Half-Breed

by Anna L. Walls

  As this came onto sight, Canis sighed. They did not pass through the slave market. It must be farther north, closer to the crossroads. Not that he worried about running into the slave master; the timing was wrong, but he might meet someone who knew Patro, someone who might remember a certain slave boy with white eyes. He wasn’t ready for such a meeting yet.

  When they entered the courtyard, men came out of the side buildings. They looked to be ready to take the horses to their stables, but they found their way blocked by wolves. “Stand clear,” called Canis and the men moved back from the too-big wolves gladly. “I would speak with Lord Omaha,” he said next, as he dismounted and walked to the front of the caravan to stand between it and their escort. He stood alone in the pivotal spot, but somehow, though he was on foot and most everyone else was mounted, he did not look small.

  A soldier ran into the castle at a wave of the captain’s hand and announced their arrival, returning moments later with a barrel-chested man of early middle years. “I have been informed that there is a disagreement between my men and the men of my soon-to-be bride. Where is this man called Canis?”

  “I am here,” said Canis. “I was paid to escort Lady Enid, her maids, and Lord Lincoln’s wedding gifts here, and to see them directly into the care of Lord Omaha. Are you that man?”

  “I am,” replied the man. “Did you think you could stand alone against the best of my men?”

  “I am not alone,” said Canis. “Can you offer me any proof that you are who you claim?” He didn’t need proof. The man radiated authority, but everyone needed to know how much store he put on his responsibility.

  The barrel-chested man rolled his head back and laughed. When he had recovered his breath, he dismissed his men. He approached Canis and held out his hand palm down. “I don’t know what proof you require, but here is my ring with my seal. Inside there is a crown that I don’t wear very often; it fits my head and very few others. Will that do?”

  Canis recognized the seal on the ring and Lincoln had given him a description of the man, so he nodded. “The ring and your honesty will do, Lord Omaha. He looked behind him. “Captain. Lady.”

  When Michael led Enid forward, Canis introduced them, then he stood aside as they in turn introduced the rest.

  Introductions complete, Omaha waved for men to come and take custody of the animals and wagons. Other men from the palace came out and carried the gifts and the remains of their supplies inside. As the wagons were unloaded, they too were taken away.

  Canis, Cepheid, and the Wulfen stood back in the shadows and watched. He looked up at the large stone building. The last large stone building he had been in had almost been a trap for him, and all the ones before that had all been filled with cages designed for human occupation. He wondered what he would find in this place.

  Just as he was about to believe that he could leave without being noticed, Omaha called out into the dark courtyard, “Guardsman Canis, are you coming in?”

  Canis sighed and stepped forward. Cepheid slipped her small hand into his. All six Wulfen followed in their wake. As they neared the large door, Omaha’s captain and eight of his men fell in behind them.

  Inside, Canis found the main hall well lit and warm. A slave boy took their coats and gloves trembling with fear at the array of wolves that came in with them. The puppies lifted their tails hopefully at the sight of the boy, but were disappointed when he darted away with their coats and Canis moved on. His grim mood left no room for play.

  The remains of the evening meal still lingered in the air and the scent of beer was strong. In one corner were a couple musicians. One played an instrument by blowing into its top, another strummed strings across a wide square panel. The combination was soothing, but the sight of collars around their necks soured the feeling.

  Michael had taken pains to school his men for this meeting and they had paid attention. They were to guard Enid, wherever she went and whatever she did, especially this night. There was nowhere in the hall Enid could wander where there wasn’t at least two guards within half a dozen steps. Nor was there a single one of Omaha’s men that wasn’t shadowed by another pair somewhere close. The red of their uniform made them easy to spot.

  Another slave poured beer and Omaha offered it to Michael with his own hands. Enid was offered wine, then he squared himself off with her and said, “The politics of our marriage are complicated and between your father and me, but I want you to know that I’ll be a good husband to you. I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy.”

  Enid was speechless at this and she looked around for support. Fortunately, Michael did not happen to be within her range of view at that moment or Omaha might have seen what was between them. Instead, her eyes landed on Canis and she remembered his advice, all of his advice. “I will be a dutiful wife, my Lord. Between us, we will make our country strong and prosperous and our sons will carry on in kind after we are gone. With you as their father, they can do no other.”

  “Sons…sons…our sons. I like the sound of that,” said Omaha. “As soon as you are rested from your journey, we will say our pledges before the Mother, then we can begin… Well, we’ll let things develop as they may after the wedding.” He took her free hand and bent over it to kiss her knuckles. “Thank you, my Lady. You have surely blessed this house.”

  She managed to hold herself calm until he released her hand, but when he turned away, she gulped her wine and set the glass aside quickly to hide her hands in her skirts.

  Canis watched her, and he watched Michael, who stood a few feet away behind her throughout this exchange. Though Michael had accepted the beer Omaha had given him, he had set it aside as soon as the man’s attention was elsewhere. Enid was pale, and by the time Omaha had finished his speech, her hands were visibly shaking. Michael was very still; he was holding himself with an iron grip. He too was pale, but he had taken an oath. He knew what had to happen here, and he was watching it develop as it must, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Canis could see the decision flare in his mind: if the man was good to her, he would have no choice but to stand aside, but if he tried to injure her, Omaha would die regardless of who he was.

  Canis glanced around at the rest of the men he had brought here. They no longer looked so young. To some degree, they all echoed young Michael’s resolve.

  Omaha came to speak to Canis next, he glanced at the wolves who had arranged themselves along the edge of the hall behind him, then he said, “You have my thanks for seeing my bride safely here. I don’t suppose I could interest you in taking on a permanent position here?”

  Over Omaha’s shoulder, Canis could see his captain stiffen as he overheard these words. “You are generous, sir, but I have another obligation that I must see to, and the wages of a soldier would not fulfill it. I will be departing in the morning.”

  “So it’s gold you’re after. Are you a mercenary, or will you take on a task as a killer for hire?”

  “I have no inclination to fight another man’s battle or hunt another man’s target.”

  “There is little else that will earn you large quantities of gold.” Omaha looked at his captain and saw the distaste in the man’s face that he wasn’t quick enough to conceal. He stepped close to Canis and spoke for his ears only, “Can you use that sword of yours?”

  “I have had some training,” replied Canis cautiously.

  “Then perhaps you can help me with a small problem. I’ll make it worth your blood if you can win.” Then, speaking loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, he said, “I offer a wager. Our young guard here who was bold enough to stand alone against an entire company of my private army, against the captain of that company; the best swordsman I have.”

  Canis stepped up to Omaha and hissed, “Why?”

  “Because he is an evil brute and I cannot be rid of him any other way,” whispered Omaha in return.

  Omaha strode to Enid’s side waving back the other occupants of the room as he went, while his captain followed in his wake
to halt in the center of the room with a gleam in his eyes that said something of this nature had been done before and he enjoyed it.

  Canis followed more slowly while Cepheid drew back among the Wulfen, her eyes were wide in her small face.

  Canis watched the man waiting for him in the center of the now cleared hall. He wondered if he would fight with only his sword. Most men did when fighting over principles, but men fighting just to fight tended to get more creative.

  He slowly drew his sword, thanking the now dead hand that had provided it for him. He thought briefly of the last time he had sparred with a man, it had been during his tests at the sword master’s school against the tall dark man; the king’s bodyguard. This man…this man resembled that man in many ways, but not in this: this man wanted to see his blood. He liked to see a man’s blood.

  Canis and the captain circled each other in the center of the room like two prowling cats or perhaps a tiger and a Wulfi, comparable in size and threat if not in breeding. The torchlight glinted off their polished blades as their owners shifted their grips and took a few more steps – circling and wary – watching for an opening – a weakness.

  Omaha stepped forward. “Salute,” he called, but neither man did. They had both had teachers who taught the same thing. ‘Salute’ indicated sport and no ill will. That was definitely not the case here. This might be a duel, but it was to the death. They circled another slow round – the sharp edges of their swords thirsted for conflict.

  Omaha stepped back beside Enid. He could feel the menace on the floor. He fairly quivered with anticipation. “Begin,” he called.

  Canis and the captain clashed together with brutal force, the meeting of their swords echoed from the rafters, and the spectators around the room took another step back at the violence of it. As soon as the man reached his free hand toward Canis, he in turn reached out and snagged the captain’s hair at the nap of his neck using the handle to force the man’s head down onto the sharp edge of his sword. As soon as a drop of blood appeared on the man’s cheek, Canis pushed away from the grapple and they circled again.

  Canis’s sword, inches longer than the captain’s, now carried blood. First blood had been drawn. They circled yet again. Now the captain knew to stay out of his grip – out of his reach. Now the fight would be a matter of skill with a sword, at least until the next time.

  Their swords rang and clashed against each other, flashing in the firelight and jangling with their own echoes. Enid found herself holding her hands over her ears and Cepheid crouched low beside Nnarr with her hand on the hilt of her own sword.

  The fighters’ skills appeared to be comparable, though their style was very different. All that remained was to see which could be craftier or last longer.

  The captain was far too used to grappling during his fights, and out of habit, was constantly reaching into the fight to lay a hand on Canis and pull him into his blade or at least off balance. When he reached in a second time, Canis made little effort to clear his sword from between them and the captain stepped into the blade, taking the tip of Canis’s sword in his shoulder near the joint – there had been no time to pick a better target. Startled, he drew back and flexed his wounded shoulder, but they weren’t fighting just to draw blood. Canis had drawn blood twice now; it was time for him to die.

  Canis continued to block all of the captain’s advances, and since he wasn’t in the habit of expressing any emotions on his face, it appeared as though he was doing so with casual ease.

  Infuriated, the captain made a third reach for the tantalizing handle hanging down Canis’s back.

  Canis had already deflected the captain’s blade; his hand was high and his blade low, when he saw the captain’s hand reach out yet again. He took half a step back and brought his blade up in a high arc and down. The hand came away easily and it spun in the air for a moment, the fingers still clawed, before dropping to the floor to be kicked out of sight when Canis stepped back.

  With a cry, the captain pulled back from the fight and cradled his bleeding stump, but then the sight of his own blood, drawn yet a third time, enraged him and he roared back into the fight once more; he had to draw blood – he had to kill.

  With a cry of horror, Enid turned away to hide her face in the nearest shoulder while the owner of that shoulder, Omaha, watched the fight avidly.

  Her movement recalled Michael to his duty and he glanced around at the rest of the guards arrayed around the room. All of them were, to some degree, gape mouthed in surprise.

  He returned his gaze back to the fight helplessly and saw Canis in a spin. The man in bloodstained blue and green had his sword flung wide after dealing out a powerful blow that missed. His bleeding stump was also flung wide as a counter balance to the move – spraying many of the spectators with blood – but no one noticed a few drops of wet with Canis in motion. He was a tight blur high in the air. A blink before he touched the floor again, he casually reached out with his blade and his momentum carried it down on the man’s shoulder to stop somewhere past his spine and breastbone.

  The fight was suddenly over – the vast chamber silent – the people frozen. The captain’s sword, clattering to the stone floor, echoed loudly; its unblemished length still glittered in the torchlight. For a moment, the two men stood gazing at each other then the captain sank to the floor pulling himself free of Canis’s blade.

  As the light went out of the captain’s eyes, Canis turned his focus to the rest of the men in the room. This had been a lawful duel, called by their lord, but that didn’t mean the outcome would be a favored one. No one heard what Omaha had said to him before the fight.

  No one moved for a protracted moment. Not until Cepheid and the Wulfen moved to stand with him. After another moment of frozen silence, she drew him toward the door. She no longer felt welcome here.

  Canis backed away with her, allowing her to guide his steps while the Wulfen surrounded them. Nnarr chased the slave boy out of his corner with their coats before allowing him to flee again.

  They were about to open the door when Omaha caught up with them. “I must admit, that was unexpected, but I am a man of my word.” He tossed Canis a coin purse. “I had rooms prepared for you here, but perhaps you had better find lodging in the city tonight. He had some followers who were loyal to him more than to me.”

  Canis caught the purse and hefted it. It was heavy. He nodded and said, “May the Mother’s peace follow you and yours.” Outside, Canis said, “Find the horses.”

  The Wulfen sprinted off toward the stables where they guarded the door while Canis found the stable master’s quarters. He gave them their gear and pointed out their horses. As Canis was tightening the last cinch, a slave came with their belongings. Rrusharr herded him in to hand the packs and roles to Canis before allowing him to escape again.

  Canis added his coat to the load then herded them all out of the barn and down the road in front of him. He didn’t mount until they were well out of sight of the castle.

  He didn’t take them back to the city; in fact, he took them nowhere near people. He couldn’t be seen coming from the palace covered in blood regardless of the fact that he was not followed…yet. Soon after mounting, he led them off into the woods heading west in hopes of finding the river they had crossed at dark.

  It was near midnight and near impossible to see a path through the thick trees. After nearly being scraped from the saddle for the second time, Canis decided to stop and camp where they were.

  Canis lay awake through the rest of the night. The sparring match had brought out things about himself he had almost forgotten. He was dangerous, far more dangerous than the normal man. The king’s man – he didn’t remember his name – had wanted to put him in a cage for it. Perhaps he had been right. Perhaps he was too dangerous to be free among men.

  As soon as the encroaching daylight allowed them to see, he had them change from their warm winter furs to the woolens they had bought so long ago. It was a small change when he was branded so plainly w
ith his long red braid and white eyes, but perhaps they would attract less notice for a time. It would take time to clean the blood from his leather clothes.

  Cepheid could feel his unease and she set him down to comb through his hair, knowing how it soothed him. As she braided it, she twined the two necklaces into the plait causing its lower half to bristle with claws and teeth. The rest of the beaded cords she twined around the hair between the barbs making a weighted and deadly mace of his braid.

  At the unaccustomed weight, Canis pulled her creation around to inspect it. “Why did you do this?”

  “When you spun, it came alive and reached out for him. This would have laid open his face and forced him away from your back.”

  Canis gave her a small smile. “Good idea. I like it.” He tossed the braid back and reached for his cloak.

  Cepheid opened the purse Omaha had given them. “I think we can pass up trying to find work to take us farther east.”

  Canis looked at what was in her hand and calculated what was already in his possession then he nodded. “Perhaps it is for the best.” They mounted and headed east again.

  Hunting the Plains

  Free of wagons, they could cover ground much quicker. They found a smaller road heading east within only a couple of hours of setting out. It was nowhere near as wide as the high road they had taken out of Cheyenne, but it was smooth, uncluttered, and covered with a short coarse grass that didn’t hold much of the blown snow. It wasn’t long before they discovered places where it disappeared. For the next few miles holes and ridges caught the blown snow making some of those hazards hard to spot. These stretches had to be circumvented, and then the road would pick up again. Overall, since they had no wagons to hinder them, and since the Wulfen took to scouting ahead, these stretches were no obstacle, and in many places, the road had been reconstructed around such terrain.

  They stopped at the first farm along this road and asked for shelter. The old man was happy to house them in his barn and feed them for the cost of a few chores, so Canis shed his cloak to split some wood and Cepheid hauled water and grain for his stock housed in the barn for the night. When she was finished, she stacked the wood Canis split.