Chapter 6

Children of the Sh’azhar

Ly’Tana went down.

The earth undulated in a rolling up and down motion, forcing Rufus to brace his hooves to prevent the soil beneath him from flipping him arse over nostrils. I seized my pommel, prepared to kick my way from the saddle should Rufus be thrown hard to the ground. Behind me, I heard sharp curses, neighs of fear and a short scream from Arianne.

“Earthquake!” Corwyn yelled over the roar of the demented river.

No shit, I half-thought.

“Ly’Tana!" Kel’Ratan shrieked her name, his voice high and womanish.

I peered down, into the canyon.

Her buckskin stallion rolled over, his hooves, kicking and thrashing, hit the air for a fleet moment before the river’s swift current struck him again. Tumbling over and over, caught in the cascading river, his head emerged long enough for him to gasp a quick lungful of air. The powerful surge then washed him sideways and down. Ly’Tana’s hair breached the surface, an arm broke through to air when the stallion rolled her under again.

Beside me, Kel’Ratan cursed, a choking sound deep in his throat. He made to push his horse past Rufus, but both horses were too big for the narrow space. He couldn’t get his horse past mine. Cursing again, he reined his stallion back to perhaps kick him straight over the cliff edge. His bay scrambled to keep his feet under him as the earth shook herself, a cat killing the mouse in its teeth. That most effectively halted his foolish notion.

I don’t know if it was a rock or a hoof that struck her head. Ly’Tana went instantly still. The river tossed her about like a child’s toy, cascading down around and over her. Her limp body showed at the surface for a fleet instant, then disappeared into the churning, roiling water. Whitecaps closed over the spot where she’d been.

“Ly’Tana!” Kel’Ratan’s wail of sheer despair bit deep into my soul. I glanced over my shoulder as Rufus half-bucked, trying to maintain his balance and me on his back.

The earthquake wasn’t finished.

The identical black stallions belonging to Left and Right skidded into one another, whinnying with panic. Corwyn’s ugly roan kept his feet and his balance with an effort, as the grey mare reared, tossing Tor to the quivering ground. Only Corwyn’s firm hand on her bridle prevented her from falling backward and crushing Arianne beneath her solid weight. Rannon cursed fluently as his horse backed up, strong legs splayed wide.

“Where is she?”

Rannon’s voice rose above the din, the roar of the river, the crashing of timbers, the half-panicked voices of the horses and no few of the warriors.

“I don’t see her!” Witraz yelled, forcing his piebald closer to the cliff edge, peering down.

I kicked Rufus.

He answered with more courage, more intelligence, more nerve than any horse I’d ever met. He leaped out and down, lunging down the side of the rocky cliff face. Down the side of the cliff I’d just stopped Kel’Ratan from forcing his horse into jumping. He took both of us into the unknown, into incredible danger, where gravity could kill us both before we could reach Ly’Tana. He leaped without hesitation, without consideration of what that leap held for him.

He jumped because I asked.

I lay back against Rufus’s rump, across the cantle, keeping my weight back and preventing it from interfering with Rufus’s balance. Straight down he galloped, his big hooves finding something, anything, to put his weight to.

I think Rufus’s hooves hit the rocky side, using the rocks like a springboard. Airborne again, his flattened ears disappearing into his flying mane to cut the wind, he crashed through thickets that long ago found roots within the cliff wall. How he kept his footing and didn’t topple heels over head with me under him, I’ll never know. Rufus’s powerful legs held strong under our combined weights.

Kicking out against the steep cliff side, he propelled his huge body upward and outward. His front legs stretched out long in front of him, his hindquarters extended behind, Rufus hit the water belly-first.

The boiling, bucking river became a maelstrom. Shattered rock was strewn throughout the passage. Broken tree branches slammed into his body. The evil currents threatened to turn him head over tail, but he fought them off. Despite my immense weight on his back, he held firm against the rushing waters that wanted to flow over his head and knock him off his feet.

Kicking free of my stirrups, I dove headfirst into the dirty, white and grey churning water.

Instantly, I felt the river’s power, its awesome strength, the magnitude of its seemingly fragile environment. The waves didn’t part before me. They tumbled me ass over heels. Breasting the water with my arms, I broke through to the surface. Like an unruly bronco, the earth bucked again and tossed entire trees and their roots into the raging waters of the swollen river.

Rufus, without the impediment of my weight on his back, stumbled to safety on the other side. Water sluiced from his hide, his mane, dragging his tail as he cantered, lunging, up the bank. He turned, whinnying, his reins tangled in his mane, half-rearing. He called for me, panicked that I hadn’t followed him.

I looked downstream. Ly’Tana’s body floated near the surface of the river, bobbing like a cork in its still powerful embrace. Swept swiftly downstream, her unconscious body streaked downriver, only rods from the killing rapids. I saw no sign of her horse. I glanced upstream. Two or three stout oak trees that had once graced the top of the cliff now rushed toward me, spiked roots, bare and deadly, fronting the frothing waves.

If the rapids hadn’t killed Ly’Tana, those trees would.

Caught between them, she stood no chance.

Diving again, I allowed the rushing water to claim me, tumbling me head over heels, faster and faster. I stroked my arms with it, my booted feet pushing me along, my strong arms giving me my much needed control. I pushed downriver faster than Ly’Tana.

How would I find her? Half blinded by the churning grey and white water, I reached out with my hands. Luck may have played some role, for the river narrowed considerably. The water rushed faster, taking Ly’Tana and I with it, but there was only so much space for a human. My fingers touched leather and skin.

Seizing her body, I kicked off the river’s rocky bottom. My hair streaming water and hanging over my face, I surfaced. I held Ly’Tana’s limp form by her tiny waist, upright. I could breathe air but saw nothing. My own thick black hair blinded me, sticking tight to my face.

Holding her above the swift water, allowing the river to carry us along, I kept her head clear above the water.

I shook my face, a quick sharp shake. But I cleared only one eye from its clinging prison of wet tendrils of my hair. I peered through the heavy mass, and discovered I faced upriver.

The trees hadn’t given up. Caught in the grasp of the angry river, they hurled toward us faster than a running horse. Spiked and deadly roots reached to enfold us in their stiff embrace.

They’d hit me, within seconds, with the speed of a charging bull.

And Ly’Tana.

I seized her about her tiny firm waist and lifted, crying out with the effort. I leaped high, higher than the rushing waves, her red-gold hair sticking wetly across her face and neck. I braced myself against the horrid, eager, deadly current.

I screamed a single name.

“Bar!”

I never saw him. I’ve no idea if he even heard me. I hurled her upward, into the talons I hoped were hovering, waiting, above me.

Darkness cooled the sun, dampening her bright rays. Colossal wings shadowed both me and the fragile creature now held by her upper arms by huge eagle’s talons, her legs dragging the water. Heavy wing beats pushed the river back, a fleeting, quick, push of air that temporarily sent the waves backwards, onto themselves. I fell back, free of her weight as Bar lifted her clear of the churning river and carried her to safety.

Deep within my mind, I heard a dark snarl. I felt from deep within me an evil cry of rage and hate and death.

I had no time to think about that sound, that creepy voice. The trees hadn’t given up their chase.

I didn’t care where Bar took her. Swept by the current, the trees would hit me in seconds. A lightning glance told me the rapids now had me in their control. Huge boulders broke through the churning surface. My body would break, caught between the sharp tree roots and the rocks of the rapids. Downriver, trees killed by previous floods awaited me with open snags like welcoming arms.

I caught a gasp of air, filled my lungs, and dove down.

Stroking to the right side of the cliff, I hoped the trees might miss, passing me by above and to my left.

Wrong. I wasn’t quite quick enough.

Pain exploded into my left shoulder as tree roots slashed me. Tumbled helplessly out of control, I slammed into a boulder. Still caught in the fast current’s grip, I scraped into another, and rolled sideways over a third. The fourth loomed in my wavering sight.

“Lie on your back with your feet pointing downriver.”

I obeyed the voice. Thrashing with my arms, I righted myself, gasped air and rolled up. Thus with my legs to the front, I hit and slid past yet more boulders. None managed to catch me between the river and themselves, for my legs acted almost like a boat and sent me sailing through them along with the flow. I also breathed.

The deadly trees, now downriver from me, jammed on several large rocks and lodged there. A wild tangle of branches, trunks and bared roots snarled into one very large impediment to both the river and me. The river smashed into and over them, white spume flying high. Now ’twas I who would crash into them.

“Grab hold!”

I didn’t know whether the voice was inside my head or outside, but I obeyed. Switching my legs once more to point upriver, I steered with both arms and legs toward the center of the nearest tree, crosswise against the river’s flood. A section of its trunk lay stripped bare of many of its branches. Stroking my arms, I aimed for that small bit of safe haven.

I hit the tree hard, knocking my breath from me. I grabbed its rough trunk and held on tight.

The river tried to tear me from it, shoving hard with the full might of the earthquake and its own body behind it. I held on, my arms wrapped about its sturdy stability, my head out of the raging flood. I gasped in a lungful of precious air, my chest on fire. Broken ribs, I thought, haphazard.

Despite the spray and foam, I looked around. The river sneaked around the tangle, washing over boulders, crashing high against the cliffs. Stone walls, jagged with sharp boulders and rocks, to either side met my eyes. Spots of green and brown where tough shrubs had taken roots sprouted. Not much help there.

I looked up.

On the right-hand cliff top where I hoped they might be, ranged the Kel’Hallans on their horses. Corwyn sat his ugly roan with Arianne, her face white and horrified as she stared down at me. Rannon and the two blonde warriors, Yuri and Yuras, yelled soundlessly. Tor stood beside the grey mare, his skin milky white. Where was Kel’Ratan? Where were the twins?

Where was Ly’Tana?

The land quieted. Its rage spent, the earth ceased its violent spasms and lay still once more. Eyes ringed white with fear, the Kel’Hallan horses danced in place, worried the soil might yet rise up and slay them. No few fingers of their riders made the signs to ward off great evil. Arianne’s tears lay stark against her pale cheeks, her hand tightly grasped by Corwyn’s calloused fingers. I saw no sign of Kel’Ratan, Bar or Mikk. Where were they? Where was Ly’Tana?

Off his piebald horse, Witraz swung a rope. Where the hell did he get that bloody thing? High over his head, he swung the noose, knotted to form a huge loop.

What the hell was he trying to do? Round and round the loop twirled, his lean warrior’s body bent at the knees. The sphere grew bigger. While I could not hear it over the noise of the raging rapids, I imagined it whistled.

He cast it.

Out and down the loop fell.

It hit the raging water several feet to my left. I could not reach for it, for that meant leaving the security the trees offered. I let it go, realizing the heavy trunks afforded more safety. In them, I still lived and breathed air.

The rope drew back as Witraz wound it back in. Raising my head, I watched his hands widen the loop, shake it out and begin to twirl again.

This time the loop fell just behind my head. I reached for it, but the river’s force sent it downstream too quickly for me to grab hold.

Witraz, his one eye grim with determination, recoiled his noose for another try. Gathering it, dripping, into his hands, he shouted down to me, his voice unheard.

‘Hang on, big guy,’ he might have bellowed. Or, ‘catch it this time, fool’, I’ll never know.

Whatever he said, I readied myself.

Come on, you one-eyed genius, I silently urged him. You’re getting better.

Once more he shook out the loop. His fellow Kel’Hallans offered him tips, their hands pointing, twirling imaginary ropes over their heads. Arianne and Corwyn sat silent, tense, saying nothing but waiting with frantic faith for Witraz’s idea to work. My own desperate hope probably matched theirs, for I saw no way out of this abyss I found myself in this side of death. Unless that one-eyed bandit managed to rope me, I was a dead man.

Witraz once more cast his rope, his arm flinging the loop out and down, his wrist snapping sharply.

Wide and sure, it settled around my shoulders. I shoved my left arm through the circle, my right occupied with holding my body fast to the tree’s trunk.

Witraz snaked it closed.

“Hold on!” he yelled.

This I heard clearly.

Drawing it snug, he tied the rope to the pommel of his saddle. I hope his horse is strong enough, I thought with an inane chuckle.

Witraz, still on the ground, pulled on his piebald’s reins, asking the courageous stallion to back up.

The rope tightened painfully around my injured shoulder and chest. I let go of the tree trunk and grabbed the rope. The river’s forced bashed me into the spikes, breaking several off, before its current washed me around the terrible snag. I hadn’t escaped that encounter unscathed I knew, but ignored the smaller problems for the larger one.

For a moment, I was caught between the river’s fury and the piebald. Who would win? The rope cut off almost all my breath. I sucked in a trickle as I was dragged out of the water and bounced along the top of it like a child’s toy. The rope cut into my vitals and dug into my broken ribs like a knife. I shut my eyes, the sickening nausea swirling my vision into a nasty tempest.

The river didn’t let go without a fight. It slammed me into a boulder. Now I had no breath to even try to get into my lungs.

Dimly I heard yells of encouragement and whistles above the noise of the rapids. If I didn’t die from the lack of air, I thought dimly, the rope was going to cut me in half.

I pulled down with my strong hand on it, creating a tiny bit of slack around my chest. ’Twas enough for me to suck in a quick breath, anyway. I inhaled a couple of times before the cliff hit me in the face.

Dragged inexorably upward by the strong Kel’Hallan stallion, I bumped over the savage rocks before some sense returned to my head.

Use your legs, dumb ass.

Kicking away from its granite face, streaming river water, I fended off the cliff face with my legs, easing the danger of the rocks. Walking, hitching, I crept my slow way up the sheer side of the cliff. Pacing the steps of the piebald, he finally dragged me over the top to lie, gasping, face down, breathing dirt and precious air. The hot agony of the rope lessened as Witraz ceased backing his horse and asked him to step forward, putting much needed slack into it.

Helping hands turned me over. Long hair framed worried, concerned faces. Hands checked me for injuries, finding several bloody gashes and my broken ribs when I winced, coughing. My vision blurred as the hands slipped the rope from my chest, yet I craned my head, frantic.

I sought for, and found, Witraz’s lean face with its one blue eye and eye patch. I grasped his hand.

“Where the hell did you learn that trick?” I gasped, struggling to sit up.

Despite the hands that tried to hold me down, I half sat forward, my right hand holding Witraz’s wrist.

My left shoulder sang out with white hot agony, my chest burned with fire, and an untold number of cuts, bruises and scrapes set up their own choir. Ignoring the chorus, I let Witraz’s strong hand heave me to my feet.

“The Yuonese y’bex drovers,” he said. His shoulder under my arm helped me remain upright.

“This is idiocy, he should lie down.”

“Witraz, put him down, dammit.”

Those voices, like their hands, failed to connect. Drawing in another lungful of sweet air, wincing, I focused on Witraz and his single amused blue eye.

I leaned away from him, my hair, still streaming water and blood, all but blinded me, hung in my face. I peered through it. He tossed his own hair away from his face with his free hand, his grin growing wider.

“The what?”

“They caught Bar that way,” he explained.

His other hand not supporting me, twirled an imaginary rope.

Rannon paused in the act of inspecting my bleeding left shoulder and cuffed him upside his head.

Witraz lurched, and almost dumped me headfirst into the dirt. “Your Highness,” he added hastily.

I began to laugh. It hurt, I coughed, and I laughed.

When I could breathe, I looked Witraz in his one eye, meeting his jaunty grin with one of my own.

I cupped his neck with my hand. “Witraz, you are hereby exempt from ever calling me ‘Your Highness’ again.”

Arianne ducked out from behind Corwyn’s protection and ran toward me. With a sharp hip shot, she jolted Rannon out of her way.

“Are you all right?” she cried, tears running down her face. “I thought you were dead!”

I dropped my left arm around her shoulder, her body tight against my very painful left ribcage. While she tried hard to offer support, her tiny body could do little. Her arm couldn’t even reach across my waist.

I peered down at her, a grin quirking my lips. She looked up, her magnificent eyes swimming tears.

“Oh, ye of little faith.”

Her sense of humor wasn’t quite as impulsive as Ly’Tana’s. She stared at me for a moment. Then her shocked laugh burst forth like a bubble. Choking on her laughter, Arianne snorted her own tears.

I couldn’t help it. I laughed along with her, Witraz joining me. I had no idea whether Ly’Tana still lived, yet I could not cease. I laughed for the sheer joy of it. I laughed until sheer exhaustion took control.

His strong shoulder under me, I limped forward, still chuckling. Arianne supported me from my other side, her arm cradling my broken ribs. Without medical training, she still knew what was necessary and best.

The Kel’Hallans followed behind us in not exactly a solemn parade. Yuri and Yuras, I heard, retold the story of my rescue with Tor, even though they all three witnessed it firsthand. Silent, Corwyn walked behind us, leading both his gelding and the grey mare. Alun cursed under his breath as Rannon swung a stick like a sword and murdered innocent thickets.

Left and Right spurred their black stallions forward and past me, only to rein them in again.

A shadow fell between us and the sun.

Bar screeched overhead. I glanced up, seeing his long lion body, colossal wings and tail with its black tufted tip before he was blotted out by the trees. Bar? Where is she?

Banking high, in a graceful curve, he flew once more into my sight, his fierce eagle head and beak angling down to see us better. Then he vanished once more behind the trees.

Cantering hooves caught my attention. I stopped, Witraz and Arianne stopping with me, as Kel’Ratan on his bay loped up to the top of the cliff and into my sight. Left and Right, finally releasing their identical blacks, cantered toward him only to rein them in again as they circled to flank him.

Within the protective circle of Kel’Ratan’s arms sat Ly’Tana.

Blood still oozed from the gash in her forehead and crept in a small red river down her cheek. Her red-gold hair, now a dark brown with river water, lay plastered against her neck and shoulders. Where it touched, blood turned her tendrils black. Her skin, normally a light almond shade, now appeared an unhealthy pale yellow.

Yet, invariably, her green eyes fastened on me.

Her bright emerald eyes alight with life and pain rested on me with love and laughter.

I grinned. With the aid of my two living crutches, I limped to her. I had no use of either hand, but I needed none. Staring up into her flashing eyes, I kissed her with my gaze. Her lips pursed in an answering kiss before they curved into a faint smile.

“Ly’Tana, my love,” I murmured. “Care to dance?”

Her smile widened into a wan grin. “Not tonight, dear,” she said. “I have a headache.”

We chuckled together for a moment. With the adrenaline rush past, my body began to ache in earnest. White fire coursed through my veins, setting every beat of my pulse ablaze. Nausea and dizziness now made their presence known and felt. Had I not had Witraz’s strong shoulder, I know I’d fall on my face. Peering up into Ly’Tana’s eyes, I suspected her skull felt like it was going to split.

“How do you feel?” I asked muzzily.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Like I been rode hard, put up wet.”

My laugh almost dropped me to the ground. Kel’Ratan tightened his arms about her, his mustache bristling more stiffly than usual. Were his eyes moist or was that a figment from my dizzying nausea?

He scowled. “She almost died,” he snapped.

That silenced the low-voiced talk and my laughter. Witraz stiffened. I exchanged a long slow glance with him and gazed back up at Ly’Tana. She smiled faintly and offered a wry half-shrug.

“If you hadn’t gotten to her so quick—” Kel’Ratan choked off.

“Relax, Kel’Ratan,” Ly’Tana said, squeezing his arms about her waist with her hands. “I’ll be fine.”

“You were dead, girl,” he growled. His fierce intense blue gaze never left me. “If you’d missed, or been slower—”

He glanced up, jerking his chin upward where Bar circled lazily, his own eagle’s eyes watching us, his ears perked to listen to every word. “If Bar hadn’t been there, she’d be dead right now.”

“Well—” I began but Kel’Ratan cut me off with a savage scowl.

“She wasn’t breathing when Bar took her from you,” he said, his voice thick. “I laid her face down and pushed the water from her lungs. She still didn’t breathe. She had no heartbeat. In panic, I hit her hard between her shoulders.”

“Bloody hell,” Ly’Tana murmured. “That’s why my back hurts.”

“Only then did she cough and choke and start breathing again.”

I quirked a brow. “Then I reckon she owes her life to all three of us.”

“That’s not—”

Unable to use either hand, I scowled to silence him. He shut his mouth and looked away from me, staring down at the dirt and rocks under his stirrup. “I know,” I said quietly. “But she’s alive, Kel’Ratan. Against all odds, we are all still alive.”

“How’s her horse, m’lord?” Rannon asked. “Was he injured?”

By the expression on Ly’Tana’s face, I knew the news wasn’t good. Her pale expression didn’t change, but tears tracked down her cheeks, joining the river water that still streamed down from her hair. Kel’Ratan sniffed, his lips, almost buried under the thick red mustache, pursed.

“He’s hurt pretty good,” he said gruffly. “Dead lame. He’s over yonder with Rygel’s black and Raine’s bay. Alun is caring for him.”

“Across the river?” I asked.

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Can we cross it?”

“Barring any more earthquakes, yes.”

I dreaded the idea of walking chest deep across the river. Maybe they’d let me stay on this side of the river for a while. For maybe a day or ten, until I felt a little better. Sitting down, or maybe even lying down, sounded very attractive.

Don’t even think it.

I sighed. That was a mistake. Pain shot through my chest and shoulder, setting off a chain reaction in other areas also battered by the pounding given by the river and rocks.

“Witraz, put him on your horse.”

I didn’t even realize Kel’Ratan spoke of me until Rannon took Witraz’s place under my shoulder, Arianne disappeared and the piebald stallion stepped up.

“Sorry, but you aren’t strong enough,” I murmured as Rannon steered me toward the fur-covered saddle.

“Oh, I think we’re strong enough, m’lord,” Witraz said from behind me.

Before I could react, the two warriors ducked their shoulders and caught me low, then literally heaved me upward. Not wishing to topple headfirst over the piebald’s off side, I grabbed the pommel and lifted my leg. That set me squarely in Witraz’s saddle. I did, however, gasp with pain, earning me a worried glance from Ly’Tana.

“No worries, Your Highness,” Witraz said cheerfully. “He’s a tough nut.”

I managed to stay upright with an effort. The piebald’s tense ears told me he didn’t like me there.

Kel’Ratan turned his bay around, and at a careful walk, set the pace downhill, back along the narrow trail. Left and Right, with identical salutes to me, turned their mounts to follow directly behind them.

Witraz took up his horse’s reins and began to walk. I turned my head, quite a feat considering my dizziness, to find Arianne and Tor once more on the grey with Corwyn leading. He offered me a half-salute and no smile. Rannon vaulted into his horse’s saddle to ride directly behind me, while Yuri and Yuras once more rode rear guard.

The piebald pinned his ears and tossed his head, clearly not liking the situation. I’d a hundred pounds or more on the lean, broad-shouldered Witraz and his horse didn’t like the addition. I hoped he wasn’t thinking of bucking me off. In my current state, I’d never stay on.

Witraz merely hissed through his teeth and the stallion settled immediately. Belatedly, I realized that none of the Kel’Hallans ever hit or struck their horses. Any disciplinary action, while few, consisted of words, clucks or hisses. While they all rode with spurs, I had yet to see a warrior use them.

Witraz led his stallion down the incline and into the now calm river. While the river itself had returned to its peaceful route, it now flowed through and over carnage. Broken trees and huge rocks filled the previous quiet course. Its bed had been altered radically.

The cliff top, having fallen into the depths, formed a new churning set of rapids. Where once the river’s graceful turn and bend had sent the river peacefully downstream, now the rapids had grown by a hundred rods or so. While I didn’t think we could traverse the newly formed rapids, Kel’Ratan found a new ford just above them. Once across, we were forced to ride along the far side among the broken rock to the game trail and up onto the plains.

The water came up chest high on Witraz. He flashed me a quick grin as the cold river soaked me to the thigh. The flow, while swifter than previous, wasn’t as dangerous as the earthquake’s effect. None of the horses, nor people, had any difficulty in traversing the once deadly river.

Witraz trotted up the incline of the other side, the lower half of his strawberry hair wet and everything below his chest streaming water. Behind us, Corwyn loped his gelding up the steep incline, towing the frightened grey mare and her spooked passengers. Rannon’s horse kicked a bit when he reached the top, a quick buck before settling down, his hide drenched. Yuri and Yuras galloped over the top before reining sharply in, their heads turned over their shoulders as they watched our backtrail for unwanted additions.

Leaving Ly’Tana’s stricken buckskin, Alun ran forward. He didn’t help her out of Kel’Ratan’s lap as much as pick Ly’Tana off it to lie in his strong arms. Ly’Tana didn’t protest, but wrapped her arms about his neck. She shut her eyes, clearly pained by the movement.

My two crutches, Witraz and Rannon, caught my weight as I slid down from the wet piebald. While they tried to be gentle, too many places on my body felt either bent or broken. Without their aid, I might simply have dropped to the ground in a disorganized heap and curled into a fetal position. Taking on much of my weight with their arms under my shoulders, they helped me to gingerly sit in the shade of a large oak. The only tree in the large meadow this side of the river.

I leaned back on my relatively uninjured right shoulder, while my badly damaged left burned, bled and throbbed. I grasped my left arm with my right hand, trying to find a position where it didn’t hurt so much and hold it still. Fortunately, the sun’s power warmed me despite my chilling dunk in the river. My clothes and hair, still wringing wet, began to slowly dry in the late summer heat.

From across the meadow, the wolf pup’s cries blew across the breeze sharp and clear. In the last half hour of near death for both Ly’Tana and I, I’d forgotten the poor infant. He cried from the saddlebag I had pushed him into to keep him safe and my hands clear.

Arianne shoved Witraz aside to kneel beside me. Her hand on my brow, she peered anxiously into my eyes as though she had the slightest clue as to how to heal.

“Where does it hurt?” she asked.

I chuckled and caught my breath. “Where doesn’t it?”

Alun dropped to his knees, Ly’Tana still in his arms. As though the slightest movement might strike her dead, he slowly and carefully set her in the shade beside me. The others dismounted their horses, loosened saddle girths and set the animals to grazing.

After the hard work of the last hour, no few beasts walked to the river for a drink, Rufus among them. The pup, alone, frightened and hungry, howled.

“Do me a favor.” I cupped Arianne’s chin in my sort of healthy right hand. “Go fetch the kid, will you? He’s hungry and scared silly.”

Arianne nodded. Hiking up her skirts, she ran across the meadow toward Rufus. Fortunately, he ambled back up the incline from his drink, shortening the distance. Belatedly, I realized my error in sending her. Rufus hadn’t mellowed at all in the last several weeks and his I-don’t-much-like-you attitude hadn’t changed. The Kel’Hallans had gotten very good, and very nimble, at dodging his teeth and hooves. Would he bite her? Kick her? Her tiny body and his great feet….

I straightened in rising alarm.

Arianne discovered her small size and his large height didn’t match up very well. She couldn’t reach my saddlebags much less the crying whelp inside. Rufus looked down on her from his great height, as though at an interesting new specimen he’d never encountered before.

Without the slightest fear, she grabbed him by the bridle and all but dragged him to a nearby boulder. With short words and shoves she positioned him to her liking. Rufus endured her pushing and orders with a resigned patience. He turned his blazed head to watch her curiously, his reins hanging to his knees. Climbing on the rock, she could fetch the pup from his leather prison.

With a slap on his rump, she sent Rufus on his way. She jumped clumsily down, the wolf whelp overflowing her small arms. Snorting, Rufus ambled away, his nose to the grass.

I sagged back, in shock.

“She’s no threat to him, m’lord,” Witraz murmured. “He knows that. He’s incredibly intelligent.”

“Like you have to tell me,” I muttered.

Bar flew in, his great wings cupping the breeze to slow his descent. Settling onto the grassy earth, he furled his wings over his shoulders. With a chirp that sounded like concern, to my ears, he ambled toward the tree and his beloved mistress.

She managed a smile and a weak flip of her hand to him. He shook his neck feathers, chirped at me and walked to the river to get his own drink, his lion tail flipping quietly back and forth. I had no idea what he might have said to me, and didn’t care enough to ask Ly’Tana to translate.

Kel’Ratan returned from another examination of Ly’Tana’s horse, shaking his head.

“He’ll be all right with time,” he said gruffly. “Unfortunately, we don’t have that luxury.”

“Brutal will get another army together,” Ly’Tana said wearily, leaning her battered head against the tree trunk and closing her eyes. “This time he won’t try to negotiate.”

“Rufus is the strongest,” I murmured, imitating Ly’Tana. The world spinning and dipping made my nausea that much worse. While shutting my eyes didn’t help matters, at least I didn’t have to look at the world spinning and dipping. “He can carry us both. We can go on, stay ahead of him.”

“That may very well be,” Kel’Ratan snapped, moving about restlessly. “But we can only move as fast as Mikk and at his pace a crippled snail will overtake us.”

“Maybe we should just shoot him,” Tor offered brightly.

Knowing how Ly’Tana felt about her horse, I stiffened, expecting her female fury to descend.

“I’ll shoot you first, Tor,” Ly’Tana replied tiredly. “Then I’ll rid myself of your damn mouth.”

“He’s just a horse,” Tor said, his tone now sullen.

I don’t know who did the deed, but someone cuffed him sharply. I distinctly heard the smack of flesh on bone, Tor’s yelp of pain and the quick scurry of his feet as he fled.

“Much better,” Ly’Tana sighed.

I both heard and felt her slide sideways and downward until her head pillowed on my lap. I took my strong right hand off my left arm and cupped her still-wet cheek.

“Very much better,” she murmured on a soft gust of breath.

“And what will we do with you two?” Kel’Ratan demanded. “Neither of you are fit to ride a donkey.”

“Oh, please feel free to shoot me,” I said. Sleep, or unconsciousness, hovered close. My head had taken almost as much of a pounding as Ly’Tana’s. “Put me out of my misery.”

“Me, too,” Ly’Tana muttered sleepily.

“Don’t you dare.” Arianne tried for a growl but what emerged sounded more of a low-voiced plea.

I opened one eye blearily. With the wolf filling her arms, she looked lost and as frightened as the pup. He nuzzled under her chin, licking with a tiny tongue as though trying to comfort.

“He’s trying to be funny, girl.” Kel’Ratan could growl effectively when he wanted to.

Soothed by the quiet breeze, the distant river and the low-voiced conversations, I drifted.

A loud, vibrating whistling sound, as though gravel propelled by a fierce wind tore through the treetops, startled me awake. I sat up, jolting Ly’Tana and all my various aches into crying aloud.

Kel’Ratan, squatting nearby, jumped to his feet and drew his sword. Arianne tightened her hold on the pup, looking around, fear thinning her lips and widening her glorious grey-blue eyes. Alun, Rannon and Witraz, having wandered a short distance away to keep weather eye on the horses and potential danger, also seized steel and ran toward the lone tree. The twins, just behind its bulk, stepped close to flank Ly’Tana. I didn’t see Yuri, Yuras or Tor.

The sound grew louder, sharper, filling the air with its vibration. I looked up. Bar galloped back from the river, his wings half-furled, his huge beak wide as he gazed upward. Whatever it was, it came from the sky. I started to my feet, my shoulder and ribs protesting mightily.

A dark object blew past the tree and struck the earth. Grass and dirt flew up in a shower, cascading around and concealing the form that hit the earth like a meteor.

Rygel’s body maintained its forward momentum even after hitting ground, his legs running at a fast stagger to keep his feet under him. His black cloak flying like a banner, his arms flailed to keep some semblance of balance. He finally arrived at a jangling halt several rods past the tree.

With the eyes of every man, woman, horse and griffin on him, Rygel walked back, brushing dirt and grass from his clothing. He froze, his hand on his shoulder to straighten his cloak, our condition registering at last. His hands on his hips, he scowled, his wild mane of blonde hair lifting under the light meadow breeze.

“Just what the hell did I miss?” he demanded.

With a low cry, Arianne dropped the pup on my legs and launched herself toward him. Throwing herself into his arms with enough force to make him stagger, she began to cry. He held her close for a moment, his tawny eyes shut in either relief or pain.

I sat back as the Kel’Hallans returned swords to sheaths. My wolf child sat down and whined until I seized him by his ruff and snuggled him next to Ly’Tana. There he quieted when her hand reached out to rub him. The horses dropped heads to graze and Bar sat down, coiling his tail around his talons. Its black furry tip twitched spasmodically. Ly’Tana groaned, her arm around the wolf, and buried her face in my belly.

In a very un-Arianne like motion, Arianne stepped away and suddenly smacked Rygel hard on the arm.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?” she screeched. “I’ve been worried sick!”

Rygel yelped in pain and clutched his arm. “Damn, woman,” he gasped. “Careful, I’m injured.”

I lifted my head to peer more closely.

Blood oozed down from a cut over his left eye, another over his cheekbone. More blood stained his tunic over his right shoulder, the arm he clutched in pain. Sweat had dampened his hair into dark yellow tendrils that clung to his face and neck. Only then did I notice his exhaustion, his pale pallor, the deep lines drawn around his mouth.

“What happened?” I asked. “Ja’Teel get the better of you?”

Rygel grimaced, taking a now apologetic Arianne into his healthy left arm. “He’s a fine swordsman,” he admitted. “I couldn’t get past his guard. I only outlasted him by being more stubborn than he.”

“You still didn’t kill him?” Kel’Ratan roared.

Rygel winced and looked away. He shook his head without speaking.

“What the bloody hell good are you then?” Kel’Ratan stalked toward him, waving his arms. “You can’t kill that bloody devil-boy, you can’t heal worth a tinker’s damn and you’re never around when we need you. Why don’t you just fly away so we don’t have to feed you anymore?”

Cursing and muttering under his breath, he marched away from the tree toward Ly’Tana’s buckskin, Alun in tow.

“How badly are you hurt?” Rygel asked, hunkering down in front of us, a worried frown puckering his brow.

“Not much,” Ly’Tana and I both answered at the same time.

I chuckled, wincing, while Ly’Tana giggled into my stomach.

“I can see that,” Rygel said, reaching out his left hand to touch Ly’Tana’s head. His right he kept tucked tight against his ribcage. “I’ll heal you both, but I’m tapped out right now.”

“No,” Ly’Tana said, struggling to sit up.

Unsteady on his small legs, the pup stood up and waddled toward me. His blue eyes blinking, his tiny pink tongue washing his nose, he whimpered. I pulled him into my now vacant lap. He snuggled close, folding his legs under him, watching the humans around him with my arm supporting him. I touched tiny ears that perked slightly more than before.

I couldn’t assist her much, but I did manage to push Ly’Tana upright with my right hand on her shoulder. She wavered, clearly dizzy with the effort of sitting up, before she leaned against the tree as I did. Her exotic beautiful face twisted in sharp pain.

“Princess?”

“You’ll heal Mikk.”

Confused, Rygel glanced over his shoulder in the direction Kel’Ratan and Alun went, and back. “Your horse?”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Help us up.”

Rygel gently pulled Ly’Tana to her feet, Arianne offering her tiny but strong body to lean against as she stood up. When I struggled to rise, my two crutches stepped forward. Witraz took the pup from me and whistled for Tor.

Passing the pup to him with a terse order to feed him, he and Rannon helped me up. The pain was almost not worth the effort. Sick with it, I shut my eyes for a long moment and tried to breathe as deep as I could without causing my shoulder and ribs to scream. I opened them again, feeling like I’d vomit.

“I don’t know what—” Tor began.

Rannon raised his free hand in a clear threat. Cringing, Tor backed off, the wolf in his arms. My pup didn’t care much for the situation, for he set up a piercing cry that set one’s teeth on edge. Tor almost dropped him.

“My prince?”

I glanced from Tor to find Rygel peering at me worriedly. I shook my head, sweat dripping into my eyes, stinging sharply.

“The horse first.”

In a slow, limping parade, we walked across the meadow. Kel’Ratan looked up from yet another examination of the buckskin while Alun held his bridle. On three legs, the horse stood quiet, pain induced sweat dampening his neck and flanks. His left front hoof bore no weight at all and touched the grass only at the toe. Bloody cuts and jagged tears in his cream-colored hide bore witness to the rocks’ sharpness. His nostrils flared in quick panting breaths. His head turned, he nickered in welcome as Ly’Tana reached for him.

“We need him strong,” I said as Ly’Tana stroked her stallion’s muzzle. “We mustn’t stay here.”

“But—”

I shut my teeth and jerked my chin at the horse. Rygel obeyed and stepped up to the stallion’s shoulder.

“I’ll need my kit from my saddle,” he said.

Kel’Ratan tossed his head at Alun. With a quick nod, Alun didn’t bother to salute, but loped toward the milling, grazing horses.

Ly’Tana made way for Rygel, Arianne helping her step back a few paces and sink down into the long comfortable grass. Ly’Tana leaned against Arianne’s shoulder, her lips thinned with the effort to not weep. I knew should I sit down once more, I doubted even my two crutches could get me back up again. To distract myself from my pain, I concentrated on Rygel working yet another miracle.

As with Bar, ever so long ago, Rygel spent a few moments stroking the horse, his head bowed. With his eyes shut, he appeared to be in a light trance, his sweat dampened hair glowing faintly with a pale nimbus. The thought crossed my mind that the nimbus appeared when Rygel drew on his healing magic. Or I merely saw things that weren’t there. That, of course, was a very strong possibility.

Alun trotted back, Rygel’s leather satchel in his hand. Seeing Rygel occupied, he set it carefully down at Rygel’s feet and once more stepped to Kel’Ratan’s side.

Many long moments later, Rygel sighed and opened his eyes. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said, wiping his brow on his sleeve. “No broken bones, but the shoulder is dislocated. If we pop it back in, I can heal the bruising and inflamed tendons and all these wounds. That won’t require as much power.”

“What will you do for the shoulder?” Kel’Ratan asked.

Rygel smiled faintly and gestured to his injured right arm. “I can’t do anything. You’ll have to.”

Kel’Ratan’s mouth dropped, his blue eyes wide and alarmed. “Uh—” he began.

“Tell us what we need to do, m’lord,” Alun said.

“It’s going to take three of you,” Rygel said. “One to hold his bridle and two to pop it back in.”

I glanced at Rannon in a silent request. He nodded and abandoned Witraz to hold my body upright alone.

“It’s going to hurt like hell,” Rygel said, flashing a warning glance at Ly’Tana. “He’ll jump.”

She waved a hand permissively, hope lighting her green eyes, her fair lips trembling faintly with anguish at her horse’s pain.

Alun held the stallion’s bridle above the bit, stroking his thick wet neck. He murmured in a low voice, a nonsense sing-song tone aimed to keep the horse calm. As though sensing something, the big stallion watched Kel’Ratan and Rannon with white ringing his eyes. They stood next to him, waiting for instructions from Rygel. His cream, sweaty flanks quivered in fear.

“Pick up his foreleg,” Rygel instructed, gesturing to the injured limb. “Each of you to either side of it. Lift it up and pull toward you.”

With Rannon on the outside and Kel’Ratan under the horse’s neck, they held the leg in their strong hands. Mikk, in fear and pain, leaned back, away from them, all his weight on his haunches.

“Keep pulling back, slowly,” Rygel said, leaning over with his hand on Mikk’s big, bloody shoulder. “Then when I say, jerk hard, with all your strength.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Kel’Ratan muttered, easing the stallion’s leg toward him in a pulling motion.

“Me too,” Rygel said. “Now yank!”

At his snapped order, the two big men jerked hard on the hoof. A loud crack resounded at the same instant the big stallion plunged sideways. Ripping his leg out of their grip, he lunged against the bridle, almost tearing free from Alun. Alun let go of the bit, but held onto the reins as the stallion jumped away in panic. To my utter shock, he landed on four solid hooves, not three.

Alun went to him, calming his trembling, stroking down his face, murmuring his nonsense words. The horse quieted, sweat breaking out and dripping down his neck and shoulders. His flanks still quivered, offering silent testimony to the pain he felt.

Alun lead him slowly back to Rygel and Mikk, while limping, could put weight on the leg. Ly’Tana clapped her hands, tears shining in her eyes. Her lips pursed, a swift, soft whistle escaped her on a single breath. Mikk nickered in response, his ears up as his head craned around to see her fully.

“Well,” Kel’Ratan said gruffly, stroking his hand down Mikk’s powerful shoulder. “Well.”

Taking vials of powder from his satchel, Rygel unstoppered one, sniffed, and began applying the stuff liberally to the horse’s bloody wounds. He walked around Mikk’s huge hindquarters, unmindful of hooves the size of dinner plates that could kick him into next week. He tapped more powder onto a wound I couldn’t see, moved on, only to pause and tap more.

Ever curious, Kel’Ratan asked, “What is that?”

“A mixture I created,” Rygel answered, pausing to tap. “It helps clear the wounds of infection. Not a good idea to heal a dirty wound. Then you close all the dirt and grime inside the body.”

“Makes sense,” Kel’Ratan allowed.

“What’s in it?” Witraz asked.

Rygel paused mid-tap to eye Witraz over the horse’s withers. The buckskin definitely felt better. His neck low, he stood patient, his left front hoof solid on the ground as he cocked his left hind leg, resting.

“Just stuff,” Rygel answered shortly, moving on.

“Oh.”

“I need quiet,” Rygel said, dropping the now empty vial back in his satchel.

I glanced at Ly’Tana. With her beloved horse well on his way to full recovery, she offered me a wan smile before snuggling into Arianne’s arms. Closing her eyes, she, too, rested. I envied her that ability, for my pain would never let me rest.

“Your turn will come.”

“Shut up,” I thought back at the voice.

It appeared none of the warriors dared move for fear of disturbing Rygel. Only the light breeze whispering through the tall grass, the distant jingling of metal bits in horses’ mouths as they grazed, the murmuring of leaves did I hear. I swear none of them even dared breathe.

As Rygel placed his hands, fingers splayed, on Mikk’s damp cream hide, he bowed his head. With the healing power now flowing into him, Mikk’s eyes half-closed and his head dropped, his nose brushing the grass. I wondered if he’d need to rest as so many of Rygel’s patients did.

Though we need to recuperate, I thought absently, we dare not.

Brutal would now summon another army, sending to Soudan for yet more fresh troops. Ly’Tana was right. Next time, he won’t attempt to talk us in. He’ll attack with everything he has.

I blinked. Perhaps I blacked out for a space or three, for at first glance nothing had changed. Then everything had. The wounds on the buckskin’s creamy flesh disappeared. Rygel stirred, breathing deep, straightening his back with a long groan. The horse also blinked, raising his head to gaze around. In a motion that said everything, Mikk shook himself, saddle and gear rattling, and snorted down his nose.

“I’ll be damned,” Kel’Ratan said in a low voice. Alun whistled.

Walking about, they examined the stallion closely, running their hands over his flawless cream coat. Mikk bent down and grazed the lush grass, tearing and chewing as fast as he could.

Rygel rubbed him affectionately for a moment, smiling slightly. When he turned toward me, he staggered, caught himself, and offered me a wry grin. He’s all but exhausted, I suspected. Sweat plastered his yellow hair to his cheeks and brow in thick tendrils. His eyes and mouth drooped, his cheek bones cutting through his pale skin.

Alarmed, I tried to reach for him. But with my only useful arm still around Witraz’s shoulder, all I could do was lean.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

He ducked his head to wipe the sweat onto his left shoulder, his right still clamped tight to his ribs. “Your turn.”

“No.” I jerked my head toward Ly’Tana.

His ‘but’ rose as far as his eyes and opened mouth. He changed his mind the instant he met my gaze. Dropping his head once in a slow nod, he turned and hunkered next to Arianne. Ly’Tana murmured something I couldn’t catch as he once more touched her brow.

“But—” Witraz began.

“Don’t start,” I growled.

Kel’Ratan, stepping carefully around the three in the grass, walked toward me. “He seems tired, but I think he can go. She doesn’t have much weight to speak of. Not much of a burden for him.”

I nodded. “After he heals her, we’ll rest for an hour. No more.”

Kel’Ratan looked me up and down, worry puckering his face. “What about you? You’re in no condition to travel.”

“Short of shooting me,” I replied blandly, “we have no choice. Rygel can’t heal all of us and he’s injured, too.”

Frowning heavily, Kel’Ratan looked from me to Rygel, on the ground with his hand on Ly’Tana’s brow, and back. “I reckon we can’t always rely on his magic, now can we.”

“Not always.”

“Then let’s bind you up the best we can, then,” he said. “I’m no healer, but I can strap ribs and stitch wounds with the best of them.”

Smiling faintly, I allowed Witraz to limp me back toward the lone tree. Rannon, at Kel’Ratan’s terse order, ran to fetch saddlebags. Easing me to the ground, Witraz knelt beside me while Kel’Ratan examined the wound on my back. Taking his dagger, Witraz gingerly cut my bloody tunic from my torso.

“This is—” Kel’Ratan muttered, hunkered behind me, his fingers gently probing. I held back a hiss of pain.

“Bad.” I finished for him.

He clucked his teeth. “Well, it’s not good. It needs stitched.”

“How are you at sewing?”

“I’m no seamstress, but I think I can close this. It’s got splinters in.”

“Dig them out.”

I shut my jaw hard to prevent not just a hiss of pain, but a howl as his thick fingers dug into my back. I shut my eyes, sweat pouring off me in small rivers. I felt Witraz clamp down on my other shoulder to both prevent me from moving and offer comfort. What are you doing back there? I wanted to scream. Digging for gold?

“There,” Kel’Ratan breathed, bringing his bloody hand with a long piece of wood between his fingers around for my inspection. I opened one eye to peer at it.

“Lovely,” I muttered.

Rannon returned with a small kit and a large cotton cloth. After handing the kit to Kel’Ratan, he ripped the cloth into large strips. The low whirring sound as it tore accompanied by the waves of pain that washed through me made me nauseous. I hoped I wouldn’t vomit, but couldn’t be certain I wouldn’t.

Kel’Ratan muttered to himself as he plundered the leather kit. “Needle.” He put the long slender needle in my hand. “Hold that.”

I eyed the tiny silvery wand with its sharp point, knowing within moments it would pierce my flesh.

“Silk. Where the bloody hell is it? I know it’s here somewhere, ah, there you are, damn thing. Give me that.”

Kel’Ratan took the needle back from my fingers. I braced myself.

“It’s going to hurt,” he warned. I could hear him behind me, threading the needle.

“Pain don’t hurt,” I answered, shutting my eyes.

“He’s tough,” Witraz said. I could hear the grin in his voice.

I breathed as deep as I could, trying to relax, waiting for the needle. As I had been stitched back together countless times after arena matches, the thought of the needle in Kel’Ratan’s fingers didn’t bother me. His handling of me spoke of confidence, telling me I wasn’t his first victim he’d sewn. I couldn’t help my first slight jump at the sting of the needle, but after that the pain came almost as a familiar friend.

“Most are usually yelling by now,” Kel’Ratan muttered, busy poking and threading.

I said, “It’s just pain.”

“Right,” he growled. “It’s an insignificant minor problem that turns strong men into crying babies.”

“I’m tough,” I said, listening to Witraz chuckle.

“A true wolf.”

Kel’Ratan might be an experienced field surgeon, but he sure took a long time. An eternity surely passed before he sighed, leaned back and surveyed his handiwork. Had I been lying down, I know I’d have drowned in my own sweat.

“Done. Rannon, hand me that salve there.”

I opened my eyes, feeling that while the pain I could manage, my nausea was another matter. Thirsty, I licked my lips, but dared not ask for a drink. Anything that went down could surely be counted on to come right back up.

Kel’Ratan’s calloused, gentle fingers smoothed a cool salve onto my wound, instantly easing the sting, reaching further into the deep bite of the injury itself. Inching around my bare torso, he muttered under his breath, applying the stuff to my many other cuts and scrapes, stark reminders of the broken trees.

Clucking his teeth, he sewed together four more gaping wounds on my arms, chest and ribs. I endured each and every one with calm stoicism. Yet, individually, all my wounds’ crying voices were silenced under his fingers and the blessed numbing salve.

“What’s in there?” I asked. “It feels wonderful.”

“I’ve no earthly idea,” Kel’Ratan replied, rubbing more into a deep cut lower down on my back.

I raised my right arm to allow him access to my ribs, Witraz backing away to give him room. “Our physicians have been concocting it for generations,” Kel’Ratan resumed, squinting as he peered at my skin. “It kills the pain and helps wounds to heal much faster than normal.”

“Give it to Rygel, m’lord,” Rannon suggested.

“Not a bad idea.”

Kel’Ratan’s fingers probed and poked my swollen ribs and chest. I winced away from him, sucking in my breath.

“Hold still,” he ordered.

I did my best to obey, but his touch inflamed the agony that had cooled when I sat quiet and breathed shallowly.

“I don’t think they’re broken,” Kel’Ratan said at last, frowning. “They may be cracked or even sprung. Either way, binding them will help.”

With Rannon’s aid, he wound the strips of cloth around my chest. With a healer’s skill, he wrapped tight enough to offer support, but no so tight I couldn’t breathe. He also covered my shoulder wound with a bandage, and wrapped my arm in a sling. Then he wrapped still more cloth cut from Rannon’s knife, binding my arm hard to my side.

“If you can’t move, you don’t hurt as much,” he said.

He was right. With my chest supported, my wound closed and my arm strapped down, my pain eased considerably. Now if he could only do something for my belly sickness.

“You’ll have to do the same for Rygel,” I said, examining his handiwork.

“He’ll be easy,” Kel’Ratan answered, standing up. He grabbed the salve, his kit and grinned. “He’s out cold. No wincing or whining.”

“I didn’t whine,” I said to his back as he walked away.

“You winced, though,” Witraz commented.

“Wincing is permissible. You can check, it’s in all the books.”

While Ly’Tana slept in Arianne’s arms, Rygel lay curled up in the grass, dead to the world. I leaned back against the tree to catch as much rest as I could, I idly watched as Kel’Ratan and his pair of big nurses rolled Rygel onto his back. Stripping him of his cloak and tunic, Kel’Ratan fairly hummed as he stitched and salved his unconscious patient. Occasionally he asked for and received items from his kit, busy repairing my brother.

Like an eel, I slid sideways and down, into the soft, sweet-smelling grass. Shutting my eyes, I thought I just might manage to sleep a little.

* * *

“Someone tried to kill her,” Kel’Ratan fumed.

Riding through the late afternoon, after resting our injured for the two hours I let Kel’Ratan talk me into, we rode not at a trot or canter, but at a fast walk.

Ly’Tana, after sleeping the entire two hours, woke feeling almost her old self again. Though Rygel hadn’t healed her completely, her head wound ceased bleeding, and her pain, she said, wasn’t more than an irritation. Her almond skin regained its healthy tone.

Mikk all but danced under her, wanting to run. Only the state of mine and Rygel’s health kept us from the faster pace he requested. Rygel, his right arm also in a sling, needed far more than two hours of rest.

His chin bounced on his chest as he rode, dozing, his black gelding trailing Kel’Ratan’s stallion with no guidance from Rygel. Alun kept a watchful eye on him, making sure he didn’t fall out of his saddle. Should Rygel’s slack body slide toward the left or right, Alun’s hand steered him upright.

Witraz, as though bound to my side with a sturdy chain, kept a watchful eye on me. Though I didn’t drowse as I rode, the constant jostling of Rufus’s steps kept me in a constant state of pain. A concoction of Rygel’s kept the nausea at bay, but I felt horribly weak and very much in danger of falling out of my saddle.

Ly’Tana turned an irritated glare on her cousin. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. She fingered her gold torque about her slender neck. “It was an earthquake. An act of nature.”

“Oh, sure,” he retorted. “A freak act of nature the moment you ride into the river alone. Give me a break.”

“You’re so bloody superstitious.”

“Maybe you should learn a few superstitions. They’ll keep you alive.”

“Oh, blow it out your—”

“He’s right.”

Ly’Tana rounded on me in a whirl of red-gold hair and feminine fury. Turned in her saddle, she rested her hand on her horse’s cream rump as she glared at me. “What do you know?” she demanded.

“I heard it.”

Her green glare halted. Kel’Ratan, Rannon and Alun stared at me. Even Rygel woke and lifted his head to peer blearily across, trying to focus.

“Heard it?”

I dropped my reins on Rufus’s neck to tap my head with my finger. “In here.”

“What was it?” Kel’Ratan asked.

I couldn’t shrug, so instead I tipped my head sideways, trying to find the words to describe the evil snarl of rage I heard the instant I heaved Ly’Tana into Bar’s talons. Bar himself, having trotted out ahead of the group, turned back to better hear what I said.

“Hate,” I answered slowly. “Death. Someone or something is really pissed that Ly’Tana escaped it.”

“What do you think it is?”

I knew it wasn’t the voice I occasionally heard in my head, but I wasn’t about to tell them that. I dared not enlighten them. Then I wouldn’t be alone in thinking I was slowly growing insane.

“You’re hardly insane.”

“Something very powerful,” I said. “Something not of this world.”

“Targeting me?” Ly’Tana’s voice sounded very small.

I nodded. “Targeting you.”

“Why me?”

“I don’t know. However, I think we should find out.”

“Before it kills me.”

“Yes.”

“She is also well loved and protected.”

“By whom?”

“Tell them that.”

“But,” I said slowly. “You are also well loved and protected.”

Ly’Tana and Kel’Ratan exchanged a glance. “How do you know?”

“Tell them I told you.”

I stammered, looking away, tripping over my tongue. Caught between the truth and my reluctance to speak it, I said nothing. They’ll think me crazy. I can’t tell them I’m hearing voices in my head. I am crazy. I have to be.

“Raine?”

“Er.” I coughed. “My sight.”

For the first time I heard humor deep within the mysterious voice in my head.

“Big weenie.”

While I could see from their faces they didn’t quite believe me, they at least dropped the inquisition. I always felt grateful for the smallest of favors.

“Sooner or later, they’ll know about me.”

“Let it be later.”

As though hearing the exchange, Witraz watched me curiously. Embarrassed, I could only shake my head at him.

Behind me, Arianne cooed over the pup. Without another hand with which to hold him, I elected Arianne as his caretaker. Corwyn returned to his post as guide, once more leading the grey mare by her reins. That left Arianne’s hands free to hold him. She needed them, for he filled both, arms included. Tor, riding pillion behind her, now found the wolf fascinating. I could hear his giggles as he reached around Arianne to tickle and play with the pup. Yuri and Yuras currently rode rear guard, leaving Tor alone and bored, save for the wolf baby.

“How will we find out who or what is trying to kill her?” Kel’Ratan demanded staring at me fiercely, as though I alone held all the answers.

“Find a priest.”

Startled, I didn’t realize I spoke aloud until the words left my mouth. “A priest?”

Now I garnered the attention of everyone save Left and Right, riding van guard and the blonde boys, riding rear guard. Even Arianne and Tor ceased their giggles over the wolf. Bar stared at me, his ears perked. The entire column ground to a halt. Ly’Tana reined her stallion around and nudged him up beside me. Knee to knee, she tried to cover her small hand over my big one on my reins.

“What do you know?” she asked softly.

I fumbled, panicked. “Nothing,” I said hastily. “I just thought—you know—er, if something, um, supernatural were around, a priest might help.”

“Nice save.”

Ly’Tana leaned over in a way I didn’t much like, staring hard into my eyes. “You’re hiding something.”

“Halleluiah,” Arianne said from down the line. “At last someone else sees that.”

Trapped, I tried to smile. “Don’t be absurd. What would I know? I wouldn’t hide anything from you.”

“Oh, please,” she snapped. “Who do you think I am? Your sister?”

“Hey, now.”

With her fair lips thinned and an emerald edge in her eyes, Ly’Tana backed her stallion. Turning him, she once more led the way. Kel’Ratan followed her, his mustache bristling indignantly as he, too, eyed me with suspicion. The column once more traveled forward. I grit my teeth.

“You’re getting me into trouble.”

“You don’t need my help for that.”

“Tell me who the hell you are!”

“You are my son.”

Fury roared through me. I fought to keep from showing it, staring hard between Rufus’s ears, my eyes straight ahead. I forced my face into calm neutrality, but I knew if anyone looked into my eyes, those weird orbs would betray me.

“You are not my father. My father is dead.”

“Nonetheless, you are my son.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Turn yourself into a wolf and you’ll know.”

“Never.”

“You are both wolf and man. Deal with it.”

I grit my teeth hard. My pain, forgotten in the last moments, reared its ugly head. I used it, reveled in it, let it claim me. By concentrating on the hot throbbing that coursed through my veins with every beat of my pulse, I was able to calm the daemon before he got loose and ran amok. He yanked, screaming, against his chain, wanting his freedom. I breathed deep, finding my calm center, asking the disciplined warrior deep inside me, deeper than the daemon, to rise and conquer.

Little by little, breath by breath, the daemon quieted, and retreated, talons sheathing, fangs once more hidden behind a shut mouth. I defeated it yet again. How long before it slips its collar and rampages loose?

That’s the last thing I need, I thought, morose. I may know I’m pissed at the mysterious voice in my head, but to the people riding alongside me I was angry for no apparent reason. Only crazy people got angry for no reason. Crazy men elicited no end of stares and whispered comments. Gods above and below. I reckoned there was more than enough of that already.

“M’lord?” Witraz asked. “Are you all right?”

Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded shortly and took yet another deep breath. My calm center steadied, took over control. I scrubbed the sweat from my face with my free hand.

Yuri cantered down the line with the news the wolves still followed.

Of course they did. My day could not possibly be complete without wolves, loose daemons, and sidelong glances to torment me.

“What else is new,” I muttered sourly.

* * *

Rygel nudged me with his toe.

I grumbled, dragging my blanket close over my shoulder, trying to wrap sleep about me along with it. My pain kept me awake most of the night, tossing and trying to find a place to lie where the hot throbbing didn’t reach. Only when the stars dimmed did I finally drop into something resembling rest. Until, a mere few hours later, at breaking daylight, Rygel came calling.

His toe nudged again. “Time to get healed.”

“Go ’way,” I mumbled thickly.

“You’re slowing us down, nitwit,” Rygel said. “We have to ride faster than the crawl you’re forcing us to.”

I snarled wordlessly. The pup, cuddled under the blanket against my chest, mewled in sleepy protest. He wasn’t a morning wolf, either.

“Just heal him as he sleeps, Rygel,” said Ly’Tana.

“That takes all the fun out of waking him up.”

Now how could she possibly think that was funny? I cursed roundly.

“Don’t be such a wuss,” Rygel said.

“Now cease aggravating him, Rygel,” Kel’Ratan said.

I silently blessed his taking my side. That was until his smarmy voice continued.

“You know bloody well he’s impossible to live with when he’s cranky.”

I invited them all to commit the anatomically impossible.

“Raine!” Arianne’s shocked voice came through despite the various chuckles, laughs and giggles my invitation created.

“Just heal him, Rygel,” Ly’Tana commanded through her laughter.

“Touch me and I’ll kill you,” I snarled.

“As my princess commands,” Rygel sighed. His shadow fell across my face as he bent down. “For future reference, you may be interested to know her orders counterman your threats.”

“I’ll tear you limb from—”

His icy cold magic hit me before I could respond with dire threats to his safety and life. Ice and flames raced through my veins, up through my heart and into my brain, freezing and setting me on fire at the same time. I shut my jaw against the shock, my body locked into a rigid pose, my fists clenched. I felt a pulling, a strange drawing sensation, as though the very blood in my body was sucked out. Dizziness, my hated enemy, swamped me. The hot throbbing in my shoulder and chest increased, nearly brought a scream—

The next thing I knew, my wolf child whimpered, nuzzling against my chest, seeking my hand, my comfort. My head still spun, yet without the earlier horrid effects. I reached out a reasonably steady hand and brought him in close, under my neck. His warm nose touched my chin, his tiny tongue licked, tasting the salt of my sweat. I kicked the blanket off us both, suddenly too hot to have it on. I peered blearily about in the suddenly bright sunshine, my eyes squinted against the glare.

“Raine?”

I tilted my head upward. She knelt behind me, gazing down with a sweet smile. Her fingers brushed my oily hair off my brow.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Like killing him.”

“Have at it, bro,” Rygel said from his spot squatting across the fire. He fought a yawn, sweat dampening his face and neck. Healing me had taken its toll, after all.

I squinted at him. “Come here and I will.”

“Big weenie.”

Scooping the pup into my hand, I sat up, yawning. “What’s the time?”

“Two hours past we should be riding,” Kel’Ratan snapped as Ly’Tana gracefully rose from her knees.

“Noon, in other words,” Ly’Tana translated.

“Don’t wait on me,” I said, stumbling to my feet.

I staggered a bit, my legs not quite cooperating. I forced them under control at last, pin-wheeling my free arm for balance. The pup’s heavy weight didn’t help matters, though. I needed my other hand, still strapped close to my ribs, to maintain any semblance of balance.

Ly’Tana reached to help me as I staggered sideways. She pushed me with both hands and a grunt, helping me to stand upright. Offering her a lopsided grin, I bent at the waist, endangering myself again, and bussed her cheek.

Of course, she giggled, snatching her own kiss from my lips.

The pup wiggled in my hand in a wolfish request to be put down. Regaining control of my recalcitrant body, I took a deep breath. The world steadied at last.

Pain-free, I bent down and put the whelp on the ground. I watched, oddly fascinated by the lupine need for tidiness and the exact spot. Waddling some distance away, belly brushing through long grass and dead leaves, he sniffed, discarded that spot, sniffed again, then hustled on, tiny tail waving. Back and forth he wandered, that perfect moment calling him ever onward, nosing the ground. Finding, at last, that perfect location, he squatted.

My wolf child thus occupied for the moment, I could attend to other matters. With no further need of bandages and slings, I sought to get them off. I reached behind me, trying with one arm to seize hold of my tunic. As Kel’Ratan pulled a fresh tunic over my head after wrapping me up in my swaddling clothes, that had to come off first. Somehow, what one finds easy and does without thought with two hands, one finds to be a struggle with just one.

Ly’Tana stood back and grinned, arms akimbo, watching avidly.

“Need help?” she asked, polite.

I aimed a smile in her general direction. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

Twisting and grunting, I managed to grab hold of my tunic just behind my shoulder blades and pulled. At first it seemed I’d succeed. Suddenly, the inevitable happened. My tunic rode high on my back and stalled there. Bent over, I tugged harder. I fought for, and gained, another inch or two. The light cloth caught on my too-big shoulders and once more got stuck.

Damn it, get loose will you? Bucking my hips back and forth brought more momentum. Ah, got it. Almost. Now most of it was wrapped behind my neck.

Below me, my dark son returned, waddling about on stumpy legs, his tiny tail waving. He found my boots, sniffed, and promptly collapsed. Now, should I need to move my feet to maintain necessary balance while struggling with my one arm up over my shoulder, I couldn’t. Damn, he settled in for a nap, on my foot. Should I move, I risked stepping on him.

The silence from all around alerted me. Oh, shit.

Everyone, and I mean everyone, in camp had ceased his or her activity and stood watching. Left and Right had paused in identical positions of lifting saddles to their horses’ backs, their dark eyes wide. Tor, Yuri and Yuras ceased their dice tossing, all kneeling around a saddle blanket laid flat on the ground. Their dice and stick wagers sat forlorn and forgotten. Alun, frozen in the act of pouring water on the fire to kill it, watched me from a bent over position. Rygel, of course, grinned impudently, arms akimbo. Even Bar sat just beyond Kel’Ratan, towering over the heads of the tallest warriors, watched with avid curiosity in his predatory eyes. His tail never flickered.

Arianne alone moved. Rolling her grey-blue eyes, she stepped past the slow fire from where she busily packed food into saddlebags. With a long-suffering sigh, she seized my tunic by the shoulders.

“I can get it,” I protested.

“Of course you can,” she replied. “We just can’t wait until noon before you do.”

Ly’Tana snickered. Kel’Ratan chuckled. Rygel roared. The rest at least had enough respect for my size and royal stature to cover their grins with their hands. Arianne deftly pulled the tunic over my head.

I straightened. She gazed up at me, eyes bright, ill-concealed humor shining deep in their depths. While the warriors had respect enough not to laugh too loud, my diminutive sister had no such restraint.

“Want help with the bandages?” she inquired politely, full of solicitous regard.

“Leave off,” I snapped.

“Oh, fine,” she sighed, stepping daintily away. “I was only trying to help.”

I glared at the grins, the averted heads, the inactivity.

“Don’t you have something better to do?” I growled.

I lifted my left arm.

The layers of bandages ripped away with a deep purring sound. The heavy cotton cloth fell away, leaving thick strings of bound thread behind. Flexing my bare muscles, I pulled off the rest, and flicked the threads off my back, neck and shoulders. Raising my arms to stretch out the cramps, I bunched every muscle in my bare chest, biceps, lower arms and clenched fists. As an after show event, I carelessly dropped the bloody bandages on Arianne’s head.

Respectful salutes abounded as the camp became, once more, a busy industrious hive. Rygel gulped, and suddenly decamped to saddle his black gelding. Yuri and Yuras seized the blanket, flipping it up, tossing dice and wagers in every direction. They abandoned Tor to ready their own mounts, while Tor, in panic, grabbed his dice and ran to follow them. Kel’Ratan, who’d yet to ever salute me, offered me a quick half-bow and retreated a short ways. Bar suddenly discovered his left wing needed preening as of yesterday.

Only Ly’Tana and Arianne remained.

“That wasn’t funny,” Arianne snapped, pulling the tangled rags from her lustrous hair and throwing them into a pile.

I lifted a brow. “I thought it was.”

“You’re something else,” Ly’Tana said, her grin widening until she laughed.

“That’s why you love me.”

“I don’t. You’re a boor.”

“Wench.”

“Bastard.”

“That’s Rygel.”

“Leave me out of this!” Rygel yelled from the safe side of the camp.

I bowed low. “Your Highhandedness.”

“Scumbag.”

Seizing her chin, I kissed her full on the mouth before she broke away, still laughing. She walked away to organize the day’s travel arrangements. Dislodged from my boot top, the whelp whimpered until I scooped him back up.

Taking up my blanket, I shook out dirt, dead grass and leaves. Instantly, I discovered I was ravenous.

“Anyone leave anything to eat?” I asked.

“We didn’t want to, but Arianne insisted,” answered Kel’Ratan sourly. “I think she saved you something.”

That something turned out to be a large chunk of still-warm roast, a round of bread, and a handful of dried fruit. I gobbled it all down as the pup whined for his own breakfast. Yet, it appeared Arianne thought of him as well. While I finished my hasty meal, saddled Rufus and tied my bedroll and saddlebags, she fed him his morning bag of mushed meat.

“Can I keep him for a while?” she begged, holding the grunting and burping pup close to her nonexistent bosom. He filled her arms to dangerously overflowing.

“As long as Corwyn doesn’t mind leading your horse,” I said. “But you must learn to ride.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” Corwyn said.

I eyed him with some humor. “It’s quite all right to say no once in a while, Corwyn.”

“If it keeps Her Highness happy,” he murmured.

He obligingly set her in her saddle, Arianne so caught up in the squirming wolf she scarcely noticed. Before Tor could escape, Corwyn grabbed him about the waist and set him behind her.

“I want to ride with Yuri,” he protested.

“He’s riding in the van,” Ly’Tana said, grabbing a fistful of her stallion’s mane and vaulting with careless ease into her saddle.

“Why can’t I have my own horse?” Tor whined. “I want to ride with them.”

“Your skills with the sword leave much to be desired,” she answered.

“But I’m good with the bow,” he said, his voice plaintive and eager.

She scowled. “Not nearly good enough.”

Deflated, he sank back, pouting, as Ly’Tana set the pace and trotted out.

I vaulted into my saddle, feeling Rufus fresh, rested and ready to go. I held him back, reining him behind Left and Right, who wheeled their horses in behind Ly’Tana. It appeared Witraz and Alun were chosen for rear guard, for they vanished toward the south as we rode northwest. Rygel rode daringly close beside me, his face alive and laughing.

Yet, he bowed low in the saddle, no doubt hoping his act of obeisance would deflect any anger I might still have. Absently I wondered at how fast his body healed itself of injuries. He could not heal himself with magic, he’d said, yet he seemed to not even notice he’d also been injured the day before in the fight with Ja’Teel.

Bar trotted beside Ly’Tana’s big buckskin, Kel’Ratan to her other side. I think she wanted me beside her, for she cast occasional mournful glances at me over her shoulder, past the ever watchful Left and Right.

“Still want to kill me?”

I aimed a light punch at Rygel’s head, one he could deftly avoid, still laughing.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said.

“Gods above and below, save us,” I muttered.

“If there is something or someone who wants Her Highness dead,” he began, “I think I know who we can ask.”

Ly’Tana swiveled in her saddle. “Who?”

“A priest, just as he said.” Rygel jerked his chin toward me.

Kel’Ratan snorted over his shoulder. “Just any priest in the street?”

“Not quite,” Rygel said. “There’s a religious order who study all the gods there are, not just the gods appointed to their respective lands and worshippers.”

“Monks?” Ly’Tana asked doubtfully.

“Priests, monks, it doesn’t matter, Princess,” Rygel replied, impatient. “They’re the Huhtamaki Brotherhood. These boys spend their lives studying and learning, passing their knowledge to their successors. Not only are they learned in the worship and practices of all the gods, it’s said that all the gods speak to them.”

“I get you,” I said.

“If I remember the geography of these lands, we’ll soon be entering more populated territory,” Rygel continued. “The Plains of Navak end several leagues west of here. Towns, small cities crop up. Maybe one of these might have a Huhtamaki temple. There are many, throughout the Federation and other lands. Even Khassart. I spent some time learning from them as a youth.”

“So,” Ly’Tana said. “We find one of these, er, temples and get the name of whatever wants to kill me?”

“Yes, that’s the idea. However—”

Her face fell. “However? Why’s there always a ‘however’?”

“Unfortunately, religious tolerance isn’t practiced much in Khalid or her territories,” Rygel said, his face solemn. “These temples are small, with maybe a dozen Huhtamaki monks in each, if they’re lucky. They are often persecuted, driven out, or converted at sword point to the worship of local deities.”

“Like Usa’a’mah,” I said.

“Exactly.”

“Then how will we find one?”

Rygel offered a yea-nay gesture. “They often hide in plain sight. Under the guise of temple monks of a local god, or just a cluster of ordinary farmers who band together to work the land.”

“Could there be one of those temples near here?” Kel’Ratan asked.

Rygel vaguely waved his hand. “If I remember correctly, there is a fair-sized town about twelve leagues from here. It’s called Wil Dar and it’s to the northeast.”

“And there is a temple there?”

“I’m afraid I was wont to linger in taverns rather than temples,” Rygel admitted. “I’m not sure. If there is, it’d probably be disguised. The locals here are fiercely loyal to the High King and worship Usa’a’mah as their chief deity.”

Kel’Ratan’s mustache bristled. “How do you know so much about these monks?” he demanded.

“I studied under them for a time, back home,” he answered simply. “That’s where I learned much of what I know about white magic. Khassart is very tolerant and very open to free thinking and religious practices. There are several Huhtamaki temples there.”

“Do these monks practice this ‘white magic’?”

“They do. But as they are under very strict, self-imposed guidelines, their practice of it is restricted to the advancement of knowledge, growing of their crops and the like. No changing themselves into various creatures is allowed.”

Of course, his amber eye cocked in my direction. How did I know that was coming? “Unfortunately, they can’t instruct our liege in how to change himself into a wolf and accept himself. I reckon that’s my job.”

I sighed. I flipped Rygel an invitation to perform the anatomically impossible.

Predictably, he laughed.

“But all of us riding into the town will attract attention,” I said slowly. “Attention that we neither want nor need.”

Rygel coughed delicately. “I’d suggest only one or two of us go there to scout. A pair could pass virtually unnoticed.”

I shrugged under the eyes of everyone who stared at me for a decision. “Two travelling mercenaries won’t attract much attention.”

“But,” Ly’Tana said, her emerald eyes pleading. “A priestess of Osimi won’t attract much attention, either.”

“Absolutely not,” Kel’Ratan roared. “Under no circumstances will you set foot in any town or village, or put yourself in any kind of danger. Think of it, and I’ll strap you to that horse and tie you hand and foot.”

Open-mouthed, Ly’Tana looked at me. With a half-shrug and a jerk of my chin in Kel’Ratan’s direction, I replied to her questioning gaze. “What he said.”

“I don’t believe this.” Ly’Tana glared around at us all. “I am one of the finest warriors in all Kel’Halla. I’m the heir to the throne. And I’ll certainly do as I please.”

“Not while I’m in charge,” I answered easily.

“You don’t command me,” she replied stiffly.

“Care to bet on that?” I asked with a small grin.

I glanced significantly at Kel’Ratan’s outraged face, and then toward a diffident, apologetic Rygel, to the identical bland implacable expressions of Left and Right. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

She eyed each of them in turn, challenging quiet Rannon, who stared stonily back. Witraz, the coward, ducked away from her eyes as though from a conniving witch. Alun smiled as though sharing a secret. Tor answered her glare with a shrug and no smile. Even Bar calmly refused to champion her but walked alongside her horse, indifferent to her fury.

“I don’t believe this,” she repeated, but her tone held no conviction.

I took her hand to kiss, lingering. “Surrender, my beautiful warrior, with the heart of steel. You are outnumbered and outflanked.”

She snatched her hand from mine. “Just because you are bigger and stronger and male doesn’t make you all better warriors,” she hissed.

“Of course not,” I said, straightening. “It simply means there are more of us than there are of you.”

“I don’t believe it,” she repeated.

“Your choice,” I said.

“I hate you.”

I sighed. “Again, your choice. You’re still not entering any enemy town while I draw breath.”

“I don’t need the protection of you or anyone else.”

“That’s not the point. You have it whether you want or need it.”

“Very well done.”

“Shut up.”

* * *

Ly’Tana’s fury lasted up and into the midday break to rest, feed and water the horses. She spoke to no one, not even to command her people. I gave the orders to stop and to call in the van guard, Witraz and Alun. Yuri and Yuras rejoined us, and after their duties were completed, set to giving Tor another lesson with the bow and the wooden sword. As I watched, Tor hit the bull’s eye with his bow far more than he struck the blazon with his blade.

Hungry again, I munched on the cold fare Arianne and Tor created out of the packs. While most of the warriors lay on the grass to catch quick naps in the sun, I sat and pondered. Ly’Tana ate some food, drank some water, and avoided me and everyone else to lean against her stallion’s shoulder and stare out over the open, tree-pocked, grasslands. She even rebuffed Bar’s advances with a sharp tongue.

“She’ll get over it, the voice said.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She fears she’ll be seen as a coward.”

I snorted inwardly. “She has the courage of a dozen men. More.”

“Perhaps. Still she thinks she has to prove her courage.”

“How do you know this?”

Again I sensed humor in the voice.

“I know lots of things.”

I stroked the sleeping wolf pup in my lap, wondering if I should ask the questions I dared not even think about.

“Ask them.”

“Why do the wolves follow us? Me?”

“They are drawn to you. They would fight and die, if necessary, for you.”

“Did any die in the fight the other day?”

“A few wounded, but no deaths.”

“What am I to them?”

“You are nothing less than their savior.”

That jolted me. Me? A savior? Of wolves? I was a gladiator, a slave. Slaves are hardly saviors of anyone. They, for the most part, couldn’t save even themselves.

“Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Just to the trees. Bring your son. It’s time.”

Taking up my adopted child, I rose from my spot and walked away, toward a grove of trees that sprouted near the creek from where we watered our beasts and ourselves. I felt curious eyes on my back as I went, but no one called to ask where I was going. I walked as though I merely answered the call of nature. I held the sleepy whelp against my shoulder, his hindquarters tucked into my hand. I heard his breathy yawns in my ear, scented his meaty breath.

Out of sight of the Kel’Hallans, I stopped and gently placed the pup on the ground. He sat for a moment, his butt in the dead leaves and twigs, examining his surroundings with blue eyes and a moist nose. Then, like an old man, his got ponderously to his feet. Big belly almost brushing the ground, he waddled about. Purest blue sapphires gleamed against his dark face. They’re wider than when his dam dropped him in my lap, I thought.

“He will be a fine wolf. He comes from good stock.”

“Now what?”

“Surrender to the wolf inside you.”

“Just how do I do that?”

“Close your eyes and seek the wolf.”

While those instructions sounded rather vague, I obeyed. I shut out the sunlight and the dappled shade, the brown tree trunks and green leaves, the glimmer of the sun on the creek water. I ignored the murmur of human conversation and the occasional laugh. Taking deep, even breaths, I sought to calm my mind, to seek…something. What? I didn’t know. Just opened my mind to whatever might enter.

“That’s the idea. Now find your wolf. Find yourself.”

Within my mind’s eye, an image rose. The form of an enormous wolf, his fur jet black, his eyes a weird pale grey ringed in black. A wolf so huge he dwarfed even the largest wolf ever born. He was, perhaps, the biggest wolf ever bred to walk the lands of the earth.

I reached for him. I longed for him. In him, I longed for the freedom to run on four legs, to howl, to hunt. I craved the wolf born to lead the packs. Me, the Chosen One.

My face elongated. Huge teeth filled my suddenly too small mouth. I staggered as my legs changed, my hands molding into paws. I fell back on a human butt that now felt like hindquarters. A tail sprouted where once there was none. Black fur grew and covered my entire body. The black wolf now had control. I surrendered to him.

Lightning flashed inside my eyes. I saw Ly’Tana, dead on the cavern floor. Panic squirted into my mouth.

Another flash. My fangs snapped closed on a thick furred neck.

I blinked, seeing in front of me trees and forest and grass. The sight vanished as darkness fell.

Another quick flash, there and gone, crossed the black before my open eyes. I couldn’t breathe. Panic grew and spread, my heart thundering in my chest. Noxious blood filled my mouth, my throat. I couldn’t breathe.

My claws caught and slid, caught and slid, over the rough cavern floor. The hands around my thick ruff, my vulnerable neck, tightened. I struggled, fighting with all the strength of my huge wolf body. My neck gave way under the pressure, would soon snap like a twig under the merciless grip.

I was dying.

Dying horribly, dying a dog’s death.

A slave’s death.

Terror swamped me. The vision grew and spread, its waves of icy panic flooded my veins, poured across my mind.

The wolf will kill me.

“Do not be afraid.”

I will die horribly.

“You are a wolf. Fear nothing.”

I am a man. I am a man. I do not, I will not run on four legs.

“You are a wolf.”

I must not do this. I cannot do this!

“Fear nothing.”

I am afraid.

“Feel no fear.”

Blinded by horror, I pushed the black wolf from me. His lips curled in a silent snarl, his enormous fangs gleamed, his devil eyes glowed from the shadows. I cast him from me, closed off my mind, my soul, shunted him to that far-away place.

I am a man. I am not a wolf.

“Stay with it!”

I curled into a fetal position in the dead grass, last year’s leaves and the dirt. I groveled. I thrashed. I wept.

“You are a wolf.”

“I am a man. I am a man. I am a man.”

I repeated the chant, like a mantra, a charm to hold against the coming of evil. I needed the protection, a cry to end all cries. I chanted the prayer that wards off all evil, to ward off my own death.

“I am a man.”

The black wolf faded, his snarl losing potency, his menace collared. The doors locked him away, a prisoner with his brothers.

“Don’t do this!”

Tears wetted the dead leaves, the dirt, sticking to my face like leeches. I rocked back and forth, my eyes shut against the horrible vision, my arms clenched around my chest, my legs tucked in a fetal position. I am afraid. Hot sweat coursed down from my head, down my cheeks, dampening my tunic, sticking it tight to my chest, shoulders and back.

I am a man.

“Don’t be a fool. They need you. I need you.”

“Shut up. Shut up shut up shutupshutupshup!”

“Son—“

“SHUT UP!”

All at once the voice cut off. A barrier, a shield, a wall sprung up out of nowhere. My fear, my panic, my terror added the bricks that built it. I crammed it higher and yet higher, an invisible defense against any foe. Armed to the teeth, battalions of trolls walked the ramparts. I am not a wolf. A protective blockade grew around my soul. I am a man. I am not a wolf. Take your fantasy and go.

I rocked and chanted, rocked and chanted, wriggling helplessly, wormlike, in the dirt and twigs and leaves. Not a wolf. Hardly even a man.

Go away and leave me alone.

I sobbed. Blindly reaching, I seized the wolf pup by his scruff. Pulling him close, his yelps protesting against this treatment sharp in my ears, I folded my arms around him. His small, soft body spelled out the reality of the world. This was real: The pup in my arms, the sun, the grass, the sharp rock digging into my ribs. Those were real. Voices in my head weren’t real. Neither was the idea, the strange and fantastic idea of me, Raine, Prince of Connacht, slave and gladiator, could indeed be the Chosen One.

Not me. Leave me be. Leave me in peace. Go find yourself another savior.

The rock in my ribs finally drove me upright. Setting the infant wolf on the ground, I scrubbed my tears and the dirt from my face with my hands. Raking twigs and dead grass from my hair, I took a deep shaky breath.

That was bad. Despite the mid-day sun, I felt chilled. Wrapping my arms about my chest, I sat, rubbing some warm into my flesh, trying to gather my shattered wits. Even the copper band on my bicep felt cold.

How long have I been gone? Soon Ly’Tana or Rygel would send a search party. If they found me like this there’d be no end to the questions and sideways glances. This was something I definitely wanted kept to myself.

“Are you there?”

Silence answered me.

I waited a quick moment and tried again. Only my own thoughts filled my head. It appeared I was once more alone in there. Gods above and below, it’s about bloody time.

I stood up, brushing off my clothes, trying to regain some semblance of normality. Normality? What was that?

I barked a short laugh. For a moment I half-wished for the days before Rygel’s arrival, Ly’Tana’s love and Lionel’s death. As a gladiator, all I worried about was living through the next fight. I wished for the days when I had never heard of Kel’Hallans and the only howling I heard was in my dreams. I didn’t much like this new responsibility for the lives and safety of others, a savior to long-tailed furry vermin and father to a wolf cub.

I looked down at him, a dark grey fuzzy creature with a plump belly sluggishly waddling about my boots on unsteady legs. Sapphire eyes followed his black nose as he searched for the unknown with utter seriousness. One day those legs would be long, his body huge, his fangs sharp and gleaming white. That she-wolf made a grave mistake leaving him with me, I thought, morose. What the hell was she thinking?

Perhaps I’ll give him to Arianne, I thought, scooping him up.

I held him up with my hands under his front legs, peering into the round, sapphire eyes. He gazed back calmly, as though understanding my emotional battle and trusting that I’d make the right decision. What right decision? I hadn’t made a right decision since the moment I decided to let Rygel heal me.

This tiny wolf could grow up to be Arianne’s protector, much as Bar is Ly’Tana’s, I thought. She adores him. I’ll give him to her. I wanted nothing more to do with any wolves, living or dead.

Tucking him once more against my shoulder, I started back. While that decision was easy, the thought of facing Ly’Tana, Rygel and the others daunted me. Despite my neutral expression, they’d know something was wrong. Arianne would know instantly, for her keen sight would tell her.

I needed to get away for a while. I must escape the questioning expressions, the whispers, the subtle finger-gestures. I pondered where I might go, what excuse I might give. A lone hunting trip?

I remembered Rygel’s monks, the Huhtamaki. Rygel said a small town lay nearby, the place he called Wil Dar. I needed to be alone and we needed to find those monks. My thoughts raced, reaching for a desperate plan. Here’s what I’ll do—mount Rufus, grab Rygel and go. My royal blood would prevent any from stopping me, and only Ly’Tana and Kel’Ratan would dare try.

I felt lighter, freer once that decision was made. I even managed a small smile.

“Where were you?” Rygel demanded as I walked back into camp. “I was about to come look for you.”

Just as I expected, I was the brunt of no few curious stares. Ly’Tana, it seemed, had rejoined the group, for she too looked about to scold me. Her green eyes flashed with irritation, her beautiful lips in her almond skin parted to question. I forestalled her with a raised hand.

I tried a light-hearted approach. “I’ve been thinking,” I said quickly. “Rygel and I will ride to this Wil Dar. See if these monks are there.”

“What—” she began.

“Raine, what’s wrong?”

Arianne rushed toward me, her skirts hiked, her huge blue-grey eyes wide with concern.

I shoved the whelp into her arms before she could say more. “Look after him, will you? You know, maybe he should be yours. You need a bodyguard.”

“My liege—” Corwyn began, worry clear on his craggy face.

“Oh, you’re not fired,” I said lightly. “She’ll need both of you, I’m thinking.”

Striding rapidly through the make-shift camp, I grabbed Rufus’s reins. “Coming, Rygel?”

I vaulted into my saddle as Rygel bolted for his black gelding. “We’ll be back tomorrow. Keep riding north by northwest and we’ll find you.”

“Raine!” Ly’Tana called, running toward me, her sword slapping against her bare leg. “Dammit, wait!”

I pointed. “She stays here.”

Kel’Ratan moved to intercept her, on my terse command, his face as bewildered as everyone else’s.

Wheeling Rufus, I kicked him into a gallop. Ignoring her shouted questions, I thundered down the gentle slope. Rufus stretched his legs, carrying me up and over the next hill that would convey me from their sight. Only then could I breathe.

My chest hurt. I tried to breathe deep, but the air caught in my throat, choking me. Black spots danced in front of my eyes. I hoped Rufus was looking where he was going, for I was blind.

Hearing Rygel whipping his horse, I slowed Rufus to a heavy lope. If I hadn’t, Rygel would kill his gelding and never catch up. I relaxed a fraction. Air seeped into my lungs, easing the ache in my chest. I drew in a few more and if they were ragged only Rufus heard. Rygel hadn’t yet caught up.

Rufus leaped pale, barkless dead trees, dodged the occasional granite boulder and scrub oak thicket, his pace smooth and easy. Quail and pigeons burst up and out almost under his hooves as his swift legs tossed patches of daisies, buttercups and dogwood into sweet scented turmoil. Down the hill, he crossed a tiny trickle of water burbling over stones and followed the shallow valley up the next rise.

At last, Rygel rode knee to knee with me, and I braced myself for the expected tirade. Rygel’s sense of compassion was kept only for the sick or wounded. For crazy blood brothers who got a wild hair up his ass and decided to ride away on lone expeditions, Rygel was nothing less than ruthless.

He surprised me. Not a word passed his aristocratic lips. What was he up to? Maybe he worked himself up to it, planning his insults and acid comments to create the best effect. Every lecture should be well thought out. Tense, I waited for his harangue to start.

I eyed him sidelong, trying to gauge his mood. A temperamental sort, patience wasn’t his strong suit. Keeping his mouth shut was usually an impossible task. Yet, he sat easily in his saddle, his eyes to the front, his expression serene. Serene? Serenity and Rygel didn’t mix very well. Could he have grown a sensitive side while I was gone?

When I gave up trying to predict him, he finally spoke. His words almost spilled me headfirst out of my saddle.

“Want to talk about it?”

I shook my head.

He offered a wry shrug and a half-smile, flicking me a glance from his amber eyes. “Whenever you’re ready,” was all he said.

Damn, there goes my breath again, sticking in my throat where it didn’t belong.

Companionably side by side, we rode into the afternoon across the vast green hills.

“If my geography is correct,” he said, and hour or more later. “We have a bit of riding to do before dark. Wil Dar has walls and they shut their gates at dusk. Unless we want to climb the walls and walk through the town, we need to hustle.”

“Mine can do it,” I replied simply. “Can yours?”

He grinned. “Let’s find out.”

* * *

We reached Wil Dar just as the sun reached the distant mountain peaks. With our shadows long, we joined the influx of townspeople heading home from the fields. Well-armed, rough-looking guards in pieces of half-armor protecting their vitals looked down at us. Their woolen tunics sewn with the Wil Dar badge, a black bear holding a shield, marked them as the earl’s sworn men. The peasant folk paid us scant attention, and I guessed mercenaries were common in the area. Even the guards waiting to close the gates gave us a quick once over and then ignored our presence as we rode past them and into the city.

“Wil Dar,” Rygel muttered out of the side of his mouth. “Earl Bertus.”

“A distant cousin of Lionel’s,” I answered quietly. “I recognized the badge.”

“He owns a considerable territory around here. The Dales. We’ll be in them for a few days.”

I glanced around without turning my head, and rode easy and confident in the saddle. As though I’d every right to be there.

“Let’s find a tavern and wait till full dark,” Rygel suggested. “I have a few gold federates rolling around in my pocket. We can get a meal and an ale or two.”

I still had the jewels cut from my collar and Lionel’s heraldric sword buried deep in my saddlebags. When I mentioned them, Rygel shook his head.

“We’re very anonymous using Federate money. Jewels might make us appear richer than we should be.”

Wil Dar was about a quarter the size of Soudan, its citizenry made up of mostly peasant farmers and yeomen. I saw few nobles and several merchants. It appeared Earl Bertus was more of a farmer than a military arm of Brutal’s. His people tilled his soil and paid his taxes. His standing army looked to be quite large, from the numbers I saw either on duty or lounging around the hard pan streets. Many eyed us with suspicion, then dismissed us as not worth the trouble.

“This one looks good,” Rygel commented, reining his horse in.

I glanced up at the tavern sign, a garishly painted sign of a fat pig covered in mud.

“The Hog,” I read aloud. “Eh?”

“Seems like a place where our kind might be wont to linger.”

“Wait,” I said as Rygel began to slide out of his saddle. He paused, frozen in the act of dismounting.

“Take another look at the horses.”

Aback aboard his gelding, Rygel obeyed me, eyeing the row of quiet, hip-shot horses tied to the rail out front. “Nice horses. So?”

“Are your eyes ever useful, or do you just have them on your face for ornaments?” I asked. “Those are Khalidian cavalry saddles.”

“Ouch.”

“Think there are a dozen troopers in there?”

In a seemingly casual look around the dusty street, Rygel turned his head first to the left, then his right. “Yes, I do,” he replied slowly. “Every inn and tavern on this street have the same nice animals with the same saddles tied out front.”

“Perhaps we should leave then.”

Rygel bowed his head and pursed his lips. “No,” he said finally. “Let’s go in. This many of Brutal’s cavalry soldiers in one place is just a little too bizarre. This isn’t a passing patrol looking for an evening on the town.”

“What then?”

“How about we go in and find out?”

Tying our horses to the rail, we went inside. I walked cautiously, on the balls of my feet, my hand tickling my sword hilt. Behind me, Rygel’s tension conveyed itself to my shoulder blades, which itched. Ready, in case Brutal’s men recognized us immediately and pounced, swords waving, seeking our blood.

Shutting the door behind us, we glanced around the full taproom.

“How about that,” Rygel breathed.

No purple and gold uniforms met my swift inspection. The taproom, busy, held nothing but armed men dressed in plain tunics, homespun breeches, tall cavalry boots, heavy swords in plain sheathes. They sported the current merc fashion, much as Rygel and I dressed. Oddly, few, if any, locals drank or dined. Only strangers in town supped at the Hog this night.

All the men sported short hair. Khalidian soldiers cut their hair, to fit under helmets. Most of the mercs I ever saw wore their hair long. I recognized the blades belted to their hips: the heavy, double-edged, yet slender swords favored by professional horsemen. This lighter sword made it easier to slash an enemy while riding a galloping horse.

Brutal’s cavalry indeed.

Despite my imposing size, none seemed predisposed to anything more than a first curious glance. With a quick gesture, Rygel found us a table not far from the door and close to the kitchens. We sat cautiously, expecting at any minute to be recognized and the alarm sounded. If any did recognize us, they kept the matter to themselves.

“Why are they—” I began, from the side of my mouth.

“Deserters,” Rygel answered grimly. “From the look of it, I’m guessing a hell of a lot of them.”

I relaxed. If they were indeed deserters from Brutal’s army, they’d draw no attention to themselves by setting the inn about our ears. I glanced around with more confidence, no longer concerned we’d be attacked.

The place was cleaner than the Whoring Whale. Our table had been recently wiped, the walls were built of a warm mellow wood with the antlers of various stags hung for decoration. It smelled of roasting meat, ale and the fresh sawdust covering the floor. I saw no pigs. The serving wench who greeted us wore a simple, clean gown with an apron, her hair tied back with a ribbon. She took our order with a quickly bobbed curtsey and disappeared into the depths of the kitchens.

The moment she vanished, the innkeeper appeared. With a sharp glance around, he found us and made his way to our table. I eyed him with no little concern. What did he want? Had he recognized us and would inform Brutal’s missing men?

While he, too, dressed plainly but with obvious care, he had cooking stains down the front of his apron. Obviously, he was a busy man. Unlike the tavern owner of The Whoring Whale, this man was of a solid, athletic build, his dark hair cut short. As he moved with a quick competence, I guessed he may once have been a fighting man.

Arriving at our table, he offered a short, courteous bow.

“I humbly beg your pardon, good sirs,” he said in a quiet yet firm voice. “Dare I offend you, I’ll see the color of your money before I dispense your order. These are dangerous times. As you are strangers to me, I collect first.”

Rygel nodded. “I can understand that, my friend. We’re not out to cheat you.”

He dug into the small pouch at his belt. “Will that cover our expenses?”

The innkeeper held up the gold federate Rygel gave him. He bowed low. “Do you wish to bespeak rooms and stabling?”

“No, sir, we’ll dine and depart.”

He bowed. “I’ll bring your change with the meal.”

I glanced around as the innkeeper vanished into the kitchen. The exchange caused hardly a hiccup. I reckoned all of those present, not familiar locals, were asked to pay up front.

I hunched my shoulders. “If we’re not staying here, where do you intend us to sleep? In the streets?”

“I don’t know about you,” Rygel murmured. “But I’m not too comfortable with the idea of staying in Wil Dar. I don’t care much for the idea of sleeping near Brutal’s men, deserters or not.”

“Will you teach the horses to fly?” I asked, brow quirked. “They locked the gates if you hadn’t noticed.”

He waved a negligent hand. “I’ll put the guards to sleep and unlock the gates. If we shut them behind us, no one will know anything.”

“Hssst.”

Rygel shut his mouth instantly, taking a swift draught of his ale. Without making it obvious, I tilted my head toward the voices that caught my attention. A quick, sliding glance showed me five of them, at a larger table in a darkened corner, out of the torchlight. Their voices, hushed and quiet, murmured under the general babble of the room.

I listened carefully, my heightened hearing picked up their words. I dismissed the unimportant sounds from around me.

“—didn’t sign up to fight no wolves, nor bloody flying lions, neither.”

“Wolves, I ask you,” said another, his voice not much above a mutter. “Big bastards, too. I all but pissed myself, but they ran right by me. Buggers never even looked my way.”

“That’s because you didn’t try to kill them,” said a third, his voice slightly louder. “Didn’t you see? They didn’t kill none that didn’t try to kill them.”

“What the bloody hell were they doing there?” a fourth said. “Wolves? I don’t get it.”

“They fight for her.”

“Not right, Tom,” said the fifth, a low, frightened, quavering voice from the man in the deepest shadows. “They fight for him.”

“Him?”

“The Bloody Wolf, you ass. He’s a damn wolf, right enough. Anyone with eyes can see it. They’ll fight for their own, mark my words.”

I froze, Rygel’s eyes locked on mine. For now he caught the conversation, and his expression tightened. In a swift glance, I took in the rough faces of the tavern crowd. Beneath the light banter and conversations, fear rode in every eye. I scented it, gusting under the odors of hot beef, frying peppers, ale and sweaty bodies. That’s why they deserted. If being in Brutal’s army meant death by wolf fangs, they wanted no part of it. These boys were common soldiers, trained to fight men. They’d no clue how to fight wolves as big as ponies who came out of nowhere and slaughtered their brothers.

“I didn’t sign on for this,” the first voice repeated. “Tomorrow, I’m for Arcadia. Scoot across the border, turn merc. Plenty of work there for an honest merc with a good horse.”

“Too bad the Kel’Hallans won’t let us across the border,” said another glumly. “Good work there, I hear. Good people.”

“I can’t follow a commander who runs at the first sight of the enemy,” said another, slamming down his ale mug a little too hard. Ale splashed over its brim. “The B left us there to die, while he ran like a rabbit.”

“He’s a bloody coward,” the third voice said, his tone full of contempt. “Why should I die for a coward? He abandoned us.”

“If I thought he’d take me,” the fifth man said. “I’d sign on with him. He’s a foreign prince they say, a real blue-blood. I’d follow a leader like him. If even wolves fight for him, he’s a leader to follow. Nigh into hell itself.”

“If you did,” said the second voice, Tom. “The big B would crucify you once her and him were caught.”

The big man in the shadows leaned back. His teeth gleamed in a swift grin. “The B won’t catch him. Her neither. They’re both way smarter than B. Trust me for it, he and she will never be caught by the big B.”

* * *

Few roamed the dark shadowed streets as Rygel and I mounted our horses. Riding past the darkened buildings, I agreed with Rygel. There were far too many of Brutal’s former army about to feel comfortable. Despite their desire to do nothing but ride hard for the closest border, the enemy was still the enemy. While I felt no danger emanating, I didn’t like being there. I wanted out. Badly.

“We can ride around for an hour or so,” Rygel murmured. “If we haven’t found it, it isn’t here to be found.”

I didn’t reply, didn’t waste a nod he couldn’t see in the dark. A few lamps had been lit, but for the most part the town lay in darkness. As though everyone shut and shuttered after dark and never opened up before dawn. I couldn’t even see lights behind chinks in between closed doors and jambs.

At a quiet walk, even our horses’ hooves sounded muffled. As we rode, the few people we did see vanished. I saw no City Watch, no guards, no late beggars. Glancing up, I saw no guards on the walls. As though we rode through a deserted city long abandoned by all save the ghosts and Brutal’s former cavalry.

Rygel peered through the dark at the buildings we passed. “Temples, yes,” he whispered. “But nothing like what I think the Huhtamaki monks would occupy.”

I saw the tall dark temple consecrated to Usa’a’mah, the usual armored and armed priests who guarded others like it curiously absent. It stood as silent as everything else we rode past.

“Let’s try over this way.” Rygel pitched his voice one level above inaudible.

We rode past silent homes and markets, shut tightly for the night. Torches failed to burn invitingly outside. A few more, smaller, taverns and inns hosted the same scene: former cavalry horses tied to rails. Should an army commander wander into town, he’d recognize them in an instant. Hopefully, these men would escape the Federation and find new lives, and new hopes, elsewhere.

Whether the townspeople recognized the deserters and remained indoors, just in case, or if this was the normal evening for Wil Dar, I’ll never know. My alarm instincts remained on high alert. My hackles rose on my neck and stubbornly refused to flatten.

Down a few more streets and several turns found us at the end of town. No more taverns or homes, but shut businesses, warehouses and closed markets greeted my keen night vision. Only a few buildings remained before we hit the city wall, but many railed pens spread outward in a large maze. If there were cattle in them I’d suspect this the cattle market. Like everything else, the faint moonlight shown down on emptiness. Just beyond them lay the high city wall, with no guards atop. We just discovered a dead end.

Rygel flipped his hand, indicating I should follow. “We can check down this way, and if there’s still nothing then there are no monks in this very weird town.”

We rode perhaps a half block. I reined in.

Rygel rode on for a few rods before he discovered I wasn’t there, and halted. I paid him scant attention. A strange scent drifted on the light wind, an odor sent my flesh into pimpling. Lifting my face, I sought to identify it, to roll its flavor over my tongue. It wafted, then waned, only to return fresher on the next small gust of breeze.

“What?” Rygel whispered.

“Don’t you smell that?”

He sniffed loudly. “Smell what?”

“Blood and fear.”

He froze. His face glowed pale as it turned toward me. “I don’t know why that should surprise me. You’re a wolf after all.”

I didn’t answer him, held rapt as I was by the strange odor. Nudging Rufus, I walked him toward the pens, my nose leading me. The scent grew stronger. To my eyes, the pens lay empty and silent. There was nothing there. I almost turned about, prepared to leave.

Wait. What was that?

Rygel didn’t speak as I dismounted, but followed suit, sliding down from his saddle. Like me, he left his reins on his gelding’s neck.

Leaving the horses to stand and wait, I crept forward. Walking at a low crouch, presenting a smaller profile, I edged my way toward the cattle yards. The moon glimmered down on a very pale figure at the furthest corner of the pen. I squinted. It looked like a horse. If it was a horse, it was like no horse I’d ever seen.

I thought it was alone. I started to take another step when an enormous shadow moved. I froze. Peering into the darkness, I saw a shape. The moon flicked off a rounded rump. A second horse. This one so black it blended perfectly into the darkness. Only its chance movement gave it away.

“What do you see?”

I couldn’t believe it. Rygel saw nothing.

Taking his hand, I pointed with it, hardly daring to breathe. Staring intently into the dark, Rygel’s eyes flicked back and forth, unable to see what I now saw clearly.

“I don’t see a bloody thing,” he murmured.

“Use your bloody magic.”

He seized my wrist and gripped hard enough to hurt. I didn’t speak, but glanced at him, inviting him to share.

“Don’t you recognize it?” he hissed. “That’s a Tarbane!”

Instantly I recalled Ly’Tana and Kel’Ratan’s lecture of the legendary horse creatures. Descended from the gods, they said, as intelligent as men, faster, more powerful than any common horse. Creatures bound to their own laws and kings until man’s evil destroyed their once peaceful relations with these noble beasts.

“What’s it doing here?” he muttered, still peering into the darkness.

“Two. There are two of them.”

Rygel hissed lightly through his teeth. “They must know we are here.”

“They do.”

I also recognized the sensation of being watched. In our travels across the empty fertile grasslands of the Navak Plains, they watched us. Both Arianne and I sensed their eyes, and their peaceful intentions. Watched by Tarbane, we were. We trespassed on the Tarbane’s lands, and they made sure we didn’t intend to linger.

The black one shifted again. This time, with the wind just right, I heard the faint chink of metal. Chains.

“They’re prisoners,” I murmured.

“Prisoners? How in the hell can they be captured? No one has ever done it.”

“Someone did it. And I’m going to let them go.”

I started up. Rygel’s strong hand on my shoulder dragged me back. “You do realize, braud,” he said. “Once you free them, they might just kill you. They’ve no reason to thank us.”

“I don’t care. I’m going. Stay here if you want to.”

Being Rygel, of course he didn’t. Right beside me he crouched, stalking forward, staying low. Under the lowest rail we crawled, aware these valuable captives might be guarded. I paused, casting about with my better night vision, scenting the air. Listening with everything my ears had to offer, I heard nothing but the light breeze. I saw and smelled no guards. As we crept closer, I saw why.

Both Tarbane wore head collars of heavy chain that bore chain leads down to solid bolts in the earth. Cuffs of solid steel had been clapped around each front pastern, also chained to the big bolts. Not only couldn’t they possibly escape, even with their greater strength, they could barely move.

They froze as we approached, turning their heads slightly to watch us slink forward. Delicate ears pointed toward us. Nostrils flared. The heavy aroma of fear increased, making my stomach roil in protest. The stench of blood grew ever stronger. The pale grey’s coat ran with gore from the chains about its head, its legs and the whip marks that streaked its dirty coat. While the black one’s coat hid it’s injuries, I knew someone whipped and beat it as well.

I needed to do something about the fear. “I don’t know if you can understand me,” I said, my voice soft. “We’re not here to harm you. We want to free you.”

“Yes,” Rygel said, slowly approaching the grey, his hand extended, palms up and out. The universal sign of peaceful intentions. “If you let us close, we can get the chains off you.”

I stepped closer, cautiously to the huge black, my own right hand out, palm up. I let it see clearly that while I was armed, none were in my hand. Inspiration struck me. I quickly unbuckled my sword belt and dropped it to the ground.

“What—” Rygel began.

“Do it,” I hissed.

Despite the lack of wisdom of approaching dangerous creatures unarmed, Rygel obeyed me. His weapons fell beside mine.

“Now you see us,” I said quietly. “We are unarmed. Will you allow us to approach?”

The black’s head dipped slightly. It snorted softly down its nose. I accepted the gesture as equine permission. Rygel and I spread out, me toward the black, Rygel toward the grey. It was chained about two rods away, facing its companion. I inched toward the black, a beast more than twice the size of Rufus. The darkness hid it’s gender.

Its muzzle extended toward my hands slightly, its nostrils quivering as the beast took in my scent. In my nose, the odor of fear dropped considerably. I glanced over toward Rygel. He grunted as he struggled with the mechanism that closed the chains together around the grey’s head. The grey stood stock still, as though movement would halt the procedure of freeing it.

My fingers found the locking mechanism around the black’s head. Of course, there was no key in it. Perhaps our rescue attempted would end in failure. Not even my strength could break it.

Wait. Strength. I had another strength, one that came from Rygel. Not sure how to use magic, other than starting fires, I thought back to what Rygel said once: the brain was a muscle. He used his brain the same way I used my muscles. All right, let’s give it a whirl.

I took a deep breath and touched the lock. Breathing out, I imagined it snapping open. Then I exerted my will, the same way I willed the fire to burn the wet wood at the camp. Instantly, the lock obeyed me.

Behind me, Rygel’s also opened with a short crack. Mine might have been better oiled, for it made little noise. I slid the chain out of it, the black considerately lowering its head so I might remove it without knocking the heavy steel over open wounds. I gathered the lengths in my hand to avoid it dropping with a clash and alerting anyone we stole their prizes.

“Now your feet,” I whispered.

Rygel removed the steel head collar from the grey and crouched at its very dangerous front hooves to free those. I did the same, very much aware of the beast’s power. Once the chains were off, it could kill me before I could roll swiftly away, out of reach.

Again, the steel cuffs were locked. With a little practice, the cuffs opened under my mental command. Despite being unlocked, rust in the hinges caused the bloody things to stick closed. I used both hands to wrench them open with grunts and whispered cursing. At last I set the cuffs quietly aside and stood up.

The big black never moved, even once it was free of the chains. Dark eyes watched me, its fear gone. I wanted to reach out my hand and stroke down the strong, delicate face. I had no idea what a Tarbane might like for affection. Thus, I kept my hands to myself. Hearing noises from behind, I glanced back.

Rygel walked toward me, the grey behind him, it’s nose to his shoulder. Almost as if belonging there. He stopped beside me, the two Tarbane standing side by side to face us.

“You’re free now,” I murmured. “If you care to keep company with us for a while, my friend here can put the guards to sleep and open the gate. You can go home.”

The two put their heads together as though in a whispered conversation. Rygel grinned and clapped me on the shoulder.

“Damn that felt good.”

I couldn’t help it. I grinned back as he leaned comfortably against my shoulder, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yes,” I murmured. “It most certainly did.”

I heard no noise, no voices, but their decision was obvious. The pair raised their heads and gazed down at us, their huge liquid eyes bright. I don’t know how I knew, but somehow I knew they agreed to come with us.

“Let’s go,” I said, turning.

As I bent to pick up my sword belt, I wondered if weapons in our hands might make them change their minds. But as Rygel and I rearmed ourselves, they looked on with the innocence of children.

We ducked through the wooden rails of the pen. Our new companions merely broke into a trot and easily jumped over. I cocked my head, listening for the sound of their hooves on the hard packed earth. I heard nothing, even with my heightened hearing.

“When they want to,” Rygel murmured, understanding, “they can move as silently as cats.”

“I reckon so,” I murmured, heading for the horses.

Our new friends, if they could be called friends, waited patiently while our slower two legs caught up.

To my shock, the presence of the Tarbane hand an unexpected effect on our horses. Rufus pinned his ears, his teeth bared, the white ringing his eyes. He danced sideways, keeping his head facing them, wanting to flee, but unwilling to leave me. Sweat dampened his neck. His tail swept back and forth, reminiscent of Bar’s lion tail when angry.

Rygel’s black stood shivering, sweating, all but paralytic with fear. His head held high, his eyes ringed with white, he had locked his legs into steel rods. Any tiny start would sent him exploding into blind panic. I’d no idea why he didn’t flee, galloping away at top speed in a desperate run from what frightened him so badly. Perhaps he, like Rufus, felt unwilling to abandon his rider.

Rygel went to him, murmuring soothing words, caressing his black sweaty neck.

“Easy, lad,” I said to Rufus, stroking his face.

For a moment I thought he might bite me. He flung his head back, ears flat against his skull, half-rearing, striking out with one savage hoof. His teeth snapped together on nothing as he shook his head fiercely. I glanced over my shoulder. The black Tarbane stood there, watching us with bright eyes. I offered an apologetic half-shrug.

“He seems a bit scared of you,” I said. “Give me a moment.”

It took a few long minutes to quiet the horses enough that we might vault into our saddles without them bolting out from under us. I turned Rufus around, Rygel and his black beside me. Rufus didn’t much like the pair behind us, either. His tail lashed violently, and he pinned his ears flat, yet he walked forward quietly enough. The black gelding calmed once Rygel was in the saddle, but foam still lathered his neck and flanks.

Had I not known they were there, I’d never have known. The Tarbane moved as invisibly, as easily,through the darkness as hunting owls. Like ghosts, they followed behind us, almost invisible in the darkness though they walked but a few paces behind. I exchanged a quick glance with Rygel, who, predictably, grinned.

“There’s a gate not far from here,” he said quietly. “It’s just down this way. It faces south, however.”

“I don’t care,” I replied. “As long as we’re out of this god-forsaken town. I don’t think our friends care either.”

They offered no comment, if they had any to make.

Within a half-mile, the gate loomed in the dark distance. Rygel reined in and turned in his saddle to face the Tarbane.

“I’m going to put the guards to sleep,” he said in a low voice. “We’ll walk up and then I can open the gate. We don’t want to alarm anyone who might be close, so I’m going to shut it behind us and lock it.”

They said nothing. I doubted I could understand them even should they decide to talk. I suspected they communicated like Bar. If he spoke with his eagle’s chirps, screeches, hisses, they’d communicate with whinnies, nickers, neighs, or squeals. I didn’t speak that language well.

Rygel nudged his horse back into a walk. The guards lounged against the wall of their guardhouse, gossiping in low voices. The first humans we’d encountered since leaving The Hog. I felt a strange sort of surprise at the sight, as though never having seen people before. I counted eight of them.

“Here goes nothing,” Rygel muttered.

He made no movement to indicate he used his magic, but one by one the guards collapsed. Almost in a heap, four fell outward rather than inward, onto and into each other. The rest sank into sitting positions, with their chins on their chests, and their backs against the walls.

The sounds of their snores crossed the open space in an alarming rise of noise. If we heard it so clearly, so could any other guards nearby or on the wall that we hadn’t yet seen. I clenched my fist and twisted, sending my own mental will out toward them. The snores ceased immediately. Rygel stared at me. Then he shook his head in irritation.

“We really need to work on your technique.”

“Later. Our friends are late getting home. Their parents will be worried.”

Rygel chuckled under his breath. We passed the now silently sleeping guards, the Tarbane eyeing the downed guards with concern. As Rygel dismounted to fuss with the huge bar across the wooden gates, I gestured toward them in an effort to reassure.

“They won’t wake up until, er,” I paused, uncertain as to when they would wake up. “Um, until they’re supposed to.” I finished lamely.

“Very well put,” Rygel said, raising the bar up and over the wall. He swung one of the gates wide. And bent low at the waist, arms flung wide in one of Rygel’s dramatic showman’s bow.

“Your freedom awaits you,” he intoned.

The Tarbane walked past me, past a grinning Rygel and through the gates. As one, their heads raised, their nostrils flared as they hesitated. Scenting home and friends and freedom, I gathered.

They both turned and against the faint starlight I saw there was something strange about their heads. Something about the shape, the delicate features, that seemed similar. While the black was bigger, thicker and heavier, the grey was more slender, with a racer’s fine lines. Yet, somehow, I had no doubt they were brothers.

They turned toward us. Bright eyes shimmered in the moonlight. While I never expected to be thanked, somehow I knew we had been. The same way I knew they were male, and brothers. Without telling me, they told me.

I rode Rufus through the open gate and paused to wait for Rygel. I never took my eyes off the pair as Rygel shut the gate and, with his magic, dropped the bar back into place from the other side. Now whoever had taken the Tarbane captive would never know how his prizes escaped. The guards would soon wake, never knowing they slept. They’d rise from the ground and resume their watch as though nothing at all had happened.

The Tarbane would vanish like the ghosts they appeared to be.

I bowed my head to them. “You’re welcome,” I answered, softly.

Rygel walked up behind me, distracting me as he vaulted into his saddle. I glanced down, taking my eyes from the huge pair.

“Good-bye—” he began and halted, his voice choked off.

I looked up.

The Tarbane were gone.

I swept my eyes through the darkness, searching with sight, hearing and scent. They vanished.

As though they were but a dream.

“Well, now,” Rygel said softly. “What do you think of that?”

“I think it’s been one hell of a night.”

In the Tarbane’s absence, the horses calmed immediately. Rufus bent his neck and rubbed his nose against his foreleg. Rygel’s black shook himself, rattling Rygel from head to toe, and snorted down his nose.

“These old boys need some rest,” I said. “We do, too.”

“I want out of sight of this town,” Rygel said, glancing back at the silent gates. “What say we ride straight west for a while, get into a grove of trees for cover? I think there’s one at the top of a hill a few miles that way.”

He jerked his head toward his right. I remembered there were no tilled fields in that direction. Most of the farmers tended their crops and herded their cattle, goats and sheep primarily to the north, east and south. The west were Tarbane lands, I thought. Right now, Tarbane territory seemed safer than human.

“I’ll go along with that notion,” I answered, nudging Rufus into a fast trot. Despite the day’s travel, he was more than ready to work. The black gelding didn’t have his stamina and I hoped we weren’t running him too hard. Belatedly, I remembered Kel’Ratan’s speculation about Rufus: he was of Tarbane blood.

I looked at Rufus with a new eye. That may be where his high intelligence, his strength, his uncommonly good looks came from. I rubbed his neck. I always knew there was something special about Rufus.

“You owe me an explanation,” Rygel said, drawing me out of my reverie.

“I don’t,” I replied.

“You do.”

“You won’t get one until you tell me which one ’tis.”

“In that case, you owe me several,” he said. “But I’m interested in only one right now.”

“And that is?”

He eyed me askance. “You have never smelled fear before,” he said slowly. “How in the bloody blazes can you smell it now? How’d you smell their fear?”

I examined my reins. I reckoned I did owe him that one. To people, emotions were seen on the face, in the language of the body. Animals like dogs, horses…and wolves could scent emotions. Especially fear. Although I had no real knowledge of how I came to start scenting an emotion like fear, I’d a pretty good idea.

I fumbled for the words, floundering, wishing he weren’t so perceptive. Rygel waited patiently, another first for him. I shied away from my memory of what happened in the trees like a horse at the sight of a lion. He offered no verbal encouragement, but I felt it coming off him in waves. He was my brother after all.

“Um,” I said slowly. “Back there. In the trees.” I jerked my head in the direction we rode toward, in the direction Ly’Tana, Arianne and the others camped. “I tried to turn myself into a wolf.”

I felt his excitement rise, although he said nothing, nor made any movement. “And?”

“I scared myself silly.”

Whatever I thought he’d do or say, the kindly hand he dropped onto my shoulder surprised me. “I suppose that’s to be expected,” he said quietly. “Facing one’s worst fear is never going to go well the first time.”

Shock jolted me. “How did—”

He smiled, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight.

“I’m your brother.”

* * *

I lunged out of my blankets, my instincts, wolf or otherwise, screaming the alarm. Seizing my sword, I bared it, ready to fight the unseen enemy from my knees.

The sun broke over the horizon, its red-orange rays streaming across the grasslands. The morning lay silent, the expected day still an hour away. Yet, for now, dawn reigned supreme. The birds were first to greet the sun, chirping contentedly from the safety of the trees above.

I blinked.

A forest of legs captured my sight. Dozens upon dozens of equine legs met my eyes as I swung my head: red legs, black legs, grey legs, bay legs, piebald legs, white legs, brown legs. More legs than I could count in a lightning glance.

I peered up.

Angry Tarbanes peered down.

A huge circle of Tarbane faces filled the sky above me. Tarbanes filled the tiny clearing within the grove where Rygel and I made our camp the night before. Many ears lay flat against their huge heads, though a few pointed curiously toward me. Long shaggy manes hung low, almost to my face. Nostrils flared as they sucked in my scent. Lips skinned back from teeth bared perilously close for my immediate safety. Huge hooves trod the earth inches from my legs.

I gulped. I kicked Rygel.

He stirred sleepily, hunching his shoulders under his blanket. “Go ’way,” he mumbled.

I kicked him again. “We’ve got company.”

“What?”

He rolled over, his eyes fuzzy and indistinct. “Wolves?”

I folded my legs under me, aiming for the most peaceful posture possible. I sheathed my sword and laid it across my knees, my intentions clear. “Guess again.”

Rygel sat up.

Instantly, a white Tarbane muzzle thrust itself into his face. He yelped, scrambling to get his legs under him. He sank back against my spine, breathing hard. He, too, knew better than to draw a weapon. I kept my hands away from my sword and raised them high.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered, his back against mine, his hands in the air. “We’re in trouble.”

“You think?” I snapped, trying for a smile as a black and white piebald face pressed close, ears flat, huge nostrils flaring redly.

“Tell them,” he said wildly.

“Tell them what?”

“That we helped their friends.”

“I think they know that, nimrod,” I snapped. “That’s why they’re here.”

“What do we do now?”

I looked around. “Surrounding them is out.”

“Think they’ll surrender to us?”

A huge chestnut bulled his way through the pack, his red mane falling nearly to the ground. White stockings came up past his knees. His long nose held a huge blaze that swept up and around his pale brown eyes.

Like Rufus, I thought, distracted. By the way the others relented, stepped back, deferred to him, I reckoned their leader stepped forward. Ears flat against his huge skull, his huge eyes fastened squarely on mine, he breathed me in.

And blew me out in a derisive snort. “You will come with us,” he thundered.

I wilted against Rygel, astounded, flabbergasted.

“What the—” Rygel stammered, floundering to his knees.

“No questions! Get up.”

We obeyed him, our hands in the air in the universal sign of surrender. Belatedly, I hoped they understood the universal language. Not that we could survive should we decide to fight, I thought, seeing the hate in their eyes, feeling their enmity on my skin. What did we do?

“What did we do?” Rygel echoed my thoughts, his back to mine with his hands raised.

“We trespassed on their territory,” I hissed. “We’ve been in their lands for over a week.”

“Them?” Rygel obviously and suddenly remembered the watching eyes.

“Yes,” I said grimly. “I reckon they want retribution.”

“You know nothing, human,” the chestnut spat. “Get on your beasts. The Sh’azhar wants you.”

“The—”

“Silence!”

Rufus and the black gelding were nipped and herded toward us, their fright obvious. Rufus’s defiance from the night before was gone. The black gelding trembled until I thought he’d collapse. We’d unsaddled them the night before, but they wore their saddles now. Under the intense scrutiny of at least fifteen irritated Tarbane, we tightened girths, packed our bedrolls and mounted up.

The leader set a fast pace, but not so hard that Rygel’s gelding couldn’t keep up. We followed behind his flowing red tail, and I hoped Rufus didn’t tread on it. That, I imagined, would irritate him to no end. The others loped and trotted in a huge herd all around us, providing no opening with which we might slip through to escape. Not that we could, I thought. Should we try, they’d have little trouble in running us down.

Leaning toward Rygel, I whispered. “What’s a Sh’azhar?”

“I’m betting that’s their king,” he answered, his voice hushed.

As the chestnut leader paid us no mind and none of the others tried to silence us, I spoke again.

“If they travel in large groups like this, how is it no one ever sees them?”

Rygel glanced around cautiously. “I imagine they don’t. We must be a special case.”

I got my bearings with a lightning look around. We travelled west, but somewhat to the north. Almost in the direction we, with the Kel’Hallans, rode to escape Brutal and his armies. We galloped toward the distant mountains, the first of the many ranges in the great north.

Without turning my head very much, I surveyed our captors. Their awesome beauty took my breath away. Hugely flowing manes and tails brushed over the tall grass. Sunlight reflected off gleaming hair, their powerful muscles bunching and knotting under slick hides. Necks arched proudly, their shoulders and rumps rounded with equine perfection. Most stood hands high over Rufus, dwarfed Rygel’s black gelding. I did notice two or three that were not as large, but still looked far more powerful than any mere horse.

The hills closed in. Short mountains rose higher and steeper, rocky, dotted with thickets of bramble and scrub oak. Trees grew thicker, not just patches dotting the rolling landscape, but a new forest growing thick and green. We climbed steeply, the footing under our mounts no longer grass and soil, but sharp rocks and chunks of boulders. Dead trees, pale white and naked of any bark, lay amid the broken rock. White-striped rodents whisked from view as a circling hawk screamed its annoyance.

The chestnut loped toward what looked to me like a thick wall of trees. As we drew closer, I saw the appearance deceived my eye. Only at a certain angle and close up, could I see the narrow canyon. It looked like a natural hidden entrance to…what?

Our Tarbane escort fell back, allowing us to go first, just behind the red leader. Once into the canyon, I understood. The steep walls permitted only two to run abreast. The sun didn’t reach here very well and long shadows filled the confined space. I glanced up. I nudged Rygel. After a quick questioning glance at me, he, too, looked up.

More Tarbane stood atop the cliff, watching. Guards on the wall, I thought.

The canyon wasn’t very long, perhaps less than half a mile. Bright sunlight gleamed from the other end. Past the red Tarbane’s large quarters, I witnessed what appeared an opening onto a meadow. Once out of the canyon, the sun blinded me. I blinked.

The meadow, no a vale, was huge. If I was forced to guess, I’d estimate it about three leagues long and the same wide. Tall rocky hills, just short of mountains, surrounded it. Smaller hillocks rounded up through the grass. Thickets of pine, oak and slender elm trees offered shade from the sun. Like the Plains of Navak, flowers blossomed amid the green. The heady scents of buttercups and daisies mingled with wild rose and lilac that overwhelmed my sensitive nose. Bees collected the sweet nectar of the colorful flowers, dropping from one blossom to the next. Dogwood sprouted, attracting birds of all kinds to nest in their branches. Falcons, kestrels and hawks vied with jays, jackdaws, robins, and their smaller cousins, wrens and sparrows for coveted airspace. More granite boulders the sizes of houses dotted the tall green grass, smaller broken rock breaking up the vibrant colors.

If I had a knife to my throat and was forced to name this place, I might call it ‘heaven on earth’. A vivid sensation of peace, a tranquility not found anywhere I else I’d ever travelled to or from, could equal this place for sheer harmony. It lay one with the gods and their creation. Had I not been taken captive and tripped over this place by accident, I might stay here, at rest, until the end of my days.

I reckoned this vale the Tarbane home, protected from the weather and prying, human eyes. Riding further in, I saw dark shadows in the jagged mountains. Deep caves, I surmised. Protective caverns that sheltered families from the winter snows, the spring rains, the curiosity of men.

Only three Tarbane stood amidst the vale. At least three that I could see, anyhow. I suspected more watched from hiding around the hillocks and the caves. I scented them, a wild odor mixed with the tall grass they ate for sustenance. If I listened hard, the faint sound of Tarbane tails sweeping the flies and whispering through the tall grass, the motions of those who refused to show themselves reached my ears.

The red leader slowed his pace to approach the three.

Or the one, I thought suddenly.

A single huge grey Tarbane stood waiting, his dappled coat gleaming under the sunlight. A silvery mane fell from his high neck to sweep the tall grass at his knees. His tail lay across the grassy tops, as thick and full as a windless banner. Dark intelligent eyes gleamed from behind his silver forelock. He was almost too bright to look at without squinting against the glare.

Two other Tarbane stood off to the side, to the big grey’s left.

I caught Rygel’s quick grimace as he, too, recognized our friends.

Our escort fanned out in a wide circle, surrounding not just Rygel and I, but the grey and black as well as the great silver leader.

The chestnut approached the dappled grey at a methodical walk. He showed no obvious deference, but wheeled in behind to flank the huge grey. There he stopped, his head up, his ears pointed backward, his eyes carefully blank. If he were a soldier, I guessed his posture spoke of parade rest.

The huge silver Tarbane stared at Rygel and I, impassive. I thought it prudent to dismount, and slid down off Rufus. Rygel followed suit. Unsure of what to do, I stepped forward slowly, showing both hands. I glanced quickly at the pair, standing off to my right. The blood from whip and chain on them both stood stark on their once silky hair.

They stood with their heads low, their eyes and ears on us. We freed them from their captivity and torment. I half-thought they’d appear happy, or at least happier, than their current expressions spoke of. For some reason, I suspected they were on trial for their lives. Once more I smelled their fear.

“I am The Sh’azhar,” the huge dappled grey said.

Like his kindred, his immense equine body bulged on his shoulder, haunch and neck with perfect conformation. His stout legs and breadth of his chest made mincemeat of the finest horses I’d ever seen. Any horseman worth his salt might drool upon seeing him. No wonder the townspeople sought to capture these divine creatures.

His dark eyes behind the thick fall of his forelock held no emotion I could detect: no hate, no derision, no welcome. As he obviously outranked me, I dropped to my knee and bowed my head in obeisance. Beside me, Rygel, too, bent his knee with respect, with homage.

“Rise, humans,” The Sh’azhar said.

We obeyed. I stood straight, my hands behind me, shoulders back, as though I were a soldier under inspection. I didn’t know what passed for deference among the Tarbane for their leader, but thought they might not like it much if we didn’t at least try to show respect for this huge grey beast.

“Do you know why I ordered you brought here?” he asked.

“Because we trespassed over your lands, Your Majesty,” I answered.

“No.” His short answer ended on a long snort. “We drive away any human who try to settle or build in our territory. Any who come here are attacked in the night. They know not what drives them away, but they fear to come again. If they do not leave, we kill them.”

“You?” I asked. “You’re the ghosts of Navak?”

“Is that what they call us? Ghosts?”

Now I understood. People who sought to build homes, till the land or graze cattle found themselves under attack by what seemed like evil spirits. Rygel couldn’t see the two Tarbane last night when my wolf eyes saw them as vague shadows. Somehow, they made themselves all but invisible in the darkness. Ordinary people could never, would never, know what attacked them in the darkness before the dawn. Their superstitions explained ghosts, the restless dead rising to drive them away. They’d flee, never to return, for the dead would always be there, claiming and defending their territory.

“May I ask, great Sh’azhar, why did you not try to drive us away? We,” I indicated Rygel with a jerk of my head, “and our companions have been in your lands for almost a week.”

Now amusement showed in those dark intelligent eyes. “Your companions, as you call them, are Kel’Hallans. Once, millennia ago, a great friendship existed between the Kel’Hallans and my people. Above all your human kind, we respect, and perhaps like, only the Kel’Hallan Horse Lords.”

I dropped my head in a sober nod. “And as we obviously were travelling through without remaining, you felt unthreatened.”

His great head dipped. “Just so. We do permit travelers to pass unhindered, but most of you humans, over the centuries, have learned to stay clear and avoid our territory.”

“I understand, great Sh’azhar.”

“I brought you here because of these two criminals,” The Sh’azhar said with a toss of his thick forelock toward the silver and black Tarbane pair.

At the word ‘criminals’, their heads dropped even lower, eyes on the ground, their ears slack. Their fear-scent intensified.

Rygel spoke up. “How can they be criminals, great Sh’azhar? They were captured and tortured. What have they done wrong?”

“They found humans building not far from the walled human habitation,” The Sh’azhar answered grimly. “The town of Wil Dar. They asked permission to drive them out, but I denied them. Against my orders, they went anyway. They were trapped and taken.”

The Tarbane king eyed the two sidelong as Rygel and I exchanged a long glance. “I myself tried to rescue them,” he went on quietly. “Foolishly, alone and in daylight. Humans fired their bows and I was struck, and driven away.”

He shifted his stance, inviting me to peer closer. The broken shaft of an arrow protruded from his huge shoulder. His heavy mane concealed the wound and the traces of dried blood down his leg past his knee.

“Can we help you? My brother here is a healer.”

He tossed his head dismissively, his forelock dancing. “It is of no moment.”

“What will happen to them?” I asked, jerking my chin toward the errant pair.

The Sh’azhar’s great head swiveled toward me. “That is why I brought you here,” he said. “They owe you their lives. They must now serve you.”

“Um,” I began, catching Rygel’s wide incredulous eyes. “Serve us?”

The Sh’azhar gazed past us. Following the direction he stared, we slowly turned. Our eyes caught on our saddled horses standing quietly, their reins on their necks.

“As they serve you,” The Sh’azhar said.

My jaw dropped. “Oh, hey, that’s not necessary,” I stammered hastily, waving my hand toward the pair, frantic to deflect the king’s command. “We’re just in the neighborhood, you know, glad to help, no worries, mate, it’s all good, they don’t owe us anything at all—”

“That’s right,” Rygel chimed in, his voice hurried, panicked. “We’d nothing better to do, just out for some air, don’t you know, I think we’ll be on our way now. Thanks for the hospitality, Your Majesty, we’ll find our way out, and, hey, come by and see us, you know you’re always welcome, don’t knock, always nice to have friends come visit—”

He waved cheerfully, smiling, managing a short bow at the same time. I, too, found a bow somewhere, a faint grin and a short wave.

Shoulder to shoulder, we turned back to our horses—and froze.

A wall of very large and highly irritated Tarbane stood solidly between us and our escape.

“Uh,” I muttered, from the side of my mouth. “Maybe you could fly us out.”

“I thought you were afraid of flying,” Rygel answered, his own lips hardly moving.

“It’s high time I learned.”

“You will be permitted to leave,” The Sh’azhar said, “when you take them with you.”

Damn it all. Rygel leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Take them and then once we’re out of here cut them loose, what do you say?”

I nodded shortly. Together we turned back. We both recoiled upon finding a thunderous dark cloud on the big dappled face. How did an equine face show expressions as easily as a human’s does?

“You will not cut them loose,” The Sh’azhar said sternly.

“Oops,” Rygel muttered. “He heard that.”

“I did. So don’t bother with your paltry plans.”

“Listen, Your Majesty,” I said, stepping forward, bowing low. “It’s not that we don’t like them, we do. But your people are not meant to be our mounts. It’s beneath you.”

Oddly, The Sh’azhar managed to cock an eye over my shoulder toward Rufus. “And it’s not beneath him?” he asked.

“That’s different—”

“It is not different,” he replied firmly. “That one there comes from our blood, yet you ride him. He serves you with love and loyalty. Horses are our cousins, however distantly removed. Once upon a story, our people might have partnered with the Kel’Hallans in this manner. Unfortunately, evil entered the lands, split us apart, and we went our separate ways.”

I gestured toward the black and grey Tarbane, who listened intently to the discussion. “Look at them,” I argued. “They clearly want nothing to do with us.”

“What they want is of no moment,” The Sh’azhar said firmly. “They must pay their debt to you.”

“What if we refuse? Will you kill us?”

The Sh’azhar glanced from me, to the pair, and back to me. “No,” he said slowly. “We will not kill you. You will be escorted out and freed to go your way.”

“Good.” I turned to go. “We’ll take our leave of you, then.” I bowed low. “Your Majesty.”

“But they will die.”

I wheeled back, stricken. “Why!”

“It is our law,” he answered. “If a blood debt is not paid, the one that owes it must face execution.”

Fury roared through me. “It’s easy enough for you, the king, to dispense death,” I snarled. “Yet their lives are valuable, too.”

I thought he would grow angry in his turn at my show of temper and disrespect. The Sh’azhar pawed the ground with his blood-stained hoof. “Not as easy as you say,” he said quietly. “They are my sons.”

“What?” Rygel exploded. “You would slaughter your own children?”

“Not even I, The Sh’azhar, am above the law.”

Rygel and I stared helplessly at one another. “Please, great Sh’azhar,” I pleaded, my hands out, palms up in supplication. “Don’t do this.”

He didn’t answer me. Rather, he stared at his offspring. Whether he spoke to them in the silent Tarbane language or if they chose at that moment to come forward, I’ll never know. As one, they walked toward Rygel and I, side by side. Their pace was slow, but measured. As though they marched within the confines of a ceremony only they knew of.

Dappled silver like his sire, the grey halted in front of Rygel. “My name is Shardon,” he said quietly. “I owe you a blood debt.”

The black towered over me. He bent his huge neck so his face stopped inches from mine. I looked into the great, sad eyes. “My name is Tashira,” he said. “I owe you a blood debt.”

“This isn’t what I want,” I murmured.

“Nor I,” Tashira said. “But I must pay for my foolishness.”

“Trying to protect your lands and people is foolishness?”

“I disobeyed my sire and my Sh’azhar,” he said. “I was captured by men.”

“They are both young and headstrong,” The Sh’azhar said from behind us.

I turned. Rygel, too, wheeled about to face the Tarbane king, Shardon at his shoulder. The honor guard behind The Sh’azhar stiffened, as though expecting a royal command.

“In time they will grow some brains and learn to curb their impulsive, disobedient behavior,” the Sh’azhar went on. “Perhaps you might teach them.”

“I doubt it,” I muttered, running my hand through my hair. “I tend to be rather impulsive myself.”

“And I seldom obey,” Rygel added with a grin.

The Sh’azhar sighed. “Then there is no hope for them.”

Yet, his expressive eyes behind the thick fall of his forelock gleamed with amusement.

Rygel stroked down the long beautiful face of Shardon, who stood quiet, apparently enjoying the attention if his half-closed contented eyes told me anything. Somehow I couldn’t reach out to touch Tashira. I dared not, my throat thick, my breathing heavy. When I failed to extend a hand in compassion, Tashira nudged my shoulder.

“You’re a wolf,” he said, his nostrils flaring.

I sighed. “That’s what they tell me.”

“You’re both a wolf and a human, though how that occurred confuses me.”

“You’re not alone in that,” I replied, raising a small smile. “It confuses the hell out of me.”

“I like wolves,” Tashira went on. “Some of my good friends are wolves.”

My smile widened into something more genuine. The pervading chill left my spine and my muscles. I could now take my hand and caress his silken muzzle. “Perhaps you could grow to like the man, too.”

“You, perhaps.” Tashira bobbed his head toward Rygel. “And him. But no others. Men hurt me. I will always hate men for what they did.”

“Not all men are like that,” I murmured, thinking of Ly’Tana. “Girls can be quite nice.”

“They hurt you, too.”

“They did. I’ve learned to control my hate.”

“But not your rage.”

I took an astonished half-step back. “How do you know that?”

Rygel glanced up from his deep communion with Shardon. “Didn’t you know? They can see into our hearts as clearly as we see each other.”

“That’s how I, we, know you are both honorable men,” The Sh’azhar said. “I have no doubt you will treat my children well.”

“There is still time for you to change your mind,” I said, turning to him, my back to Tashira. “Please. I don’t want this.”

“For that very reason I am grateful it was you who saved my son,” The Sh’azhar said quietly. “You are a man who’ll not abuse his servant. You won’t betray the trust I have in you.”

“You don’t know me,” I murmured.

“I know enough,” said the Sh’azhar. “I see a great deal.”

“I’m not perfect.”

The Sh’azhar lifted his head. “Did I speak otherwise?”

Another smile teased my unwilling lips. “You did not.”

“For a human, you’re not half bad.”

That raised in me a broader grin, against my will. “My brother here believes me to be gai’tan, the werewolf.”

“And this is important, why?”

A laugh broke from me. “I reckon that remains to be seen.”

“Wolf or man, you have honor. You’ll treat my son well.”

“Then I reckon neither of us has much choice,” I said.

“No,” he replied. “You don’t.”

I sighed. I rounded my shoulders in defeat, and half-turned about, finding Tashira over my right shoulder.

“Ready?” I asked him.

“No,” Tashira replied in a very small voice. Fear filled his great soft eyes.

“Neither am I.”

Rufus and Rygel’s gelding were nipped and herded forward by the guards who escorted us here. Rygel led the trembling black to Shardon’s side, where he began to strip the saddle from the docile gelding.

Rufus stood beside me, his warm, trusting eye on my face, his muzzle thrust into my hand. He seemed to want some affection, some reason to believe I thought more of him as an intelligent creature than a beast of burden. Of course I did. The gallant bugger jumped over a bleeding cliff for me, for gods’ sake. Good old Rufus, I thought. You’re the best.

Reluctantly, I loosened my saddle’s girth and spoke over my shoulder.

“How long?” I asked simply.

“Three years,” The Sh’azhar answered. “After that, they are free to come home, should they desire.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

The Sh’azhar didn’t answer.

Puzzled, I ceased, and turned halfway around to look at him. His eyes rested on Shardon and Rygel. Following his gaze, I immediately understood. Had they been of the same species and of the opposite gender, I’d say they were in love. No doubt a deep and abiding connection already formed between Rygel and Shardon. Rygel set his saddle on Shardon’s back, Shardon’s head turned to nuzzle Rygel’s shoulder, his huge brown eyes liquid love.

I turned away.

“Don’t worry,” I muttered to Tashira, at my right. “The years will go by quickly and you’ll be free of me. I promise to release you the instant those years are up.”

He said nothing.

I suppose that should have warned me. Too deeply mired in my own reluctance and misery, I paid little heed to Tashira’s. I lifted the light, fur-covered saddle toward him.

With a panicked scream, he launched himself both backwards and sideways.

His violent motion spooked Rufus, who jumped, striking me in the shoulder. I kept to my feet, but barely, the saddle dropping into the long grass. I grabbed Rufus by the bridle, immediately preventing him from bolting.

Tashira backed away, ears flat to his skull. Had he been a human, I suspect he’d be sobbing.

“I cannot!” he cried. “I will not! Kill me, my father.”

“Tashira,” The Sh’azhar said sternly. “Cease this nonsense.”

Tashira raised his head defiantly, his tiny ears flat, buried in his mane. “I’d rather die, my father. I beg you, take my life.”

“You would rather be executed than lose your freedom for a short time? This man here—”

“Raine,” I answered simply.

“Raine will treat you with honor. He has a good and kind heart.”

“I don’t care.”

The other Tarbane, the royal soldiers, walked toward Tashira, stiff-legged, eyes fixed, their intent clear. If Tashira hoped for an opportunity to cut and run, they’d make sure he didn’t get far. They’d execute him on the spot should The Sh’azhar command his life.

“One more time,” The Sh’azhar said sternly. “Surrender to your sentence or die.”

Tashira’s head rose and his tail swept up proudly, defiant.

“Very well.” The Sh’azhar’s voice held a deep chill, a tone that meant death. I also heard a note of grief. Six Tarbane soldiers advanced on Tashira, ears flat, heads lowered, and hard-eyed. Their intent was clear: Tashira would die within moments, per their Sh’azhar’s command.

He watched them approach with calm courage, his stance neither defensive nor fearful. He’d make no attempt to defend himself I saw, I felt…I knew.

I did this. Dammit, this was my fault. Of course Tashira would rather die than live as a slave. Who would not? Anyone with a brain and a decent soul would rebel. I myself preferred death over slavery. How could I expect him to submit freely? In the hands of those who captured him, he’d probably fight to the death. A death he embraced with honor. In saving him from those who captured him, I condemned him to death from his own kind.

“Wait.”

I dropped Rufus’s reins and lunged forward, putting myself between Tashira and the oncoming executioners. Rygel stared at me in rising alarm.

“Raine, don’t—”

I ignored him. Dropping to my knee, I turned toward The Sh’azhar.

“If a life is forfeit for his crimes,” I said quickly. “I offer mine in his place.”

“Raine!” Rygel screamed.

He started toward me, drawing his sword. He didn’t get very far, however. Two Tarbane thrust their huge bodies between him and me, holding him back. Unless he dropped them in their tracks, they created a very effective barrier.

The Sh’azhar stared down at me. “Why would you do this?”

“His life is no less valuable than mine,” I answered. “As he owes his life to me, I freely give it back to him.”

“Our law must be fulfilled.”

“Raine!”

“By accepting my life over his, your law is satisfied, I’m thinking.”

The Sh’azhar stared at me, his eyes wide and glistening, glinting through his thick forelock. “You mean this? You will take the place of my son?”

“I will,” I said simply. “Freely. I would die before seeing his pure spirit enslaved. Having been a slave, and tasting sweet freedom, I know what he’s going through. I’d spare him that.”

“This is most unusual—”

Rygel fought to get around his Tarbane guards, frantic, his yells falling on deaf ears. I recognized the picture immediately: Shardon liked Rygel. Tashira didn’t like me. Shardon didn’t mind a few years of toting Rygel around. Tashira would never, so to speak, bend the knee. He’d rather be dead than take up even a temporary position as a beast of burden. His honor, his pride, forbade that. I guessed I didn’t much blame him. I didn’t take well to slavery, either.

As Shardon had freely accepted his sentence, I hoped they’d go soon. Depart, I thought. Rygel, take your new friend and go. You don’t need to witness this. Let your last sight of me be that of me on my feet, defiant, ready to die. Go, braud, and be safe.

I’d prefer they go now, with neither Rygel nor Shardon witnessing me kicked to death by Tarbane hooves. Go now, and remember me as I once was.

“Go, Rygel,” I said. My breath caught in my chest. “Tell Ly’Tana I’m sorry. Ask Corwyn to stay with Arianne, she’ll need him. You have my leave to marry her, of course.”

“Raine, no! Don’t do this! Stop! Please don’t kill him.”

“See them all safe to Kel’Halla, Rygel,” I said. “Only you can do it. Protect her from Brutal, the big B. Do it, as one last favor to me.”

“Raine!”

“One more thing.” I looked long at the anguished face of my brother. “Tell her I love her.”

“Tell her yourself, dammit, don’t do this, please let him go, I’m begging you—”

“Remember I love you, Rygel. Above all remember that, my braud.”

“Raine! I swear I’ll kill you all if you touch him! Raine!”

I knew Rygel’s threat carried no weight. Rygel had no chance in hell of killing even one Tarbane with his sword, much less the hugely muscled soldiers who changed direction from Tashira and now advanced on me. The only way Rygel could kill them was by magic, and the edict against killing by magic would prevent him from using his powers. I glanced at Shardon. His new connection with Rygel would quite effectively keep him from harming any Tarbane.

Interesting, I thought. For the first time ever, Rygel’s fangs were drawn, impotent. He had no more power here than a worm in the dirt.

I looked up at The Sh’azhar. “Get him out of here. Please?”

He tossed his forelock. The Tarbane guards pressed in on Rygel, driving him with their sheer size and muscle mass. Implacable, ignoring his shouts and threats, they pushed him, and Shardon, away. Shardon’s voice drifted above Rygel’s shrieks and the implacable hooves of the soldiers. “Come, there’s nothing we can do.”

“Dammit, don’t kill him!”

“Are you ready for this?” The Sh’azhar asked me.

I nodded. “I am. Today is a good day to die.”

I lifted my face and shut my eyes. The sun felt good on my skin. If I am to die, I thought, let it be this way, a clean honorable death. Not the slow torturous, agonizing demise of a rabid animal I knew awaited me. Here, I’d die a man, a human, not furry, fanged beast. Here I’d die quickly, with no pain. Never before could I hope to die this easy.

I didn’t want to see the executioners arrive. I cared little to see their huge hooves before they knocked my head off. Under their immense power, I’d be killed instantly, with no suffering. That, at least, was good. Better this death, quickly, than the long, slow death I faced as a wolf. One hoof alone would bring instantaneous unconsciousness, if not immediate departure into the spirit world.

I suspected I’d be easier to kill than Tashira, and that they’d rather execute a hated human than one of their own. They’d especially not want to execute the Sh’azhar’s own son. I still heard Rygel’s curses and threats and Shardon’s consoling voice, but they came from an unimportant distance. As I had done before, I tuned them out.

Resigned as I was that my death was close, I felt no fear. My life as a gladiator taught me my death might come at any moment. Fear of death was useless, I knew. There was no point in fearing the inevitable. Death came to us all, it only mattered how we went.

So here it was at last. I bowed my head, quelling the heart that wanted to race, stilling the lungs that craved new air. In an instant, I’d need neither to sustain me. Death waited on swift wings and I raced to embrace her. Vaguely, I hoped the wolves discovered another savior. They certainly deserved better than me. Hopefully, they’d find a savior who at least felt willing to save them, as I had precious little inclination.

Ly’Tana. I smiled a little, thinking of her. I put her face within my mind’s eye, wanting her face to be the last thing I saw in this world. I saw her kitten smile, her tilted, emerald eyes, the sunlit flash of the diamond in her navel. Gods, isn’t she beautiful?

I heard the immense hooves draw closer, scented the Tarbane executioners, felt their animosity, their dreadful hate like fireflies on my skin.

I waited, patient, still smiling. ’Twas easy to smile while looking at Ly’Tana.

Death incarnate arrived in the fading sunlight, the whisper of the breeze, my long-time, silent friend. She stepped up on silent wings to shield me, to take me into her embrace, to offer me her bosom. Here I am, my lady, I’m ready. Let’s go before I screw this up.

Any moment now—

Instantly, something blocked the sun, casting me into deep shadow. The proud, haughty wings of Death’s Angel found me and even yet sought to take me? While that seemed very unusual for one to arrive and take one such as me, it might be the norm for Death’s own winged angels. Yet, I felt no immortal presence, no chill of death, heard no flutter as of wings. What then?

Bar. The wild thought careened into my head: he found us and even now fought to free me from my fate. Did he attack from above? Did he even now dive upon the executioners and drive them from me?

Involuntarily, my eyes opened.

Huge black legs framed by the tall green grass greeted my eyes.

Bar hadn’t cast me in shadow.

Tashira did.

His enormous frame became a barrier, a stout, breathing protective fence. Firmly planted over me, his body shielded me from the oncoming executioners.

“Stop, Father,” he said.

“What means this?” The Sh’azhar asked.

“It means I accept your sentence,” Tashira replied, his heavy tail swishing.

From my spot on the ground with Tashira’s huge body and thick mane falling past his shoulder, I could see little as the father faced his son.

“Why?”

“If Raine is willing to die in my place,” he said quietly. “Then he’s someone worthy to serve.”

“You only now figured that out?” Rygel screeched, darting out from behind his now lax guards. Shardon’s silver legs trotted behind him. Seizing my arm, Rygel bodily hauled me out from under Tashira’s huge body.

Tashira eyed him with some humor. “Perhaps I’m slower than most.”

“Then you two are meant for each other,” Rygel muttered, his hand under my shoulder.

I needed him, for my legs felt like rubber. The aftereffects of my close brush with death, I surmised. “Thanks,” I murmured, regaining some stability.

He promptly belted me across the jaw.

His blow slammed me back down to the ground, my head ringing. I shook it, trying to clear it of the muzziness, my oily hair in my face. My jaw ached fiercely and I tasted blood. On my back, my elbows under me, I gazed up, astounded.

“What the hell—”

Rygel stood over me, his wheaten hair hanging in his face, amber eyes sparking with barely controlled fury. His aristocratic lips thinned into a white slash in his tanned face. He pointed down at me, his long slender finger a weapon.

“You do anything like that ever again,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “I’ll kill you myself.”

“Aren’t you a peach,” I muttered, trying once more to get my wobbly legs under me.

He reached down. “Here. Take my hand.”

I hesitated. “Not if you’re going to hit me again.”

Seizing me by the wrist, he hauled me up. “I’m through for the moment.”

I staggered a bit, finding Tashira’s big shoulder to lean against.

“Why’d you do that?” Tashira asked, a protective note in his tone.

His immense body stepped between us, pushing Rygel bodily from me. His rump, half-swiveled toward him, offered Rygel a silent but very effective threat.

Rygel staggered a bit, recoiling, and glared at Tashira in return. I smothered a grin with my hand, wagging my jaw back and forth. The pain receded slowly.

“I can’t abide stupidity,” Rygel snapped. “Especially from him.”

Ducking under Tashira’s black neck, I shoved Rygel’s shoulder. “You hit like my sister.”

“Next time I’ll use a rock.”

The Sh’azhar eyed us with amusement. “My sons are in very good hands, indeed.”

“That wasn’t very smart,” I said to Tashira, turning my back on the king for a moment. “Had you kept your mouth shut, you’d be free.”

“At what cost?” he murmured, his muzzle at my shoulder. “I do have honor, of a sort.”

“Honor is for morons,” I muttered.

“Then I’m in good company.”

“I really don’t want to hear it.”

With Rygel still glaring, his hands on his hips, Shardon watching quietly from over his shoulder, I turned my back to them. Turning slightly away, I forced Tashira to also bend his head to remain even with me. I looked up to meet his brown eyes under the fall of his black forelock.

“I don’t care what your sire says,” I said low, thickly. “You’re free to leave me at any time. You are not, and never will be, a slave. There’ll be no bonds upon you that you yourself don’t permit.”

Tashira lifted his head and gazed about the peaceful valley, his nostrils flared. For a long moment, he didn’t speak and a half-hope raised in me that he’d find a loophole, a flaw, in The Sh’azhar laws that would permit him to remain alive and free. That hope quashed itself when his head lowered and his intelligent eyes gleamed with amusement.

“Life here, in this vale,” he said quietly, “is a good one. It’s safe, pleasant, and its home. It’s also quite dull. That aspect has landed me in trouble more than once. As your valiant rescue proved.”

He nuzzled my shoulder. “I suspect strongly that a few years with you will be a lifetime of adventures.”

I sighed. “I soo didn’t need to hear that.”

“Oh, come on,” Tashira teased. “You know you like adventure.”

“Bite me.”

His head tossed as his eyes lit with high good humor.

This time Tashira stood quiet and trusting as I set the saddle on his back and tightened the girth. As his brother did, he turned his head to both watch me and nuzzle my arm. “That doesn’t feel so bad,” he commented.

“Until his heavy ass is in it,” Rygel said, putting his own bridle on Shardon.

I half expected Rygel’s sharp comment to alarm Tashira all over again. The rebuke rested on my tongue when the big black slowly eyed me up and down. I waited, silenced, to see what he would do.

“He’s not very big,” Tashira commented dryly.

I chuckled and rubbed his neck. “You’ll do fine.”

He willingly opened his mouth for the bit, working the simple metal bit around on his tongue, experimenting. Whatever his thoughts were on it, he kept them to himself. Yet, he showed no fear.

Rygel turned back to The Sh’azhar. “I’m a healer, great king,” he said quietly. “Please permit me to heal you of your injury before we go.”

The Sh’azhar glanced from his shoulder to Rygel in surprise. “Then I will owe you a debt.”

Rygel grinned, shaking his head. “It’s on the house,” he said. “Consider it a gesture of goodwill between your people and mine. Maybe one day we will all be one people and no longer enemies.”

“A good wish,” he said. “Very well. You may do what you will.”

Rygel brushed his heavy mane aside. “You may not thank me,” he said in a warning tone. “It’s going to hurt like hell when I pull the arrow out.”

If the Tarbane could shrug, The Sh’azhar would have shrugged his immense shoulders. “It is of no moment.”

Giving him no time to prepare, Rygel yanked hard on the wooden shaft. It came out on a great gush of blood, its steel head tearing apart the soft flesh and hard muscle.

Rygel immediately clapped his hands over the deep wound. He dropped into his healing trance faster than I had ever seen him do before, both his eyes and The Sh’azhar’s closing at the same moment.

Tashira and Shardon stepped up close to my shoulders, watching Rygel heal their sire with an air of fascination. I noticed no few of the Tarbane also leaned close, their nostrils flaring, eyes wide. No doubt, magic was a stranger to them.

As no one seemed to want an explanation, I offered none. I leaned against Tashira’s heavy neck, caressing his velvet muzzle. Without knowing fully how it happened, I knew Tashira and I formed a connection. I felt a bond with the black Tarbane, a tie that knotted itself in my heart. I glanced up into his liquid eyes, seeing for myself the bond he, too, felt for me.

I knew that when the three years were up, I’d let him go. And his departure would tear an agonizing hole in my chest.

After what seemed an hour, Rygel raised his head, blinking. The Sh’azhar opened his eyes as Rygel took his bloody hands away from the gleaming dappled hide. He brushed aside the thick mane, revealing a clean shoulder, free of any injury. The Sh’azhar lifted the leg and stomped his hoof experimentally onto the ground.

“I’m healed,” he said, his voice slightly awed.

“Try to avoid any more arrows,” Rygel said with a faint grin. Tiredly, he armed a faint sheen of sweat from his brow.

“I will try,” The Sh’azhar replied, somber.

As Rygel cleaned his hands on the grass, the Tarbane king spoke again. “I would speak with my sons in private.”

Straightening up, I watched as Tashira and Shardon walked away, one to either side of their sire. Rygel joined me, his arms crossed over his chest.

“What do you think he’s saying to them?”

“Good bye,” I replied. “Write when you get work.”

He laughed. “I’m betting he’s dispensing last minute fatherly advice. Don’t chase women, don’t gamble, watch your language.”

Whatever he said to them, he spoke for a long while. The three stood, heads bowed, noses in a cluster. The Tarbane soldiers now dispersed, most grazing quietly, ignoring Rygel and I. The red leader stood off with a few of his stout fellows, swishing their tails at flies, also watching their king and his sons. If they spoke amongst themselves, I couldn’t tell.

Idly, I glanced up at the sun, now cooling toward the west. Red and orange streamed across the tall green grass, giving the peaceful vale a soft glow. “We’re going to be late getting back,” I said.

“The Tarbane can cover ground much faster than horses,” Rygel reminded me.

I jerked my thumb at Rufus and his gelding, also grazing quietly. “And do we abandon them?”

He grimaced and shook his head. “Of course not. Ly’Tana will worry.”

“So she will,” I said. “Not much we can do about it, either.”

So we waited, patient, for my part content to let the king spend as much time as he wanted with Tashira and Shardon. After all, he’d probably not see his sons for a long time. They must have talked for over an hour, perhaps longer. At last they raised their heads and in a comfortable trio walked back, their legs swishing through the long grass.

Shardon stepped up to Rygel while Tashira greeted me with a nuzzle to my hand, his eyes bright.

“Do you wish to say goodbye to your mother?” I asked.

“She’s left this world,” he replied. “But she watches from beyond the stars.”

My throat closed. I tried to swallow the lump, but it refused to budge. Taking a deep breath didn’t help either, for I couldn’t draw one.

“Fare you well, my friends,” The Sh’azhar said.

We both bowed low. “Perhaps we will meet again, Your Majesty,” I said, my voice thick.

His eyes gleamed behind his forelock. “Perhaps we will at that.”

Rygel vaulted onto Shardon’s back. “Somehow, we will send you news of your sons.”

“Then I will be content.”

I grabbed hold of the pommel of my saddle, readying myself to vault into it. An equine scream rose into the silence of the peace-filled vale. I wheeled in alarm, reaching for my sword.

Ears flat, teeth bared, Rufus launched himself at Tashira. His attack came so swift, so unexpected, I wasn’t the only one taken by surprise. True to Tarbane form, Tashira dove to the side in a swift leap, both avoiding his attack and protecting me.

Rufus lunged again, dashing past me, following him up, still screaming. I bolted toward him, no clue as to how to stop him. He wore no bridle, no halter, no rope. What’s the matter with him?

“Rufus!” I yelled.

Swifter than I, three Tarbane soldiers swept into the fray. Without using their teeth or hooves, they pushed him back. Much as they had done Rygel, using their muscled mass rather than violence, they put pressure on him, preventing him from another attack. Their huge bodies acted as a high muscled wall Rufus couldn’t get past. Behind their mass and flying manes, I could see Rufus still fighting and kicking, his ears flat, his eyes wild.

Heedless of the danger, I dodged the wall of Tarbane. I ran up to him, throwing my arms around his thick neck, his mane in my face. “Rufus, cease! Rufus!”

Rufus stopped immediately, his ribs rising and falling with every panting breath, his eyes ringed white. Foam dripped from his jaws. He tried to dance from me, but my arms about his neck acted like a halter. He stopped, his hooves still stamping, his thick black tail lashing like Bar’s in one of his foul moods. Beneath my hands, he trembled and shook and sweated.

Murmuring, I stroked his neck, down his shoulders, rubbing under his mane, over his eyes. Hot sweat dampened his bay hide, its salty odor strong in my nostrils. Yet, slowly, under my ministrations he began to calm, to cool down. He licked his lips.

“What’s wrong with you, you big fool?” I murmured, cupping his muzzle in both my hands and rubbing my nose against his. “Talk to me.”

“He’s jealous.”

Startled, I looked up. The Sh’azhar, flanked by Rygel and Shardon on his right and Tashira on his left, stood to my left.

“He loves you,” The Sh’azhar said quietly. “He thinks you are abandoning him. If he can kill Tashira, you will love him again.”

Gods above and below.

I hugged Rufus around his neck, feeling about an inch high. What a lunk you are, I told myself. You’re too stupid to breed, thank all the gods you’re virgin, you haven’t yet passed on the idiocy gene.

Of course Rufus did all he did. Not just from natural courage, though he had plenty of that. He did what he did for me. He did it out of his vast well of love.

What a mess, I thought, resting my face against his sweating neck. I’d no choice but to ride Tashira. And by doing so, I’d break Rufus’s gallant heart.

“I don’t speak very good horse,” I said, choking, not looking up. I kept my arms firmly around Rufus’s heavy neck, his mane in my face. “He doesn’t speak human at all.”

“What would you have me tell him?” The Sh’azhar asked gently.

I stroked Rufus’s damp hide with love. He trembled slightly, still sweating despite his apparent calm. I felt his fear. Not a fear of physical harm. He feared my rejection. He feared to lose my love. He feared I’d abandon him.

“Tell him that I love him. Tell him I will always love him. Explain that my heart can love another, and still love him, too. There’s room enough for them both.”

Under my hands, Rufus ceased his trembling. As The Sh’azhar spoke the silent equine language, he sighed down his nose and licked his lips. I felt him relax. He stopped sweating, his jaw digging into my shoulder.

“Tell him I wish him to remain with me,” I went on, still stroking my first love down his proud neck to his shoulders. “He will always be with me, for I will never abandon him. If he agrees, I’d have him carry my sister. Ask him to love my sister as he loves me. Ask him to protect her as he protected me.”

Rufus bumped his head playfully against my back, nickering, in response to The Sh’azhar’s silent voice.

“He will,” The Sh’azhar translated simply.

Lifting Rufus by the jaw, I nuzzled my nose against his, and laid my head against his huge white blaze. He nibbled my ear, snorting down my throat. I laughed, still choking on unshed tears but laughing. Somehow, strangely, I felt his fear die away, his anxiety lapse, his good nature return. My hands rubbed gently over his large, soft eyes, down his jaws, up over his ears.

“I do love you,” I murmured. “Believe that.”

Rufus nuzzled my cheek, snorting softly.

“I think he’ll be all right now,” Rygel said quietly.

“I think so, too,” I said.

Rufus stood quiet as I vaulted onto Tashira and found my stirrups. Rygel’s black gelding fell into line behind Shardon as the two of them turned away.

I saluted The Sh’azhar. “Fare thee well, Majesty.”

He dropped his head in a grave nod, but didn’t speak as I rode his son away, out of the beautiful, peaceful vale. The Tarbane lifted their heads to watch as we rode through and past them. If anyone communicated their farewells in the silent Tarbane way, Tashira gave no sign. He trotted easily behind his silver brother, carrying me as though he’d done it all his life.

Out through the hidden canyon that protected the Tarbane’s home from humans, we jogged, none of us speaking. I turned back in my saddle before the vale could disappear, taking in one last look. The tall grass swayed in the light wind, whispering softly. Flowers nodded, sprite in waving their goodbyes.

Though I couldn’t see them, I knew hidden eyes watched us vanish into the canyon depths. I wondered briefly if I’d ever step foot in that peace-filled vale again.

Deep within my heart, the silent voice of the Sh’azhar spoke.

Yes. Yes, you will.

I smiled, content.