by Barb Hendee
“Unfortunate?” she repeated.
“Men trading food for the favors of a woman has been going on as long as warfare,” he said.
“It wasn’t like that,” Céline whispered. “You didn’t see it. It was awful.”
“Jaromir, you have to do something!” Amelie insisted. “You protect people. It’s what you do.” She couldn’t believe he was standing there arguing with her. Why wasn’t he already striding to Keegan’s tent?
His expression hardened. “I can’t. There’s nothing I can do.” He backed toward the entrance. “We’re here to solve a problem for Prince Anton, and I think you’d both do well to remember that.” He paused but still wouldn’t look at either of them. “You’re both tired. Get some sleep, and we’ll press on with the investigation in the morning. I’m in the tent next door. Call out if you need me.”
Though it seemed impossible that he would turn and walk out and leave things like this, he did.
Amelie stared at the empty doorway for a moment and then turned back to her sister. “Oh, Céline.”
* * *
Poor Amelie appeared so stricken by Jaromir’s behavior that Céline forced herself to stand.
“We’ll do something for the girl ourselves,” she said. “I don’t know what yet, but we will.” She reached out for Amelie’s hand. “Jaromir is right about one thing. We must get some sleep. Help me out of this dress.”
Both the assurance that they would help Mariah themselves and the sensible words about getting some sleep moved Amelie into action. They helped each other undress down to their shifts and stockings, and then they went to examine the bed. The mattress and bedding were dry, but the blankets were thin, so Céline spread their red cloaks over the top for added warmth. Then she blew out the candle lantern.
Soon they were huddled beneath the covers, and Céline hoped that her sister would not wish to talk anymore tonight. After all that had happened today, she was not up to speaking to anyone, even Amelie.
Thankfully, Amelie’s breathing soon grew steady and even, and Céline assumed that sleep would come to her quickly as well. She could not remember having been so tired.
Unfortunately, it didn’t.
Could she be too tired to sleep?
Or was it something else? She couldn’t explain it, but as she sat up, her gaze moved through the darkness toward where she knew the closed flap of the tent door to be. There was someone out there. Someone waited for her.
Leaving Amelie to sleep, Céline got up from the bed and donned her red cloak. She made her way to the tent flap and went outside. There were no soldiers milling about, but a few lamps on poles allowed her to see as far as two or three tents away.
Movement near a tent up ahead caught her eye, and someone stepped from the darkness into the light of a hanging lantern.
It was Marcus.
Then it struck her that she might be asleep, that this might be a dream.
Without thinking, she walked toward him, and he drew her back out of sight, between two tents. She followed. His face was so beautiful, almost unreal, with his black eyes and sharp cheekbones. No, this wasn’t a dream. She was awake.
“I saw what Keegan is doing to Mariah,” Céline said.
“I know you did.”
“I never meant for him to drag you into his tent like that.”
“I know. I saw your face.”
This man struck her as dangerous, but for some reason, she wasn’t afraid of him.
“I can’t stop Keegan,” he said. “The only thing I can do to help is to take Mercedes and Mariah away from this place, and I can’t until the end of autumn, when my contract is finished, and that’s only if Mariah will leave.”
“Why wouldn’t she leave?”
“Because we’ve been unlucky, and believe it or not, some things were worse before we arrived here and our men started signing contracts with the House of Pählen.” He sounded accusatory, as if blaming the men in his family.
Céline couldn’t imagine that a life traveling as Móndyalítko nomads could be worse than the Ryazan mines. “But you signed a contract.”
“No, I did not. Not at first. I was our hunter. I stayed because my people needed me, and I watched our men get caught in a web as they were promised work and pay. But the miners only get paid if they complete a contract. During the year, they’re allowed to take out vouchers to be traded for food from the provisions tent, but those vouchers later come out of their pay. That’s why so many of the children go hungry. Their fathers try to avoid falling back on the vouchers.”
He looked at the ground. “Both Mercedes and Mariah’s parents are gone, and so is my mother. But my father still lives. My older brother signed a contract every year, and he was one of the first killed in the attacks by these soldier-wolves. Keegan told me that unless I completed his contract, my father had agreed to work in my brother’s place. My father isn’t well, and I couldn’t let . . . I took over the contract. It’s finished at the end of autumn. But with my brother gone, I have some power in our decisions. Once I’m free, I am taking Mercedes, Mariah, and my father out of here if we have to walk and I have to carry Mariah on my shoulder. I wish I could save the entire family, but I can’t, and those three matter the most to me.”
“Where will you go?”
“To the Autumn Fair outside of Kéonsk. Some of our people gather there, and I’ll ask another family group to take us in. They won’t refuse. I have certain . . . attributes that make me valuable.”
She wondered what those might be but thought better of asking. He was just now beginning to trust her. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“Because I couldn’t stand for you to see what you saw tonight and think that I was doing nothing to stop it. I’m going to get Mariah and Mercedes free of these soldiers.”
The hate in voice was so thick, she almost backed up. Again, she knew his anger wasn’t aimed at her. But if anyone had a motive to sabotage the mines, he did. If the mines were closed permanently, would the miners be paid and set free?
Without warning, his manner changed and he moved closer, backing her up against the tent.
“Do you still want to read my future?” he whispered. “You won’t even have to try. Just touch my hand.” He raised one slender hand. She hesitated.
“Afraid?” he asked.
Reaching over, she touched two of his fingers. Without her even having to focus, the world around vanished.
She wasn’t drawn into the mists, and she didn’t feel herself rushing forward in time. The scene took on the quality of a dream again. To her amazement, she was not a mere spectator. Instead, she found herself seeing through someone else’s eyes. She was closer to the ground and running on all fours through a forest. The feeling of freedom flowing through was exhilarating . . . as was the speed. She could smell life all around her, and she longed to hunt . . .
Whipping her hand from Marcus’s, she stepped away.
His eyes glinted in the moonlight. “Stay inside your tent tonight,” he said, “no matter what you hear.”
Was he worried for her safety? “Why would you want to help me?”
“Because I know my own kind when I see one.”
He turned and vanished into the darkness.
Turning slowly, Céline walked to her tent and got back into bed. She wanted to separate and examine what he’d told her and what she had seen and experienced when she’d touched him. But this time, sleep overwhelmed her as soon as her head hit the pillow.
Maybe it had been a dream.
Chapter Six
Later that night, Amelie was lost in such a deep sleep that when the world exploded in a series of sounds, she was slow to react.
The first sounds to register were growls and snarls, followed by screams . . . coming from somewhere outside.
She sat up.
What
was happening? At first she wasn’t even certain where she was. It was dark, but she could see Céline sleeping beside her, and she remembered they were inside a tent.
“Everyone who can hear me, light torches and move to the perimeter!” Jaromir shouted from somewhere beyond the tent wall. “Don’t let it out of the encampment!”
Jumping out of bed, Amelie pulled on her boots. There was no time to lace up a dress, so she tied her cloak over the top of her shift. Drawing her dagger, she gripped the hilt tightly, cursing the fact that she had no sword.
Céline stirred and sat up.
“Amelie? What’s happening?”
“Stay here,” Amelie ordered. “I need to help Jaromir, but don’t you leave this tent!”
She ran out, following the direction of Jaromir’s voice.
* * *
At the sound of savage snarls and someone screaming, Jaromir had grabbed several weapons and run from his tent with Rurik at his side. He’d arranged for Rurik to bunk with him in a small tent beside the sisters’ assigned quarters. Both men had been sleeping fully clothed.
“Sir, where’s it coming from?” Rurik asked, his head moving back and forth.
The snarls and screams seemed to be echoing off the tents. The sounds were close, but Jaromir couldn’t tell where they came from. Rurik was poised with his sword drawn, but Jaromir’s blade was still sheathed. He strapped it on and gripped a stout cudgel that he’d brought from home. Having fought wolves in the past, he’d found a short, heavy weapon to be more effective at close quarters.
Also . . . Céline had mentioned she needed one of these beasts alive.
Glancing at Rurik’s sword, he said, “Defend yourself, but don’t kill it unless you have to.”
Closing his eyes, he listened for a moment, and then all sounds vanished. A second later, he heard other soldiers shouting.
“Over there,” he said, pointing north.
Both men ran between the tents, and Jaromir skidded to a stop at the sight of Corporal Quinn, wearing breeches and an untucked shirt, carrying a loaded crossbow in one hand and a long spear in the other. His gaze was fixed on the ground.
Looking down, Jaromir let out a long breath, and Rurik said, “Oh . . . by the gods.”
There was a soldier Jaromir had not seen before, dead, with his face and throat slashed. Light from hanging lanterns illuminated the sight of dark blood running from the wound in his throat and soaking into the dirt. Other men with spears were running up now, but the world seemed a mass of shouting and confusion.
“Where’s Captain Keegan?” Jaromir asked Quinn.
“I haven’t seen him, but we need to organize. We can’t let the wolf escape. If it reaches the forest, it’ll double around and go straight for the miners’ encampment.”
With Keegan absent, Jaromir took charge. “Everyone who can hear me, light torches and move to the perimeter!” he shouted. “Don’t let it out of the encampment!”
The men around him moved quickly, lighting torches from the flames of hanging lanterns and running for the edges of the camp. They seemed almost relieved to have someone giving orders.
“I’ll take the north side,” Jaromir told Quinn. “You take the south. I’ll listen to the west, and you to the east. If it tries to get out, one of us should be able to reach the men trying to keep it in. If it doesn’t appear, I’ll call an order for everyone to start moving inward.”
Quinn nodded and turned to head south.
“Jaromir!”
To his utter disbelief, Amelie came running up, wearing nothing but her shift and her cloak . . . wielding a dagger. What could she be thinking?
“I need a better weapon,” she said. “Quick.”
Men were shouting to one another at the perimeter, and Quinn looked back. “Get that woman out of here!”
Fighting the anger rising inside him, Jaromir leaned down toward Amelie’s flushed face. “Go back to your tent right now.”
“No, I can help. Just get me a weapon.”
“I don’t have time for this!” he shouted, knowing he should have reached the northern perimeter by now. “For once, just do as I say and get back to your tent!”
She didn’t move, but her features twisted to match the rage he was feeling.
One of Quinn’s men was still within earshot. “You!” Jaromir called. “Get this lady back to her tent.”
Then he bolted, with Rurik on his heels, leaving Amelie behind.
* * *
“Amelie!”
Céline watched her sister run out of the tent, and for a moment, she sat in fear and uncertainty. She’d been so tired and had fallen so deeply asleep. Now she could hear shouting from all around outside . . . and Amelie had just gone out there.
Struggling to gather her wits, Céline got out of bed and pulled on her boots and cloak.
She slipped out the flap of the tent, looking both ways. Her sister was nowhere in sight, and although she could see none of the soldiers, the camp seemed to have erupted in the sounds of men shouting to one another.
What was happening?
A low growl sounded from behind, and slowly, she turned around.
She froze.
Beneath the light from a hanging lantern crouched something akin to a wolf. It was huge, with a wide chest, and paws larger than Jaromir’s hands. Its eyes were red, and saliva dripped from the fangs of its long, open mouth.
Céline didn’t move, breathing softly, but it growled low again.
She saw nothing but madness in the creature’s eyes.
Tensing its body, it charged.
Céline dashed forward, running as fast as she could, not even looking where she was going.
“Amelie!” she screamed.
* * *
Amelie shook with humiliation and anger as she was “escorted” back to her tent by a Pählen soldier. She’d find a way to make Jaromir pay for this. Though the soldier carried a short, thick spear, he appeared beyond nervous and looked into every shadow as he ushered her along.
Then . . . over the shouts of soldiers calling out to one another, a scream rang out.
“Amelie!”
At the sound of Céline’s cry, Amelie whirled, catching the Pählen soldier in the back of his ankle with the toe of her boot, sending him sprawling. As he fell, she grabbed the spear from his hand.
After crouching to shove her dagger back into the sheath in her boot, she gripped the spear in both hands and ran toward the sound of Céline’s voice.
* * *
Jaromir had just reached the north perimeter when he heard Céline scream.
“Amelie!”
He jerked to a stop, with Rurik skidding beside him.
“That was Céline!” Rurik cried, stating the obvious.
“Quiet,” Jaromir ordered, listening.
He heard no loud snarls, and Céline did not scream again, so he was torn. What if her plight had nothing to do with the beast stalking these tents? He had a responsibility to help Quinn keep the wolf from breaking into the trees.
But . . . he had a greater responsibility to Anton, and that meant protecting Céline and Amelie.
“Rurik, you take my place here, working with Quinn. Listen for him. If he calls for help, you run to him, understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Leaving Rurik behind, Jaromir jogged to the west, around the edge of the camp, and was unsettled to see how sparsely guarded it was on this side. He’d need to do something about that quickly.
But he never had time.
A second later, Céline burst from between two of the outer tents about forty paces ahead of him, and she ran for the trees. A large, furred creature on four legs burst out after her, closing the distance, and they both vanished into the surrounding forest.
“Quinn!” Jaromir shouted. “Rurik! Over here!”
<
br /> He bolted forward.
* * *
With little choice, Céline fled blindly into the forest, thinking of nothing but escape.
She could feel and hear the great wolf right on her heels, and she tried dodging around a tree, hoping it might run past and give her a few seconds.
But both its speed and its control of its body were astonishing. As she dodged, it dropped down on its haunches and turned to charge. All she could see were teeth and fur and mad red eyes.
I’m going to die, she thought.
But before the wolf could launch, something smaller and darker—and just as heavily furred—came dashing through the trees and leaped, catching the slathering wolf in the side and knocking it off its feet. Snarls and growls filled the night air.
Céline gasped, unable to see well in the darkness, but then she heard the sound of booted feet crashing through the forest, and Jaromir broke into sight carrying some kind of heavy club.
Whirling her head back toward the wolf, she found that the smaller creature—which she’d never seen clearly—was gone.
The red-eyed beast was on its feet, charging at her again.
Jaromir closed in from the side, swinging his club downward, catching the wolf across the side of its head. The sound resonated so loudly, she thought he must have cracked its skull.
“Céline, stay back!” he shouted.
The massive wolf didn’t stay down. It rolled several times, snarling in rage, and gained its feet again, rushing Jaromir. He gripped his club, but Céline didn’t see how he could withstand a full onslaught from something so large, and she looked around wildly for a branch, for anything with which to help him.
As the wolf raced past her, someone blurred into view from the other side of the tree, swinging a narrow object downward. A loud crack sounded out, and Céline whirled to see Amelie, in her red cloak, with a short spear in her grip, and . . . she had just landed a blow on the beast’s head with the spear’s butt.
Whipping the spear back up, Amelie brought it down again, hard, on the back of the wolf’s neck, and the already stunned creature collapsed. She swung again, this time with another strike for its head, and it lay still, with its eyes closed, but it was breathing.