Daughter of the Moon (The Moon People, Book Two) (53 page)

The alpha muttered his thoughts aloud to the ragtag band of wolves and men meandering in his wake, scratching at their own skin and jumping at every shadow that loomed out of the smoke. The rest of his warriors had all but fled. It felt as though he had spent the entire night searching for them, but what did time mean any more in this dark valley? They were in a place of madness, a passage that joined the waking world to the realm of death and dreams.

Miral found a dozen of his followers banding together at the edge of the forest, where the trees writhed and rustled with thoughts of their own. Nekare, still wounded, seemed to have taken charge of them. The alpha strode through the press of furred bodies, seizing the man by the front of his jerkin and dragging him to his feet.

"Why did you leave my side?!" he bellowed, baring his teeth as Nekare gasped with pain, clutching a hand over the bleeding hole in his thigh.

"We are dying in this smoke, Alpha. These witches... We should never have come here!"

"They are flesh and bone like anyone else!" Miral jerked his free hand backward, pointing in the direction of the demon. "You see that beast? Tonight it dies by my hand! When it lies broken in pieces around me you will think yourselves fools for ever fearing these women and their sorcery!"

The same look of confusion Miral had glimpsed earlier washed over Nekare's face again. "What beast, Alpha?"

With a snort of frustration he turned his head, jabbing his finger again in the direction of the glowing eyes and mouth. But when he looked, the demon was gone. All he saw through the smoke was three flickering blooms of orange light. More stars plucked from the heavens. The faintest hint of violet still licked at their corners, as if some trace of the demon's spirit yet remained, but the skull, the eyes, the tongue; all had become nothing more than shadowy rock and drips of light on the valleyside.

The lust for glory that had been fuelling the alpha like fire water seeped from his body. His fingers loosened their grip on Nekare's clothing. When he brought his palm to his face he tasted blood on his fingers. He could not lose his will to fight now. Even without the demon, the woman who had insulted his honour still remained here in this valley.

"We cannot fight shadows," Nekare implored as he slumped back to the ground, his breath wheezing laboriously in the smoky air.

For the first time since he had fought the wolves guarding Adel's den, Miral felt the ache of the wounds they had inflicted on him. His stomach and side throbbed, and blood was running down his leg from the gashes he had taken from the large one's claws. "You will fight whatever I say you will fight," he growled. "Back on your feet, all of you." He began to turn in the direction of the den, but as he tried to take a step forward he staggered. A whine of fear left one of the wolves watching him.

Miral grit his teeth, balling his hands into fists. He was not a fool. Every part of the warrior's spirit within him raged to push on, to continue the fight and finish what had been started. But that part of him, the part that craved battle and glory, was the same part that had led him into Octavia's snare so many years ago. He feared no trap Adel could set for him, but he had not survived as alpha for so many years by listening only to the warrior within. Even he could see that his pack was broken. He could not fight both Adel's warriors and her spirit guardians by himself.

Letting out a gasp of frustration, he forced himself another step forward. He felt the strength coming back to his body, the fury to fight on. A few of his followers took their first hesitant steps after him.

Then the moan of a beast broke through the crackle of distant flames. Deep and rumbling, a sound Miral's wolf knew instinctively to fear. The alpha's head pounded, his thoughts whirling as he turned back to face the sound. Out of the trees the creature burst, smoke rolling off its furred bulk as branches snapped beneath paws larger than a man's head, its toothed maw slavering like an open wound.

Breathing deep of the smoke, Miral held his ground as his warriors broke and scattered. Born of the spirit world or not, this creature was no shadow. It set its eyes on Nekare, charging after the wounded man as he struggled to get away, slower than the rest of his brethren. Without thinking, the alpha charged forward, emptying his ragged lungs of breath as he roared at the beast, drawing its attention away from Nekare before the man was crushed beneath its monstrous paws.

"Out of this valley," Miral called in the scarce few moments he had before the creature charged. "Gather the rest and go!"

His pack needed no more encouragement. They turned and fled, streaking back through the trees like a flock of scattering birds. Miral was a warrior, but he was also an alpha. He knew the difference between glory and foolishness. Leaping into the shape of his wolf, he darted to one side as the bear barrelled past, ignoring the pain of his bleeding wounds. He flashed his teeth at the creature, taunting it to turn and face him again. Adel and her clan would suffer for what had happened here tonight. The thought filled Miral with rage, redoubling his strength as he ducked beneath a swipe from the bear's paw when it rounded on him again. His own teeth and claws were little more than nuisances against the animal's bone-crushing, flesh-tearing strength, but he stood his ground and fought, drawing the predator away from his disarrayed pack as they made their escape from the valley.

* * *

Meadow was the last to reach the edge of the valley, struggling to keep up with the two younger women as her strength waned. All three of them had breathed enough smoke in the forest to be suffering from its effects, but Meadow in particular shivered and flinched at the movement of every shadow. Spirit herbs were supposed to be used within the quiet comfort of a seer's den, not out in the wilds on a night fraught with danger and panic.

The spirits cannot harm me,
Netya told herself as she climbed hand over hand up to their hiding place, trying to ignore the sensation of
the rough cracks in the rock biting at her fingers with invisible teeth. Selo gripped her by the wrist and hauled her up the rest of the way before motioning for Meadow to hurry. The other seer was still in the shape of her wolf a short distance away, panting for breath as she pawed sluggishly through the grass.

The air snapped and crackled in Netya's ears. Even though they had left the fires far behind them, she fancied she could still hear the sound of dry wood splitting and popping nearby. The tug of the spirit world was calling to her, invading her senses with an endless stream of unwelcome sights and sounds. Had she been more aware of her surroundings she might have recognised the crackling noise for what it was before it was too late. It was not the sound of fire, but that of footfalls. Many dozens of paws beating upon the earth and dragging their way through the undergrowth, rushing back along the valley in their direction.

"Meadow, hide!" Netya hissed, glancing down in a panic at the other woman, who had still not reached the rocks at the base of their hiding spot. Meadow whirled around, a low whine leaving her muzzle as the shapes of many wolves began flitting through the trees nearby.

Any relief Netya might have felt at the realisation that Miral's clan had turned tail was overcome by the immediate danger she and her companions were now in. Meadow, her paws apparently refusing to obey her, dropped to the ground and lay prone, trembling in fear as wolf after wolf ran by, some coming within but a few paces of her. Netya held her breath, kneeling in the shadow of the nearby tree as her hand slid behind its trunk to grope for her spear. Her fingers closed around the wooden shaft, gripping tighter by the moment as more and more of Miral's warriors passed by. Surely there could not be many more of them? But the procession went on and on, some dashing for the end of the valley in fear, others dragging their paws wearily, while more still walked upon two legs as they wrestled their protesting companions away from the fight. They came in loose dribs and drabs, without any sense of coordination or leadership to guide them. Netya could have sworn several of them stared straight in Meadow's direction as they passed by, and every time her heart raced and her fingers gripped her spear tighter. Either they did not see the cowering she-wolf, or they did not care, for every one of them carried on without taking a single step in her direction.

From time to time one or two of Miral's followers would double back, going to help stragglers or else simply blundering about in confusion. It was a torturous ordeal, waiting there in the darkness as Meadow huddled in plain sight below. But eventually the valley grew quieter, the sounds of wolves and men fading away into the natural music of the night. The wind swept against the rocks, the undergrowth stirred quietly, and somewhere nearby an owl's screech echoed through the air.

Then, just as Netya felt the stiffness in her body ebbing, one final noise jolted her back upright. Feet dragged against the ground nearby. A man murmured something under his breath. Twigs cracked and leaves rustled. Out of the thickest part of the forest emerged two men supporting Alpha Miral between them, his arms about their shoulders as one bloody leg dragged limply behind him.

"I can walk, I need only my wolf," he growled.

"Your leg is broken, Alpha."

"Then I'll still have three that aren't. Find the others and bring them to me."

Netya held her breath as the trio meandered toward Meadow, their confused steps taking them haphazardly off course as they reeled from the effects of the spirit smoke. They were only moments away. The other wolves might have overlooked Meadow, but Netya did not expect their alpha's instincts to be so self-serving. She remembered Miral's cruelty from the gathering all too well, and as he stepped out of the shadows his dishevelled countenance appeared more disturbing than ever. Eyes red and streaming, body stained with blood, black braid hanging torn and loose over one shoulder, he looked more like a wolf ready to fight himself out of a corner rather than one who had been beaten into submission.

The alpha's eyes narrowed, blinked, and then settled upon the prone form of Meadow. He stared at her, and for a moment Netya dared to hope that he would pass on by like all the others. Then the two men bearing him jolted to a halt. Miral's single planted foot and tight grip had been enough to still them even in his weakened state. An audible whine left Meadow's muzzle.

"Kill that one for me," Miral panted, pushing his bearers forward.

Only their momentary hesitation saved Meadow. The effects of the smoke dulled reactions and thickened thoughts, and Netya saw the expressions on the two men's faces working to make sense of their alpha's command before they took the shapes of their wolves.

It would have been safer to stay hidden. Perhaps wiser, also, for what good would it do if Miral took two additional lives that night? Three, if Netya's child was to be counted. But once again compassion forced Netya's hand, and her own safety became meaningless as she snatched up her spear and scrambled down the rocks, skinning her elbows as she tripped and toppled forward, barely managing to keep the breath in her lungs as she put one shoulder in front of her to absorb the impact of the ground. In a daze she leaped to her feet, stumbling forward as she lashed the tip of her spear out in front of her, trying to focus on the shapes of the two wolves moving among the blur of faded colours.

The smoke worked against all of them, dazing Netya but also startling her opponents. The two warriors backed away in surprise, and a moment later Selo's wolf was growling as she stood over Meadow, facing down the wounded alpha and his companions.

A noise that sounded like a breathy laugh left Miral's throat. "Sun Wolf. I see you even through your magic. Heart of the sun, weapon of the sun." He took a step forward, but his broken leg buckled beneath him and he was forced to clutch the trunk of a nearby tree for support.

Unable to keep her foggy attention on both the alpha and his two warriors at once, Netya focused on the tip of her spear and the muzzle of the nearest wolf, letting her feet take care of themselves as she jabbed forward and circled to the side. As long as she kept the point between her and the wolf, she was safe. Meadow was safe. She moved to the left, trying to guide the imposing male away from the others as Selo and the second warrior growled behind her. They were not at each other's throats yet. How long would Selo last once the larger, stronger male lunged at her?

Netya jabbed with her spear again, driving a snarl of anger from the wolf as he backed away, bobbing and weaving his head to try and get around the weapon. Somewhere in the back of Netya's mind she realised that he was just like Kin and his young companions: strong and aggressive, but with no knowledge of how to fight against the weapons of the Sun People. Her next lunge nicked the side of his neck, and he flinched away with a bark of pain, exposing his vulnerable belly to her as he whirled around to back off. In that brief instant her fingers tensed around her weapon. The wolf inside her urged her hands to follow through with the next natural motion, to thrust forward again and deliver a fatal wound to her enemy. But something much stronger than her wolf's compulsion caused her to jerk back, retreating rather than advancing. The realisation that she had almost killed another person jarred her like a physical blow, stealing away her focus as she retreated to Meadow's side.

"I knew you were a weak one," Miral's voice drifted into her ears. "Spirit of a woman, a child!"

Netya shot a glance to her left and saw that the other warrior was backing away, eyes flitting to and fro in agitation. His wolf was not enduring the sensations of the spirit world as well as the rest of them. Miral barely seemed to notice as the shaken warrior turned and bolted a moment later, disappearing into the night to follow the rest of his brethren.