Another man, Uklaq, stepped forward. As tall as the warrior, but older and thinner. “We are Ahklut. We are all trouble.”
Parktoq’s fist crashed into Uklaq’s face. “Move.”
Uklaq stumbled sideways, but recovered.
Tiri’s power punch took Parktoq by surprise, stunning his diaphragm, causing him to let go of Arvik’s arm.
A warrior in wolf form lunged toward Tiri, but Uklaq shoved it aside with his knee.
Arvik was gratified that the seeds he’d been sowing for weeks were bearing fruit, but it was too soon. He hastily shared songs of a rich city with gold streets and fantasy buildings of silver and green. With his charisma magic, he sent the soothing sensation of dream sleep.
The nearest Ahklut relaxed, entranced by the vision and their own imaginations. Arvik slouched even more and assumed a dazed look.
Parktoq shook his head as if bothered by a cloud of gnats, causing his bejeweled braids to rattle. He glared suspiciously at Arvik, then at the shaman, who had turned to look at them.
Snarling, Parktoq glared at the locals. “Down.” Once they complied, he grabbed Arvik’s shoulder and threw him to the ground. “Stay down and stay quiet.”
Arvik shifted to wolf form even more slowly than before, then curled up as if cold and tired. Both were truer than he cared to admit.
Parktoq stomped away toward the shaman. After a long moment, the other wolf warriors slunk away, some with Parktoq and some toward the edge of the resting wolves to patrol.
Arvik tuned wolf ears and wind magic to hear Parktoq’s words to the shaman.
“...stake him, the scent of blood will break our stealth. I figured it’s better to bring him than leave him to talk about where we’re going. If he’s whole, no one has to carry him.”
Nu’untivut grunted. “What upset the others?”
Parktoq made a rude noise. “They thought you wanted their suluk.”
A gust of wind blew apart Nu’untivut’s reply.
“That’s what I thought. Qingak and I will keep strings on him.”
Parktoq strode away.
Morose Niglaktok wouldn’t think to acknowledge the Ahklut who had come to his aid, but Arvik could send a low-power wizard spell of healing to Uklaq and Tiri. They would both need strength for the upcoming run.
As much as he wanted to stay awake all night, he couldn’t chance using that much magic. Supernaturally fast travel across the rough tundra took a lot of energy. Even the phenomenally powerful shaman would need to sleep before the upcoming invasion.
Arvik awoke just before dawn, chilled to the bone, but glad to be free of blood-soaked nightmares of wars gone by. His inner beasts hated unnecessary killing, and war fell into that category. He hated killing, period.
Within minutes, the warriors were up and nudging the Ahklut up onto their feet.
Traveling across the tundra like a force of nature brought back more memories of the earliest days, when he’d reveled in the strength of the pack, the thrill of victory, the glory of being alive. It took on new meaning, now that he knew their true origin. They’d been the hellfrogs of their day. But unlike those monsters, the Ahklut had free will.
The pale sun neared its high point when Nu’untivut sent images of the town’s barrier, coming up soon. He and his warriors would slice it open so the rest of the tribe could blitz through the town and head straight for the glade heart. This time, the town elders could not hide. Charisma magic accompanied the images, giving the Ahklut a taste of triumph and a sense of righteous, long overdue justice.
The shaman and the warriors surged forward. Only the oracle, Inyiqti, and the warrior Parktoq stayed with the main pack.
It was now or never. Arvik slowed until he ended up in the rear of the pack. The edge of the barrier magic jarred his senses as much as the uneven ground beneath his feet. Up ahead, the magic of Fort LeBlanc already felt like a warm breeze.
One wolf at a time, he began sending nearly transparent images and quiet songs of a fork in the path. West, away from the river, led to the old familiar ways of terrible, violent victories, but also to destruction and loss. To absent leaders who took the best of everything, leaving the rest of the tribe to squabble over scraps. South led to a different life, with new friends and community, and peace. More than just clinging like a barnacle to an ice-covered rock. Neither path would be easy, but turning west meant even fewer Ahklut would see another season, and a world of enemies would be baying for their blood. Turning south with the river was a venture into an uneasy, unknown future in a modern world they’d only seen the edges of, but at least they’d have a future.
Arvik ran a weaving path that moved him forward in the pack, sharing the song with each Ahklut he passed. The shared shield magic would have made an instant conduit, but he couldn’t afford for his images to be seen by the wrong wolves.
Nu’untivut sent a strong image to the tribe to circle left to avoid a forest area of aged pines that would slow them down. The new direction put them closer to the river, and closer together.
Arvik took a chance and sent his message to multiple wolves as he passed them, edging toward the front. They were getting nearer to the decision point, and he still needed to sing to another hundred wolves.
18
Rayne trotted westward on four feet, just below the snowy ridge, sniffing the air, listening past the wind. Her position gave her the full view of the tiny round valley just north of Fort LeBlanc. A long-ago glacier had gouged the broken-bowl shape. At the rim, wind-blown snow decorated the leftover boulders and the scraggly trees that had grown around them.
Three full days of patrol and more hours that morning reminded her how much she hated stakeouts. At least she wasn’t stuck in some smelly van, eating junk food and peeing on puppy pads. The sun had passed its anemic zenith an hour ago, and she still had no clue if they were in the right place or wasting time.
It was all Brooker’s fault. When she’d gone back to the shifter tents after the comforting evening with Skyla and her mate, she’d finally remembered the prophecy Brooker had handed her. She’d been ready to ignore it, but her discovery magic sent chills down her spine as she read the note.
Black and white wolves
take the high ground in timber gray.
Luck and Destiny drive trouble north;
Tears from the Sky and her Bowhead
must become trouble to stop it.
Only the wings of thunder can end it.
It was much more specific than the usual vague poetic language salad. Maybe Lerro had shown up to help them.
She’d gone back to Skyla and Nic’s house that night. They’d asked Moira and Chance to return and called other trusted friends, and come up with a plan.
Everyone agreed the prophecy called for her and Skyla to be on the high ground—only the northern ridge fit the bill—and wearing the illusions of timber wolves. They were pretty sure Luck and Destiny meant Chance and Moira, whose huge American lions could scare the shit out of modern shifters, just like dire wolves could.
The rest of their strategy rested on a shakier foundation of inspiration and guesswork. Rayne would have preferred basing it on actual facts instead of a prediction, but she’d learned to trust her own magic. Moira had disbelieved in magic until a few months ago. She was less certain of her intuition, but damn good with mirrors.
They’d tried to take their ideas to the town defenders, but Rorabek, the polar fairy war leader, and the other Fort LeBlanc elders had no time for them. Both Rayne and Moira agreed the elders were hiding something big, but neither wanted to risk exposing it for their own curiosity.
Last night had brought strange and troubling dreams of wars she’d never seen. It had taken an hour of pacing in the chilly darkness to clear her head.
For reasons she couldn’t name, she’d been increasingly tense all morning. Even though the town was a few miles south, Fort LeBlanc’s defensive magics rubbed her fur the wrong way. She felt like she’d dragged Skyla into another dangerous situ
ation, even though her sister had insisted on coming.
Rayne followed Skyla’s scent to the cluster of trees at the western edge of the bowl. They shifted to human and hunkered down together so they wouldn’t have to compete with the noisy wind.
“You yipped?” asked Rayne.
“Something’s coming.” Skyla pointed east. “It’s like a mass of nothing moving toward us as fast as a convoy of trucks, but there aren’t any roads that direction.”
Rayne opened her collar to free one of the comms necklaces she’d borrowed from the Shifter Tribunal and handed out to their team. “How big, and how far away?”
“Smaller than a caribou herd, but not by much. Maybe fifteen miles. I’ll try a scrying spell when they get closer.” Skyla shook her head. “I don’t know how you do this for a living, waiting for stuff to happen. Makes me want to pee on every bush, so I won’t have a full bladder when I have to run.”
Rayne nudged her sister’s knee with hers. “This is the anti-fun part. I’ve wanted to wet a few shrubs myself.” She activated the comms device and spoke into it. “Skyla’s magic says a cloaked mass is coming from the east. Showtime in thirty minutes.” The team all had the same comms devices and would hear, regardless of form.
After dropping the necklace back inside her coat, she gave her sister a brief hug. “Canis dirus, unum.”
Skyla smiled. “We should add ‘Panthera atrox’ and the others to our call to arms.”
Rayne laughed. “Might be a little unwieldy. Maybe we should just say ‘Ice Age shifters unite.’ Nic can be honorary.” She pointed east. “I’m going back to the east edge, in case any ghosts want to talk to you.”
Skyla nodded, then shifted into wolf form as fast as an eyeblink. She had improved the spells that made them both look like ordinary gray wolves, but Rayne knew her scent anywhere.
Rayne shifted in seconds, touched muzzles with Skyla, then took off across the ridge to the east.
A shockwave from attack magic exploded across her senses. The southern sky flashed brighter.
The wait was over.
Rayne ran to the vantage point she’d selected, wishing it was high enough to see Fort LeBlanc. A second shockwave from the unfamiliar attack magic blew past, like being in a momentary sandstorm. She ignored the urge to shake her fur.
The comms device beeped with Moira’s tone. “My mirror shows a big mass of heat distortion coming from the east. It’s splitting in two. Part is heading south, and part is headed west toward the river.”
A third shockwave of attack magic, more powerful than before, howled through the trees and surged white noise through the comms device.
“...staying straight, but the west section is starting to cross the river. The undines won’t like that. They take their river domain seriously.”
Rayne shifted to human and thumbed the comms device. Before she could speak, Moira’s voice continued.
“The westbound heat wave is timber wolves, maybe two hundred of them. They run fast! The undine attack uncloaked them. Holy shit, a wolf just shifted into a killer whale and ate two undines, then shifted back.”
Rayne interrupted. “Moira, shift. If they go northeast, you and your badass mate have to drive them to us.”
“Okay. The southern group uncloaked, too. It’s more timber wolves than the west group. And there’s another pack of mixed wolves running north right at them, maybe two miles away.” Rayne heard feline growling in the background. “Okay, okay, you big furry lug. I’m shifting.”
Rayne had been near war zones before, but magical war zones were the worst. The ethereal plane vibrated with the constant drums of magical attacks and counterattacks. No shield spells that she knew would silence it.
Rayne tried to shift back, but her inner wolf refused. Listen!
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Natural wind and gusts of battlefield energy rustled the shrubs. She breathed again, trying to ignore the pressure to plan, to move, to act. She’d give it one more… A spark of warmth ignited in her chest, and blossomed through her magic.
Arvik Inuktan was near, and to the south.
She didn’t want to believe he was one of the attacking Ahklut, but he hadn’t been there until the cloaking shields came down. She wanted him to be one of the good myths of the world.
She shifted to wolf. The spark in her chest stayed warm and grew brighter. He was coming her way. Goddess, but she had missed him.
Long minutes later, deep feline threat yowls arose from the far rocks that Chance and Moira had staked out as theirs. An elven charm and the hard, stone surfaces made them sound like a hundred giant pissed-off lions, ready to kill anyone, and gnaw on their bones afterward.
The spark in her chest suddenly felt like a space heater. She hoped it meant the Ahklut had triggered her trap.
Everything in her wanted to run toward her mate. She tamped it down and made herself sit. The runners would have to bunch up to get past the sides of the broken bowl and into the lower valley.
Skyla’s tone and voice sounded from the comms device. “Per my scrying spell, the Fort LeBlanc defender forces have most of the western attack group jammed up against the barrier. About thirty Ahklut avoided both ambushes early and headed northeast. One of them has enough magic to sink a battleship. When Moira and Chance did their thing, the Ahklut veered north like you wanted and went through the fairy ring. We’ll see them soon.”
Rayne grunted twice softly in response. Skyla would already be back in wolf form before Rayne could warn her not to take chances like that, even though the news was useful.
She’d been afraid of having to deal with a hundred or more Ahklut, but thirty was bad enough. Once they realized there was no way out, they’d be dangerous, cornered rats, led by a powerful shaman.
She hoped it wasn’t Arvik. She didn’t want to have to put him on her kill list. Again.
Faster than she’d imagined, a streak of running timber wolves burst through the cluster of trees and into the untouched field of snow.
The four timber wolves that led the way slowed, then angled west toward a pair of boulders. A fifth followed. The rest of the timber wolves poured into the basin and fanned out in small groups. They looked like a special-forces commando team securing a location. It would only take them minutes to realize there was no passage out of the valley.
Skyla gave a stuttering timber wolf howl, loud enough to be heard throughout the valley. Every wolf turned to look. Using her magic, she made the next howl seem like an answer from miles away.
That was Rayne’s cue. She ran as fast as she dared down the slope through the cover of the trees. The charm she carried hid her from sight, but wouldn’t hide her trail.
Her feet wanted to take her straight to Arvik, even though she couldn’t see him yet. Stick with the plan.
She froze when four timber wolves appeared in between the trees to her right.
Three lanky wolves, two males and a female, stank of fear and exhaustion. The fourth, larger and heavier, stank of frustration as she slashed bites at the haunches of the others, evidently trying to hurry them.
The smallest of the wolves spun unexpectedly fast and bit her tormenter on the shoulder, hard enough to draw blood. When the large wolf snarled and launched an attack, the other two wolves threw themselves into the fray, going after the larger wolf.
The flurry of bites and lunges went on for tense seconds before the large wolf grabbed the smallest wolf by the neck and threw her up and out, sailing into a tree only four feet from where Rayne stood. The small wolf didn’t move.
The other wolves pulled back from the fight, exhibiting the wolf equivalent of appeasing apology. The large, angry wolf snarled at them both, glanced toward the defeated small wolf, then stalked up the slope. The others followed more slowly, heads and tails drooping in defeat.
It was the perfect opportunity for Rayne to insinuate herself into the pack and become trouble, like the prophecy said, but she couldn’t just kill the small Ahklut female to do it. Sendi
ng a prayer to the Goddess that she was doing the right thing, she shifted into human.
She spit the fairy charm out of her mouth, then cast a wizard’s healing spell on the fallen wolf. She waited until the shattered shoulder finished reshaping itself before bending down to whisper in the wolf’s ear. “You have choice. Give up the Ahklut way and live, or die here.” She repeated the offer in French, just in case.
The wolf whined softly, then shifted into a small, wiry woman with gray braids, dressed in ancient leather and fur clothing and brand-new pink snow boots. She looked up at Rayne. Her eyes widened. “I know you. Hilaluktoq.”
What the hell? “Of course you do,” said Rayne confidently. One did not turn away Goddess gifts, however strange. “New plan. Why don’t we go meet the oth–”
A branch cracked up the slope. A magic detection spell crashed over them like a freight train, coming from the center of the valley.
Rayne shoved the suddenly glowing illusion charm into her pocket and shifted. The woman nodded, then shifted herself.
Moments later, the three wolves from above trotted into view.
Rayne mimicked the others and dropped her head and tail as she sidled closer to the smallest wolf.
The large, surly wolf issued what felt like a wordless command. Not dominance, like modern alphas sometimes tried on her. More like orders from a drill instructor. She got the vague image of wolves marching downhill.
Sure enough, the surly wolf headed off down the slope. The other wolves fell in line behind her, exhaustion dragging their feet. Rayne took up the rear, dragging her feet, too, but staying as close as possible to her new best friend.
Once they got to the lower basin, she got her first close look at more of the Ahklut wolves. Most looked even worse than her new friend, like they’d starved all winter and would topple at the slightest breeze. A few, like the surly wolf, looked well-fed and healthy, and ready for a fight.
In the center of the snowy meadow stood a heavily muscled timber wolf with a distinctive tail that look like he’d dipped it in white paint. He flaunted his magic like a peacock in rut. Next to him stood a smaller but equally healthy female. Her startling eyes were the pale blue of an aging iceberg. She didn’t exude magic, but she made Rayne instantly uneasy.
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