Prince Wolf

by A. Katie Rose

  “Lieutenant,” he gasped. “We’ve a problem.”

  “And what might that be?”

  The young leader looked around, seeing nothing to threaten him save the constant river of people and animals going both ways around us, as though we were a rocky island in the midst of a swiftly running river.

  “Wolves, my lieutenant.”

  Like us all, the young commander stiffened. “Wolves? What wolves?”

  “A pack of wolves ran between the hills to our south, my lieutenant.”

  “How many?”

  “I’m guessing about four, sir. Maybe five. But they’re big, sir. The biggest wolves I’ve ever seen.”

  “Wolves?” Arianne sat up, alarmed. “Big wolves?”

  “Don’t fret, Your Highness,” the young leader said quickly. “Wolves are but carrion eaters.”

  In my lap, Tuatha grimaced. Wolves never ate carrion. I smothered a giggle with my right hand while my left covered Tuatha’s small face.

  He turned back to his soldier. “I don’t think that’s much of a problem. Ignore them and they’ll slink away.”

  “I don’t care,” Arianne declared. “I demand your immediate protection.”

  The lieutenant swung his horse about. “Um,” he asked diffidently. “From what?”

  Arianne sounded affronted. “Why, from the blood-thirsty wolves, of course. They might kill me. Er, us.”

  The lieutenant gestured politely toward me. Or rather, he gestured toward Tuatha. “But you’ve a pet wolf, Your Highness.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” Arianne snapped, shooting a half-glance over her shoulder. “That’s not a wolf.”

  The young officer’s brows hiked to his hairline. “It’s not?”

  “It’s a Sabathian lap-dog,” Arianne replied, her tone as haughty as I’ve ever heard it. “The kennel-master assured me it would never grow any bigger.”

  Choked coughs from the pair nearest me met this explanation. I dared not look around to see their expressions, for a slave might be whipped for looking a free man in the face.

  “Whoever equated royalty with intelligence?” muttered one of them.

  “Brother, you got that right,” replied the other.

  The lieutenant eyed Arianne with humor and sympathy. “Your Highness has more than enough protection in your henchmen.”

  “You asked how you could serve me,” Arianne snapped. “You’ll serve me in this. You’ll ride with me until we put distance between my royal skin and those furry vermin.”

  I bit my tongue to prevent a laugh at the lieutenant’s expression of dismay. Don’t push the issue, Arianne, I thought. What’re you thinking? We don’t want them with us. They might have accepted us at face value, a silly noble on a silly quest with her Zhou household. Arianne hadn’t played the part of an aristocrat long enough to maintain the charade with any certainty. Any of us might make a mistake and rouse enough suspicion to warrant a closer inspection of us. I sincerely doubted we’d pass the test.

  Kel’Ratan’s bay pawed the ground restlessly. While Kel’Ratan appeared, from my angle of view, to be calm, even bored, his horse again told me he felt tense. I hoped the lieutenant didn’t read horse language very well.

  I willed the lieutenant to make his polite excuses, bow and take his men away. For a half instant, I thought he’d do just that. His lips twitched toward a refusal, his head almost shook in negation.

  To my dismay, he suddenly smiled and shrugged. Crap, obviously, he didn’t get my message.

  “Why ever not?” he asked lightly. “I don’t suppose riding with you for a few miles would do any harm.”

  I wouldn’t count on that, me laddie, were I you, I thought. Riding with us could get you killed.

  Arianne clapped her hands in delight and I wanted to strangle her. “Come then, ride beside me. Tell me about all the brigands, outlaws and bad men you’ve dispatched out here in His Majesty’s service.”

  Our column started out again, this time with eight royal troops added to our train. I listened with half an ear to the tales the young lieutenant spun for Arianne, kept the other half tuned toward the pair of soldiers who rode just off my left side. As many young men did when they had nothing to do but ride their horses, they spoke quietly together.

  Mostly they spoke of what they planned to do when their patrol ended, where they might find ale and a friendly girl or two. I gathered their barracks were near the huge tent market we ourselves rode toward, and off-duty soldiers spent much of their free time there. One could find anything one needed amongst the tent-lined avenues, just as one might find anything in a major city. Wine, food, beer, gambling, prostitutes. I learned it even had a name: Ararak.

  Eventually, they spoke of us. Of course, men talked in front of slaves as though slaves had no ears to hear with. They dropped their voices, however, so my warriors couldn’t listen in.

  “Can you believe Her Highness thinks this mutt is a lap-dog?” asked one.

  “That’s a wolf, or I’m eunuch.”

  “Drop your britches and let’s see,” the first one teased.

  “When it grows big enough to eat her, I reckon she’ll have figured it out.”

  “She may not,” the first said. “She doesn’t have a brain to figure with.”

  I was rather glad to hear them speak thus, despite the obvious insult. If they thought Arianne was stupid, they may underestimate all of us if it came down to a battle. Tuatha, predictably, bared his needle teeth in a silent snarl. As I covered his face with my hand quickly, the soldiers didn’t see it. I willed Tuatha to stillness and silence. I think he, at least, got the message, for he relaxed under my hand and licked my fingers. I demonstrated my approval by rubbing my thumb between his eyes and down his small muzzle. With my hair half-covering him, I doubted the soldiers saw anything.

  “Did you get a look at the twin slaves?” the first one asked.

  “I did. Damn, where’d she get a pair of such identical slaves like that?”

  “I’d bet she gets offers for them constantly.”

  “And turns them down, of course. I would, if I were her. Those two are a prize.”

  The soldier sniggered. “They must keep her plenty happy, now her hubby is gone.”

  “They probably kept her happy even before he got himself dead.”

  They both snickered. By the way their saddle-leather creaked, I visualized them turning in their saddles to openly admire Left and Right. I silently offered prayers those two wouldn’t blush.

  The column slowed to a halt. I peered forward, through my hair, hoping against hope the lieutenant decided he’d escorted the brainless princess far enough. Unfortunately, Arianne called the halt.

  “I declare,” she exclaimed loudly. “I’m so weary. And thirsty. I must rest a while.”

  “We haven’t gone but maybe two miles,” one of my soldiers muttered.

  “I doubt ‘twas that far,” said the other.

  The tall lieutenant – if Arianne got his name, it hadn’t passed my ears – handed Arianne down from her horse. Rygel dismounted Shardon, while Kel’Ratan also swung down. My boys also jumped reluctantly down from their saddles, pretending to dust their clothes off while shooting me concerned glances under their arms.

  “Page,” Arianne called.

  Tor, having forgotten his title, failed to react. Instead, he continued his activity of inspecting his grey mare’s legs. Yuri, taking a swift step toward him, kicked Tor in the arse. As any page who disobeyed a command might get the same treatment, none of the Khalidian troops seemed surprised.

  Tor, of course, wheeled to face Yuri in hot protest. His protest died away when Yuri scowled and jerked his hand toward Arianne and the lieutenant. His face blushing a hot red, Tor ran to obey her summons.

  “The boy is as stupid as she is,” my trooper muttered.

  “They’re Zhous,” said the other. “What did you expect? All Zhous are as stupid as rocks.”

  I slid down from Mikk’s saddle, trying to make it appear as tho
ugh I didn’t ride much. The pair stood off to one side, conversing about the merits, or lack thereof, of the Zhou people and culture. I left Tuatha on my saddle, sitting up, blinking in the bright sunshine. I’d have to get him a drink of water, I thought. As I myself thirsted, doubtless he did as well.

  Pondering how I might achieve this while still playing the part of a stupid Zhou slave, Rygel’s arm beckoned me. Here we go, I thought, slouching and shuffling forward.

  “Get your mistress water,” Rygel ordered haughtily as I walked up to him.

  I bowed low and obeyed. Any number of our horses carried full water skins, but I chose to take one from the black gelding. Thinking a princess would prefer her water from a metal cup than trying to drink from the skin itself, I dug around his packs until I found one of our few silver hanaps. I sneaked a quick peek around at my boys as I fumbled about, seeing them also taking the opportunity to drink and offer water to the horses.

  My mind occupied with the future problem of watering Tuatha under the noses of the Federal troops, I carried the brimming cup to Arianne. I must not have been paying enough attention to the ground at my feet. Or perhaps being unaccustomed to woolen trousers, I caught my own legs within their folds. Or perhaps with my hair hanging in my face, I couldn’t see the uneven ground well.

  No matter what the cause, I tripped.

  I fell.

  I splashed Arianne with the full cup of water.

  Arianne gasped with shock.

  Being a kind soul to begin with, she, at first, glanced to me to see if I was hurt. Then, remembering the parts we had to play, a shutter slammed home over her features. Her huge grey-blue eyes neutralized and grew distant. Her fair lips thinned. Her brow puckered in feigned irritation. She drew herself up and, in typical female fashion, looked down at herself. The water fell straight across her tiny bosom and dripped down the brocade and into her lap. Her fingers plucked the wet folds from her tiny chest.

  A hand seized hold of my neck.

  Oh, shit, I thought, frantic. Slaves get punished even for accidents. As the strong hand dragged me upright, I knew my punishment would be light, while making it appear I was thoroughly thrashed for my clumsiness. I braced myself.

  Rygel’s amber eyes glared at me like twin lamps from hell. His upper lip curled in a snarl over bared, white teeth. Sweat slicked his pale skin despite the dry desert heat and the shining sun and dripped down his temples in a steady stream. His wild, wheaten hair plastered to his neck where the sweat dampened it into clinging tendrils. His right hand clenched into a strong fist.

  A fist of rage.

  I knew instantly my punishment wouldn’t be light, after all.

  Deep inside my mind, I felt the impact when Rygel snapped.

  Chapter Six

  The Hunters and the Hunted

  “You’re doing it wrong.”

  Panting, I sat down, watching as the plump doe bounded away into the forest, free and unharmed. Under more fortunate circumstances, she’d be my lunch. Or dinner, as the case may be. My breath steamed in the chilly afternoon air beyond my jaws. Savage hunger gnawed in my belly. I hadn’t eaten since the few bites at the Black Wolf and before that, the roast I’d stolen from the servant. And that had been – well, seven days ago.

  As Rygel always said, a healer and a patient must eat and regain the lost strength after a magical healing. I hadn’t. I healed myself of my wounds, but hadn’t replaced the lost energy with nourishment and rest. I knew I lost upwards to fifty pounds since I left the camp of the Kel’Hallans, the wolves, and Ly’Tana. Hunger gnawed constantly, an enemy I never thought I’d have to face.

  Every time I hunted a deer, or an elk, or a feral, long-haired cow, my huge body moving in the brush alerted my prey. Before I had a chance to even lunge, my prey heard me and bolted. Not even my speed caught it once it knew I was there. I exhausted myself dashing after prey that could flee faster than I could chase it. I found no sign or scent of the pigs Witraz liked so much. Those I might manage to catch.

  My paws took me ever northward, into the foothills of the Great Northern Range. Rearing high above me, and hundreds of leagues distant, the steep jagged peaks loomed. Like broken teeth in a huge maw, they ringed the horizon. On clear days I saw the year-round snow mantling their high shoulders. Most days, however, the pinnacles disappeared under the ever-present clouds. I wasn’t looking forward to the challenge those mountains would pose with their deep snows and slopes that canted almost straight up. Plus, the lands of the dragons was even further north, beyond that ragged circle of broken mountains.

  I followed the beacon Darius planted in my head, the guiding light that took me north, toward the frozen top of the world. Toward the dragons. Toward hell.

  Toward him.

  “It’s your damn fault,” I said, lying down and resting my head on my paws. I lay on a great rock, warmed under the afternoon sun. I felt weak, shaky, and my head throbbed. Dark spots danced wickedly before my eyes. If I didn’t find some food soon, I’d starve to death. Death itself wasn’t so bad, but I now had obligations. Darius would lose his champion.

  And the wolf species would lose theirs.

  “How so?”

  “If you hadn’t made my body so big, I wouldn’t warn my prey.”

  “You know what your problem is?”

  “I do, indeed,” I replied, rolling onto my side, shutting my eyes. The sun’s rays absorbed into my black coat, warming and relaxing me, easing my aches just a fraction. “I have an insufferable, obnoxious god in my head.”

  “Ha ha. You are so not funny.”

  “I am. I get laughs from everyone.”

  “You need to let go of your human self.”

  “Right,” I sighed. “Sure. Since I am human, that’s rather difficult.”

  “Your being born human was incidental. You’re a wolf, not a man.”

  I sat up, snarling. The black dots danced viciously across my sight. “I am a man, maggot. Just remember who is helping whom here.”

  “Touchy sort, aren’t you?”

  I flopped back down. “Starvation makes me cranky.”

  “Will you listen? For just a moment?”

  “Since you’re in my head, I don’t have much choice, now do I?”

  “Let go of your human thinking. Surrender to your wolf instincts. Let them guide you. Size matters nothing.”

  I sighed. “That’s what they tell me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Never mind.” I rolled onto my belly and shook my head, my ears flapping. “A human joke. You wouldn’t understand.”

  Indignant silence met my comment. For once, I got in the last word, I thought. How the hell did that happen?

  Rising to my feet, I stretched, observing the dark grey, misty clouds over the distant mountain range. Like a heavy fog, they drifted halfway down the sides of the tall peaks. I fancied they drifted about, caught in the crossfires of the wind. I sniffed the light breeze that wafted down from those very mountains. Snow was on the way. Lots of it.

  Though I travelled through but the foothills of that immense range of tall peaks and massive mountains, my current elevation was high enough that autumn bordered on winter here. Snow could arrive at any time.

  “Snowing up there,” Darius commented. “It may rain on you, down here, but you have a few days.”

  “I hope I eat before then,” I replied. “If it storms very much, I’ll be forced to shelter and wait it out.”

  I jumped down off the rock and loped easily across the highland ground. Here, autumn laid yet a light hand on the earth. My paws made no tracks on the downy heather with its tiny purple flowers, or the still-green grass and tiny weed stalks. I trotted more carefully over the moss on the exposed rocks, my thick pelt protecting my skin as I thrust through the ever-present thickets of stiff branches and their inch-long thorns.

  The days yet held sunshine and warmth, with many creatures basking, playing and planning for the harsher cold to come. My eyes and nose discovered evidence o
f bears feasting on berries and grubs to support them through their long hibernation.

  Squirrels, too fast and far too alert for me to catch, carried acorns and other nuts into the trees to store away. Deer fed well, storing their supply of winter food in the fat on their bodies. Winter was coming, but hadn’t yet arrived.

  The loneliness I tried so hard to ignore pushed itself to the surface. Until now, I’d never been truly alone. As a young royal prince, attendants and guards went with me everywhere. As a slave, I had other slaves and, again, guards for company. As a champion, I may have my own tiny room for sleeping, but always people went about their duties near me. After my escape, Ly’Tana and her warriors and Rygel and Arianne went with me.

  For the first time in my life, I was alone.

  While I usually kept the pain and grief of leaving them behind under tight control, it, like my daemon, occasionally slipped its collar. Had I been in my human form, tears might have burned my eyes. Wolves wept not. I refused to sit and howl my anguish to the cold stars above. What did that leave?

  Emptiness.

  Chilling cold filled my soul. Without means to express my pain, my grief, it welled up deep inside me, like a deep, sub-cavern river. What I still owned of Raine the Prince or Wolf the Gladiator coasted along its tide and was washed away. It left behind only echoes. I felt no love, no sorrow, nor any hate.

  I saved nothing of myself, save the desire to slay the Guardian.

  And, of course, Darius inside my mind.

  “Don’t mind me. I’m just along for the ride.”

  It always came back to Ly’Tana. When I managed to snatch some sleep, curled into a furry ball under a thicket, or sheltering in some shallow cave, I saw her in my dreams. I watched her riding her enormous buckskin stallion, dressed in heavy furs against the cold of the high mountains they rode across. The enticing diamond in her navel vanished under the warm clothing she wore. They rode northwest through very mountains where I had abandoned them, followed by her people and the wolves. Northwest? That wasn’t the way to Kel’Halla. A worm of disquiet entered my gut and set up housekeeping. Why were they riding that way?