The Bloodwolf War

by Paula Boer

  They made quick time to Yuma’s homeland, the territory Fleet called White Water Cliffs. The eerie peace of Waterfalls was the first sign all was not right. Not even the tumbling cascades crashed as they normally would. Yuma failed to see any sign of horses or other animals as they approached the head of the valley. No bands of hunters or foragers met them along the way. Sticks and leaves littered the trails that used to be worn clean. Yuma’s heart sank as they drew nearer the village. The clan must have moved to safer country.

  He dismounted and walked away from Fleet and Laila as they settled for the night. Following the familiar paths through the trees, he kept his bow ready in case wolves lurked. The unkempt village was abandoned—cold hearths all that remained of some homes.

  Yuma entered the central shelter. He froze in horror. Twisted skeletons stared out of empty eye sockets. One bore the formal headdress of the chief. By his side, a bleached neck still wore a wooden carving of a mink. Yuma choked back a sob. He had carved the amulet for his mother.

  Fleet picked at the scant grass while Yuma and Laila worked in silence to build a pyre. The lines of anguish on Yuma’s face excluded any communication. With the loss of Jasper fresh in his mind, and the constant reminders of his dam’s demise, Fleet shared Yuma’s suffering. What he didn’t understand was the need to burn the remains of all the dwellings as well as the corpses.

  When Yuma started to lug the heavy timbers from the huts, Fleet queried his purpose. “Why waste what’s still strong?”

  Yuma growled and shooed him out of the way. “I need it to cremate the bodies. No-one will want the taint of death and bloodwolves soaked into their homes anyway. If anyone ever comes to rebuild.”

  Laila helped lay out the dead and covered them with dry grasses while Yuma destroyed what was left of the village.

  The rank scent of the bloodwolves lingered, but Fleet’s rump didn’t throb. He decided to investigate the land where his dam had ruled with King Thunder. He could see why Sapphire hated Dark Woods so much. Here the light sparkled from the tumbling waterfall like dragon scales, and kingfishers dived into crystal pools. The river wound between steep hills and verdant meadows, the clearings overrun with golden dandelions and buttercups.

  As smoke billowed from the village, Fleet trotted deeper into the hills to avoid the overpowering stench. The breeze shifted, carrying a faint whiff of horse to his nostrils. He dropped back to a walk and whinnied to announce his presence. “I’m Fleet of Foot on a mission for the goddess. Whose territory am I visiting?”

  “Fleet!” A shrill neigh preceded an uneven clatter of hooves as a bedraggled mare raced into the open, heavy in foal. Her spine protruded in a bony ridge and her dull eyes were crusted with gunk. Her long hooves were cracked and her patchy coat revealed weeping sores. She moved with a pronounced limp, her near fore swollen and crooked above the knee.

  Fleet backed up in alarm. “Where’s your stallion? Have the bloodwolves killed your herd?”

  “Fleet, it’s me, Tress. It’s so good to see you. I thought you must be dead or gone far away. You look magnificent. Where have you been to grow so much in these hard times?”

  Snorting in bewilderment, Fleet stared. “Tress? No. The princess has a snow-white mane and tail with a glossy black coat. You’re trying to trick me. I can smell the evil on you. Are you another of Shadow’s offspring?”

  Tress stepped closer and reached forward with her nose. “Truly, it’s me, formerly Princess Silken Tresses of Flowering Valley, now one and only mare of Wolfbane of White Water Cliffs. I haven’t had any people to groom me for many seasons. What you smell is bloodwolf poison in my veins. I would throw myself off the cliffs if it wasn’t for my unborn foal.”

  Fleet found it hard to believe this wreck of a mare was the once proud princess. His heart fluttered, and sorrow at her ruin fired his anger at Shadow. He must protect her! Then he accepted the truth of her swollen belly; she belonged to another. Regardless, he felt bound to aid her. “You must come to Shimmering Lake with me. Gem can cure your lameness and make you well.”

  “Gem? Who is she?”

  “A unicorn, the daughter of Echo and Diamond.”

  “You found one! I knew they were real!” The bedraggled mare faced away. “I’m in no fit state to travel, and it wouldn’t be safe for my foal.”

  She was probably right. It was a long way, and he didn’t need the complication of fighting the former head of Oakvale warriors. Grazing on the spring growth, he swapped stories with Tress. Before he could ask about Wolfbane’s whereabouts, the bay stallion charged down the hillside.

  Fleet prepared to greet him, whinnying a welcome.

  Instead of answering politely, the stallion screamed a challenge as he raced along a stony track, shards flying as his hooves churned the ground.

  Tress showed the whites of her eyes and sweat broke out on her neck. She fled to a copse of spruce for shelter.

  Without giving him a chance to explain his presence, Wolfbane attacked.

  A deep bite stung Fleet's neck. He spun round and struck out with his hind feet.

  Wolfbane barged into him.

  Fleet staggered. The old warrior was strong and experienced. Fleet had only ever fought Jasper, and that struggle had been over almost before it had begun. He stumbled backwards, reeling. Wolfbane’s onslaught didn’t give him time to breathe, let alone talk.

  Determined not to be beaten, he called on the energy beneath his feet.

  With renewed strength, he thrust his chest at the bay stallion and drove him backwards. Wolfbane lashed out with both hind legs, catching Fleet on the shoulder. Pain lanced his sides as another double blow caught him in the ribs.

  A vision of crimson wolf smothering his fallen dam flooded Fleet. A rage at the world and its unfairness brewed in his heart. He lunged forward and pummelled Wolfbane.

  The stallion staggered before rearing and retaliating with bared teeth.

  Fleet drew power from the sun and strengthened his assault. He slammed his head against Wolfbane and crashed his hooves onto the stallion’s spine, driving him to the ground. He reared, ready to deliver the death blow to the horse’s skull.

  “Stop!”

  The cry from the trees penetrated the killing rage that had over­come Fleet.

  Tress cantered over and begged the stallions to cease fighting. She whickered in distress. “There are so few of us. There’s no need to fight.”

  Fleet backed off from the fallen warrior and shook himself, guilty at his aggression. “I would have murdered him if you hadn’t stopped me.”

  Wolfbane lumbered to his feet, dripping with sweat. His sides heaved. He gasped for air. “I submit… You have Tress…and this territory… I’m tired…of trying…to build a herd.”

  All of Fleet’s desires flooded back. In defeating the lead stallion, he had become the new king. But king of what? A poisoned land with a crippled mare, pregnant by another. He should vanquish or kill Wolfbane.

  He couldn’t bring himself to inflict more suffering. “I must take Tress to Shimmering Lake. You’re a good warrior. Become Wolfbane, Head of Warriors of White Water Cliffs, if you will. Gather all the stallions you can find and build an army. On my return, we have a war to fight.”

  Chapter 22

  The sharp pain in Tress’s foreleg crept up her shoulder and along her spine, and her hindquarters ached from compensating for her weak front end. Fleet maintained a hard pace, desperate to reach Shimmering Lake.

  The banks of Silverstream offered the freshest pick Tress had tasted since leaving Flowering Valley. The scent of the crushed grass beneath her hooves sucked her head down. She nibbled at the sweet shoots. “Can’t we rest here?”

  Fleet refused to permit a break. “Yuma and Laila will want to camp at sunset. You can rest then.”

  Tress found it hard to get accustomed to travelling all day and sleep­ing at night. S
he preferred short bouts of grazing, moving, and resting, driven by the need for warmth or shelter, hunger or thirst, rather than where the sun or moon lay in the sky. Although the woman had made her feel better by washing and brushing her tangled mane and tail, her muscles screamed at the enforced exercise. Hot prickles like blackberry thorns tortured her neck with every stride. Her heavy belly dragged at her attempts to pick up speed. “I can’t. I must stop. I’m worried I’ll lose my foal.”

  Fleet hesitated and peered into the thick forest of mixed deciduous trees. “We should at least move into open country. Keep going a bit longer.”

  Disobeying a stallion went against all Tress’s upbringing. Look what happened when she had defied Streak and run away with Wolfbane. After Fleet had defeated him, she’d been surprised he hadn’t forced her to mate to abort her foal. He must have some compassion.

  The survival of the life within her remained her sole concern. Her time drew close. “I’ve struggled this far. I can’t go on.”

  The man approached and mumbled something. She wished she could talk with people like Fleet. He had explained that his warm blood enabled him to communicate with other creatures. Tress had thought his stories fanciful until she saw firsthand how he could even talk with squirrels.

  Fleet ignored her protestations and kept going.

  At times, the possibility of meeting a unicorn had been the only thing to keep her taking one stride after another. Ever since Starburst had shared the legends of creation, Tress had dreamed of meeting one of the magical creatures. Now she was on a journey to do just that, all she wanted was to go home and forget she had ever heard of horned horses. “Please, let’s stop for at least a short while. Remember what the poison was like in your veins before the goddess gave you strength, and I don’t have warm blood to help me fight it.”

  Fleet finally relented and stopped. “Don’t wander far. At least it’ll give Yuma time to hunt. He says there are many animal tracks through these woods.”

  With a bit of sustenance in her belly, Tress started to improve. Nibbling at clumps of grass, she edged nearer the denser forest where the moister ground offered sweeter pick. A rank smell drifted on the slight breeze. She lifted her head in alarm. Dappled light filtered through the branches.

  The shadows moved.

  She fled towards the river, screaming a warning. A yowl echoed back. The stench grew. Pain lanced her shoulder wound. Heavy paws thumped behind her.

  Fleet charged to meet the bloodwolf bounding close on her heels.

  She reached the riverbank. She could go no further. She was doom­ed. She propped and turned to face the enemy, prepared to go down fighting.

  Something flashed by. A pole appeared in the side of the blood­wolf. It slid on its nose towards her, the stench overpowering.

  Fleet arrived and reared to pummel the creature into the ground.

  The man ran from the forest, shouting and waving his bow.

  Fleet paused mid-air, his raised hooves hovering.

  Tress gawped. The crimson beast shook where it lay prone. Its hunched back withered and lost its bloodied streaks. Its shaggy coat shrank to short grey fur. Its long fangs receded to those of a normal timber wolf. The wolf leapt to its feet and bolted for the darkness of the trees, an arrow still embedded in its side.

  Tress trembled all over. “What happened? Why didn’t you kill it?”

  Fleet conversed with the man and then sniffed the place where the wolf had lain. “The jade arrow removed the poison! The green stone worked!”

  He danced around her, tail held high. “Yuma didn’t want me to damage the arrow tip. He has only one left.”

  He settled and nuzzled her face. “This makes our mission all the more urgent. We must get as much stone as I can carry and return to the herds.”

  Up until now, Tress had focused on reaching Gemstone for a cure for herself in order to save her foal. Now she realised that once healed, Fleet must seek all the affected animals and rid them of poison. As the magnitude of his task dawned, exhaustion overcame her. Although she had known they were headed to Shimmering Lake to gather stones, she hadn’t fully appreciated the relevance of their journey. Why had Fleet bothered to drag her along? She slowed them down and he didn’t desire her. Why would he, with an emerald unicorn waiting for him?

  Tress was a burden to their trek. “You must go on without me. Leave me signs to follow and I’ll catch up when I can.”

  Fleet nudged her neck. “There are sure to be many more bloodwolves. You won’t stand a chance on your own.”

  “You can travel faster without me. The fate of Equinora is more important than one mare.” Tress shifted her weight as the foal moved within her. Despite her brave words, being at the mercy of poisonous beasts terrified her. At the same time, she desired to be alone when her time came.

  “I’m not leaving you. You’re my responsibility now.” Not allowing any further argument, Fleet drove her along, encouraging her with a shove of his nose.

  Feeling slightly refreshed after the break and still spooked from the close encounter with the bloodwolf, Tress managed a steady trot, her swollen barrel swinging from side to side. As their track wove between rolling foothills, she began to sense they were going round in circles. “Are you sure you know the way?”

  Fleet cantered alongside, keeping his stride short to match her heavy trot. He whickered in reassurance. “We haven’t left the stream. This is the path Yuma and I followed.”

  Not convinced, Tress watched for familiar landmarks, sure they would see these same trees and rocks in a few days’ time. The belief they were going astray consumed her mind more than the hunger gnarling her guts. Thunder rumbled to the northeast. Obsidian spires pierced the skyline like rows of fangs. “Where are you leading me? I thought we were headed for Shimmering Lake. We’re going towards the dark mountains.”

  “We’ll turn soon. What you’re sensing is the confusion the unicorns use to protect their territory. Trust me.” Fleet loped on, aglow with energy and vigour.

  The weaker Tress grew, the stronger Fleet appeared. He floated over the ground, even carrying two people and their gear. Tress could hardly believe he was the same young stallion who had come to Flowering Valley all those seasons ago. The memory made her long for those peaceful days gossiping with Breeze under the protection of King Streak. How could she have considered her old life tedious? She had dreamt of adventure and found it, only to wish she was safe at home. With gritted teeth, she slogged on.

  When they reached a split in the river, Fleet turned away from the massing storm and headed towards blue sky. With relief, Tress drank the warm water and tried to follow. Her legs felt as if she were pulling them through a lake of mud. With every stride, the effort to lift her feet became harder. She dropped to a trot. Unable to keep up even that pace, she slowed to a walk. Soon she came to a halt. Every effort she made to go forward was like pressing into a bramble thicket.

  Fleet came back to chase her along. “It’s not much further. Soon we’ll be safe.”

  Tress rolled her eyes. “I’m trying to keep up, but my body won’t work.”

  She tried again, and again. It was as if a thornbush straddled the path, blocking her way, prickling her skin, demanding she retreat. In desperation, she trotted back the way they had come, feeling the relief of being able to move freely.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you. Hurry up.”

  Tress attempted to rejoin Fleet. “Every time I try, my body goes rigid. My mind screams we’re going the wrong way. But when I turn back, I can move with ease.”

  Fleet stepped forward and walked to and fro. “This must the edge of Gem’s protective barrier, but I can’t feel anything.”

  Panic at being alone overrode Tress’s earlier objections. “I’ve come this far. Please don’t abandon me.”

  It had never occurred to Fleet that Tress wouldn’t be able to cross the ve
il. Gem, can you hear me? I’m on your border. I have a mare with me who can’t cross. She needs your help. Can you lower your shield?

  Knowing Shadow would also hear, Fleet hesitated to send too much information. The only answer was an increase in the wind. The clouds they had been avoiding built like mushrooms sprouting after heavy dew. A chill fluffed Fleet’s coat. This didn’t feel right. When he’d visited Shimmering Lake before, the weather had been mild, even this far from the sustaining waters.

  Increasing the intensity of his call, he messaged Gem again. To no avail.

  He found Yuma gathering a large pile of firewood. “It looks like you want to camp here. Do you have any idea how we can get Tress across?”

  Yuma shrugged. “She carries the poison in her veins. Maybe that’s the problem.”

  Fleet pawed the ground. “So did I when we first came.”

  Yuma stroked his chin as he looked across to the mare. “She doesn’t have your unicorn blood. Maybe I should use the last arrow and see if it’ll cure her?”

  “No!” Horrified at the suggestion, Fleet flattened back his ears. “She’s too weak. Another injury could kill her or make her lose her foal.”

  “I don’t want to hurt her any more than you, but I can’t think of anything else. Let me know if you change your mind. Gem doesn’t seem to want to help, and we must get the jade.” Yuma returned to his gathering.

  No means of crossing the veil occurred to Fleet. He wished he could have spent more time with the unicorns on Tern Island, learning how to use all his powers. Too soon, he had been thrust into yet another mission. Where were the unicorns now? The goddess had castigated them for not helping, yet he was doing this alone, a noncorn with no training.

  All through the night, Fleet kept trying to contact Gem. At one point he had called Echo in the hope her sire might be able to get a response. Neither of them received an answer.

  Tracking through the heavy dew, Fleet approached Tress where she grazed along a creek. “Are you sure you can’t get through? Try thinking positive thoughts; don’t be afraid of meeting a unicorn.”