The Wolf At War
Terry Cloutier
Book 4 in the
THE WOLF OF CORWICK CASTLE
SERIES
Copyright © 2021 TERRY CLOUTIER
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced,
in whole or in part, without prior written permission
from the copyright holder.
For my father—the original Richard Sharpe
Table of Contents
Prologue
1: Grindin Tasker
2: Cardians
3: Pernissy
4: The Piths
5: Corwick Castle
6: The Battle of Camwick
7: Saldor
8: The Trial
9: Invasion
10: The Battle of the Bridge: Part Two
11: The White Rock
12: The Rescue
13: Return to Gasterny
14: Einhard the Unforgiving
15: Tribal Challenge
16: The Blood Guard
17: Calban
18: Daughter Gernet and the Truth
19: Friendship or War?
20: The Battle of Land’s Edge
21: Rorian
22: The Codex and the Piths
23: To Brothers, Friends, and Peace!
24: The March North
25: The Battle of Silver Valley
26: The Gamble
27: Malo
28: A Vow Completed
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Character List by Order of Appearance
Lord Hadrack: The Lord of Corwick Castle
Lillia: Hadrack’s granddaughter
Jebido: Hadrack’s friend
Baine: Hadrack’s friend
Sim: Soldier
Tyris: Archer
Son Jona: Priest
Daughter Freda: Priestess
Wiflem: Captain of the guards
Niko: Soldier
Haspeth: Soldier
Rin: Leper boy
Grindin: One of the nine
Berwin: Soldier
Nedo: Amenti warrior
Putt: Soldier
Ubeth: Gatekeeper
Daughter Tessa: Priestess
Lucenda: Daughter-In-Waiting
Parcival: Master Huntsman
Shana: Lady of Calban. Hadrack’s wife.
Hesther: Court lady
Hamber: Court lady
Finol: Steward of Corwick
Margot: Former whore from Hillsfort
Osbeth: Son of Parcival
Stemper: Soldier
Saldor: Cimbrati warrior
Hanley: Finol’s assistant
Gerdy: Master bowyer
Braham: Soldier
Jin: Daughter-In-Waiting
Daughter Gernet: Priestess
Son Oriell: First Son
Tyden: King of Ganderland
Bona: Soldier
Lord Porten Welis: Gander lord
Fitzery Welis: Son of Porten
Lord Falway: Gander lord
Lorgen Three-Fingers: Chieftain of the Amenti
Lord Cambil: Gander lord
Lord Vestry: Gander lord
Dack: Amenti warrior
Gafin: Amenti warrior
Kacy: Half-wit cook’s assistant
Einhard: Pith. Sword of the Queen
Yaar the Windy: Blood Guard
Umar the Bleak: Blood Guard
Manek the Quiet: Blood Guard
Dace the Fearless: Blood Guard
Trula: Weaver
Malo: House Agent
Culbert: Son of a Gander lord
Lord Stegar: Gander lord
Brock: Son of Lord Stegar
Rorian: Scholar
Malakar: Pith Pathfinder
Lord Hamit: Gander lord
Fignam Ree: Commander of the king’s army
Pax: Soldier
Guthris: House Agent
Pernissy Raybold: Former Lord of Corwick
Quill: Carpenter
Lord Boudin: Cardian lord
Haverty: Apothecary
Luper Nash: One of the nine
Prologue
“How much longer?” I demanded. I lay in my bed, supported by three feathered pillows propped up around me that smelled strongly of harsh soap mixed with sweat. My granddaughter, Lillia, sat at my writing desk, where she had been every day for the past week, going over my notes.
“I’m almost finished,” Lillia said, not bothering to look up from the parchment in front of her.
“You told me that an hour ago,” I grumbled.
I stared out the window to my left as wet snow and sleet smacked against the windowpane before melting and sliding down the narrow, glazed glasswork in long rivulets. The cold wind coming from the north whistled and shrieked in frustration as it broke against the twelve-foot thick limestone walls of the castle, searching for a way inside. I shivered, certain that I could feel the strengthening gale’s icy clutches on me as I hunkered down beneath the bedclothes that covered my sparse body. Winter had come early to Corwick this year, and if this day were any indication, it would prove to be a long and hard one.
I shifted my weight beneath the coverings, which immediately brought on a series of wracking coughs that rolled up from my chest one after another like hammer blows. Each cough seemed worse than the one before, threatening to snap my frail ribs in half. I closed my eyes and waited it out, knowing that there was little point in trying to resist what was happening. Attacks like this one had occurred many times before, usually without warning. I knew one of these times it would be the end of me. Finally, the fit subsided, and I sucked in air as I dabbed weakly at the bright red blood around my lips with a handkerchief. I stared with dismay at the bloody cloth. Would I live to see another spring? You had better, I told myself, angry now as I let the handkerchief fall to the bedclothes. There was still too much left unwritten for me to die.
I turned back to Lillia, feeling spent by the coughing but also irritated by her silence. “You read too slow, child,” I grunted, beginning to regret choosing her. I should have given the task ahead to Frankin, whose reading and writing skills were slightly better than Lillia’s. The boy’s attention span was another matter, though, so in the end, I had settled on my granddaughter. “I’m not getting any younger over here, you know,” I mumbled as an afterthought.
Lillia looked over at me and she sighed in frustration. “Maybe if you would stop interrupting me all the time, my lord, I’d be able to read faster.”
I glared at the girl, and she stared right back at me, clearly uncowed by my look. Few, if any, would talk to me so, but I had a soft spot for Lillia, which she knew well and used to her advantage. I could see a familiar stubborn fire burning in Lillia’s blue eyes, and I felt my anger soften. It was hard for me to stay mad at her for very long. It had been the same with both her mother and her grandmother as well.
Lillia broke eye contact and looked down at the desk, the moment over as she enjoyed her victory. She read for a few more minutes while I lay in impotent silence watching her, then she gasped in surprise. “I didn’t know about this, my lord,” she said. I thought I could detect a note of disapproval in her voice, but perhaps it had just been an old man’s faulty hearing.
“Didn’t know about what?” I asked, confident that I knew what was coming next as I leaned my head on one of the pillows.
“About what happened between you and Sabina in Waldin’s cave.”
I shrugged. “That’s because I never told anyone,” I said. “Not even your grandmother. You are the first to learn of it.”
I looked down at my hands where they lay clutched together in my lap. My fingers were hooked together like claws, thin and crooked, with th
e skin stretched tightly like a drum, all veined and spotted. I hated having the hands of an old man, thinking they looked more like something you would find on a withered corpse instead of a living, breathing person. Growing old is nothing but an affliction like any other disease, I thought, cursing the gods for what they had done to me. Why bless a man with youth, strength, and vitality, then cruelly take it away year after year until there is nothing left but a husk waiting to die? It was a question that I had been asking more and more recently, though none of the gods ever bothered to explain it to me. I thrust the thought aside and looked up at the ceiling so that I wouldn’t have to acknowledge my hands and what they meant.
“So, now that you understand better, what do you think?” I finally asked as I focused back on my granddaughter. “Am I the heartless, murdering bastard that Casia accused me of being?”
“Absolutely not, my lord,” Lillia said immediately. Her eyes flashed with emotion. “Sabina deserved what happened. She took advantage of you when you were at your weakest. I have no sympathy for her or any of her family either after what she did to you.”
I nodded, surprised at the relief I felt at those words as I looked out the window again. My granddaughter’s opinion meant a lot to me, perhaps because of how much she resembled my long-dead wife, Shana. Besides, there were many more revelations still to come, and I needed to know Lillia’s feelings before we got to them. This was an excellent first step.
The snow was coming down stronger now, I saw, coating the glass like a blanket as it slapped heartily against the windowpane. I stared at the growing storm with distaste, reminded of the Pilgrimage and the treacherous ascent up Mount Halas during the Walk. I have hated snow ever since that horrible climb. I turned back to Lillia. “So, are you saying that you don’t think Casia’s grievance against me was valid?” I asked. “That her vow of vengeance was somehow less important than mine was, despite what I did to her family?”
“I don’t know about any of that,” Lillia said, looking uncertain for the first time. She gestured toward the parchment on the desk, her expression hardening. “But after what Sabina did in that cave, and who sired her, what else could you have done?”
“I have wondered that very thing many times,” I admitted, as I thought about the day that I’d killed Sabina’s father and brother. Their deaths had been bloody and savage, and I can still see the look of horror on Sabina’s face as I stood over the bodies of her loved ones. I sighed. “She was just a child then, Lillia,” I said. “Young, headstrong and foolish. She made a mistake in Waldin’s cave but, even so, she was a good person at heart despite that mistake.”
“Maybe,” Lillia said, looking unconvinced. She folded her arms across her chest. “But it doesn’t change the fact that she was tainted from birth, my lord. The gods marked her for a reason, and that reason was you.”
“You can’t be certain of that,” I grunted in annoyance. I had thought much the same thing years ago, of course, but age and guilt had tempered my thinking somewhat since then. “You weren’t even a gleam in your father’s eyes when this all happened. What do you know of such things?”
Lillia smiled condescendingly. “I’m a woman, my lord. We see things that most men miss.”
“Is that so?” I huffed. “So, now I’m being lectured to by a child, is that it?”
Lillia shrugged. “You asked for my opinion, my lord. Would you prefer that I just nod my head like a commoner and agree with whatever you say?” I hesitated, fidgeting in the bed as my granddaughter stared at me in challenge. “Well?” Lillia prompted, her eyes lighting up in warning.
“I’m thinking,” I replied, sounding childish even to my ears. Lillia stood abruptly and started to leave. I waved her back impatiently, motioning for her to sit down again. “Enough of that now. I’ve half a mind to beat some respect into you.”
“You have my respect and love, my lord,” Lillia said, still bristling as she settled back into her chair. “You always have. But I will not still my tongue, even for you.” She lifted her chin, and I was struck once again by her uncanny resemblance to Shana. “My mother taught me that, which is something, I believe, that you taught her.”
I chuckled, knowing that she was right as my own anger deflated. “So I did,” I said in a more conciliatory tone. “Who knew then that those lessons would someday come back to nip me in the ass?” I motioned for her to continue. “I spoke out of turn, and you have my apology. Now say your words, child, and let’s be done with it.”
Lillia took a deep breath, composing her thoughts. “All I was going to say, my lord, is that I believe Sabina was destined to betray you no matter what, just as she was destined to lead you to her father and brother. So, whether she was a good person or not is meaningless in that context, as I believe she was helpless to change her fate regardless of her disposition.”
I pursed my lips, impressed by the maturity of thought that my granddaughter was displaying. She was old enough to be married now, yet I’d been reluctant to arrange a suitable union for her. I knew I would have to do it soon, but not until she had finished the task I required of her. “So,” I said. “What you are telling me is that you think Sabina brought everything that happened down upon herself. That the gods marked her from birth, and that because of this, she had no free will to choose her own path.”
“Exactly,” Lillia agreed. “That is what I believe.”
“You do realize that she wasn’t aware of the crimes her father and brother committed in Corwick?”
“Of course I do, my lord,” Lillia replied. “But that does not excuse her bloodline of responsibility for those crimes.”
I shook my head at the set look on my granddaughter’s face. Her mind was made up, just as mine had been at the time it had all occurred. I sighed and gestured to my writing. “Enough talk for now. I’m tired. Finish your reading, and then we will speak again.” I closed my eyes. “There is still much more that you do not know,” I said drowsily.
I must have slept then, for it was dark outside when I felt a hand gently shaking me.
“My lord,” I heard Lillia say as she leaned over me. “Are you awake?”
“I am now,” I grunted in irritation as I fought to sit up straighter. A lantern flickered on the table beside me, and long flames crackled in the fireplace across the room, working to ward off the storm’s chill. Lillia helped me to sit up, fussing with the pillows. “I have to piss,” I said reluctantly, not meeting her eyes.
Perhaps the hardest thing about growing old, apart from the aches and pains, is the loss of dignity that infirmity brings with it. Lillia seemed unfazed by my request, however, as this was not the first time that she had helped me. She stooped and removed a chamber pot from beneath the bed, then began to roll down the bedclothes.
I stopped her. “I can manage,” I said, determined to do it on my own.
My granddaughter frowned but said nothing, watching as I fought the shake in my hands and grasped the heavy quilt that lay over me. The trembling and frequent numbness had begun two days after Frankin had killed Casia, and they hadn’t stopped since. I was convinced now that they never would. I folded the coverings down past my waist, then used my feet to push them the rest of the way, revealing my withered body dressed in a nightshirt that failed to hide my purple-veined legs and misshapen left foot. Lillia placed the chamber pot between my legs, and I fumbled with it, trying to draw the brass container closer. I cursed as my unfeeling fingers slipped off the polished surface.
“My lord,” Lillia said, hovering over me as she bit her bottom lip in indecision. “Let me help you.”
“Just wait,” I grunted in determination.
I managed to grasp the hem of my nightshirt with two fingers and drew it up, feeling sweat break out on my forehead as I concentrated on keeping my grip on the cloth. I edged the chamber pot closer with the back of my other hand, then relieved myself as Lillia looked politely away.
“There,” I said when I was done, proud of myself as I let my nightshir
t cover my nakedness. Lillia put the chamber pot back under the bed, and then she sat down beside me. “Did you finish your reading?” I asked her.
Lillia nodded. “I did, my lord.”
“Your thoughts?”
Lillia sighed. “I don’t know where to begin. It’s all a little overwhelming. I’d heard the bards’ tales and songs about you, of course, but I had no concept of the actual hardships you endured. The songs and stories all made it sound so easy for you, almost effortless.”
I laughed at that, genuinely amused. “That misconception is why I am writing about my time in this world. Most of those stories are just lies and half-truths, anyway. I want the younger generations coming after me, like you and Frankin, to understand and appreciate how this family rose to prominence. But to do that, I’m going to need help if I hope to complete the task before I die.”
“I don’t understand, my lord,” Lillia said.
“My hands are almost useless now,” I grunted, aware of the bitterness in my voice. “Much like the rest of me, I suppose. Now that you have read what I’ve written so far, I want you to continue where I left off.”
Lillia blinked in surprise. “Me, my lord?”
“Yes,” I said. “I may not be able to hold a quill and put words to paper anymore, but my mind and mouth work just fine.” I pointed a shaking finger at my granddaughter. “You are hereby tasked with spending every waking hour here with me, chronicling the rest of my life story until either I die, or it is finished.”
“But, that could take months, my lord,” Lillia said, looking flustered. “You’re not even twenty-one years old at the end of the last manuscript.”
“I know,” I agreed. “I imagine you will be here all winter or longer, so you had best get comfortable.”
“But, I don’t know what to do, my lord. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“All you have to do for now is sit beside me and listen,” I said. “Listen to my words and remember them. You can write those words down when I sleep.”
“And when do I get to sleep, my lord?” Lillia asked, the familiar stubborn flash of resistance rising in her eyes.
The Wolf At War Page 1