Robert Asprin: The Blood of Ten Chiefs

Strongbow had to lean forward slightly to brace against the abrupt shock of Bearclaw's sending.

The chief spun around and blasted with molten thought.**This is more than just an attack on the holt, fool!**

"We have to use more than our instincts, Strongbow," Woodlock echoed.

Strongbow lashed out instantly. His nail-hard sending made Woodlock flinch.**Stay out of this!**

Suddenly the archer was wrenched back around by a force more physical than sending could ever be. He found himself face to face with ferocity. Bearclaw's eyes speared at him, looking ultimately wolfen tonight-nothing elfin here anymore. "Leave him alone."

The two elves locked glares and did not look away.

Without blinking, Bearclaw rumbled, "I gave you something to do, Woodlock. Do it."

Woodlock knew he lacked the strength to stand between these two if they were truly determined to challenge each other. With a despondent sigh, he set his lips and melted into the forest.

Bearclaw gritted his teeth at Strongbow. "Are you challenging my authority9''

**What if I am? Who says your line must be the only chiefs of the Wolfriders? The rest of us have something to say about it too.**

"Oh? Do you? And who would be chief? You? Treestump? Maybe Rain or Woodlock."

**Or my lifemate. She's got all your experience and four times your judgment. I spit on your chief-blood.**

Bearclaw circled the archer now, prowling around him with a disgusted expression curdling his features. "You do and I'll make you lick it up. You're the one who always wants to follow the Way. Well, the Way says from parent to cub-my parent to my cub-straight back to Timmorn's blood."

**Too bad you don't have Timmorn's brain.**

Bearclaw's teeth showed as his lips quivered back in rage. Veins bulged in his arms. Too furious to speak, he sent his feelings directly to Strongbow's mind.**I should kill you for that.**

Strongbow's head snapped sideways, his gaze landing on the mossy ground beside him.**Tonight might mean the deaths of many Wolfriders. Including you.**

They leered at each other with a mutual bitterness so spiny it nearly drew blood. Finally, Bearclaw broke the spell. "Then you can howl ever my carcass."

He stalked off the way Woodlock had gone. Behind him, torchlight flickered between the trees.

He was still stalking when Woodlock popped out of the branches, breathing heavily, and gasped, "I counted twice eight of them. And there are more coming from the camp. I'm sure they outnumber us."

Bearclaw thought about it. What Strongbow said made sense* If a chief had said those things, there might never be a chance to think about it; it would already be done. But because the ideas came from a source outside himself, Bearclaw automatically resisted. Yet Strongbow's logic was good. Certainly the humans would spare nothing and no one if they found the holt, no matter what caused the anger. Sixteen or more humans…

In his mind, Bearclaw carefully considered his Wolfriders. They could all hunt, of course, but fighting was different. Redmark was the best tracker and he loved the chase, but he usually left the actual kill to someone else, unless he was alone. Clearbrook could fight as well as Bearclaw himself, but she thought she might be with cub and he didn't want to take any chances. Amber was fair with a knife, but she had an infant even younger than Bearclaw's tiny son-the little she-cub called Nightfall. Skywise…no. Too young for this kind of thing. Eager, but too young. One-Eye-yes. Now, there was a fighter. Steady, but willing to give in to the killer's instinct at the appropriate second. Strongbow-went without saying. The archer's lifemate, Moonshade, was always dependable, especially if she and Strongbow could fight near each other. Rain… no. Rain never participated in the

hunt, coming along with the hunting party only to ease the death-pain of an animal who had not died quickly. He would put the thrashing, agonized prey at ease, calming it so that its last moments would not be moments of terror, until the Wolfriders could dispatch it with a single thrust to the brain. Then there was Longreach, as good at amusing the tribe as he was with**Blood guilt.**

Bearclaw staggered. His hands clamped the sides of his head. He plunged sideways into Strongbow, who had followed him through the forest at a slight distance.

"Bearclaw!" Woodlock caught the chief's elbow.

Something was in his mind. Bearclaw knew that for certain now. "Stay back," he choked, wrenching away from the others and stumbling to the center of the clearing.

Grimacing, his teeth bared again, he forced his hands down and willed himself to relax. Something was trying to overpower him-or contact him. There on the mossy mound in the clearing, he stood still.

Strongbow and Woodlock shared an uncomfortable glance-almost an embarrassed awareness of each other-and immediately looked once again at Bearclaw's back. He turned away from them. They couldn't see his face at all.

Bearclaw no longer fought the invasion. He gave himself to the impassioned sending as it overwhelmed his thoughts and replaced them. He felt nauseated, disoriented. Pictures of carnage flooded his mind-images of mutilation, of blades or teeth chiseling through bone while on the run-panic- splattering flesh-blood.

Were they images of madness? Or intent? -And which was worse?

"There's something out there."

The others stiffened behind him.

"Not humans. Something else."

Woodlock unconsciously moved closer to Strongbow. "And it's sending? What could do that?"

"One of our wolves?" Woodlock offered.

Bearclaw frowned. "Our wolves don't send like… like what I'm getting."

"What are you getting?"

"Images… no-feelings. Like the hunt and the kill."

"Something out there means to kill?"

"Or has already," Bearclaw concluded.

Woodlock scanned the forestscape with new apprehension. "And the humans are blaming us… Bearclaw, what can we do? Reason with them?"

**Invite them home for a game of stones,** Strongbow sent on a sting of bitterness.

Woodlock's anxiety made him face the archer boldly now. "But I don't want to die fighting a cause that's not ours! The Wolfriders shouldn't pay for something we didn't do."

Insulted, Strongbow pushed past him and confronted Bearclaw.**What is it? Can you tell?**

The night became a bodiless enemy, its silence like an animal's throaty growl. The three Wolfriders stood alone in its midst. Even Woodlock and Strongbow imagined they felt something-perhaps only because Bearclaw did.

"A bear," the chief murmured, "or a big cat… a longtooth-maggots! I don't know. Maybe something we've never seen before. It's out there, hiding or waiting…"

"But how can it be sending?" The tremor came out in Woodlock's words no matter how hard he tried to steady it. He forced himself to unclench his fists, loathing the images of Rainsong's beautiful face crumpled in fear when she learned of this. He longed to have the problem solved and finished before he had to go back to the holt and tell her what was going on. Bearclaw would surely order him home when

things got bad-he always did. Woodlock knew he was nothing with a blade and only fair with a bow, but he shuddered at the idea of waiting at the holt to see if death was coming tonight. "If it killed humans, how can we defeat it? And if it hurt them, why would they head toward our trees?"

"Maybe they don't know what it is either," Bearclaw said. "If you were human and you didn't know what animal hurt you, what would you think?"

Woodlock stared at him and tried to put it together. Bearclaw waited, hardly even breathing, forcing his tribe-mate to piece out the problem. It was hard for a Wolfrider to think like a human, to imagine life among the animals and trees while not really a part of them. The humans hid from the night- usually-and they either hunted or feared all the creatures of the forest. Woodlock's task was a strain. Bearclaw continued to wait.