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I’m about to start swinging fists when I realise the infamous messenger’s not only standing still, but not making a sound. No yelled warnings of escape. No screaming for help. Not even a cry of surprise. Nothing. My second thought assumes she’s been mesmerised, but a change of expression to resting wolf face gives the lie to that.
“Human,” she says, fingers quivering at her sides.
“Longsnout.” It’s probably stupid antagonising her, given the scenario, but you know me.
She sighs, shoulders slumping. “Don’t start. I’m so tired of it all.”
Usually I’d debate the definition of tired and the concept of reaping what you sow, but I’m pushed for time. “Not to rush you,” I say, “but we’re leaving, or the cat eats your face.”
UrRahUm glances at me out of the corner of his eye, then plasters on a fake snarl.
“Oh stop, he can barely stand up,” she points out. “Though I see the amulet’s gone. You’re escaping, I take it.”
“I take it you’re in our way.”
“No, I want you to go,” she replies, shocking me. “Don’t look so stunned. I’m not a total villain. You can relax,” she tells UrRahUm.
The snarl drops away as he rolls his eyes.
“What do you want?” I ask, getting to the point. We’ve been standing around for too long and Serpen keeps clenching his scaly bulk with anxiety.
“I’ll set a diversion, so you can get him to the trees,” she says, “where you’ve stashed Wings, no doubt.”
“Not to look a gift wolf in the mouth, but why are you helping us?”
“I’ve no idea what you just said, but Arrympeite and all of his serpents intend to wipe out our whole pack, or enslave them, which is worse. When I saw you, I thought of giving you to them.”
“There’s the Shortfang I remember.”
“But that won’t stop him,” she continues. “It may even make it worse. I want you to use the cat to save our wolves.”
A rumbling snore forces me to slap UrRahUm’s nose.
“Why would you care, after what you did?” I ask. “Both of you. Since I know Fidus is here.”
She points up at the quivering serpent. “No worse than what he did, so I’ve heard.”
“What are you doing here?” As if I don’t know. “You came to help our enemy, right?”
“Fidus brought us here because he was angry. He wanted to hurt his family. He didn’t know what the king was like, or had planned,” she says.
“This would be the same Fidus who tried to kill his own father?”
“He did,” she agrees. “I did. But not the whole pack. Not the pups or his mother.”
“So, why didn’t you leave?”
“I can’t. Look.”
She grabs my hand, hauls me around Serpen’s scaly shield and back behind the cart. I don’t fight because there’s no way I’d beat her in a strength contest and, in any event, I’m curious. Granted, that’s hardly a good thing as the scowl on Serpen’s face indicates. Still, I crouch beside the homicidal poisoner and join her in peering through wheel spokes at the slithering mass of despots. There he is, her murderous lover, bang in the midst, being tossed from snake to snake, bouncing off their tails. It’s far from a fun game, at least for him.
The once proud wolf with the stunning smile and gorgeous hair looks a wreck. I don’t know why I didn’t notice it before. His clothes are torn and coated with mud, his hair plastered to his face with what looks like gooey snake spit, but it’s the humiliating defeat in his eyes that strikes me most, all the fight having been stripped from his soul.
“When we arrived,” Decipa whispers, “he spoke to the king as an equal, as an Alpha Prince, but the king believes he has no equal and felt slighted. I tried to tell Fidus, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He was offered power to give up everything he knew of the pack. Once he did, well, it was clear the king lied. I grovel in the dirt and I’m mostly left alone, but they treat Fidus as a toy. When the king tires of him, he’s threatened to eat him alive, to slowly digest in the belly of that monster.”
Ok, I wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone, poisoner of my Curt or no.
“When the king came back from your town,” she continues, “he was so angry he had Fidus swallowed by a serpent and spat out again, three times.”
Yuck.
“Come with us,” I offer. I think Ursid could take the weight of us both, since she’s light.
Decipa shakes her head. “I know who Fidus is, better than anyone. Who I am. But I can’t just abandon him. I’m all the hope he has. He’ll give up if I run. And where would I run?”
“Oh damn, you really do love him, don’t you?” I ask, already knowing the answer. It doesn’t excuse what she did, but it explains it.
“Please, I’m begging you, when you can, get us out of here.”
I glance up at Serpen, whose ridged head briefly nods. UrRahUm has gone back to sleep and slowly wilts sideways until the serpent props him up.
“Alright, we’ll do what we can,” I tell her, wondering what our wolves will make of that promise.
She nods once. “I’ll make a scene about Fidus and draw them away. And thank you.”
By the time I think of something to say, she’s already left, jogging through the writhing obstacle course, heading for the serpents’ plaything. Serpen gives me a quiet hiss and I hold up a finger as a sign to wait.
“Stop it. Leave him alone,” Decipa shrieks, letting out an unearthly wolf howl that echoes around the camp, drawing the bemused gaze of surrounding serpents. The slithering all diverts in the direction of the besieged wolves and I suspect the price of our diversion will be mightily unpleasant for them both.
I dart out from behind the cart and just before the mass of snake descends upon him, Fidus’ gaze catches and locks on mine. Then he’s gone, suctioned beneath a wave of scales and hissing. I dash behind Serpen, poking the slumbering moggy. “Wake up and move.”
“What?” UrRahUm growls, jerking awake. “Oh. Yes. I’m walking.” He heads back to the cart.
“Wrong way,” I point out, grabbing him by a tooth.
He rotates and wobbles towards the trees. Serpen slithers in the direction of the waiting eagles and bears, alternately undulating and stretching in an attempt to shield us from any wandering serpent gaze, but Decipa’s sacrifice is truly saving us. When we reach that glorious patch of undergrowth, furry paws loop from behind the trees and drag the weaving cat undercover.
“Mind the fur,” UrRahUm grumbles.
I hurtle into the trees, bouncing straight off the feathered body of a quivering eagle, incandescent with rage, eyes barely slits in his bald head.
“What?” I whisper. “We’re back, plus one large cat.”
UrRahUm tries to grin and ends up looking psychotic. Adamo’s bear stands up on his back legs and using his front paws, grabs the surprised cat under the armpits. Ursid grabs the back end and off they waddle further into the trees.
“Watch the tail,” moans the cat, that appendage currently wavering very near Ursid’s teeth. “I’ll have you know I’m a mage.”
“Grrongrarugrarons,” growls a straining Adamo which, using my powers of ursine interpretation, means ‘Congratulations.’
A naked Serpen pops up beside me and I swing the backpack into the mud, hauling out his creased clothes at top speed. Once he’s dressed, he grabs the backpack and we take off after the bears. We’re pretty much in the clear when the carriers drop their feline deadweight, the cat having passed out from the trauma of being carted through the trees like a side of beef. It’s just as well he’s out of it because worse is yet to come. The bears upend him onto his back, leaving his underbelly on display to the world and dumping his head in the weeds.
Gulid squawks and I step back as he flaps and takes to the air. Wings hesitates, giving me the beady eye.
“Go,” I order. “The quicker you deliver him, the quicker you can come back for me.”
He leans forwards, tapping that beak on my cranium before lifting from the mud. Gulid flies in, wrapping a claw around each of UrRahUm’s back legs. Wings grabs the front paws and up they rise, UrRahUm hanging beneath, head and tail lolling free. The cat’s eyes open, surveying the upside down terrain. I swear he semi shrugs before nodding off again.
I’m staring up at a low flying tigerlion, skimming the treetops, when a massive bear hug engulfs me, blocking out the light.
“Let’s run, Ursid,” I tell him.
He drops to all fours and keels over, allowing me to scramble on board. Serpen is already mounted on the ginger prince, sitting bolt upright as though riding into battle. He’s got the grace, I’ve got the terror, so I wrap my arms around the bear’s thick neck and cling on for dear life. Gripping is going to be murder on middle-aged thighs, I can tell you that for nothing.
“They’re in for a surprise when he arrives,” I call to Serpen.
“I only hope you’re right about all this,” the snake replies.
Me too, Serpen. Me too.
