Marsheila Rockwell - Legacy of the Wolves

She turned her attention back to the wolf beneath her. Carefully removing her foot from his back, she crouched down next to the injured animal and held out her hand in front of his muzzle. Cautiously, the wolf moved his head toward her and began licking her hand, acknowledging his defeat. When the other wolves saw this, they gathered around Irulan, bowing their heads to her and licking the blood from her face and hands.

They were hers to lead now.

Certain of her safety, and that of her companions, she took the pack leader’s paw gently in her hands and spoke a spell of healing, easing the bone into its proper place and letting the magic knit the broken pieces back together. He would limp for a few days, but then the paw should be good as new.

As she looked up and saw Greddark trying to force the last of a potion through the unconscious paladin’s ruined lips, she only hoped the same would be true for Andri.

Zor, Eyre 5, 998 YK

Something was licking his face.

As Andri’s awareness returned, he realized he was lying on his back, and his head hurt-so much so that he didn’t want to open his eyes. He knew that he should, but he couldn’t remember why.

They’d been in a forest, hunting … what?

Wolves.

And they’d found them, too, a pack of them, bigger than any wolves he’d ever seen before.

Dire wolves.

Had they fought? No … he remembered singing. Praying, as someone else battled the leader of the wolf pack.

Irulan!

Andri’s eyes snapped open, and he sat up so abruptly he knocked the shifter woman onto her rump, the wet cloth she’d been using to wipe blood from his face still clutched in one hand.

Though his head was spinning, he lunged forward and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her close. He examined her intently, his hands running over her hair and face as he touched her cheek, her jaw, her neck, looking for any sign of injury.

There was nothing.

Thank the Flame! His spell had worked.

With a sigh, he sat back, releasing his grip on the startled shifter.

“Well, looks like you’re feeling fine,” Greddark said from somewhere behind them.

Andri turned his head-slowly, this time-to see the dwarf leading their horses into the clearing. The wolves were nowhere to be seen.

“What happened?” he asked, turning back to Irulan. She moved into a kneeling position and filled him in as she continued to wash the blood from the new pink skin on his cheeks and jaw.

“I was able to defeat the pack leader without killing him-thanks to you.” Her face was mere inches from his own, so close he could feel her breath on his skin and smell the heavy odor of wet dog that clung to her, no doubt from her struggle with the dire wolf. “What was that spell? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Andri pulled back from her, uncomfortable with the earnestness of her gratitude. He tried to shrug it away, as if what he’d done hadn’t almost cost him his own life.

“It’s powerful, but not many learn it, because of the obvious risks.” Though if he’d known it when his mother had been attacked, he would have used it without hesitation. He didn’t say that part aloud, but by the look of sympathy that flashed across Irulan’s face, he knew he didn’t need to.

“So where are the wolves now?” he asked. The throbbing in his head was starting to subside. In a moment, he would try to stand.

“Off hunting. Except for the lead male. He’s going to guide us to the werewolves’ lair.”

Andri climbed slowly to his feet, ignoring the steadying hand Irulan offered. He took a few experimental steps. When he was satisfied that the world was not going to tilt and send him reeling to the ground, he reached out for the reins that Greddark was offering him. Swinging himself up into the saddle, he looked down on his two compatriots.

“Well, then,” he said, rubbing his still-aching jaw. “What are we waiting for?”

At Irulan’s command, the dire wolf stayed downwind from them, and out of sight as much as possible, to avoid spooking the horses. The wolf led them along the creek, in some spots having to wade through the shallow water because the brush on either side was too high to traverse. As they moved deeper into the forest, the canopy thickened, screening out the sunlight and enfolding them in an unnatural twilight. The air became thick and humid, making Andri sweat beneath his armor, even though it was cooler here than it had been on the road.

“How do we know the wolf isn’t leading us into a trap?” Greddark asked.

Irulan, who was riding ahead of him and Andri, didn’t even bother to turn. “Because we’re part of the pack now. We’re family.”

The dwarf grunted. “That only increases the likelihood of treachery,” he muttered, but he didn’t press the issue. Though Andri did notice that the inquisitive started riding with his sword half out of its sheath after that.

They traveled that way for several hours, their journey silent save for twittering birdsong, the occasional splash of a frog in running water, or the rustle of a small animal darting through the undergrowth as it caught the wolf’s scent.

As the gloom deepened from a twilit green-gray to the bluer shades of dusk, the trio found another small clearing to make camp in. Greddark started a fire and Irulan scouted for food, taking the dire wolf with her. Andri tended to the horses, as he did most evenings. He removed their tack and rubbed them down, then let them graze a bit before brushing each of them until their coats shone. He didn’t want to risk washing them this late. It was still cool enough at night that leaving them unstabled and wet was just inviting illness. But they could certainly have used a good bath, and they weren’t the only ones. Catching a whiff of himself, he wondered if Irulan was taking so long to return with food because game was that scarce, or because she needed the fresh air.

The shifter still had not returned by the time he finished with the horses, so Andri joined Greddark by the fire.

“You’re good with horses. Why don’t you have one of your own? Don’t most paladins?”

Andri blinked at the question. “Most paladins aren’t guilty of parricide.”

Though his superiors in the Order and even the Keeper had told him that was not why he had yet to receive a holy mount, Andri knew in his heart they were wrong. Why would the Silver Flame grace him with such a gift, and what celestial steed would deign to serve a murderer?

The dwarf grunted. “I suppose that’s true,” he said, then went back to throwing tiny twigs on to the fire as he watched the woods with a suspicious eye. Greddark was clearly uncomfortable in the forest, a fact that perplexed Andri. He imagined the omnipresent press of greenery was not so different from the rocky caverns of the Mror Holds-or even from the marble walls of Flamekeep, for that matter. They all cut you off from the sky, bearing down on you with a weight so much greater than that of mere wood and stone, carrying the burden of age, tradition, expectation. It was a wonder neither one of them had run off to join the halflings and the Valenar elves on the open plains.

Andri’s stomach rumbled, and he was tempted to dig into their dwindling store of dried meat, but he knew they had to make it last. There was no telling when they would get to a city again to restock. A few days? A few weeks? The thought only made his stomach protest more loudly.

“That you or the wolf?” Greddark asked, his eyes darting nervously from tree to tree.

“Me,” Andri replied, but then he wondered. His stomach was no longer gurgling, but he could still hear a faint growl. Greddark heard it at the same time, and both men jumped up, swords in hand, expecting to see the dire wolf.