Marsheila Rockwell - Legacy of the Wolves

“You’re suggesting we stand still and let them eat us?” Greddark asked.

“No. I’m telling you that they will chase you down and kill you if you run. If the leader kills me, just keep your swords up and back away slowly. Use fire, if you have to. If they see you’re not frightened, they’ll let you go.”

“We won’t leave without you,” Andri said.

Irulan smiled, though she knew the paladin couldn’t see her face. She should have known all it would take was a lady in seeming distress to bring him out of his depression. But his chivalry was pointless.

“Don’t bother. If he defeats me, there won’t be anything left of me to save.”

Then she had no more time for words. The male leader, accepting her steady gaze for the challenge it was, advanced, much as his mate had, with his tail erect and his lips curled back to reveal his fangs.

The other wolves held back, waiting to see how the challenge would play out. Irulan unbuckled her sword belt as she moved toward the pack leader, tossing the weapon to the side. She hated to be without the sword, but if she wanted the pack to accept her victory, it would have to be won by the law of the pack, using only the weapons of the wolf-claws, fangs, and wits.

Though she supposed Greddark would tell her she’d have to make do with two out of three. And as the dire wolf neared, she had to admit that the dwarf might be right. The dire wolf was only a few feet away now, and she could see just how big he really was. Larger than the dragonhound, Skaravojen, and stronger, by the looks of the muscles rippling powerfully beneath his dark fur. And no Keeper in sight to calm him with a word.

Though she did have Andri. Would the paladin’s intercession be enough to tip the scales in her favor? Or even move them?

Well, she thought as the dire wolf emitted a deep, rumbling growl that set her teeth on edge, it certainly couldn’t hurt.

“Andri,” she called, not breaking eye contact with the lead male. “A little prayer, please?”

The paladin complied, beginning a low chant, his voice rising and falling in a martial rhythm. A warmth spread through her, and Irulan felt herself becoming stronger and more confident.

She could do this.

She would .

With a growl of her own, she attacked.

She tried the same maneuver that she had used on the female, launching herself at the male’s neck with the intent of knocking him off his feet. The wolf crouched low as she sailed over him, and her claws sliced through nothing but thick fur. She tumbled across the grass and was on her feet in an instant, but it was already too late.

The dire wolf crashed into her, sending her sprawling onto her back. She rolled away as the wolf’s heavy jaws came down, teeth slamming together on nothing but air as she narrowly avoided having her shoulder and half her arm bitten off. Then she was on her feet again and dancing away as the wolf stalked after her, snarling in anger.

They circled each other, growling and glaring, with Andri’s chant providing a melodic and surreal backdrop for their dance of dominance. As they moved, lunging, dodging, and posturing, Irulan noticed that the wolf seemed to be favoring his right fore-paw, placing his weight more on the pad than on the toes of that foot as he walked. The difference was subtle, and the wolf was trying to hide it, so as not to appear weak, but a quick glance at the tracks he left in the muddy grass confirmed it-the wolf had a broken toe.

But walking on the pad was putting pressure on the recessed dewclaw, which was what was actually causing the wolf’s almost imperceptible limp. Irulan felt a twinge of sympathy for the animal. Each step he took was probably excruciating. If they both survived this encounter, she would have to try and heal his foot.

Especially since she was planning on making it hurt a lot worse.

As she circled him, she made sure her path would bring her closer and closer to the tree line. She dropped her gaze to make the wolf think she was beginning to back down from the challenge, then pretended to stumble on a root, fetching up against the trunk of a large oak.

The wolf charged, loping toward her like a dog running to greet its owner. He jumped on her, his paws landing heavily on her shoulders as his slavering jaws closed around the lower half of her face. But unlike the female, the male was not showing submission-he meant to put an end to this two-legged bitch who had challenged his dominance in front of his pack.

Irulan raised her hands as she felt the tips of the male’s teeth beginning to puncture the skin of her cheeks, like the sharp sting of insects. But instead of trying to fend off the wolf’s bite, she grabbed the paw on her left shoulder. With one hand, she found the broken toe and grasped it, wrenching it out and away from the wolf’s foot. With the other, she found the tender area around the dewclaw and shoved her own claw deep into the soft flesh of the pad, feeling blood gush over her knuckles and down across her wrist.

The wolf howled, the sound ringing in her ears, but he did not release his grip on her head. If anything, his jaws tightened, and she could feel the bones in her jaw beginning to break as blood coursed down her face and agony radiated through her skull.

He wasn’t going to let go.

Desperately, Irulan kicked out with one clawed foot, trying to gouge the dire wolf’s stomach as she had with Skaravojen, but he was too close and too big. She couldn’t get any leverage. The most she could do was slash her claws across his hind legs, which only made the wolf shift his weight forward onto her head and chest. She wondered idly if she would suffocate before he either broke her neck or tore her jaw off.

She continued to drive her claw into the wolf’s foot, feeling it slide along bone and punch out on the other side, but even though it was a debilitating injury, one that the pack leader would not survive, she knew she would die long before he did.

And then, abruptly, the fire that consumed the lower half of her face lessened, and the weakness and dizziness that had been tickling the edges of her consciousness disappeared. She was vaguely aware that the tenor of Andri’s prayer had changed, and that his voice was faltering, but she didn’t immediately connect the two events. Instead, she used the reprieve from pain to redouble her attack, pulling her claw out of the wolf’s foot and using both hands to twist the wounded appendage around as hard as she could until she heard a sharp, satisfying crack.

The wolf released her face with a high-pitched yelp and dropped back. As his considerable weight landed on the now-broken ankle, it buckled, and the wolf went down, legs splayed out in front of him as if he were kneeling to her. Irulan stepped away from the tree and placed one foot on the wolf’s back, raising her head to loose a howl of victory. The leader flattened his ears against his head and whimpered in submission.

It was over. She had won.

Even though, by all rights, she should be dead.

She lifted a hand up to touch her face gingerly. Though still slick with her own blood, the flesh was intact. It was like the wolf had never attacked her.

There was a moan and a clatter of armor. Across the clearing, Andri collapsed. Though none of the wolves had made a move toward him, his face and tabard were covered in scarlet blood, as if her wounds had been transferred to him.

And, with a gasp of shock, she realized that they had . The paladin had used the power of the Silver Flame to take her hurts upon himself, suffering in her stead so that she could remain strong enough to defeat the dire wolf.

The dear, sweet fool.

Though she wanted nothing more than to run to Andri’s side, she knew that doing so would endanger everything she had fought for, and make the paladin’s sacrifice meaningless. As calmly as she could, she instructed Greddark to tend to Andri’s wounds, hoping he had another healing potion secreted in that multi-pocketed coat of his.