Wolf Hunting (50 page)

But he remembered grief, and, holding on to the memory, he fought.

Eventually, he fell unconscious, dead even to pain. When he woke, he heard Isende’s voice.

“The fever has definitely broken. He’s through it!”

“Once dead or twice?” Tiniel said, his voice bitter.

“Stop it, idiot. He’s alive. Alive!”

“Alive to be a captive.”

“Alive.”

“Alive.”

Tiniel’s voice softened, and Plik felt the young man’s hand, gentle on his brow, and realized that testing touch had been there many times before over that long night’s battle.

“Alive,” Tiniel repeated, and this time he sounded truly happy.

Plik slept, clean, true sleep, not the unconsciousness of exhaustion. When he woke, he was aware that although he had come through querinalo he was not done with pain. Every muscle in his body, including those that moved his tail tip and his eyelids, ached from past convulsions. His throat was so raw he knew he had been screaming. A headache pounded beneath his brow, but after the pounding of the surf, it was almost welcome.

He opened his eyes and found Tiniel watching him. Isende lay on a heap of blankets on the floor. She was snoring slightly, and Plik thought with almost parental affection that the young woman looked cute in a rumpled sort of way.

“Once dead or twice dead?” Tiniel said as he had to his sister, but he redeemed himself with a self-mocking smile. “That’s apparently the traditional question to ask someone who has survived querinalo.”

Plik motioned for water, and when he had drunk deeply, he replied, “If I knew what you meant, I’d answer.”

“Once dead means you went through querinalo but kept some of your magic intact. Twice dead means the fever burned it all away.” He gave a hard, bitter laugh. “I’m twice dead. So’s Isende.”

Plik reached into himself. Ever since his waking experience, he had envisioned his ability to sense magic as sort of an extra set of ears. Now he pricked those ears—for to preserve himself from the pounding he had kept them flat—and listened.

Nothing. Maybe the faintest hint of surf sound, but that well could be his headache.

“Twice dead,” Plik said, “but as I hardly knew the sense existed … It must be harder for you.”

“There are times I feel like my heart has been cut out,” Tiniel said. “I never realized how much I relied on that connection … . It was always there.”

Isende stirred, and Tiniel lowered his voice. “She prefers we not speak of it. Let me help you to the pot. If I recall correctly from my own experience, you’re going to need it.”

He was right. Plik needed his help hobbling even that short distance. When they returned, Isende was awake, sitting up on the heap of blankets and finger-combing her hair into order.

“You’re up,” she said.

“And alive,” Plik said, “barely.”

“Hungry?”

“A little.”

“Soup. Thick. I’ve asked the cook to keep some simmering.”

She ran out, and when she returned insisted on feeding Plik. He wanted to protest. Now that he was more alert, he could see how exhausted both twins looked. They had probably sat up with him through the crisis, sleeping only once they were sure the fever had broken.

“Once dead and twice,” Plik said, his voice rough, but his own to command. “You spoke of them before.”

“The Once Dead are those who survived querinalo and have power left,” Isende said promptly. “Most of them are horribly deformed in some way. They think themselves superior because they sacrificed their bodies to preserve their power. Some of them, though, they don’t show any mark—at least on their bodies. Those are the ones you really should be scared of. The Twice Dead are, well, like us.”

Plik nodded. “But these Twice Dead remain here?”

Tiniel glanced at the door as if fearing he might be overheard. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think these sorcerers are universally loved. They certainly don’t rule as their ancestors did.”

“They’d like to, though,” Isende whispered. “Oh, they really would like to … .”

XXIV

FIREKEEPER LOOKED UP from honing her Fang when Truth returned.

Night had fallen since the Meddler’s report had made them decide to trip the alarm and see what came through the gate. By the time they had their map drawn and had decided on details for every eventuality, even Firekeeper had agreed that waiting until the coming morning, after they had all had an opportunity to rest, would be wiser.

Eventually, Firekeeper and Blind Seer had wearied of how the humans insisted on rehashing what should be a simple plan, and had gone outside. The jaguar had left to tell Eshinarvash and Bitter of their intentions. She returned smelling of acrid concern.

“We have a small problem. Eshinarvash and Bitter insist on accompanying us.”

“How can a horse help?” Firekeeper said. “And we have Lovable to fly and scout for us.”

“And what about the pack and riding animals?” Blind Seer added.

“I asked those same questions,” Truth said. She licked her shoulder with the odd, jerky motion that Firekeeper was coming to recognize as laughter.

“In answer to how a horse could help, Eshinarvash reared onto his hind legs and struck the air with his hooves. Then fast as a snake striking, he brought his head down and snapped at the air right above my ears. Stallions, as he reminded me, are warriors to be reckoned with.”

“true,” Firekeeper said, thinking of a battle witnessed years before. “Even the stupid ones can be brave and fierce. A Wise Horse … Yes. It would be foolish to dismiss him as a mere herbivore.”

Truth sat and began grooming behind one ear. “I agree. As to the pack animals, Eshinarvash and Bitter have not sat quietly while we have been in here. Bitter needed to rebuild his flying muscles. He used those flights to scout for the yarimaimalom who are not here. Eventually, he found some: a small herd of elk who left this area soon after the blood briars made grazing unsafe. They have agreed to tend the pack and riding animals. The gear has already been stowed away.”

Firekeeper did not ask how it had been gotten off the animals. She had seen Eshinarvash open gate latches with his teeth. Also, where one type of yarimaimalom had taken refuge, there might be others. Raccoons had very clever paws.

“And if Bitter can fly,” Firekeeper said quickly, to distract herself from wondering how Plik was doing, “we would be lucky to have him with us. We are going into a place none of us has seen before. The Meddler admits the map he gave us may be useless. Even a one-eyed raven will add to our knowledge. Very well. Let us take them with us. Can you bring them both into the copse?”

“I think I could,” Truth said, “but why should I risk tiring myself unnecessarily? We will need to touch the ring of false trees that hides this place. Why not do it by bringing those two through? I will go out at the appropriate time, and we will all come through together.”

“I like it,” Firekeeper said, “and tempted as I am to not tell the humans until the matter is concluded, they deserve to know.”

Blind Seer rose and stretched.

“They most certainly do,” he agreed, panting laughter. “Think how this new information will change all their plans.”

DAWN THE NEXT MORNING found them all ready. Derian had gone to the door into the stronghold so he could hold back the alarm web.

Firekeeper and Blind Seer were guarding the gate itself, the blue-eyed wolf stationed to one side, Firekeeper with bow near the apple tree. Lovable, excited almost to incoherence at the thought of being reunited with her mate, was with Derian. Harjeedian admitted to little skill with weapons, and so waited in the section of the corridor where they had made their camp.

“It may be a long wait,” the aridisdu reminded Firekeeper. “We don’t know how much time will be needed for the alert to reach them or whether they will react immediately.”

“I am better,” she replied, “at long waiting than you think.”

Privately, she did not expect a long wait. If she had kidnapped someone, then received warning that pursuit was possible, she would not delay. To do so would be to permit precisely the type of countertrap they had set.

Lovable winged down the corridor a few moments later.

“They are through! They are through! The bracken beasts are felled with the tree trunks. They wriggle like worms, but are broken beyond repair!”

She was gone, presumably to greet Bitter, before Firekeeper could frame an answer.

Harjeedian was looking expectantly at Firekeeper.

“They are through,” Firekeeper said, bending her bow and fitting the string. “The deadfall broke the bracken beasts. There are blood briars still, but without the bracken frame to support them, they are little danger to us.”

She tested the bow’s pull, then relaxed it, but she kept an arrow in hand. No time would be wasted when the moment came to strike.

Harjeedian checked their map, then moved the tip of an old knife Firekeeper had sharpened the night before into the coals.

During the planning session, Derian had suggested that Harjeedian pose as the group’s leader.

“Our usual extended debates,” Derian had said with a laugh, “would be less impressive.”

No one had disagreed, not even when Harjeedian suggested they show willingness to use torture.

Firekeeper had only nodded. “We not know how long until they is to howl back before their pack is to worry.”

“Probably,” Blind Seer had commented, “we will have some time. They will be expected to find out who the intruder is, then, if possible, take action.”

“But every breath that we have before,” Firekeeper said, “is worth giving some fear.”

The clopping sound of horse hooves against stone announced the arrival of Eshinarvash. Bitter and Lovable were perched on his back, but even a glance showed that Bitter was not riding because he was too weak to fly. The blood briar poison was out of him, and like most wild things he healed quickly, because in the wild there is no leisure to do otherwise.

Derian led the procession.

“Anything?” he asked, strapping on his weapons.

“Not …” Firekeeper was beginning to say; then the stone of the wall began to transform from rough, lifeless grey to shimmering molten silver. She raised her bow, arrow to string, and pulled back. Blind Seer poised to spring. Truth bolted in to join them, crouching opposite the wolf.

The molten silver began to form shapes. Initially there was one: a blob against the smoother background. This elongated, jutting forward, rising to a second tier, then falling off slightly.

“Strange,”
Blind Seer commented.
“When I look at whatever that is from the front, it seems to be moving forward, but when I look from the side, it remains behind the edge of the wall.”

“Let me know if it seems to pass the wall,”
Firekeeper said,
“and stay ready.”

The blob was separating, becoming distinct shapes within the silver mass. Three groups, defined mostly by height. Then six distinct entities, walking in pairs. Two followed by two followed by two more, she thought. Details were becoming clear, as if whatever was there was coming closer, though neither Blind Seer nor Truth had indicated that the image had crossed the edge of the wall.

Derian moved closer, fascinated by the image that was taking shape. Although he wore his sword, the weapon he had to hand was a club.

“Back,” Firekeeper warned. “Not between my arrow and that.”

Derian stepped back. “Sorry. Trying to tell what that is. It reminds me of something, but I can’t tell what. Maybe a …”

Harjeedian interrupted. “Four humans preceded by two large quadrupeds. It’s like watching shadow plays. At first the figures overlapped, but now …”

Firekeeper nodded, her blood quickening with excitement and dread. There was something familiar in how that first pair of shapes moved, something she feared was going to ruin their entire plan.

“Those first,” she said, “if they are yarimaimalom …”

“Leave them to us!”
Truth hissed.
“Concentrate on the humans.”

“They are passing the wall!”
Blind Seer howled.
“I smell wolves!”

The shadow pair charged forth then, yarimaimalom wolves, each as tall as Blind Seer. Their fur was reddish brown, shading into black, their coats less dense, but although this difference made them momentarily look smaller than the blue-eyed wolf, Firekeeper realized this was an illusion. They were as big and powerful, nor had their strange journey damaged their alertness.

Snarling, they lunged one-to-one at Blind Seer and Truth, attacking almost before their tails broke from the silver and into the closed courtyard.

Behind them emerged two men, burly and broad-shouldered. One was ruddy; the other had the darkest skin Firekeeper had ever seen on a human. However, they were matched in armor and equipment. In one hand each carried a metal-studded club. Packs were slung over their backs. Neither carried a shield, and Firekeeper thought that a good thing. She raised her bow, took careful aim.

But something was spoiling her aim. Two more were emerging from the silver-surfaced wall. These wore no armor and carried satchels in each hand. Weapons were slung at their waists, not held ready as with the preceding pair. Firekeeper thought one was male, the other female, but she couldn’t be certain, for they wore elaborate caps and loose robes.

Firekeeper saw the features of these last two shift from blank alertness to alarm as they realized that they had not entered the quiet sanctuary they had clearly expected. Then satchels were dropped, weapons fumbled for, but Firekeeper was ready.

She fired her arrow. It sliced over the heads of the quadrupeds and landed, as she had intended, in the thick leather padding over the dark-skinned man’s right shoulder. He bellowed something, and dropped his club.

Derian was yelling in Liglimosh, the language they had thought most likely to be understood.

“Drop your weapons! Call off the wolves!”

Firekeeper fired again, this time slicing the upper arm of one of those in the third tier. This one cried out in a high voice that seemed to confirm Firekeeper’s guess at her gender. If these humans were like most humans she had met, the males would feel more alarm at damage to a female than to another male.