Winter of the White Wolf (Noble Heart Book 4)

by Cynthia Griffith

  Noble ran on until he was out of sight of the three men chasing behind. At last he threw himself into a thick growth of bushes and lay there on the ground, trying to catch his breath and pausing for a moment to come up with another plan. He did not want the men to give up the chase altogether and go back to the inn. He had to think of a way to keep them following, and yet still stay out of their grasp.

  Noble crept forward a bit to peer through the low branches of the shrubs. They were not in sight yet, although he could still hear their voices. Good. He would remain out of sight, but lead them forward by leaving signs of which way he had gone. If those telltale clues were clear enough Noble knew they would not give up the hunt, for by this time Simon Foster was angry—so angry with the young knight that he would stop at nothing to catch him.

  Noble scanned the ground in front of him, thinking about what he should do first. He must keep moving. They would rest for only a few minutes before they would take up the chase once more. He had to leave this place.

  Suddenly he caught his breath. There, just an arm’s length away, were tracks in the snow—tracks so fresh they had not yet filled in with the blowing snow. A chill ran down his back. They were wolf tracks. Several sets of them. There was more than one Wolf in the area. Wolves of the four-legged sort had been here not long ago, as well, and Noble knew they could not be far away at this very moment!

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  CHAPTER ELEVEN

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  Setting a Trap

  His first thoughts were for the horses. He had left them tied up and unable to run away or defend themselves if the wolves should come upon them. He had given no thought all morning to the pack of wolves that roamed these woods, and now he was dismayed to think he had left those poor animals in such a helpless position. They were close to the edge of the forest, to be sure, but also close to the inn, and the last thing Noble wanted to do was to lead Foster and his men back toward Aber. He had no choice, though. He had to go back for Brownie and Lacey.

  Noble cautiously got to his feet and looked around. Foster and his men were not yet in sight. He felt prickles in the back of his neck, as if the green eyes of an unseen beast were staring at him, but a quick glance over his shoulder told him what he already knew—there was no one behind him, whether two-legged or four.

  Noble quickly tore a scrap of cloth from the bottom of his cloak and caught it on a thorny twig of the bush he had hidden in. They would have to be blind not to see that, he thought. He ran through the woods, making a wide circle away from the place he had last seen the men and stopping only to leave a broken branch or scrap every hundred feet or so. He did not want to make his trail too easy for them, for he wanted to slow them down, but on the other hand he wanted to keep them following.

  At last he came to the thicket where he had left Brownie and Lacey. The two old horses were still there, contentedly dozing on their feet as they waited for the young knight to return. His relief was great when he saw that they were safe. “I’m back,” Noble murmured softly to Brownie as he untied him. “Come, my friends. We need to move away from here.” Brownie snorted, and Lacey pressed close to him, as if she was glad to have him back with them again. They started back the way Noble had just come.

  The forest was quiet. The wind was beginning to die down, and now the snow fell silently, heaping layer upon layer of white onto the branches of the trees and, where it could reach, onto the forest floor. The heavy blanket of snow muffled the sound of the horses moving through the trees, but it also muted any other noises in the woodland. He had not heard the voices of Foster’s gang for some time. Where were they? Were they still on his trail? Just two days earlier Noble had been the hunter, today he was the hunted. And were there other wolves besides Foster stalking him, as well?

  How long could he keep this up? It would be many hours yet before he could look for help from the King’s Guard. He could not hope to keep Foster chasing him through the woods through the night and until the next morning. Foster was angry, and wanted to catch him, but Noble knew the man would not stay out in the cold and snow much longer—not when he had the inn to himself and a village to take for his own.

  He must make a new plan, Noble realized. He had made himself the bait in this hunt; now it was time to bait a trap and put a stop to this wild chase through the forest. “What can I do?” Noble murmured aloud now to the two old horses. In his heart, though, he was crying unto the Lord, Give me wisdom, Father! Show me what to do! There was silence all around him. Brownie and Lacey stopped. They stood quietly, as if they, too, were waiting for the answer. The snow fell silently, softly all around them as Noble listened for the still, small voice of the Lord to whisper some guidance in his ear.

  It did not happen quite that way. Suddenly Brownie snorted. Whether it was the snow that tickled his nose or an angel, his hoof slipped in the snow and he lurched forward, nearly tossing Noble off his back. Brownie quickly regained his footing and Noble caught himself, but he suddenly knew it was the answer for which he was looking.

  These woods were riddled with boulders, rocks, ravines and crevasses. The going, especially in the ice and snow, was treacherous at best. Noble thought back to earlier in the day when he had very nearly slipped into a crevasse himself. Could he use such a thing to his advantage? Could he perhaps conceal one of these deep splits in the earth and rock and then lure the men who hunted him into it?

  Noble grinned. He patted Brownie’s neck and said softly, “Thank you, my friend! The Lord has used you today in many ways. Now, let’s go! We have work to do!” The old horse nodded his head and started through the forest once more, with Lacey obediently following close behind.

  It wasn’t long before Noble had found just the place to carry out his plan. A deep, narrow gap had opened at their feet. If Noble had not been on the lookout for that very thing they might even have slid into it themselves, for it was shaded by the trees around it and difficult to see in the gloom of the overcast, snowy day. Piles of boulders and a small cliff surrounded the area on three sides. If the men came, it could only be from this one direction, straight across his trap.

  Noble slid off Brownie’s back and fell to his knees in the snow at the edge of the crevasse. He peered into its dark depths, straining to see the bottom. It was difficult to judge for sure, but it appeared to be nearly ten or twelve feet deep. It was not so narrow that a man could easily crawl up its sides, nor so wide that he could simply walk its length and find a way out. Once caught in this trap a wolf of any sort would need help from above to get out!

  Noble set to work. He began breaking long thin branches from the pine trees around him and laying them over the deep crack. When he had bridged the chasm he threw snow over the branches. Thankfully, it was sturdy enough to hold the weight of the snow, if not the weight of a man.

  Noble led the horses around the camouflaged crevasse to the other side. He tied them to a tree and ran back to the other side. There he found another pine branch, and using it like a broom, he walked backwards, sweeping over their tracks in the snow that showed where they had skirted around the crack. Now it appeared as though their footprints led right up to the edge and over. At last he looked at his handiwork in satisfaction. He had set a trap for The Wolf. Now to bait it.

  He had to lure the men to his trap. He went back to the horses. “Brownie!” he yelled, as loudly as he could. “Brownie!”

  Brownie swung his head around and looked at Noble as if to ask, What? What did I do?

  Noble grinned and yelled again, “Brownie!” This time the old horse stepped forward and nudged the young master with his nose. What’s the matter with you? I’m right here! he seemed to say.

  “All is well,” Noble reassured him softly, patting him on the nose. “I want them to think that you’re lost and I’m looking for you. It’s the only reason I could think of to be yelling in the forest. Let’s just hope they can hear me now! I want them to come running!”

  Noble moved behind the horses, half-hidden
in the shadow of the trees. He was willing to be the bait in the trap, but he was not eager to be skewered by an arrow. He went on shouting and calling Brownie’s name.

  The horses moved nervously at the boy’s strange and loud behavior, but there was no other response. The woods around them remained silent. Noble began to give up hope that Foster and his men were still around. They must have returned to the inn. What were they up to now? Had they begun to carry out their vicious plans against the village? They must have discovered Master Locke had escaped by now. Would they carry out their threat to burn down the inn?

  “Should we go?” Noble murmured to the horses. He scanned the trees on the other side of the hidden crevasse. “Brownie!” he yelled one more time. “Where are –”

  His shout was cut off as two men suddenly came crashing through the trees. Foster was just behind them. They spotted the horses and ran towards them. They had not found the boy knight yet, but here was a prize to help them in the hunt! His horses!

  Grimes was the first to fall through the pine branches and into the trap Noble had set. Sharkey was right on his heels and tumbled in after him. Foster pulled up just in time to avoid following his men into the hole. Now he screamed in rage at this sudden turn of events. “Get out! Get out!” he shrieked.

  His screams could not cover the moans coming from the crevasse. “Me leg is broke!” Noble heard one of the men call weakly from deep inside the split in the rock. “It’s broke! And Grimes—he’s stuck upside down! He ain’t talkin’, Wolf! I think he’s knocked himself out. Looks like his arms are broke, too!”

  “Get out of there right now, Sharkey!” Foster continued to scream. “A broken leg is no excuse! And bring Grimes with you!”

  “I can’t, Wolf! It ain’t no use!” Sharkey groaned. “You gotta come get us!”

  “Forget it! You can just stay there—forever, for all I care! Someone has to finish this job, and if you can’t help me with it, I’ll do it myself!” Foster was so angry now he was stomping his feet and pulling his hair. Noble could actually see spit flying from his mouth as he screamed, even from where he remained hidden on the other side of the horses.

  Foster rushed off, ignoring Sharkey’s cries for help, and looking for a way around the crevasse. He found the end of the crack in the earth and came back, headed straight for the horses.

  Noble stepped out of the shadows to meet him, his sword in hand. “Stop right there, Foster!” he said sternly.

  Simon Foster halted, a look of shock on his face in that instant. The look quickly turned to hatred, though, as he snarled, “You think to capture a Wolf, I see, young knight! Not so quickly! You may have caught my men in your trap, but you’ll not find it so easy to take me this time!”

  Noble took another step toward him. “I come in the name of the king, Foster. He has ordered me to bring you back to Caernarfon, and that is what I shall do.”

  “You think so? Then come and get me!” Foster pulled a sword out from under his cloak and brandished it in front of the king’s man.

  Noble was surprised to see the sword. He had no idea where Foster had gotten it—from one of his men, he presumed now. He had thought Foster’s only skill with weapons lay in his tongue and lying lips, but then that was before he had discovered that Simon Foster was actually The Wolf. He ought not to be shocked now that the old liar was actually a skilled swordsman, as well.

  Noble’s surprise did not cause him to falter or miss a step. He came forward with courage and determination as Foster charged at him with an angry shout. Their swords clashed. Foster fought fiercely, his anger causing him to thrash about wildly. He was old and small and looked frail, but his looks were deceiving. The Wolf was stronger than he looked and he had some skill with the sword. Noble was up against a dangerous opponent.

  The ground around them was littered with rocks, tree roots and fallen limbs hidden in the snow. Cracks and crevices lay in wait to catch a foot and break an ankle. The deep crevasse that held Grimes and Sharkey captive, and the cliff and boulders surrounding it, hemmed them in. They fought back and forth across the small space, both stumbling from time to time, but neither able to gain the advantage. Noble was the better swordsman, but Foster was enraged, filled with fury and hatred, and he pressed forward relentlessly, keeping Noble on the defensive.

  The once peaceful clearing was filled now with the clashing and clanging of steel blades as they crashed against one another, the frightened neighing of the horses, and the cries and grunts of the foes. Foster screamed curses, and the men in the crevasse added to the din with cries for help and shrieks of pain.

  Noble heard none of it, though. The whole scene seemed to be passing before him in silent, slow motion. The noise, the trees and rocks seemed to fade away as he focused on the blades in Foster’s hand and his own. The silence within him was broken only by the loud, rapid beating of his heart and the pleas of his inner voice to the Lord for strength and skill.

  Foster lunged forward at one point, forcing Noble to the very edge of the crevasse. Noble teetered there for a second, fighting for his balance. A gentle touch from behind, as though from the hand of an angel, steadied him and he fought back, moving inch by inch away from his own trap. He pushed Foster back across the clearing, steadily gaining an advantage over him as the older man began to tire.

  The screaming and curses ceased to spew out of the Foster’s mouth now as he conserved his gasping breath for the battle. His eyes still flashed with hatred, though, and with steely resolve to bring down his young enemy as a wolf overpowers a deer. He gritted his teeth and pressed Noble back into the shadow of the cliff.

  Noble’s youth and strength and endurance were on his side, to be sure, as well as the many hours of training he had put in with the men of the King’s Guard, but he had not the years of experience with dishonest men nor the nature to employ trickery, deceit and cheating that Foster possessed. He was unprepared, therefore, when Foster suddenly dropped his sword to his side and held up one hand.

  “Enough! I am finished!” The Wolf panted. “You have bested me, Sir Noble!”

  Noble looked at Foster with suspicion, but lowered his own sword. “You will go with me now?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Foster said as he took a step toward Noble. “I am your prisoner once again, young knight.” He held out one hand to Noble as he approached. “Tie me up, if you wish.”

  Noble looked toward the horses where the rope was still in the bundle on Lacey’s back. The Wolf took advantage of that small second when Noble’s eyes were elsewhere. He sprang at the knight like a vicious animal, swinging his sword at Noble with all his might.

  Noble brought his own blade up in just the nick of time to block the blow that would have done him in. The unexpected strike, though, caught his sword at just the right angle to send it flying from his grasp. Foster rushed the weaponless boy, intent on at last defeating him.

  Noble took a step backward, away from the eyes that blazed with hatred, away from the mouth that howled wickedness, away from the flashing blade. He took a step backward and slipped on a snow-covered rock. The next thing Noble knew he was on his back on the ground with The Wolf looming above him, his sword in his hand and evil in his eyes.

  Noble saw Foster raise the sword. An eerie hush gripped the clearing as the blade hovered in the air. And suddenly a blur of white appeared behind The Wolf, flying at him through the air and sending him sprawling flat on his face beyond the place where Noble lay. Terrible growls and snarls filled the air as Noble focused his eyes and tried to understand what had just happened.

  It was the white wolf.

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  CHAPTER TWELVE

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  The White Wolf

  Foster lay on his belly, screaming in terror. His hands were clasped behind his neck, trying to protect his head and neck from the snapping, snarling jaws of the white wolf. The animal clawed wildly at his back and pounced time and time again at the man on the ground.

  Noble rolled ov
er and leaped to his feet. His sword lay a few feet away. Foster’s sword lay just beyond it. He grabbed both blades and turned to face the wolf.

  The white wolf leaped back away from Foster. His green eyes glittered as he turned his attention to the lad standing bravely before him with a sword in each hand. He lowered his head and growled, a low, deep rumble, but he made no move toward Noble.

  Their eyes locked. Noble was caught in the mesmerizing gaze of the beautiful animal. The wolf stared at him as if trying to convey some sort of message, although what it was Noble did not know. He lowered the swords, understanding somehow without doubt, that the animal was not there to harm him, but to protect him.

  The white wolf nosed at the whimpering man at his feet, and then looked again at Noble. Suddenly he turned and leaped to the top of the boulders behind him. He peered down at Noble once more and then disappeared from view. For a moment there was no sound but the sniveling of Simon Foster and the nervous agitation of the horses.

  Then, “Get up!” Noble said to Simon Foster. He prodded the fallen man with the tip of his sword.

  Foster lay there for a moment and then slowly got to his knees. His back was bleeding from the deep scratches the wolf had inflicted on him. There were bites on his hands and wrists, and he clutched one arm that was bleeding, as well. His face was pale and tear marks streaked his cheeks. He was a far cry from the man who had attacked Noble just a few minutes before.

  Noble kept his eyes on Foster and his sword at the ready as he reached for the rope on Lacey’s back. Foster did not resist as Noble tied him up once more. At last Noble said, “Stand up!” and pulled the old man to his feet.

  Foster finally spoke with venom in his voice, “Do not think this is over, knight! My men are coming to Aber. You will have a fight on your hands that you cannot win. You may hide me away in the inn, but they will follow my orders whether I am with them or not!”