The Inquisitives [3] Legacy of the Wolves

by Rockwell, Marsheila

  “And what if we can’t defeat them? They lead the pack because they’re the biggest, strongest, and fiercest of the lot. If the rest of the pack can’t beat them, what makes you think we can?”

  “Simple. We’re smarter and better armed.”

  “Better armed, anyway,” the dwarf grunted, pulling his short sword from its scabbard.

  “That’s not what I meant,” Irulan said. “If we want the pack’s cooperation, we can’t kill the leaders outright. We have to challenge them. Though, if they’re not a mated pair, we may only have to deal with the male.” She flexed her fingers in anticipation of shifting. She wouldn’t mind a good fight, herself.

  “Challenge?” Greddark repeated, looking at her in frank amazement. “You mean, wolf to wolf?”

  He’d no doubt meant the phrase to be disparaging, but Irulan chose to ignore it. She wasn’t so much of a hypocrite that she wouldn’t utilize the abilities inherent in her bloodline when it was to her benefit, regardless of how much she detested the source of that advantage.

  “Something like that, yes.”

  “And if that doesn’t work?”

  She shrugged, an unconscious parody of Andri’s earlier gesture.

  “Then I’ll use magic.”

  The dwarf didn’t even try to mask his disbelief. He grabbed at his beard, which wasn’t nearly long enough for such abuse, then shifted to his hair, tugging on lanky strands in sheer frustration. Irulan would have thought it comical, if that frustration weren’t quickly morphing to anger—anger that was directed at her.

  “Magic? You’re going to try and charm a dire wolf? When you can’t even control a Host-damned horse?”

  Irulan felt her own patience slipping. There was no way they’d find the werewolves’ lair on their own. They had to have help, and it wasn’t as if they could summon up a House Tharashk Finder to locate the lycanthropes for them. Especially not when at least one of the werewolves had some sort of ward powerful enough to interfere with both dragonmark abilities and magical means of scrying. The wolves were their only option.

  “You have a better idea?” Irulan asked. Her mare, sensing her own mounting ire, chose that moment to begin chomping at the bit, earning a smug smirk from the dwarf. Irulan could have kicked the stupid beast—both of them.

  “As a matter of fact—”

  “Stop it.”

  Though he didn’t raise his voice, Andri’s words carried a sharp edge of command. Both Irulan and Greddark turned to look at the paladin in surprise. He’d reined his own mount in and was grasping the reins so tightly his knuckles were white. But when he spoke, his tone betrayed neither impatience nor temper, only the expectation of obedience.

  “Irulan’s right. The pack Quillion spoke of could be anywhere in the forest. Wolves and dire wolves have an empathetic connection with werewolves. They will know where the lycanthropes are lairing. It would be better if we could separate their leaders out from the rest of the pack, but we are short on time and resources. We will go with Irulan’s plan.”

  Irulan hid her own smirk while the dwarf started to protest.

  “But—”

  “If this plan is not agreeable to you, Master Greddark, you are free to consider your employment terminated. I’ll give you a letter of credit to cover the fee you’ve already earned, along with your share of the rations that remain, and you can follow the edge of the wood to Olath. You can resupply there and book passage back to Sigilstar, if you so desire.”

  The paladin and the inquisitive stared at each other for a long, tense moment. Greddark was the first to look away. Seeing the bleak expression in Andri’s eyes, Irulan didn’t blame him. It was as if something vital in the paladin had perished, draining away the warmth and compassion that Irulan had come to admire so much. A coldness radiated from him now, one borne not of anger, but of black despair. When his dead gaze flicked over her, she shivered.

  “I was hired to find a killer,” the dwarf said finally. “I don’t quit with a job half-done.”

  “Very well. Then we’d better prepare.”

  The preparations, such as they were, took little time. Irulan scouted out a small clearing beside a muddy brook where deer and other wild game often came to drink. The wolves had been headed in this general direction. It was an obvious choice for a hunting ground.

  Or a trap.

  The tricky part would be making sure the wolves thought they were easier prey than their horses. But Irulan had a spell that would hide the mounts from detection, as long as the steeds didn’t accidentally touch another living creature. She solved that problem as best she could by tethering the mounts at intervals along the downstream end of the small creek, on the opposite side of the clearing from where the wolves would be approaching. She would just have to pray to the Flame that no curious chipmunk or darting bird bumped into one of the horses before the wolves arrived, thus negating the spell and revealing the mounts for all to see, friend and foe alike. She pulled out a small knife and notched the bark of each tree where one of the horses was tied, so they would be able to find the mounts again afterwards.

  Assuming they survived that long.

  Andri’s vote of confidence notwithstanding, she wasn’t sure her plan was actually going to work. Irulan had always put more stock in her claws than in her spells. Though she was loathe to admit it, the dwarf had been right to doubt the efficacy of her magic-wielding capabilities. She would try to charm the pack leader. Hopefully she would only have to worry about the male, because she wasn’t sure she could hold two of them in thrall at once. But she knew she’d better be ready for a fight, because chances were good that it was going to come down to whose claws were faster and whose bite sank deeper.

  Greddark built a small fire and they took their positions around the circle of rocks, pretending to chat and snack like frivolous nobles out picnicking in the woods on a lark. Of course, since Andri had gone back to being his usual uncommunicative self and Irulan needed to focus her senses outward, on the wolves, that left Greddark to chatter along inanely with himself, a situation that the shifter suspected she would have found wildly amusing under other circumstances. As it was, she had to tune most of the dwarf’s blathering out in order to track the wolves’ approach, although random phrases periodically threatened to draw her out of her reverie.

  “… and, of course, that’s when I found out she was really a he. Talk about embarrassing.”

  “… when Uncle Zaxon thought it would be funny to turn me to stone for a few years …”

  “… be sure to add that to my list of things never to say to a dragon …”

  Irulan wrenched her attention away from the sound of the dwarf’s voice and sent her awareness back out into the forest, searching for the wolves.

  There, to the south. Three … four. Where were the others?

  Ah, the two females, one approaching from either side, but thankfully nowhere near the horses. Irulan could not sense them, but she knew the mounts would be whickering in alarm as they scented the wolves. Luckily, the spell hid them not only from sight, but from smell and hearing, as well. As long as their tethers held, they should be safe.

  As the wolves moved in, Irulan noted their positions, then let her awareness of the hunters fade. She opened up her eyes and looked at her companions.

  “They’re here.”

  With the two females split off from the rest of the pack, Irulan knew the dire wolves would try to run them. It was a tactic their smaller counterparts commonly used to cull the weak from herds of deer and other ungulates. The pair would harry their frightened prey until the luckless animals ran, at which point the two wolves would chase them straight into the midst of the waiting pack. This time, though, they were in for a surprise.

  The wolves were all but invisible, their grizzled black pelts blending seamlessly into the forest shadows. If not for their glowing yellow eyes, Irulan might not have known they were there until they moved out of the underbrush on either side of the clearing. As it was, she pretended n
ot to notice them as she alerted her companions, making sure to keep her tone light and airy.

  “The two females are circling us,” she said, as though she were discussing nothing more serious than the weather. “They’ll try to get downstream of us and force us to move closer to the males. When they make their move, draw your weapons and stand your ground, but whatever you do, don’t attack.”

  “That’s like making your lady get all dressed up for the party, then refusing to dance with her,” Greddark said, not quite able to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

  Irulan smiled, watching the wolves approach out of the corner of her eyes.

  “Oh, never fear, there’ll be dancing. But the steps may not be to your liking.”

  The dwarf grunted. “Nothing else about this plan has been. Why should this part be any different?”

  Irulan laughed at his surliness.

  “It’s a good thing you have such a quick wit, Greddark, because you’re going to need it. Right … about … now.”

  As if her words had been a signal, the two females rushed them, snapping and snarling. They were at least five times the size of a normal wolf, with teeth twice as long as those of their smaller cousins. Their claws were like miniature sickles which the huge canids used to trip prey that got too close.

  The companions sprang up, Andri and Greddark’s weapons clearing their sheaths with a song of steel on leather. Andri called flame to his blade, and the smaller of the two wolves whimpered when she saw it, crouching low with her tail between her legs. The larger, dominant female growled at her packmate, her own tail held high. The other female took courage from her leader, and soon she was standing and growling as well, though she stayed a good distance away from Andri.

  Irulan did not draw her own blade, but shifted instead, feeling her claws lengthen and thicken as she crouched, making sure that she was still taller than the large female. Height was one of many way her animal cousins showed dominance, and she wanted it clear that there was only room for one leading lady in this clearing—her.

  The pack leader reacted predictably, her ears jutting upward as she bared her long teeth at the shifter. She stalked forward slowly, stiff-legged, her hackles bristling, until she was within arm’s reach of Irulan. Then she very deliberately raised her hind leg and urinated all over Irulan’s saddle bags, which were sitting on the ground not far from their campfire. Marking her territory. Letting Irulan know who was really in charge here.

  Irulan leapt, clawed hands reaching for the thick ruff of fur at the base of the dire wolf’s throat. Grasping the long hairs firmly as she sailed over the female’s back, using her momentum and her angle to heave the wolf off her feet—no mean trick, given that the dire wolf outweighed her by several hundred pounds. They rolled across the grass until she came up with the struggling animal pinned beneath her, her arms locked about the wolf’s throat in a hold that cut off the creature’s air supply. While Andri held the other wolf at bay with his flaming sword, Irulan bent low and murmured soothing words in the female’s ear. As she spoke, the charm began to take effect and the wolf’s struggles subsided, her flattened ears gradually perking up again. When Irulan was sure the pack leader was completely under her thrall, she loosened her hold and climbed off her, allowing the female to regain her feet. The wolf turned to face her, panting and darting forward to lick her face, then abruptly grabbing the shifter’s chin in powerful jaws.

  Greddark hissed and started to move toward her, but Irulan waved the dwarf back. The female was merely showing her submission. She meant the shifter no harm.

  “It’s fine,” Irulan said when the wolf released her, “She’s just trying to mouth my muzzle.” The phrase elicited only blank looks from her companions. She just shook her head. She didn’t have time to tutor them on the intricacies of wolf behaviors. “It’s fine,” she said again.

  She stood slowly, scratching the now subordinate female behind the ears. The wolf’s coloring reminded her of Destry, the pup she’d bonded with back in the Reaches. Destry had gotten himself killed trying to defend her from a mother bear whose cubs she’d stumbled across by accident, and she hadn’t had the heart to take another animal companion since. But sometimes, when she happened upon a wolf in the wild, she’d think of that fierce little pup and how much she missed him. Maybe, once this was all over and Javi was free, she’d go back to the Reaches and see if she could find one of his littermates. Traveling with Andri and Greddark reminded her how lonely her life was. It would be good to have a friend again.

  But first things first.

  She whispered to the female, who wagged her tail once, then sat back on her hind legs and let out a long howl that reverberated through the small clearing. The other female joined her in the echoing chorus, a forlorn sound that was oddly incongruous in the bright sunlight.

  Greddark shivered, and even Andri looked unsettled.

  “What in Onatar’s name are they doing?” the dwarf demanded, his grip tightening on his hilt as his eyes roved uneasily over the surrounding trees.

  “Calling the rest of the pack.”

  It didn’t take long for the pack to respond. An answering howl sounded, much closer than Irulan had anticipated, and before its last echoes had faded away into the canopy, the other four dire wolves materialized silently out of the woods.

  Irulan identified the dominant male. He was easily a foot taller at the shoulder than the other males, and probably weighed more than her horse. With jet black fur and eyes that blazed amber, the hostility radiating from him made it clear that charming him was not going to be an option.

  She would have to fight.

  Irulan stared into the male pack leader’s yellow eyes, her refusal to look away a clear challenge to his dominance.

  “Whatever happens to me,” she said to her companions, not taking her eyes off the wolf, “don’t run.”

  “You’re suggesting we stand still and let them eat us?” Greddark asked.

  “No. I’m telling you that they will chase you down and kill you if you run. If the leader kills me, just keep your swords up and back away slowly. Use fire, if you have to. If they see you’re not frightened, they’ll let you go.”

  “We won’t leave without you,” Andri said.

  Irulan smiled, though she knew the paladin couldn’t see her face. She should have known all it would take was a lady in seeming distress to bring him out of his depression. But his chivalry was pointless.

  “Don’t bother. If he defeats me, there won’t be anything left of me to save.”

  Then she had no more time for words. The male leader, accepting her steady gaze for the challenge it was, advanced, much as his mate had, with his tail erect and his lips curled back to reveal his fangs.

  The other wolves held back, waiting to see how the challenge would play out. Irulan unbuckled her sword belt as she moved toward the pack leader, tossing the weapon to the side. She hated to be without the sword, but if she wanted the pack to accept her victory, it would have to be won by the law of the pack, using only the weapons of the wolf—claws, fangs, and wits.

  Though she supposed Greddark would tell her she’d have to make do with two out of three. And as the dire wolf neared, she had to admit that the dwarf might be right. The dire wolf was only a few feet away now, and she could see just how big he really was. Larger than the dragonhound, Skaravojen, and stronger, by the looks of the muscles rippling powerfully beneath his dark fur. And no Keeper in sight to calm him with a word.

  Though she did have Andri. Would the paladin’s intercession be enough to tip the scales in her favor? Or even move them?

  Well, she thought as the dire wolf emitted a deep, rumbling growl that set her teeth on edge, it certainly couldn’t hurt.

  “Andri,” she called, not breaking eye contact with the lead male. “A little prayer, please?”

  The paladin complied, beginning a low chant, his voice rising and falling in a martial rhythm. A warmth spread through her, and Irulan felt herself becoming stronger an
d more confident.

  She could do this.

  She would.

  With a growl of her own, she attacked.

  She tried the same maneuver that she had used on the female, launching herself at the male’s neck with the intent of knocking him off his feet. The wolf crouched low as she sailed over him, and her claws sliced through nothing but thick fur. She tumbled across the grass and was on her feet in an instant, but it was already too late.

  The dire wolf crashed into her, sending her sprawling onto her back. She rolled away as the wolf’s heavy jaws came down, teeth slamming together on nothing but air as she narrowly avoided having her shoulder and half her arm bitten off. Then she was on her feet again and dancing away as the wolf stalked after her, snarling in anger.

  They circled each other, growling and glaring, with Andri’s chant providing a melodic and surreal backdrop for their dance of dominance. As they moved, lunging, dodging, and posturing, Irulan noticed that the wolf seemed to be favoring his right fore-paw, placing his weight more on the pad than on the toes of that foot as he walked. The difference was subtle, and the wolf was trying to hide it, so as not to appear weak, but a quick glance at the tracks he left in the muddy grass confirmed it—the wolf had a broken toe.

  But walking on the pad was putting pressure on the recessed dewclaw, which was what was actually causing the wolf’s almost imperceptible limp. Irulan felt a twinge of sympathy for the animal. Each step he took was probably excruciating. If they both survived this encounter, she would have to try and heal his foot.

  Especially since she was planning on making it hurt a lot worse.

  As she circled him, she made sure her path would bring her closer and closer to the tree line. She dropped her gaze to make the wolf think she was beginning to back down from the challenge, then pretended to stumble on a root, fetching up against the trunk of a large oak.

  The wolf charged, loping toward her like a dog running to greet its owner. He jumped on her, his paws landing heavily on her shoulders as his slavering jaws closed around the lower half of her face. But unlike the female, the male was not showing submission—he meant to put an end to this two-legged bitch who had challenged his dominance in front of his pack.