STORMRIDER
Trust The Wolves
Save A World
CHAPTER
ONE
Stillness, galvanizing in its
intensity, overwhelming in its suddenness, a stillness not her own, surged from
some inner repository, filled Tanith, pushed all else aside.
Her head
jerked up. The important work of
gathering plants for food and medicine was forgotten and the stillness
transformed into an unmistakable, undeniable pull. Her heart took up a skipping rhythm. Ears buzzed with silence, a void soon filled.
Come,
it beckoned, rippling softly through her mind, disturbing the great
stillness. Come.
Tanith
Aesir grasped her collecting bag tighter and bolted to her feet, rising from
the mottled forest shadows into brilliant sunlight. Tension snapped through her body like a whip
crack as a sudden breeze surged, swaying the surrounding trees. Their movement dappled the sunlight,
flickering shadows impairing her focus.
The grove’s serenity evaporated in an instant.
Expert
training strained to the fore. Years of
it. Green eyes rapidly swept her
surroundings, adjusting, that adjustment delaying her only a moment while she
analyzed the throbbing quietude about her.
Barest moments of time were swept away on an indrawn breath and then she
began to run.
She ran not
with the small, mincing steps of a maiden, but with the long, athletic strides
of a female warrior, muscles flexing, blood heating. Her hair, the color of rich, well-aged
Octurian brandy, streamed unbound in a silken wave behind her, caught upon the
chill wind of her passage. Her stomach
wanted to knot but she forbade it, calling upon iron control as she sought to
hold firmly to that mind-touch which drew her.
More
urgently now—he voice; the thought; rippling across her mind–come, swiftly,
come.
Not words
precisely, more like impulses of
knowledge threaded through with an urgency she had never felt before, crashing
over her with the power of cascading waters.
She had a general direction, but no more. It drew her on with its power, its compelling
urgency, this voice, this presence in her mind.
She no longer feared it as she had at the very beginning when first
contact had been initiated; instead she feared for it. This was not a normal contact. This was something very different with
something very much more deadly underlying the summons. And there were plenty of things here in
Nashira which were deadly.
The
mind-touch held and Tanith increased her speed.
Her chest burned inside and her extremities felt the chill of blood loss
as it was diverted to her laboring heart and lungs. Hide gathering bag clenched in one fist,
half-blunted digging knife in the other, she answered the anxious call--without
words, but answered nonetheless.
I’m
coming, coming - let me feel you–where?
She ran,
direction determined by those impulses throbbing through her soul.
Her feet
clad in leathers, soft wraps nearly to her knees, hardened sole pounding
softly, nearly soundlessly, against pliant soil, she swept on. With the wind at her back, she ran. Blood pumped heatedly through veins and sweat
misted her forehead in a fine, gathering sheen.
Mind tried to take over, threatened to imagine all kinds of disasters to
foster such an urgent call. Fear
threatened to blossom, but, with the years of studied discipline at her beck,
she deftly turned the imaginings aside and pressed on.
Suddenly
the silent communication was lost. Link
broken. In its place, echoed the
familiar, wolfish, yips and howls of Strongheart, Littlefoot and One Eye. The three wolves, sensing her nearness, had
begun vocalizing, beckoning to her, giving her more than the power of the bond
to draw her on. Understanding her need
better than she did herself, the sound of the haunting chorus brought the hair
at the nape of her neck to attention along a rippling wave of goose-flesh.
But there
was more; a texture of sight, sound and roiling impressions; mental chaos. Images, isolated, which made no sense. For a moment she was aware of fang and claw,
then a man, bloodied, replaced it.
Guided confusion. Order in
chaos. Tanith fought to assimilate it
and understand, but gave that up as futile.
And helplessness was not a condition she was willing to accept.
She
turned. Carried by the wind as it
shifted came growls, animal screams, moist, guttural snorts and snarls - the
rough bellowing of another. By the Gods
and Goddesses! It was a fight she was
hurling toward like a juggernaut, and she had no weapon with her save her
digging knife!
She swung
around the thick bole of a split-leaf tree, and nearly tripped over a
body. She had no time to analyze what
lay before her except to note the bloody, mangled body was most assuredly dead;
that it wore, in tatters, the leathers of The People - and that other clothes
(more familiar clothes) lay in a balled-up heap nearby, nearly concealed by leaves.
ENEMY! The alarm exploded instantly inside her head.
ENEMY
HERE!
Anxiety
added to chaos. If the enemy was here…if
they knew of the golden torque…if they stopped her…so much would be lost…so
much. She had heard the mechanical roar
of war in simulation. She had no desire
to experience it first-hand.
A hideous
roar of a different kind shook the ground, drove the birds from the trees and
silenced, for the moment, the apprehensions clamoring in her mind. Those could be confronted later. Now she must reach the trio of wolves because
whatever it was they had found to tangle with would not wait. Urgency in her mind from Strongheart.
Picking up
the thread, she dove through the trees once again, noticed them thinning
abruptly before she was spilled unceremoniously onto the edge of an immense
clearing. Soft grasses rolled before her
feet. Sunlight, painfully bright, made the green all around
throb iridescently. Deep, cool shadows
cast on either side by limbs intruding into sun's space moved, and seemed
almost alive.
Chest
heaving, hair in a tangled mass, eyes wide, she allowed the sight to wash over
her, through her, absorbing what she needed with the speed of her sense
functions. Even thoughts took longer
than impressions.
Legs spread
to steady her balance, moccasin-clad
feet planted firmly upon the ground, she gaped while the sounds of her own
blood rushing filled her ears. She
couldn’t help staring, but she couldn’t spare the time for it.
There,
before her, Strongheart, magnificent in battle, wore his great silver ruff
stiffened across massive shoulders like a cape.
Head down, ears up, lips peeled back from impressive white teeth in a
deadly, liquid, gutteral snarl, he challenged the enraged bear for possession
of his victim--a man (a rather torn-up man), caught between bear (who seemed
prepared to make short shrift of him) and wolves (who undoubtedly seemed not
much different than the bear to the man).
Already battered and bloodied far more than any man should be and remain
standing, that hardy soul stared warily from beast to beast to beast, his lips
peeled back in a rictus of a man-snarl, his body half crouched in readiness,
but bleeding, weakening, swaying on his feet.
Readiness -
readiness for that?! The bear towered over
them all, standing a solid twelve feet tall if he was an
inch.
The Goddess
only knew what he weighed! Staring,
gauging, Tanith translated all that poundage and fury into physics of force and
momentum - the damage just one paw swipe could do – and shuddered. The wolves were all crazy! She was crazy! Her eyes flicked back to the wreck of a man.
He flinched
every time Littlefoot or One Eye followed the choreography of a master;
entering the dance as Strongheart directed with impeccable timing. It was a stunning stand-off, for the
moment. One Strongheart fully expected
her to break.
In the
space of a heartbeat, she watched in horrified fascination as both Littlefoot
and One Eye dashed in to harass the bear.
Littlefoot, less aggressive but quick and protective of the pack, moved
like lightning. Sharp teeth sank
momentarily into ankle or leg and then she was gone, wind rippling across her
bloodstained muzzle.
One Eye,
blind on one side, flew to the attack with brutal ferocity. Teeth snapping he leapt high, raked the
bear's golden pelt above the hip, turned, raced between the animal's massive
legs, and went for the hamstrings. But
for all his bulk, the bear, too, was swift in retaliation. One giant, sickle-clawed paw descended to rid
himself of the annoying pest. The bear
missed One Eye and the wolf flowed clear, dodging the tottering man, eye fixed
momentarily on Tanith before jaws snapped in final assault.
Heart in
her throat, Tanith slid smoothly to one side, out of the bear's immediate line
of concentration. She gripped her dull,
pitiful knife tightly, feeling the direction of the fight, sensing
Strongheart's intent as he lunged forward - deflected most of the force of the
bear's blow while One Eye dashed clear - and powerful jaws tore out a piece of
bear hide in his passing.
Hammered by
the impetus of One Eye's flight, the man, badly leaking blood everywhere, fell
with a disturbing finality arms pinwheeling past Littlefoot who slipped into
the fray again. At first she went
unnoticed. Then sharp teeth scored where
intended and the ground-shaking bellow of the great bear once again rocked the
earth beneath Tanith's feet.
She felt
the direction of Strongheart's plan; knew she had to move swiftly. The delaying action thrown up by One Eye and
Littlefoot could not last much longer.
The bear was clearly the superior force and definitely was not willing
to be turned from his goal: the man now
prone on the raw turf. She was the
deciding factor. She was the
tie-breaker. By the Goddess she was
good! But this was not the kind of fighting she had been trained for. Nonetheless, it was the kind she would
do. Attention spread thin, she glanced
again at the prone man.
He was not important. He was a stranger, possibly an enemy, though
Strongheart was rarely wrong in his impressions of people and would not have
bothered to defend an enemy. Still, her
primary concern was for the wolves, her pack.
Death would be swift if one of the bear's paws connected directly. Plainly, the wolves did not intend to
disengage and leave the man to the bear with the bloodied muzzle, ragged
plain-leaf ears and fetid breath.
And she
could not leave them.
She
projected anger, gathered her resources, suppressed a new shudder, and thought
of the things she would have to say to Strongheart once this was over and the
sour sweat of fear had dried. This was
not for food, nor was it for the safety of the pack, this was something
else! Something beyond her meager
experience of the pack. She would demand
an explanation from Strongheart.
He and his
companions danced expertly with the bear, baiting it, holding it, positioning
it. Strongheart directed and
protected. He sent One Eye against the
bear in such a way as to protect him from his own blindness, then exposed
Littlefoot to less frontal attack, taking into account her weakness: the deformed back foot. They worked smoothly, as a team. And Tanith was one of the pack, expected to
do her part or the functioning of the pack would collapse, bringing disaster.
All right!
So be it! Her finely conditioned body hummed with expectation as she rushed the
bear's blind side, the wind carrying his noisome scent to her nostrils but not
hers to his. Leverage, surprise and
power. She had to use them all and use
them fast. Despite years of training and
the experience of having faced deadly adversaries, her belly churned and her
mouth felt parched as she launched herself.
She went in
swiftly from behind as Strongheart directed the diversion in front. She hit the massive bear with all her
strength, clipping him just behind the knees, and slashed downward, tearing the
hamstring of the leg nearest her with her digging knife. Blood spurted hot and sticky. The bear gave a thunderous roar and began a
long, slow, collapse. Tanith's heart
convulsed. It didn’t appear she was
going to make it clear. She sent a brief prayer to the Goddess. If she died now she will have failed. Her quest to regain the amulet would be
ended. Something flashed past her.
Strongheart
plowed in. Everything started to come
apart. Jaws agape, canines flashing
wetly in the bright afternoon light, he dove for the bear’s throat, leaping
over Tanith in a cannonball assault. She
witnessed the rest in a blur. Wolf
charging. Bear falling. Those terrible sickle-like bear claws
swinging in a wide arch. She ached, her
bones fairly shrieked with the knowledge it was going to be a close thing, a
very close thing indeed.
The ground
leapt up to slam into her shoulder and hip as Tanith pressed away. No good!
Not fast enough! She flailed as
an icy finger of near panic caressed the length of her spine and the bear's
heavy paw passed so close claws caught her in a glancing swipe. Fired ice followed the course of the bear's
claws running up her left breast and over her shoulder. A numbing shiver rippled through her
body. Despite the muted power of the
swipe of that great paw, it delivered hot agony. Tanith kept moving; tumbled, tumbled, chewed
grass and rolled clear. She heard, more than saw, Strongheart take the bear's
throat in a single savage pass.
Gurgling
sounds bubbled from the bear's torn throat as he thrashed wildly, tearing up
the fragrant grasses in his death throes, bringing Tanith's earlier meal to her
throat in a much less pleasant form than the one it had been consumed in. His
throat gone, the mortally wounded bear could not even roar his agony and
anger. A ground-tremoring shudder, a
deep wheeze and then silence. Profound
and complete.
Tanith
rolled slowly over onto her back, stared up into the incredible blue of the
sky's vastness and in her heart asked the deities of this world for their
forgiveness in the taking of this bear's life.
She gave a
quick glance up at Strongheart who had come to plunk himself down at her side,
panting heavily, reeking of bear and blood. He looked down at her sprawled in the grass
from his elevated, sitting position and gave her a quizzical look, tongue
lolling from his mouth.
His mind
touched hers, telegraphing thoughts. Why
do you feel you need forgiveness for making the only choice for a being of
flesh...?
Tanith
breathed heavily, willing the incredible tension of battle to drain away from
her body into the cool earth beneath her back.
It took a little time for the pounding roar of her blood to calm so she
could consider Strongheart’s question.
“It was not by my choice, it was yours - and
we destroyed a living thing by it. For
what?”
In
defense of another living thing - choices all choices. To live in the world of flesh choices must be
made.
Tanith
sighed. “Are you going to confuse my
life further by becoming a philosopher as well as bond-mate?”
Strongheart
panted a little less heavily, expelled a forceful breath and licked his nose
with a quick swirl of pink tongue. I
was what I was before the pack was joined.
Tanith rolled
to her knees, slowly. It wasn’t every
day one tackled a bear with success and
everything seemed to hurt. Tanith
swept straggling hair back from her face and had a look around. “Well good.
Great. Me too, but looking back
I’m not sure what that was, so give me some time to get the hang of this, all
right? How are the others? Any damage?”
A11 is
well. The softness of Littlefoot, at
about eighty pounds, the smallest of the pack.
She was nursing a deep, bloody furrow across her shoulder.
I will
live. This from One Eye, limping
badly, but unperturbed.
Only the
man needs your help now. Strongheart
was on his feet, first shaking out his matted pelt with great vigor, then
moving toward the man sprawled only a few feet from the dead bear. There was not so much difference between them
save the fact the man breathed.
“And if he
is enemy...?”
END SAMPLE
