Under the Wolf's Shadow

by A. Katie Rose

  His blue eyes stared into mine. He smiled.

  “Ly’Tana.”

  How many times had he called me by name? Frantic, I tried to remember, my panic sending my memories into hyper-drive, right out of my head. If I can remember, he’ll live. I know he’ll live if I can just remember–

  “It’s ti–time for me to go.”

  “No,” I sobbed, my hair covering his face, his chest with that obscene monstrosity sticking up likes a nasty black stick.

  Alun’s lips turned blue, a sign I knew only too well. Death followed close upon the heels of that particular tinge, and the ghostly pallor of his skin. Next to my chest, his breathing came and went in hitches as his lungs tried to desperately draw in air.

  He’s dying.

  Yet, those lips curved upward into a loving smile–tremulous, but there. Alun knew death came for him and he sought to comfort me. I tried to reassure him, yet he consoled me. How messed up was that? My heart broke open and bled as much as his.

  His hand not just cupped my cheek, but caressed it. “You have to let me go.”

  “No,” I wept. “I can’t.”

  “She’s here.”

  I raised my head, blinking the streaming tears from my face. Sweeping his hair from his brow with my fingers, I gazed down into his face. “Stay with me, you’ll be all right, Alun, I promise, stay, dammit–”

  “She’s–come for me. I must–”

  He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. His eyes wandered left, over my right shoulder. His hand tightened within mine, yet I felt no warmth.

  “Must,” he whispered, “must–go with her.”

  Alun’s dark eyes captured something behind me. His breath caught, hesitated, as his tremulous lips found a weak smile. I’ll never forget that sweet, uncomplicated expression of hope, love and undying faith I saw on my dying friend’s face. Never.

  “Who, Alun?” I whispered, desperate. “Who’s come for you? Nephrotiti?”

  Too weak to remain up any longer, Alun’s hand fell from my grip to his belly and lay quiet, quiescent. Yet, his eyes never wavered from the sight before them. A sight I could never share. He tried to shake his head, but he only managed a twitch.

  “Sele,” he whispered.

  Only one who crossed that elusive, protected boundary and witnessed its supreme light might find such joy. I knew what awaited him in that sphere within the darkness. I’d seen it, felt it, craved it. Alun’s reward awaited him beyond that light and he reached for it gladly. Still, I couldn’t, wouldn’t, let him go.

  I stared down into his face, the Alun I loved there, and not there, at the same time. I stroked his cold cheek, tickled his blue-tinged lips with my fingers. He was leaving me, going away where I couldn’t follow. My tears dripped onto his brow, ran down to his chin. He was almost home.

  His dark eyes lit from within, joyous, delighted and happy, as his right hand deserted my cheek, lifted, and reached for the unseen, the unfelt. I seized his hand within my own and held it to my breast.

  My heart died within me. He’d leave me, whether I willed it or no. I couldn’t stop it. If I couldn’t halt it, logic informed me in no uncertain cool terms, therefore I must accept it. However difficult that acceptance was, I took hold of my grief, my fear. I swallowed hard, and put my big girl pants on. He’s going. Let the last words he heard this side of death be those of courage and love.

  I bent, and, though it hurt me through and through, I kissed his brow. “Go in peace, warrior,” I whispered.

  His eyes found mine again. He tried to lift his hand, but failed. He smiled, a special smile just for me. “She sen–”

  He didn’t finish. The life left his eyes the same instant his chest failed to rise. Like a deflated bladder, his body settled in on itself as his spirit fled. Alun died in my arms, the happy, joyous smile still on his lips. I tightened my grip on him in one last attempt to be happy for him, that he found his Sele again.

  I lost any semblance of control. Sobbing, incoherent, blinded by tears, I fell over his body as Black Tongue lent his grief voice. His howl of despair rent the sounds of battle and death, ringing across the vast meadow. The fighting faltered for one split second. Men and horses and wolves paused, weapons lowered. Heads turned, screams of agony or triumph stilled.

  For an instant, that single note of inconsolable grief caused the earth itself to hold its breath.

  How long I might have sat there, his body clasped to my breast as I wept, I don’t know. Hours perhaps. I didn’t care that the battle for not just my life but for the lives of everyone I loved waged on. I heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing save the ripping, tearing agony of loss. I rocked back and forth, the shell of the man I once knew and loved cradled in my arms. I might have remained there until the world itself ended.

  A shadow loomed.

  It cast me into deep, cold gloom, and I glanced up, my eyes fogged with tears. The figure of a man stood there, shrouded in darkness. Tall and shadowed, his eyes gleamed redly like the fires of hell. I half-thought him the angel of death, come for Alun. But Alun already rode the heavens with Sele, gone to the gods. Behind him, the fight raged on, yet for the moment only he and I existed.

  “Hail, Daughter of Nephrotiti,” the man-shape said.

  It, he, stepped forward.

  The shadows fled.

  I looked upon a face so beautiful it took my breath away. Blue eyes, no longer red, smiled from a dark face framed by long black hair. Handsome lips that put Raine’s to shame smiled down at me. One could fall in love, I thought, for I felt my soul draw toward him, hunger for him as I never hungered for anyone. Though I’d never seen him before, I knew him. I’d heard his voice in my dreams. He’s come for me, I thought. Not Alun, me.

  Carefully, lovingly, I set Alun’s head down on the cold ground and rose to my feet.

  Overpowered by the sheer divine force of the man’s presence, I swept low in a curtsey, my hair brushing Alun’s still face once more. Despite my grief, I recognized instantly in whose celestial presence I stood.

  “Most Holy.”

  Behind me, I half-saw Tashira bow low, his right front stretched forward, his left curled beneath him. “Hail, lord,” he said.

  Through my tears and hanging hair, I watched Digger, Darkhan and Ghost writhe in silent obeisance to the divinity standing over me. Arianne swept low, her midnight hair cloaking her from head to foot. “Greetings, Divine One,” she murmured.

  “Rise, brave Beloved,” Usa’a’mah commanded, his tone soft. “Have no fear. I would speak with thee.”

  I obeyed him, standing on my feet, yet I kept my face down and my hair shielding my face. I trembled, shaking, ill with trepidation. I dared not look up into the face of the god who wished me dead. I waited for his mighty hand to fall, his vengeance completed. No more tricks of weather, earth or serpents, I guessed, for he’d come for me in person.

  The Khalidian God of War’s hand cupped my chin and tilted my face up to meet his.

  “This man here,” he said quietly, his eyes boring into mine, “gave his life for you. His life, and death, shall not be in vain. I can but honor his sacrifice. I pursue you with vengeance no longer. The blood debt you owe me is paid in full.”

  “Most Holy,” I began, falling to my knees.

  The god’s fingers brushed my lips while his hand kept me on my feet. His blue eyes smiled with kindness though his face remained impassive. “I will admit no error,” he said, his lips quirking. “Yet, even divine will can slip at times. Perhaps I was hasty in my anger.”

  “Forgive me, Holy Usa’a’mah.”

  “I do and I have, brave little girl.”

  His smile widened in an almost humorous grin. “I suspect I have little choice, as you were so bloody hard to kill.”

  “Most Holy–”

  “Fear not,” he said, his finger shushing me. “You are very well beloved, my lady. The world is a better place with you in it.”

  He dipped his mighty head to me, his long hair veiling his face f
or a moment. “Go your way, Beloved, and I will answer your prayers. As do my brothers and sisters.”

  I curtseyed, my hands wide apart at my hips, palms up. “Most Holy.”

  Usa’a’mah’s hand dropped from my face. He stepped away from me, glancing over his shoulder at the daemon-god still strangling the life from Rygel. He pursed his dark handsome lips for a moment.

  “High time for that idiot to go home,” Usa’a’mah murmured.

  His bright blue eyes returned to me, his right brow riding high in an amused quirk. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I–er–”

  “Beloved.”

  He nodded to me, a gesture just short of a bow. One instant his hand felt warm in mine. In the next, the cold winter wind chilled the palm I extended outward still clasped in his. Like sand streaming through tight fingers, Usa’a’mah rippled through my fist and vanished.

  I blinked. I opened my hand and stared at it, as though fully expecting the dark god of war to be sitting calmly on my life lines. Like Alun, he departed this crazy world, leaving me standing alone on the hillside.

  Turning, I dropped to my knees. Kissing first Alun’s rapidly cooling brow, then his lips, I whispered, “Farewell, my friend. May we meet again one day, in glory.”

  I shut his open, staring eyes with my loving fingers, ignoring the questions of Arianne, Tashira, Bar and the half-whines and growls of the wolves. On legs that felt like rubber, I stood shakily, my breath gasping. Focus on the living, I told myself. Help those that can be helped despite this macabre drama. He told you what to do. Seek the one who needs you most, foolish child.

  Raine decimated enemy soldiers like a farmer drowning infant rabbits. My boys chased down and killed secret assassins under the broad light of day, their horses splashed from hoof to ears in enemy blood. Those hounds from hell the wolves failed to catch bolted across the hills, tails tucked. Tashira and Shardon stood back to back, rearing and slashing at those few, silly Tongu who’d not yet realized their side lost the battle. Bar sat quiet, his tail curled about his talons. Yet, when a fear-blinded Tongu raced past, he gutted him with as much effort as he might snag a fish.

  Though the battle swung our way for the time being, I knew the tide would change–and soon. Unless I stopped it.

  I ignored the cloying scent of blood. The blood-fever, the cries of the wounded, the dying and the victors failed to alarm me. I stepped over bloody corpses, ducked around the dying and their future needs, skirted skirmishes between my boys, their wolves and the defensively knotted Tongu. Wolves killed and chased, severed hamstrings and throats, yet I’d eyes for only one.

  The serpent daemon. Oanh’ata.

  Pacing toward it, I dragged my gold-washed jewel from under my jacket and warm furs. Numb, devoid of all feeling, I walked on feet I didn’t really notice. Like a distant, unimportant battle I heard about, once, long ago, I knew Raine still lead his forces of men and wolves against an implacable enemy. Tenzin may be dead, his glazed eyes glaring into the dark sky, his Shirel long since vanished. Yet, as long as their Oanh’ata still lived, the Tongu would continue the fight to the very last drop of blood.

  I walked on, closing the distance. Cold leeched into my bones, but I cared not. Alun died to keep me alive. I lived, yet he died. Someone had to pay for Alun’s death. My need for vengeance rode high, but I didn’t reach for it.

  Instead, I reached for my compassion.

  Rygel’s glassy, green-gold dragon eyes found me and latched on. I felt the weight of his stare, his plead for me to run away and be saved, to let him die as Alun died. In his sacrifice I may live, Raine, Arianne and everyone else with me. Like Alun, he’d cross the barrier happy, knowing we all were safe.

  The serpent watched me approach, alarmed, wary, concern riding high in those slitted pupils.

  “Go away, bitch,” it hissed. “Lest I slay thee as well.”

  “What?” I asked, my eyes wide as I feigned astonishment. “Surely the big bad snake has nothing to fear from me.”

  “Thou art a nuisance. Leave me be.”

  “Sorry, no can do. You’re hurting a friend of mine.”

  “This man owes me a debt. He shall pay it with his life.”

  I fetched a deep sigh. “Oh, very well, make me the bad guy. I’m sending you home, dear one.”

  “I shall go nowhere, bitch. I like it here.”

  I smiled. “Bless you, Oanh’ata, daemon of the deep.”

  “Bless my ass.”

  My smile broadened. “As you wish.”

  My left hand clutching the warm jewel about my neck, I walked forward. With its body wrapped tightly about Rygel, the serpent could do me little harm. I avoided its whipping tail, the only part of it not strangling the life from my friend. Stepping under the icy chill of its spread wings, I reached out my hand. I seized it by the heavy scales just behind its viper jaw.

  Horror rushed through me.

  Disgust and no little pity assaulted my heart. My guts churned, and bile rose to my throat, making me wish I could vomit. I felt as though I’d touched the decaying, maggot-riddled corpse of someone I loved.

  Above the noxious scent of evil and torment, I felt the light brush of a million tiny fireflies dance across my skin. I heard their voices raised in song, felt their love wash me with laughter and joy. Their power rose to my fingertips.

  I had but to ask.

  I shut my eyes, feeling their strength race though me. “Go home,” I whispered.

  The Tongu king and god howled, its serpent head high. Its jaws released Rygel, rows upon rows of wicked teeth white and clear against the winter clouds. A red, forked tongue lashed beyond its fangs, whipping, tasting the icy air. It’s snake tail swung high and hard, aiming to crush me. It missed, by many rods, to slam, helpless, into the snow and ice.

  “I bless you, daemon of old,” I said, not knowing where the words came from. “Return to your home. Feel its power draw you thus. Return whence you came and be at peace.”

  Agonized, in deep pain, the serpent-god released Rygel from its entwining grip. It tried to snap at me, its fangs dripping venom, its massive body recoiling upon itself. As though an invisible shield protected me, the creature struck in vain. Its blunt snout came within a few feet of me, yet halted there, unable to go further.

  Like a snake returning to its burrow, the daemon god of the Tongu slipped downward, into the earth as though on a turning spindle. In hours that lasted seconds, its once-solid body grew faint, opaque. Spinning round and round, making me dizzy, it vanished into the snow and stony soil. Had I not known better, I’d say hands from deep within the earth pulled it downward even as it struggled. Within moments, less and less of it showed above ground. Its wail of longing and grief touched me not at all as it finally vanished.

  Where it had been, the snow and soil returned to their places, pristine and undisturbed.

  The daemon vanished as though it had never been. Absently, I rubbed my hand over my winter jacket, trying to scrape off the vague nastiness the daemon’s skin left behind. I glanced up.

  The storm clouds rolled back, its lightning fading, flickering less and less within their dark depths. Bright sunlight, reflecting brilliantly off the snow, chased it away. Rapidly diminishing, the darkness fell behind the line of hills and vanished.

  Instantly, all hissing Tongu assassins and their brindled, chuffing hounds broke ranks. As though faced with devils with tridents and forked tails rather than human and wolf enemies, they cried out in horror and bolted in every direction. Tenzin’s broken and bloody corpse stared unseeingly at his men fleeing screaming, in panic. Fierce brindled hounds galloped over the hills, howling, mad with terror. My own boys watched in amazement and dismay as their enemy broke and fled without further fight. A few, Witraz, Rannon, Yuri, chased after them, waving swords, for a short distance. Allowing their mounts to break to a trot, then a walk, they grinned as their foes ran away. Witraz cursed under his breath as he sheathed his sword, glancing over his shoulder in disgust as his enemy f
led his one-eyed wrath.

  Raine himself stared with wide eyes and open jaws as the Tongu melted away before him. Silverruff sat down, panting, his tail sweeping from side to side in relief. He said something to Raine, his silver muzzle tilted upward. Raine glanced down at him, his furry brow furrowed in thought. Together, they turned around trotted side by side through the dead and the dying.

  Rygel gasped for live-giving breath, drawing in lungfuls of air a short rod from me. As I watched, his immense dragon body instantly changed to a man lying on the blood-soaked, icy ground, clutching his throat and sprung ribs. Groaning, he tried to sit up, his bloody mane of wheaten hair hanging in his face. Arianne screeched upon seeing him and ran the short distance toward him with Rufus, Little Bull and Darkhan loping in her wake.

  My heart and body numb, I staggered back to Alun. I didn’t try to stop the tears that fell as I once more cradled his head in my lap. I rearranged his long strawberry hair over his shoulders, tidying him up. With gentle fingers, I stroked his still-warm cheek. I bowed my face and shoulders over the half-smile on his lips.

  Go in your way, my warrior. May you find rest and peace forevermore.

  I love you, my friend.

  We built a cairn over him.

  At the top of a high steep hill, with a commanding view of the mountains and valleys, we laid him to rest. Above the stench of death and blood and shit, away from the thousands of vultures, rooks, crows and ravens who gathered to feast on the corpses. Here he would lie with his grave marking this evil place, this place of slaughter.

  I stood silent, unable to begin the funeral ceremony. Whatever words I might have uttered could never, ever, be sufficient. What need to pray to Nephrotiti to take him to her bosom? He was already there. Sele came for him. Even now they rode, laughing, joyous, hand in hand with our beloved Lady.

  I should be happy for him. He’d gone beyond all earthly bounds, all care, all pain, all grief. I bowed my head, choking on the tears I refused to shed, my throat shut tight. Though I, as Clan Chief, should recite the ritual, my throat refused to unlock. Whether he recognized my handicap or not, I’ll never ask. But Kel’Ratan stepped forward, his brow lowered and his hands clasped in front of him .