“What are you talking about?” she asked when her brother stepped between them.
“Tikaani, stand back,” he told her, keeping a wary eye on Mongrel. “So boy, who are you running from now, huh? Have you betrayed one of your allies?”
“Y—no!” he said, but Kavik caught his stumble.
He smirked. “Turn around and face the demons that hunt you, boy, or face me and my tribesmen.” He paused for his men to laugh, and then he continued. “If I were you, I’d turn and run.”
“I’m done running,” he said. “And I didn’t come here to fight either.” To prove his point, he lowered his axe to the ground. His gaze ping-ponged from Kavik’s club to Deniigi’s spear and then to Doy Doy’s slingshot, where it rested a moment before moving on to other weapons, all of which caused him to sweat. Just when Tikaani thought he was going to pass out, a group of elves burst from the trees, bows drawn and blades out. Tikaani could tell by the way their hair fell out of place that they meant business. One of them even had short hair. He stepped out in front of the group and went straight for Mongrel.
“Stay off of him, all of you!” he demanded, though Tikaani doubted he had the strength to back it. A scrawny whelp like him would go down with just one flick of Kavik’s forefinger.
“Laerilas!” Mongrel breathed a sigh of relief, believing his champion had come at last. Then the elf brought out his daggers, making his intent more clear.
“He’s mine!”
“Laerilas, wait. I can explain.” Mongrel backed away from the elf, only to bump into Kavik. Feeling the hard, rock-sized muscles, he gulped. “Oh, boy.”
Tikaani gasped as Kavik took Mongrel around the neck and raised his club above his head, threatening to strike.
The old wolf growled, and the short-haired elf paused. Doy Doy scratched his nose.
The leader of the elf king’s guard stepped toward Kavik. “Return the stray unharmed, and I’ll let you and your tribesmen live . . . for today, at least.” He smirked. “Harm him, and I’ll sic my men on you with such vengeance.”
Tikaani looked to her brother, curious as to how he would respond.
Kavik snorted. “Why do you want him, Gwyndor? He is just a stray, as you said.”
“That stray,” said Gwyndor, approaching him slowly, “maimed one of my own and cost me another. Before that, he cost me my pride. I’ll have his head, or no one will. Do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” Kavik said, grinning. “But I don’t obey any man who looks like a prissy little girl.”
“Is that so?” Gwyn smirked some more. “Well, if you won’t comply, then you’ll have to die.” With that he put away his bow, drew his daggers, and lunged at the great chief. Kavik blocked his blows easily with his club. All the while, he kept Mongrel wedged in his elbow.
At their leader’s command, the elves put away their bows and drew their daggers. At his next command, they attacked.
Tikaani took out her knife, ready to defend herself if need be, but she assured herself it wouldn’t come to that. Her tribesmen would come to her aid. They were bigger, stronger, and greater in number, not to mention manlier than the elves. There was no need for her to fight, but then she remembered the elves had power over nature.
Branches swung into the faces of the men, and vines wrapped around their limbs to hold them still. Doy Doy was yanked up by his legs and swung through the air. Tikaani was relieved to see him quickly cut down by Deniigi. Her cousin could always be counted on to look after his own.
The tribesmen sprung into action, meeting the elves head on. Tikaani kept moving from side to side in order to avoid being stepped on—along the way, she lost sight of her brother. Straining, she tried to locate him.
“Tikaani, look out!” his voice called out to her.
She turned in time to block the elf’s first blow. But she was quickly overwhelmed by a string of attacks that came without pause.
She looked to Kavik for help, and sure enough he responded by throwing his club into the back of the elf’s head. He cried out and fell to his hands and knees, momentarily stunned. Weaponless, Kavik did the only thing a northern man could do: he called upon his spirit animal.
Within minutes, a dozen or more wolverines launched themselves onto the elves, growling and biting at the same time. Such fierce little creatures; Tikaani was glad they obeyed her brother.
She was even gladder when Deniigi grabbed his amulet and summoned the only moose within the ten-mile radius. It burst through the trees and took its antlers to the fleeing elves.
Other tribesmen did the same, and soon the area was overrun with animals. Tikaani was certain they would take the elves when Gwyn rolled his eyes and stepped into the path of the oncoming moose. He held out his hand. It stopped within inches of him and snorted. Its eyes glazed over as it fell under the elf’s charm. Gwyn patted the moose on the nose and sent it away. He smiled at Deniigi and said, “You forget my kind doesn’t need amulets to charm the wild beasts. Without your little necklaces, you’d have no power at all.”
“And without powers, you’d just be girly-looking men with pointy ears,” said Kavik, laughing until he realized the elf’s intentions.
“Look out!” Tikaani called as the elf made a strike at his amulet.
Kavik dodged the blow just in time.
Snarling, the elf stepped back, put away his daggers, and readied an arrow. Tikaani stopped in her tracks. Instead of aiming for Kavik’s amulet, it was pointing at her heart.
Kavik threw down the red-haired man and rushed to stop the arrow just as it was released.1 Tikaani gasped to see her brother take the arrow for her. It struck his amulet, breaking it into two pieces, which landed on the forest floor. The wolverines scattered.
A malicious grin stretched across the elf’s face. He knocked another arrow.
“And this one,” he said, smiling, “pierces your heart.”
He drew back on the bowstring and prepared to fire.
Tikaani squeezed her amulet so tight she thought her fingers would break. But it worked. Her wolves rushed forward and leapt, teeth bared, at the elf prince. Once again, his power outweighed the amulet’s, and the wolves groveled docile at his feet.
“Doy Doy, do something!” Tikaani called to her cousin, who was standing within range of Kavik and the elf prince. The river was behind him, along with countless fish awaiting his commands. He clutched his amulet and called upon his spirit animal to come to Kavik’s aid. The water stirred, and then out of the water sprang a fish. It managed a few slaps with its tailfin before falling onto the riverbed. There it flopped and gasped, utterly useless.
This did nothing to stop the elf prince. If anything, the insult spurred him on. He drew back on his bowstring.
Tikaani quivered as her mind raced. She closed her eyes and clenched her hands; her right, however, gripped something hard—her dagger. She still had her dagger! Clutching it in hand, she charged the elf prince.
“Cute,” said Gwyn, taking her by the arm and holding her up for Kavik to see. “Is this your child?” he asked him, unbothered by Tikaani’s attempts to free herself. “Or is it your sister?” He paused and considered her. “Please don’t tell me this is your wife.”
Kavik snarled. “You put her down!”
“Call your men off,” Gwyn said, and without hesitation, Kavik obeyed.
As Kavik’s men lowered their weapons, the elves drew their bows. Kavik waited until the last of their spirit animals were sent away before repeating, “Now put her down.”
Gwyn started to lower her then pulled her back up. He grinned wickedly. “No,” he said and raised his blade to her throat.
Kavik lunged towards him but was stopped by two of Gwyn’s men. The rest of his tribesmen were held still by the point of the elves’ arrows.
No one was coming to her aid. Not her brother, not her wolves, no one. Gwyn pressed the knife to her skin. Tikaani closed her eyes.
Thwack! The blade struck flesh and bone. But it wasn't Tikaani who had been cut—nor was it her scream
ing. She opened her eyes as she collided with the ground, moist not with dew, but with blood. Behind her, the elf prince cradled a stump, howling and writhing. Not far from her, the hand and the rest of the arm up the elbow lay on the ground.
Mongrel stood only a few feet away, holding his axe in both hands. His eyes were wide as he stared in disbelief at the bloody weapon, but there was no denying what he’d done: he’d saved her. Not her brother. Not her tribesmen. In this foreign land, they could not protect her, but it turned out this Mongrel could. Kavik was right; he was stronger than he’d let on.
“Run, Tikaani!” Mongrel shouted, catching her eye. “Hurry, get out of here!”
The standoff was broken. The tribesmen retrieved their weapons and defended themselves against the elves’ savage backlash. Of all the orders flying around, the only ones she heard clearly were Mongrel’s telling her to run. So she did.
She stumbled over tree roots and ran face-first into low hanging branches, but she pushed onward, desperate to get away from the fight. It didn’t take her long to realize someone was following her.
“Oh no,” she gasped, taking hold of her amulet and squeezing until her fingers lost circulation. The wolves arrived shortly after and formed a protective circle around her. Hackles high and teeth barred, they were poised to strike until Mongrel stepped out of the shadows. Then they became like docile dogs.
“What are you doing?” she asked them. “Attack!”
But still the wolves would not obey.
She checked the amulet for cracks. Nothing, so why wasn’t it working?
“Stay away from me or I—I’ll—”
“What?” Mongrel asked. “The wolves won’t attack me.”
He was right. The wolves made no effort to stop him; in fact, they greeted him as though he was one of their own. Then she remembered the wolves he’d spoken about at the reception.
“Is this the pack that raised you?” she asked him.
“Yes.” He smiled. “Old Boy here is my brother.” He gestured to the mangy brown wolf. “His mother nursed me.”
“Which explains why they won’t attack you,” she said, releasing her amulet and raising her dagger. “I, however, will.”
He raised his hands in defense of her blade. “It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Her gaze traveled from the axe to the bow and finally to the sword. Somehow she didn’t believe him, and yet, he had saved her from that elf. She lowered her dagger.
“Perhaps I should be thanking you,” she said. “If you hadn’t defeated that elf prince, I’d be gone.”
“I don’t deserve your thanks,” he said bitterly. “What I did back there, that was wrong.”
“He would have killed me.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, shaking his head. “Violence doesn’t solve anything. No, there has to be a better way.”
“Your way will get you killed,” she said, crossing her arms. “And me as well. Take me back to my tribesmen. I shouldn’t have run.”
“Running was your best option.”
“Running is for cowards,” she said. “Now take me back.”
“No. You’ll be in danger.”
She smiled. “Not if you come with me.”
“Look, I’ll take you back to your tribesmen, but only on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You grant me an audience with your brother. I know I can talk some sense into him if he’d just hear me out.”
“Is that all?” She laughed, and he nodded his head. “Deal.”
Mongrel escorted her back to where her tribesmen should have been, only they were gone. Even the injured and deceased had been moved. Broken weapons, amulets, and tree branches littered the ground, but there was no one there. Footprints ranged all over and headed off in many directions.
At least the elves were gone, though they barely left a track. It was possible they were still nearby. Mongrel must have shared her concerns because he urged her back and away from the clearing.
“Where’s my brother?” she asked him as though he would know.
“I don’t know,” he said absentmindedly as he looked up at the sky. “But we’re losing the light. We need to hurry if we’re going to find a safe place to camp for the night.”
“I have to find my tribesmen,” she repeated, on the verge of tears. “My brother, Deniigi, and Doy Doy. I have to find them!”
“That will have to wait until morning,” Mongrel said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, but it’s too dangerous to search by night.”
She pulled away from him and crossed her arms. He was right, of course, but it didn’t mean she had to passively accept it.
“Fine,” she said. “We camp tonight. In the morning, you’ll return me to my kin.”
“Agreed,” he said. “Now, come on before it gets dark.”
The only competitor fool enough to travel by night was Walder, Steward of Kingsbury, brother to the late King Donald of Kingsbury, and so and so forth.
Make that the only male competitor. Empress Eiko was also out that night. Walder encountered her at the river. She stood on one side; he stood on the other. Someone would have to cross for them to have their match, and being as he was the true gentlemen, he would not see her pretty clothes ruined. But rather than fight her, he thought to remove her from the competition in a gentler fashion more befitting his role as a gentleman. He doubted she’d offer him much of a fight anyway; she appeared weak and worn. Leaning on her staff, she reminded him of a spring rose wilting at summer’s harsh touch. He feared the competition was too much for a woman as delicate as her and past her prime no less. Without a second thought, he secured his horse to a nearby tree and then returned to the river’s edge. He reached out his hand, gently urging her to take it.
“Come, my lady. I’ll take you back to the castle. There you can rest and refresh yourself,” he said, smiling. “Take my hand. I’ll help you cross.”
She smiled gratefully, a piteous expression on her tired old face.
“Thank you,” she breathed the words as though she lacked the strength to speak. She took his hand. “You are such a gentleman.”
“And you are too fine a lady to be out in the wilds like this,” he said with all honestly. Truly, he couldn’t imagine a finer woman than the one who stood before him with her hand in his—and such a soft, delicate hand it was. Her face, smooth and pale with dark lips turned up into a smile, reminded him of a porcelain doll. Her eyes were dark and mysterious like the night sky and its twinkling stars. A man could get lost in a pair of eyes like that and risk losing all conviction. He had it in his mind to abandon the competition and make a life with her on a small sheep farm in the hills. All of a sudden, race and kingdoms didn’t seem such an important thing. Maybe that idiot Mongrel was right; maybe they should make peace—
She tightened her grip on his hand with unexpected strength and pulled him toward her and the tip of her blade, which miraculously appeared from inside her cane.
With short notice and no time to draw his own blade, he used the only weapon readily available: his own skull, which he knocked against her head. This, of course, was more than sufficient to bring the woman down. She held her bruised forehead and glared at him from her spot on the ground.
She snarled. “How dare you strike a lady?”
“You, madam, are no lady.”
With that he turned on his heel and headed back the way he’d come. But Empress Eiko was not so anxious to see him go. With a sudden burst of energy, she was back on her feet, charging him with blade in hand.
“You’re right,” she called. “I’m an empress!”
Walder spun around in time to block her blow. He wondered where this ferocity was coming from.
Moonlight caught the gold pendant hanging from her neck.
“A talisman.” He sneered. “You’re fueling yourself with magic.”
“And why not?” she said. “Makeup, padded clothing, a hair piece—it’s al
l for the illusion of youth, but this”—she took her talisman in hand, and it glowed faintly in her grasp—“this is the real fountain of youth. And let’s face it, at our age we could use a little advantage, don’t you think?”
“I think that fool Mongrel is an idiot,” he said. “You’re all a bunch of lying, murdering, cowards, and the world will be better off with you gone!”
Against all sense of gentility, he swung his sword at her. She stepped aside and then lunged. Her feet barely touched the ground.
He feared she’d overcome him unless he resorted to unmanly acts.
She lunged again, blade out in front of her. He sidestepped, stuck his foot out, and tripped her into the river, which took it from there. As the waters whisked her away, he sheathed his sword and went to retrieve his horse. But it wasn’t where he’d left it. Giant footprints led north to the mountains.
“Darn that savage beast,” he cursed under his breath as he paced the riverbed. There’d be no point in going after it. By now it was probably deep inside the ogre’s belly. There’d be no wanting it back when the ogre was done with it. He needed a new horse, and fast. The contract for his roadside assistance and rental reimbursement was in the saddlebag, also gone.
In haste, he scrounged up some parchment and a pen, wrote a letter to his insurance company, and attached it to the first messenger bird he could intercept. Once it was on its way, he sat on a nearby stump and waited. Meanwhile, he brooded on the night’s events. Deceitful woman. Bloodthirsty ogre. That Mongrel was a fool if he truly believed he could talk them into peace. More than ever, Walder was convinced by his original plan and was eager to see every last kingdom fall.2
* * *
1 In hindsight, he would have used him as a meat shield.
2 Except his of course.
CHAPTER TEN
Mongrel and Tikaani set out just before sunrise the next morning. Tikaani kept a slow pace and stayed close to Mongrel, though he suspected she had to be excited to find her clansmen. The wolves had not left her side once, but Mongrel doubted it had anything to do with loyalty and everything to do with her clinging relentlessly to her amulet.
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