Prince Wolf

by A. Katie Rose

  I sat and fumed, searching my mind for a seething riposte. Bar once more twisted his body to the left and busily preened his left wing. I couldn’t help it.

  “You missed a spot.”

  His raptor’s eyes glared. “You’re not funny.”

  I nodded helpfully. “Over there, at your elbow joint.”

  He glowered. “Leave me be.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m trying to help.”

  “When you feel the urge to help?” Bar said, earnestly gazing into my eyes. “Really want to help me? Don’t.”

  Giggling into Mikk’s mane, my ribs ached with restrained humor. Ah, vengeance tasted sweet at times.

  “You forgot your sense of humor,” I said, taking up my reins. “You lost it, somewhere along the way.”

  “I know right where it is,” Bar answered, folding his wings across his back and rising to his feet.

  I stared deep into his yellow predatory, yet loving, eyes. “I’ll miss you,” I said softly, aloud. “But go you must.”

  “You now have the means to call me,” he answered, crouching low in preparation for flight. “Don’t hesitate.”

  “Please.”

  His wings sweeping dirt, twigs, last year’s leaves into a miniature hurricane about us, Bar launched himself into the air. His wings beat down, once, twice, thrice, his lion hind legs and tail trailing out behind him as his body lifted up and away. Forever admiring, I watched his graceful bank around, wings enslaving the invisible air above me as he circled, gaining altitude. Brushing my hair from my eyes, I looked up, watching him rise ever higher, finding and using the warm updrafts. His vocal and mental speech drifted down to me, his eagle head angling down to see me better from between his folded front legs. “Good luck.”

  I didn’t answer as he drifted higher on the morning breeze and became yet another dot high in the sky. I sighed and dropped my eyes.

  “Time to ride,” I said, glancing about at my boys. “I may be a slave, but I’m still in charge.”

  Rygel vaulted into Shardon’s saddle while my warriors found their own. Witraz brought me a warm bundle of doeskin and Tuatha, the latter only half awake. The pup greeted me with a mumble as I gathered him into my arms. Witraz bowed his way to his own piebald, and swung into his saddle. Joker gazed up at him, his tail waving.

  “Be good,” Witraz said to him. “Be safe.”

  Corwyn mounted with fluid ease, his roan gelding shifting his hooves under him, restless, ready to run. White Fang wagged his tail, but if he expected a response he was disappointed. Corwyn nudged his roan away without a glance in White Fang’s direction. The red wolf watched him go, his tail still waving. I guess he understood Corwyn, while I didn’t.

  I caught Arianne’s huge eyes with my own.

  “You lead, little cat,” I said. “Rygel right behind you, and Corwyn behind him. I’ll follow as her body slave, with Left and Right behind me.”

  Twin dark eyes gleamed with approval, but I ignored them for the moment. “Tor, you ride behind the twins.”

  For once, Tor made no objection at being parted from Yuri and Yuras, but reined the placid grey mare in behind me, ready to follow my instructions.

  Kip whined. Tor grinned down at him. “Don’t worry, boy. We’ll be together again soon.”

  “The rest of you,” I said, seeking out Witraz, Rannon, Alun and the blonde brothers. “Two are outriders, two follow behind Corwyn and one as rearguard.”

  I left them to sort out who went where, I glanced down at Silverruff. “Here, my friend,” I murmured. “We must part company. At least for a while.”

  He barked, a short sharp sound. I think I knew what he said, but decided not to challenge it.

  “Divide yourselves into packs of four or five wolves,” I said. “If you’re seen, the people down below will think of you as scavengers.”

  “They’re ignorant of wolfish behavior,” Rygel continued smoothly. “They don’t know you don’t eat dead bodies or kill humans for food. They’ll think the worst, but we care not for what they will think.”

  “Of course,” I continued, remembering Raine’s difficulty in crossing the Caravan Route. “You may encounter people as you try to follow us through that valley. Stay hidden as much as you can and don’t fight.”

  I glanced sidelong toward Arianne on her flashy bay stallion. “You’ll know when and if we need you.”

  Silverruff, Digger and Thunder sat around Mikk’s legs, gazing up at me, tongues lolling, brown, angular eyes worried.

  “It’s all good, lads,” I said cheerfully. “Before you know it, we’ll be dogging his furry black tail.”

  Digger barked, while Silverruff whined and Thunder sighed.

  “No worries,” I said, smiling. “It could be worse. You could listen to Kel’Ratan whine all night and day.”

  “I heard that.”

  Turning away from my three protectors, I watched as Alun caressed Black’s Tongue’s head, reaching down from his saddle. Black Tongue wagged his tail, with less enthusiasm than his usual wont, watched him as Alun turned his horse to gallop toward our rear.

  Rannon and Shadow walked side by side, away from the others, Rannon leading his horse by the reins in his lax hand. Rannon’s head turned briefly down toward Shadow, while Shadow’s muzzle uptilted toward Rannon’s face. I knew they couldn’t communicate well, for Rannon spoke no wolf. Their parting seemed more difficult, for some reason. I’d no idea why, but turned my face away to allow them privacy.

  Yuri and Yuras, from atop their chestnut stallions, waved to Warrior Dog and Scatters Them. Both wolves watched them rein about, ears slack and tails low. The young brothers turned in their saddles to both salute me and grin at their friends before riding out of sight.

  Rygel and Shardon stood off to one side, Little Bull between them. What Rygel said to him, I’d no idea, for I was neither close enough nor versed in the wolf language. But, after a few long moments of communication, Little Bull walked away to join Silverruff, Thunder and Digger.

  The silent four, Left, Right, Dire and Lightfoot, stood together in silent communion for long moments. As one man, the twins vaulted into their saddles and reined their blacks in behind me. As one wolf, Dire and Lightfoot turned and trotted toward my group, tails low.

  Only Darkhan sat apart.

  His yellow eyes met Arianne’s. I reckoned that only now he realized that they must part. For how long, no one knew. I had but to look once at him and I felt his agony, his grief, his utter dejection. Arianne, for her part, bore up bravely enough. Tears coursed down her cheek, but her stern visage changed not one jot. Like a butterfly from its cocoon, the princess had emerged at last.

  Her words to him were silent. I knew they spoke, knew they exchanged words, but ‘twas in the silent, telepathic language of wolves. Much as what I now had with Bar. I hope she spoke to him of love and of hope, though what hope I couldn’t guess. Alun was right: Darkhan wasn’t a good fit. Nephrotiti bless him, perhaps now he knew it, too.

  I glanced back as we rode away. Mikk trotted smoothly under me, but my chin rested on my shoulder. The wolves melted into the rocks and undergrowth, dividing into four smaller packs, leaving the area, as I bade them. Soon, one would never know that fifteen wolves and eleven humans had gathered together in one huge, loving family.

  Only Darkhan sat alone, silent, heartbroken, as the one he loved as a mate rode a horse away from him and didn’t look back.

  I wasn’t surprised when the lonely howl of grief rose from the hills behind us.

  The terrain grew harsher and more treacherous the further we rode. Forced down from a ground covering trot to a careful walk, our mounts slid and slithered down steep hills made up of sand and small rocks. I’d gathered together all the outriders, for soon we’d enter lands populated by people, not wild creatures. A royal Khalidian princess would have all her henchmen around her. We rode in pairs, Arianne and Rygel in the front, followed closely by Kel’Ratan and Corwyn. Alun and Rannon rode side by side, though they did
n’t talk much. Yuri and Yuras also rode their horses without their usual brotherly laughter, chatter and arguments. Witraz and Tor fell in behind them, leaving me the only one to ride alone. As a slave proper, I’d have reined Mikk in behind the twins, but they’d have none of it. Twin scowls met my attempt and forcing them to ride in front of me wasn’t worth the effort of a royal command.

  The tough, rocky Mesaan Mountains fell behind as we rode down into the slippery, lifeless brown and grey gravel of the great Tanai Desert. I found little vegetation and fewer animals as we rode further and further downhill. Grey-green sprigs of thin grass grew in tufts, allowing some grazing for our horses.

  I fretted over the lack of water. Despite Rygel’s assurances that public wells were frequent along the caravan routes, I constantly bit my mental knuckle over the horses. Tuatha didn’t appear very thirsty, and on our short breaks for rest, refused much more than a few laps of my water.

  As sunset neared, the sun low on the horizon and our shadows long behind us, we reached the great plain, and the great highway system of Khalid. The higher stony country fell behind as the hooves of our mounts met the sandy, dusty desert.

  As Rygel had said, the caravan routes of the Khalid kingdom lay crisscrossing the extensive, shallow valley. No sooner had our mounts reached level ground when we encountered long columns of mule or horse trains, mules packed with goods bound for Soudan, or from Soudan to the west, the north, or the south. Wagons drawn by oxen, horses, or mules trundled past, guards of steely-eyed mercenaries riding shotgun or on horses. Camels, albeit my very first sight of the famous and, to me, rather disgusting dromedaries, bore huge bundles of goods and walked nose to tail behind their drivers. Despite their famous abilities as a desert creature who travelled long leagues with no water and through the tremendous desert storms, I found them abhorrent. Their broad, flat feet, huge eyes with those long girlish lashes, and horrid humps on their backs, I called them the ugliest creatures the gods ever created. When I witnessed one spitting, that was it. I hated camels from that moment on. Perhaps my feelings were unfair toward what might be rather useful creatures, but the horse-lover in me despised them.

  “Where was that market you found?” Kel’Ratan asked Rygel.

  None of the other travelers along the highway paid us the slightest heed. The caravan drivers, the merchants, the guards, the camel riders all passed us by without even a curious glance; as though aristocratic women and their entourage rode down out of the mountains every day. Arianne played her part well. She rode Rufus to the front and never once glanced back at her advisors to inquire if she did well.

  “A league or so to the north,” Rygel answered in a low voice.

  “Will we find patrols?”

  “I think one just found us.”

  I quickly dropped my face to peer upward through my dull, teased hair. I saw most if not all around me with my eyes concealed behind my Zhou slave locks. My white feather danced in the breeze made by Mikk’s forward motion, occasionally tickling my ear.

  We’d barely ridden a mile along the highly traveled, flat highway when a small troop of Khalidian royals in their purple and gold uniforms galloped toward us. Kel’Ratan glanced around quickly to make certain we all appeared to be what we pretended to be. What he saw must have satisfied him, for he reined his stallion in beside Shardon and stiffened his spine.

  The patrol leader raised his hand to halt both us and his half-dozen minions behind him. He was of mid-stature, with bright brown hair, close-cropped, and drooping brown eyes. In my poor opinion, his manner toward Arianne was a strange mixture of bravado and cringing subservience. I guessed Rygel’s estimation of the poorly paid troops who guarded the Route was dead on.

  If the leader saw anything out of the ordinary, he didn’t show it immediately. My concern over the quality of Shardon, Mikk and the twins’ black stallions appeared groundless. The troopers’ eyes passed over us and our mounts with no more than an idle curiosity.

  Arianne reined in her stallion, her head, what I could see of it, held high.

  “Captain,” she drawled, her voice cold and nasal.

  Shock dropped its load into my gut. How did she learn such an attitude in such a short span of an afternoon? While Rygel said he’d teach her an aristocratic bearing, there hadn’t been enough time. Our ride out of the mountains hadn’t allowed much conversation much less an education in royal haughtiness.

  “Er,” the young man stammered. “I’m a corporal, Your Highness.”

  “Captain, corporal, what’s the difference?” Arianne replied flippantly. “What do you want?”

  His eyes flicked over Kel’Ratan, Rygel, my boys, and the slaves: Left, Right and me in a quick assessment. I hoped, and prayed, that what he saw were not a band of fleeing Kel’Hallans, but Zhou henchmen and Zhou slaves.

  What he saw obviously assured him of our legitimacy, for he bowed low in his saddle.

  “Forgive me, Your Highness,” he said. “But my orders are clear: I must investigate every traveler on this highway. The tribesmen raid frequently.”

  “Do we look to be those abhorrent tribesmen?” Arianne asked incredulously. “Do I appear to be one of those primitive creatures? I am the High King’s cousin, if you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Of course I did, Your Highness,” the corporal said quickly, his young face turning red. His eyes bulged in raw panic.

  “What do you want, then, pray tell?”

  The young man all but strangled, his throat bobbing as he gulped, hard, his finger loosening his tight collar at his throat. “Um, I must see the traveling passes of all who use His Majesty’s Royal Highway. I’ve orders, you see.”

  “I do see,” Arianne replied, cold.

  I wished I could see her face. I bit my mental knuckle, choked on a rising giggle, and imagined such words that came from the mouth of a girl-child who’d been a slave just a mere month ago. Damn it, Raine! You should see your sister. There’ll be no going back for her now.

  “May I see your pass, Your Highness?”

  “You do realize what may transpire should I complain to my royal cousin, do you not?” Arianne asked loftily.

  “Um, I think so, Your Highness.” The corporal clearly hoped he’d die on the spot.

  Arianne heaved a great sigh. “Oh, very well. I suppose you are just doing your job and following your orders, correct?”

  “Um, indeed, yes, Your Highness.”

  If the corporal looked ready to collapse of fright, his patrol appeared ready to bolt. They reined in skittish horses, eyes white and wide, their hands hovering over weapons. I suspected that if I were to jump out and scream “Boo!” they’d all faint dead away.

  “Steward.” Arianne spoke over her shoulder.

  “Yes, Your Highness?” Rygel replied quickly.

  “Show the good captain - er, corporal my pass.”

  “This instant, Your Highness.”

  Rygel reached around and delved into his saddlebags. When his hand emerged with a small emerald, I wondered if that was enough.

  “Your pass, Your Highness,” he murmured, handing it to her.

  “Ah, my thanks.”

  The corporal’s eyes bulged when he saw the gift. Not with fright, this time, but with greed, with hunger.

  Arianne held it up to the light, allowing the setting sun glint through the gem with green fire, drawing out the drama in true Rygel form. “Is this the pass of which you spoke?” she asked, her voice still cold, drawling, arrogant.

  “Why, yes, Your Highness,” the corporal stammered, his face pale with excitement, his body inclining toward the gift, his hand half-raised.

  “Then take it.”

  With a careless gesture, she tossed it toward him. He missed its flight through the air, his hand reaching toward it, passing it. The emerald glinted under the sunlight briefly before dropping into the dull sand, its green fire quenched.

  Arianne led us past the royal troops as they lunged from their horses to fling sand up, digging for the lost treasu
re.

  “Where is my slave?” she demanded harshly.

  My pride in her rose. She knew that as we rode past foot and animal traffic in both directions, we must play our parts to the hilt. Rygel turned in his saddle and, with a wave of his arm, summoned me forward. With my face pointed toward my pommel, I nudged Mikk into a trot. Past my boys I rode, seeing from the tail of my eye how they ignored me. As though they hadn’t even noticed my existence.

  I didn’t speak as I reined in behind her. Tuatha, in my lap, gazed about with curious sapphire eyes. He, too, seemed indifferent to those around him, but again and again his eyes turned up to mine in silent question. Despite his young age, he seemed to know of our danger and didn’t try to talk to me. Perhaps I should ask Rygel to forge a mind link between me and Tuatha as well.

  Ever the obedient slave, I waited on my royal mistress.

  Did I hear a giggle? I listened close. Sure enough, Arianne glanced back at me, over her shoulder, her huge grey-blue eyes alight with mischief and humor. I grinned behind my dull red locks.

  “Did I do all right,” she murmured, a laugh tickling her throat.

  “If they gave awards for acting,” I muttered, my eyes downcast, “they’d give you top honors.”

  Her chuckle rewarded me. Kel’Ratan eyed us both in a mixture of humor and relief, while Rygel merely eyed Arianne with love and longing. Could he look at her in any other way? I sincerely doubted it. Arianne slipped her jesses and now flew free, a hawk who refused to return to glove. She no longer depended upon him, I suspected. Rygel may have a fight on his hands to get her back.

  He should, I thought. Love certainly didn’t come easy.

  “Pretend to give me something from your saddlebags,” Arianne murmured.

  I twisted about to delve into my left-side bag, and found a small strip of silk. As any number of hands had packed my saddlebags, I guessed it had come with the clothing Rygel had stolen. I handed it to her.

  She accepted it as though that what she needed all along. But now her glorious eyes looked worried, a small frown puckered her pale brow. “Are you all right?” she whispered.