Allan Cole - Wolves of the Gods

The young man whirled and his breath froze in his chest when he saw the four huge gray shapes bounding toward him.

Renor turned and ran, scrabbling his sharp work knife from his belt. Behind him the four creatures shattered the night with their howls. He ran faster, catching up to the llama. Renor slashed at the ropes and the load fell away. The animal stumbled, bawling in terror, but he yanked on its halter, helping it keep to its feet.

"Run, Granny, run!" he shouted and the llama leaped away.

Heavy bodies, moving at a frightening speed, were closing on him.

Renor was only twenty feet from the fort entrance, but the beasts were coming on so fast it might as well have been a thousand.

Then he saw a figure leap from the ruined walls. It was Lord Timura! Safar landed in front of the entrance.

"Get down!" he shouted.

Renor dropped to the ground, bracing for the scything claws he was sure would follow.

Then there was a sound like the wind and a hot breath whooshed! over his body. Behind him the howls turned into yips of pain.

Renor looked up and saw Lord Timura beckoning him.

"Come on!" he shouted. "I can't hold them for long!"

Renor scrambled up and ran for it. He turned his head and saw a wall of hot light. Just beyond the four wolf shapes howled in pain and rage.

Then he was sprinting past Lord Timura into the safety of the fort.

People rushed to him, shouting what was wrong and was he all right and other such nonsense. Struggling for breath, Renor pushed them away and turned to see what was happening.

Just as he did he saw the wall of light-some sort of magical shield-vanish and the four wolf figures crashed through.

Lord Timura backed up quickly and at the same time Renor saw Captain Leiria and some men pushing a big cart of wood into the entrance.

"Now!" Lord Timura shouted and someone threw a burning torch onto the wood.

The wood caught and there was a great blast of white light, blinding Renor. Then his vision cleared and he saw the wagon was engulfed in eerie flames that sparked and shot off long tongues of fire.

Beyond the flames, which seemed to have sealed the entrance, Renor could no longer hear the howling.

A small hand tugged at his cloak and Renor looked down to see little Palimak standing beside him, his toy soldier armor glittering in the fire.

"We're safe now," he said. Still, he had a worried look on his face. "But I think they'll come back pretty quick."

It was like an omen, because as he spoke the howling resumed.

Safar crouched in the little tent, assembling his magical arsenal by candlelight. He was mixing herbs and votive powders in a strange little pot with a five-sided mouth, working quickly and expertly in the near dark. He was used to such difficulties. When he'd been a young acolyte in Walaria he'd often lacked the price of lamp oil and so he'd had to practice his spell making under similar conditions. Although it had been much more pleasant to hear the watchman call the hour, rather than listen to the incessant howling outside the fort.

Never mind he was fairly certain Iraj and his friends were merely waging a war of nerves while they gathered their strength for the next attack. If that were the intent, by the gods it was working. The awful sound of the howling had everyone's nerves stretched taut. Safar had the village busy with a myriad of tasks, trying to keep their minds off the four savage creatures bounding and baying about the walls. The Kyranians went about their duties silently, whispering prayers to the Lady Felakia.

When the attack came, Safar had no idea how much force Iraj could muster. The only thing he was sure of was that it would be entirely magical. Coralean had no reason to lie when he'd said that Iraj's army was two days distant. Safar guessed it was even farther away than that-the terrain they had to cover was all treacherous mountains. Also, if there'd been an army behind him, the massacre of Kyrania would already be over. No, tonight would be a night of horrors meant to intimidate the villagers. To soften them up for his army.

To help in his work Iraj had three of the most cunning creatures in the history of Esmir. Two had been demons in their previous forms and therefor magical by birth, although Prince Luka was nowhere near as powerful as Lord Fari, who had been chief wizard to several generations of demon kings. Iraj's other ally was the human spymaster Kalasariz, who had no natural magical powers but was so ruthless and clever he hadn't needed them. The three had preyed on Iraj's many weaknesses, promising him even greater powers then being the mere king of kings of all Esmir. The result was The Spell of Four-the shape changer's spell-that bound them together forever.

Safar poured a silvery liquid into the pot, whispered a chant until the mixture began to bubble, then set it aside for his next task. He slipped five heavy-headed war arrows from a bundle and dipped them into the liquid one by one.

The defensive spell he was concocting was much weaker than he'd like, but he had no choice. With over a thousand people to protect he was going to be spread very thin. A more powerful spell-a spell capable of doing any real harm to Iraj but still safeguarding the villagers-would be impossible to maintain.

His preparations done, Safar opened his wizard's pouch and lifted an amulet out by its leather thong. It was made of some rare black stone that had been carved into the shape of a wondrous horse. The amulet had once belonged to Iraj-a gift from Coralean for saving his life. Safar had received the silver witch's dagger at the same time and for the same reason.

He remembered the moment as if it were yesterday, instead of nearly twenty years before. Safar and Iraj had been mere lads then. Even so, they'd first warned and then rescued Coralean and his caravan from a marauding army of demon bandits who'd broken out of the Forbidden Desert.

The gifting had come at a meeting of the Council of Elders and both boys had been bursting with pride as Coralean praised them.

Safar slipped back in time, remembering…

"First, I must thank my friend Iraj," the caravan master said. He took out a black velvet pouch.

Iraj's eyes sparkled as Coralean withdrew a small golden amulet. It was a horse-a wondrouslyformed steed dangling from a glittering chain. "Some day," Coralean said, "you will see theperfect horse. It will be a steed above all steeds. A true warrior's dream, worth more than akingdom to men who appreciate such things. The beast will be faster and braver than any animalyou could imagine. Never tiring. Always sweet-tempered and so loyal that if you fall it will chargeback into battle so you might mount it again.

"But, alas, no one who owns such a creature would ever agree to part with it. Even if it is a colt its lines will be so pure, its spirit so fierce, that the man it belongs to would be blind not to see what a fine animal it will become." He handed the horse amulet to Iraj. "If you give this magical ornament to that man he will not be able to refuse you the trade. But do not fear that you will be cheating him. For he only has to find another dream horse and the man who owns it will be compelled to make the same bargain when he gives him the amulet."

Tears welled in Iraj's eyes and they spilled unashamedly down his face as he husked his thanksand embraced the caravan master. "When I find that horse," Iraj said, "I promise that I will ridewithout delay to your side so you can see for yourself what a grand gift you gave me."

A great chorus of howls, louder than before, broke through Safar's reverie and he jolted back to the present. He checked the arrow tips, but the potion smeared on them was still damp. A few more minutes and he'd be ready.

Safar glanced down at the amulet. Iraj had never found that horse. He remembered that Iraj had cursed Safar for that failing, as if he were to blame. Then he'd hurled it into Safar's face, demanding that he take it in payment for Nerisa. At that moment the war between them had begun.