wait.”
Something stale wafted through the air. A cold, familiar smell. I sniffed deeply.
“What’s wrong?” Madame Strineau asked in a harsh whisper.
“Blood,” I said. I gave a quiet whistle, summoning Crimson forward to follow me as I walked ahead. The wolf tracks ended after a while, replaced by smattered drops of blood.
And a paw.
Crimson stopped behind me.
“What’s up there? Did you discover something?”
“Yes,” I said, noting the smooth trail through the path, where the rest of the wolf had been dragged off. “The kind of wolves that eat smaller wolves.” I looked down the path, recalling the directions Michel had given. “We’re close.”
“That’s remarkable, Helena,” Madame Strineau said between gasps, like a proud but distant mother. “I’m amazed at how clever you are.”
“Not clever,” I said. “Just experienced.” I climbed back onto the saddle carefully and we continued on.
Ahead, the path suddenly split apart in three directions. I tugged on the reins and glanced about. According to Michel, this fork in the path meant we had nearly reached the Lycanthru’s lair.
I urged Crimson forward a little, on each of the paths, sniffing carefully. The stench of blood seemed strongest along the western path. Once I was certain, I kicked at Crimson’s flanks and we surged ahead quickly, as Madame Strineau clung to me. “They went this way?” she half-whispered.
“Smells like it.”
A few minutes later, the forest became so dense that it seemed to close in on us, the thick trees blocking most of the moonlight that struggled to peek through. It grew colder, the pungent smell of blood stronger. Though the odor now seemed spread throughout the area. I found furry pieces of the small wolf in various places. They had eaten him here.
Madame Strineau gripped my waist tighter. “Why have we stopped?”
I sniffed. Listened. “We’re close,” I said.
Her nails dug into my sides. I gently pried them off. She was a bit stronger than she looked. Perhaps stronger than she believed herself to be.
I squinted through the trees and saw the large hill Michel had described, where a single tree with a thick trunk grew atop it, its gnarled branches spreading in every direction. This was the hill that housed the Lycanthru’s secret cave.
We had found them.
I urged Crimson forward, step by step, circling around to the cave’s rounded mouth.
No wolves around.
No sound or movement.
“They’re in there, aren’t they?” Madame Strineau asked as I studied the opening.
I nodded.
My crossbow had been fully loaded. I had twenty more bolts ready in the satchel attached to my saddle.
Time to face them again.
“Wait here with Crimson, behind that patch of trees,” I said in a low, even tone. “Stay quiet. I’ll return for you in a few minutes.”
Madame Strineau gasped. “What are you going to do?”
I stared at the dark hole, like the gaping mouth of a lion. “I’m going to find your daughter,” I said. I didn’t say whether I expected to find her alive. As Madame Strineau stated, we just needed to know. Yet I still hoped and believed that I could rescue Claudette and bring her safely home, as ludicrous as it seemed.
I climbed off the saddle and led Crimson to the trees where I would retrieve them. Assuming I survived. If not, at least Crimson could return Madame Strineau home.
I strode to the cave and stepped inside, watching and listening for any movement. The inside was pitch black. I paused, letting my eyes adjust as best they could. I found the rounded side of a wall with my boot, then followed it along, moving deeper in.
I inched along at a frustrating pace, my crossbow raised and ready. The air grew cooler, suggesting a larger area ahead. The dirt floor curved downward. My forehead struck a rock overhang and I stopped, feeling for its low edges. I crouched and ducked under it, where everything became more visible. I could start to make out some large shapes, seeing obstacles to avoid, probably boulders. I squinted, seeing more light ahead, feeling moisture in the air.
I peered around a large boulder to see … them.
A small pool sat in the center of the broad cave, with the full moon reflected on its surface. The moon shone down from a crevasse cut in the high ceiling. Surrounding the pool, a pack of twenty-two large wolves lay sleeping, some of them snoring loudly.
The Lycanthru. More than I could kill with ten shots.
Beyond them, on the other side of the pool, lay a small figure with long blonde hair, wearing a lace dress and sleeping on her side, her hands tied behind her back.
My heart stopped. I couldn’t believe it.
Claudette.
18.
My heart started beating again and thumped madly. I had found the cave of the DeSarte Lycanthru, where twenty-two of them lay sleeping around the moonlit pool of water in their wolf forms. I had found the Strineaus’ daughter, Claudette. The captive child that the Lycanthru kept for sport, according to the local rumors the Strineaus heard.
I swallowed. I could still save their daughter. If I was perfectly quiet.
I started forward. The wolves lay on all sides of the pool, some clustered close together, other individual ones spread evenly throughout the cave. There was barely a foot of space to walk between them.
I moved close to the first one. My boot shuffled across some loose gravel. I froze. The wolf continued to snore near my feet.
I continued on, stepping over his back, planting my foot carefully on the slim patch of ground between him and the next wolf. I brought my other foot over, planting it behind my foot, like I was balancing on a thin branch to cross a creek. I continued on, stepping over the next wolf, then the next, to arrive halfway to the rear wall of the cave where Claudette lay.
A pile of five wolves blocked my path. I couldn’t see past them well enough to attempt stepping over, and risk stepping on a paw.
I could go no farther.
I squinted. If I moved toward the dark recesses of the cave, I might find space between the wolves and the side wall. In the dim moonlight, I couldn’t tell for certain until I stepped closer. But I could see that there were too many wolves to step over from that side, if I made it over there. The opposite side of the pool didn’t seem to offer any better path to Claudette.
But only a few wolves’ heads rested on the edge of the pool. I stepped to the side, planting my boot on the pool’s inside rim. It was solid rock, not dirt. Easy to slip off. I stepped fully onto the rim, finding my balance. Then I started to edge sideways around its edge, toward Claudette.
A wolf lay snoring at the edge of the water, its fangs open and dripping beside my feet. I stepped over him, fighting the thought of him waking and chomping off my leg. Beyond him, I nearly slipped on some damp rock. I recovered and found my balance. Releasing a slow breath, I steadied myself, then stepped past another set of wolf fangs, and finally reached the rear wall.
A few wolves surrounded Claudette, but left plenty of space around her, thank God. I stepped between them and crouched beside her, careful to keep my cloak from wafting across the wolves’ snouts.
Claudette snored softly. Her innocent cheeks and stringy blonde hair reminded me so much of Suzette.
For a moment, I remembered her, running in our meadow, playing with our dog, Valiant. So full of life, making up silly songs, laughing, playing without a care in the world.
I shook off my dreaminess, burying my memories of having a sister and a family. I had to get Claudette out of here without waking the wolves. Which meant I had to wake her without letting her make a sound.
I bent over her and pressed my gloved hand tightly over her mouth. She woke with a start, eyes bulging. She was about to scream and thrash about.
I drew back my hood with one hand and shook out my straw-blonde hair. She needed to see I was a human, and a friend. It helped some, but she continued to squirm in my grip. She seemed more afraid of me than the pack of wolves surrounding her. Was she in shock? How long had she been captive here?
Then she stopped suddenly and squinted at my face. I realized too late that my scars would only frighten her more.
But they didn’t. She stared at me – at my scars – like a curious deer.
She finally settled, taking short shallow breaths as I put a finger to my lips to quiet her. I glanced around slowly, letting her understand that the wolves were sleeping all around us. I motioned her to keep still, then gently removed my other hand from her mouth.
She kept quiet.
Then she reached out to touch my scars. I closed my eyes and let her. Her tiny hand traced the lines of each mark as I opened my eyes to meet her gaze.
I motioned her to stay put, then slowly stood to my feet. Carrying her back the way I came, around the edge of the pool, was unthinkable. Leading her that direction was almost as poor a choice.
I looked up. Moonlight shone through a hole about twenty-five feet above us. I suspected the Lycanthru had dug the hole themselves, or had chosen this spot for its access to the sky, letting them transform whenever they wished. The hole was large enough for a few wolves to crawl through, and the starry sky revealed a thick tree root extending over the edge of the hole.
Perhaps …
I slid my grappling hook off my belt, letting out its attached rope. I sighted the overhead tree root again, noting its thickness and where it curved most. I swung the hook in a circle, building its momentum, then let it fly. It soared up above the root, dangling in mid-air for a second before the starry sky. Then it dropped onto the root, snagging it as I pulled the rope taut. It would hold.
One problem solved. Now for the other three: escaping through the hole; escaping with Claudette; and doing it all without waking the wolves.
I left the other end of the rope tied to my belt, gathering its loose ends to keep them from touching the water. I stepped back to Claudette and crouched beside her. She stared back at me with her giant blue eyes.
I pointed to her, then crossed my arms over my chest, making tight fists, showing her to hold on tight. Then I pointed to myself.
She nodded, her eyes filled with terror.
I held out my gloved hand. She took it and rose slowly. I turned my back to her and guided her to climb on, her arms around my neck. I put a fist in the air, clenching it and pulling it down hard. She understood and tightened her grip.
This had to go fast.
I took firm hold of the rope and leaped from the ground, climbing the rope quickly as we swung out over the moonlit pool. Claudette didn’t weigh much, but it was more than I wanted to carry up a rope for longer than a minute. It was only twenty-five feet to climb. I could make it.
I kept pulling, hand over hand, hoisting us higher, higher. Closer to the opening, closer to the gleaming moon. I refused to think about the wolves, except to listen for any sounds of them stirring. No chance in the world of glancing down.
Fifteen feet to go.
A snore seemed to suddenly stop.
Don’t look down. Don’t even try. Just keep climbing. Get their daughter out.
Something growled and shuffled in the dirt below. “The girl!” it snarled.
Others shoved dirt aside, seeming to wake and scramble to their feet.
“It’s her!” one of them said. “It’s the Red Rider.”
Ten feet left. We had almost reached the top. We only needed to reach the tree root for me to pull us to safety, above the cave. And then what?
Four more feet.
We weren’t going to make it.
“Kill her,” another wolf growled below.
One of them howled, waking the others. A second later, more shuffling and snarling and howling. I heard several of them scuffling out the front entrance. They would be on top of us in no time. I had to be ready to fight.
I seized hold of the tree root and tugged myself up higher. “Climb up!” I ordered Claudette. She obeyed, scrambling up my back and out the hole, into the cool fresh air above ground. I continued finding more tree roots to grab onto. Claudette reached for me, as if ready to help pull me up. “I’m all right,” I said, motioning her away. I didn’t want my weight to pull her back down into the cave.
I crawled across the other roots, then rolled quickly across the grass. I stood and let the crossbow roll off my shoulder, preparing to fight. I turned toward the howling. I could hear them leaving the cave and finding their way up the hill.
Claudette screamed.
An auburn wolf stood right in front of me, grinning.
The same wolf from my dream. The one that taunted me as I hung upside down, mummified.
I stood staring at it, trying to grasp how it had come to appear here out of nowhere, atop the hill. Too slowly, I raised the crossbow as it backhanded me with its paw.
Crickets chirped nearby. I opened my eyes slowly, but saw nothing. Only felt the grass beneath my aching jaw. Felt the cool night air on my face.
Claudette.
I sat upright suddenly. It was darker now, as the moon hid behind low clouds. I looked around, my eyes adjusting to see that I was still on top of the hill above the cave. Alone. Claudette was gone. They had left me there. I grabbed my crossbow, which lay beside me where I fell. I stood quickly, feeling the soreness in my arms and back from the climb. My cheek stung like fire, but it would heal.
Where had they gone? I had to pick up their trail again with Madame Strineau before they –.
Madame Strineau.
I gathered up my hook and rope quickly, securing them back in place on my belt. I peeked into the cave hole, to confirm the wolves had truly gone.
Why would they abandon their lair and leave me alive?
I shook off my questions and made my way down the hill, using the thick roots of gnarled trees to steady myself. I descended fast, moving from one large tree to another, then hurried to the cave entrance.
Crimson lay on his side, not moving. My heart leaped and I ran to him, dropping to my knees. I touched his flank, feeling him breathe slowly. Thank God.
He started suddenly and jumped to his feet as I scrambled away from his hooves. He reared up, whinnying. I rolled away, taking cover behind a nearby tree trunk, then stood. I put my hands up to calm him. “It’s all right, boy,” I said. “It’s me.”
He glared at me, rearing up again. Then he gave an angry snort, and seemed to calm down. He looked around, then looked toward the cave.
No. He was looking toward a tree at the side of the cave. Where I told Madame Strineau to hide herself.
I rushed toward it. Behind the twisted black trunk, Madame Strineau’s black velvet dress lay in shreds. Some of them soaked in blood.
She was gone.
I had lost them both.
Crimson trotted forward. Seeing the bloody dress, he reared up again, seeming more agitated than normal. As gruesome as it was, Crimson had seen the work of the Lycanthru before and never reacted like this.
What did it matter now? All that mattered was finding the Lycanthru before they got farther away with Claudette.
Before I returned her home to her father, and informed him he was a widower. I couldn’t leave him childless, too.
I sniffed the air for the scent of blood, but couldn’t smell anything beyond the heavy sten
ch there. I climbed up on Crimson’s back, chose a direction, and charged off.
After an hour of searching with no more odor to track, I had no choice but to give up. And no choice but to return to Monsieur Strineau to tell him I had lost both his daughter and his wife. The Lycanthru had gone, leaving no trail.
It took another half hour to trace my way back through the gnarled trees and winding paths that led back through the woods to the Strineau house. Candles were lit inside. Waiting for our return. It was nearly dawn.
I slid slowly down from Crimson’s back and walked to the door. My knees shook as I clomped up onto the porch and knocked.
Monsieur Strineau’s boots stamped onto the floor as he jumped up from his chair. The door flew open. He stood over me with bloodshot eyes. “Did you find her?”
“I – Yes, I – but –.” “Where’s Liana?” he asked, looking beyond me into the darkness.
“I – she –,” I stammered.
“Where’s my wife?”
“She’s gone,” I said, feeling like I was rolling a stone over her tomb. “I couldn’t save her.”
He blinked slowly at me, breathless. Like a drunken man trying to understand the simplest words. “… What?”
I cleared my throat. “I found them. The wolves. In a cave. Claudette was there. I told Madame Strineau to hide outside. I – I carried Claudette out, but – the wolves knocked me down. When I woke, they were gone. All of them. And Madame Strineau –.”
He stared, his eyes burning into me. “What? What happened to her?”
I swallowed. “They killed her. I didn’t find anything but pieces of her dress. She’s – She’s gone. I’m sorry.”
He continued to stare at me, not moving. Like a horrorstricken statue. Then his arms dropped and hung limp. He lifted them and buried his face in his hands.
“I – I kept searching for Claudette. I couldn’t find her. But I’ll search again tomorrow. She’s still out there somewhere. I just need to -.”
“Get out,” he said from behind his palms.
“I – I’m so sorry. I can still find her, once I -.”
His hands exploded from his face and curled into fists. “Go!”
Red Rider Revolution Page 13