Sunset of Lantonne (41 page)

Giving the werewolf one more snarl of his own, Raeln reached down with his free hand and pulled Therec to his feet, though the man was unsteady and clutched at the shredded robe on his chest.

“Push your luck too much and I will put you down,” warned the werewolf, dropping to a squat on all fours. “Start walking. You do not get to claim anything else.”

This time, Raeln did as he was told and began hurrying Ilarra and Therec up the road toward Lantonne.

From what Ilarra could see, the city’s outermost section was less than a mile away. At a run, she was sure that they would make it in no time, assuming the wolves did not pursue. Then, she looked toward Greth and realized that they could not run, at least not yet.

The other wildling had not fared nearly as well as Raeln. He faced three werewolves, two of which flanked him and kept him from running while the third sat in the same squatted stance as the one Raeln had left behind, watching Greth amusedly.

Greth had done his best to look the part and blend in, but even Ilarra could see that he was only making matters worse. He had dropped to all fours and looked like a cornered animal, doing what he could to warn off the werewolves with posturing and quick flashes of teeth. Most other creatures might have recognized the danger of approaching a wildling that was so ready to fight against superior odds, but the werewolves could not have looked less concerned.

“I’m going to go save the idiot,” whispered Raeln, giving Ilarra a gentle push toward Lantonne. “I’ll never forgive myself if he gets mauled.”

The unsolicited statement made Ilarra freeze in surprise, despite Therec saying something about needing to go. She had been shocked enough that Raeln would talk, but even more so that he would risk them to save Greth. This was the first time she had ever heard him speak like any other person might, without Greth having to pry it out of him.

Raeln ran across the blood-spattered snow to where Greth was backing away from the werewolf that had faced him—what she thought might be a female, who was also nearly as large as Raeln. Before Raeln could reach them, the female werewolf leapt onto Greth, trying to bite at his neck while the other two wolves watched Raeln with stares that were clearly meant to be warnings to stay back.

Undeterred, Raeln raced at the werewolves, leaping over one that tried to stop him, landing for a single stride, then dove into the female on Greth. The two tumbled away while Greth scrambled back to his feet with one hand to his neck, running hard toward Ilarra.

“I’m clear, Raeln, run!” Greth shouted over his shoulder and then slid to a stop when he realized Raeln was still fighting.

Ilarra stared in disbelief as the two other werewolves backed off to watch while Raeln traded blows with the female. Her mind leapt to dozens of spells that she did not even have names for that might kill or slow the werewolves, but she could not be sure that Raeln would be spared. Biting her lip, she could only watch in horror from afar as the battle went on. At her side, Therec seemed equally at a loss, his hands fidgeting like most of the users of magic Ilarra had ever met who could not figure out what they might be able to do to help.

Fists against claws, knees and feet against fangs, Raeln and the werewolf tore at one another, each stumbling away every so often. For all his strength and skill, Ilarra could see that Raeln was losing, slowly wearing down as the female werewolf continuously healed from his attacks. Sooner or later, she would get past his defenses and the other werewolves would descend on him…

It happened sooner that Ilarra had expected, the werewolf batting aside Raeln’s arm and backhanding him with enough force snow flew into the air as he crashed onto his back. Stepping over Raeln, the female were roared and planted a paw on his chest, holding him down. The others began to approach, but the werewolf barked at each, warning them off, then dropped down atop Raeln, ready to bite him.

“If we don’t stop her, he’ll be one of them within a month,” noted Therec, shaking his head. “I’ve got nothing that won’t kill your friend. What would you have me do?”

Ilarra realized then that Greth was already running back to Raeln. This time, the female werewolf was watching for exactly the type of foolish behavior Raeln had performed before and raised her head to watch Greth as he got close.

Rising to brace herself to roll with Greth, the werewolf flung the smaller wildling past and ran on all fours to where he landed. She slammed Greth to the ground before he had managed to lift his head, raising her free hand to gut him with her claws.

With a speed and ferocity Ilarra did not think the man possessed, Greth slipped the werewolf’s hold and bit onto her neck. Digging in with an animalistic rage that seemed to startle even the werewolves, Greth shook his head violently, tearing the female’s throat apart. Blood sprayed everywhere as he stood, a steady stream of red falling from his mouth.

The werewolves grabbed their fallen member, snarling and growling to warn Greth away as they dragged the female from the two wildlings. Within seconds, the werewolf had healed even the horrific injuries to her throat and rolled onto her feet, joining the others as they fled.

The whole area went silent as the last werewolf vanished into the nearest trees, with Ilarra and Therec—as well as the two surviving soldiers that had been hiding somewhere—staring at Greth in shock as he helped Raeln stand. The wildling was covered with enough blood that Ilarra thought he looked like a bucket had been dumped on him. The dark, wet stain covered his entire muzzle and ran down his chest, as well as soaking his hands nearly to the elbows.

“That,” croaked Greth as he approached the group with Raeln following. Blood dripped from his mouth as he spoke. “Is how you fight animals. We have to get our hands dirty, even if you city-folk think that’s beneath you.”

Once Raeln had come over beside Ilarra, lowering his head in acknowledgement of her worry, Greth staggered to the edge of the road and began coughing violently. Between coughs, he spat repeatedly, trying to get the gore out of his mouth.

Ilarra finally shook off her own surprise at the fight and patted Raeln’s hand before following Greth to where he knelt, gagging between coughs. Kneeling beside him, she placed a hand on his back and started to thank him, but he shoved her hand away.

“I don’t need a furless doting over me when I’m being the savage you already thought I was,” he told her harshly, his voice sounding hoarse from the coughing. “I’ll do what I have to do to survive…don’t make it into more than it is.”

“Thank you anyway,” Ilarra told him, getting only a curt nod in reply.

After another round of gagging, Greth sat back on his haunches and looked over at Ilarra, then past her at Raeln and the humans that had come to lend silent support.

“Tell the other furless to play with the horses for a minute,” Greth told Ilarra softly, though she did not need to relay his message. The soldiers and Therec backed off, giving them some space.

Standing up, Greth wiped at the blood on his chest with one hand and walked over to Raeln, who watched him with concern.

“Among my packmates, we have a tradition,” Greth said, looking Raeln over. “I’m guessing you won’t like it, but I don’t really care, either.”

Reaching up, Greth wiped the fresh blood on the pads of his hand across Raeln’s face, leaving dark streaks on Raeln’s otherwise pale fur. Raeln managed not to recoil, but Ilarra could easily see his disgust.

Greth went on to explain, “You were attacked by wolves…crazy monster wolves, but they’re still wolves. You lived through it. Among the predatory breeds, that has some significance. It doesn’t make you an adult in a pack, but it does make you less ignorant of how the beasts work and more of a real person in your own right. The blood is to help you always remember that scent and learn from it, to become more like what your appearance tells others you are.

“Until today, you looked like a wolf. Today you faced the real thing. Become like it and be stronger for the experience. By the hells, become a werewolf to these idiots. They already joke that you are one.”

Raeln reached up to touch the blood on his face with the tip of his finger. Before Greth could say anything, Ilarra grabbed Raeln’s wrist to stop him.

“It’s a good thing to them,” she whispered. “He isn’t making fun of you…he’s honoring you.”

Frowning, Raeln let his hand drop to his side but kept twitching his whiskers as though the blood itched. After a moment, he grabbed Greth’s hand and clasped it.

“We aren’t equals yet,” Greth snapped, pulling his hand away. “You’re headed in the right direction though.”

Off to the side, Ilarra heard someone clear their throat and remembered that Therec and the soldiers were waiting.

“As much as I wish to give you all the time you want,” the robed man told them, motioning toward Lantonne, “I would have us within the city before it gets dark. If creatures like that are attacking so close to town, I cannot let us stay here. The wagon is destroyed and the horses are dead, so we will need to start walking. Besides, I need to get troops out here to claim the bodies before something else feeds on them.”

“The furless is right,” Greth muttered, not quite looking at Therec. “Let’s get moving. I don’t want to save your hide a third time in a day, Raeln.” Greth went to the humans and began walking away with them while Raeln and Ilarra lagged behind.

Once they had a little distance between themselves and the others, Ilarra turned to her brother and punched him in the arm playfully. “He’s calling you by name,” she said, giggling at his smirk. “You’re practically family. Keep getting yourself mauled and he might even consider you a friend.”

Rolling his eyes, Raeln reached over and messed up Ilarra’s hair.

*

After their arrival in Lantonne, Therec had whisked the group off to a large bedchamber several floors up…and guarded by halls of soldiers undoubtedly there to keep them from leaving before given permission. The room was idyllic, but each time Ilarra had gone near the door, the two elven guards outside had quickly stepped in front of her and asked what they could fetch.

“Best damned prison I’ve been in yet,” muttered Greth between mouthfuls of grapes that had been left on the nightstand. He had spent the hour they had been there pacing the place, searching every inch of the room. “Only one bed…I’ll fight you for it.”

Raeln got up from the floor and growled, straightening his broad shoulders.

“I didn’t say I’d fight you,” Greth corrected. He went to the window, staring off toward the snow-capped mountains.

“Raeln, sit down before you start bleeding again,” Ilarra chided him, tugging at what remained of Raeln’s sleeve. Even in the brief touch, she felt dried blood under her fingers. “This is not the time to pick fights.”

Snorting, Raeln bent over to show her his head. Where the large wound had been the night before, there now was only a pink scar. Even the stitches were gone. Raeln could heal fast, but that was far beyond anything Ilarra had seen without magic at work.

“Mairlee,” she noted, and Raeln nodded. She started to reach for the front of his shirt over his heart, but he quickly stepped away from her. Ilarra decided to let the topic drop, knowing there was no good news there.

Stiffening somewhat, Greth announced, “Dwarf at the door.”

A second later, a heavy pounding on the door preceded the entry of a stout little woman with braids that hung nearly to her feet. Glowering at the guard that followed her into the room, the dwarven woman plopped a closed basket atop a stool near the door and then glared at each of the prisoners in turn.

“I’m not great with people that have fur, but I’m fairly sure the woman I was told to check on is her,” the dwarf said, pointing at Ilarra with a stubby finger. “Unless one of you is a damned-burly girl. Don’t see tits on either of you, so I’m guessing not.” The woman marched up to Ilarra and began poking and prodding at her, finally stopping with a finger pressed to Ilarra’s arm just above her wrist. When Ilarra opened her mouth to say something, the dwarf raised a hand to silence her.

“Ilarra from Hyeth, I got the news,” the woman told Ilarra. “I’m Magister Arlind…your healer for the day. Keep quiet for a minute and let me do my thing. If you can keep those two from growling while I’m trying to figure you out, I’d appreciate that, too.”