Children of the Wolves (25 page)

“The wolves defended me,” Jelena said. “They were my protectors.”

Derek said nothing for a moment. Then: “Shall we build a pyre for the body?”

“No,” Jelena said and knew she was damning the dead man's soul; without the release from his physical body, he could never go beyond self.

Derek nodded. “We will leave him there,” he agreed. “A warning to those who would trespass against the people of the Way.”

“The people of the wolves,” she amended softly, tasting the name and finding it good.

• • •

Topaz came trotting back to Jelena shortly after sunrise. She'd refused to leave the campsite until the wolves returned. The sight of that familiar gait brought tears to her eyes. She dropped to her knees and buried her face in Topaz's neck. Topaz licked the tears from her face. She leaned back on her heels and looked into the wolf's golden brown eyes.

“You are my protector,” she said. “The mother I never knew, the father I never had.” She stroked Topaz's face. “I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and well.”

Derek loomed tall over her. “Are you ready now?”

“She saved my life. She went after that attacker with no thought to her own safety. Like a mother would,” Jelena said. “Selfless and without conditions. They love us, Derek. They love us as if we were their children.”

“Ay,” said Derek, and she knew it was because he didn't dare say otherwise.

“We are no longer people of the Way,” she said, rising to her feet. “Nor yet are we
people
of the wolves. We are
Children
of the Wolves.”

Derek's face was uncustomarily expressionless as he followed her to where the group had gathered, awaiting her command to leave.

She swung onto Horse's back and surveyed the expectant faces of the One and of her own. The five wolves gathered around Horse. They were ready now.

She flicked the reins and the bay began walking east.

Michael could tell the difference even before he and Rufus entered the main gate. The village was quiet, far quieter than it should have been, and the wind carried the stink of death. He could see the lazy smoke of a pyre drifting across the sky.

“Danielle,” he said to Rufus. She'd lost considerable blood during the stillbirth and might not have recovered. He spurred his horse on.

“Michael!” the lone sentry called. “By all that's good, you're here!”

A chill gathered in the pit of Michael's stomach. “What is it?” he demanded and then he saw the wreck of the eastern paddock, the scorched timbers on the roof of the main hall. The sentry lifted a scarred face to him.

“What happened?” he said hoarsely, sliding off his horse, barely pausing to throw the reins over a post. “The Sithans?” he hissed.

“No one knows. They came at night. We didn't see their faces. The riders were away. and — ”

“
Away
?”

“Ay. Following a rumor that the smith and Jelena had been taken by the Umluans. The riders went out to find them.”

“By all that's good,” Michael said, taking in the devastation of the village. “Charmaine should have known better — ”

“She would have thought she was doing what you wanted.” Rufus finally spoke. “It is a blind eye that cannot see how you feel about Jelena.”

“Where is she? Charmaine?” Michael demanded.

The sentry pointed silently at the pyre.

“No,” Michael said. “Not Charmaine.” He reached out a hand for Rufus, but the other man shook free and strode to the funeral pyre, dropping to his knees in front of it. After a moment, Michael followed him.

“I am so sorry,” he said, and words were inadequate to express his grief.

“Michael,” a hard voice spoke from the front steps of the main hall. Michael looked up to see Maurice flaring at him. “About time you returned to your duties.”

“Where is the council?”

“Convened,” Maurice said curtly and turned to go back inside.

Michael followed, the fatigue from his journey making it hard for him to take in what had happened.

The interior of the main hall was a shambles, with chairs and tables overturned, crockery smashed, dried blood staining the worn wooden floor.

Maurice flung open the door to the council room and took his seat. Michael turned to take his accustomed place but saw Teresa there. His brows lifted in surprise but he said nothing, merely took a seat on the bench along the far wall.

“Teresa has assured us that this disaster could not have been the work of the Sithans, with whom we've become good trade partners,” Maurice said.

Michael glanced at Teresa.

“They express their shock and sorrow,” Teresa said, her face carefully schooled to show no emotion. “They have promised to advise me — us — if they learn of any information that could shed light on the… event.”

“Tell me what happened,” Michael said.

Teresa sat primly, staring at her fingers while the elders exchanged looks around the table.

“Forgive us,” Cara said, and there was an edge of steel in her voice. “But we did not approve your journey to chase after that — that woman and the pathetic fools she stole away with her. If you had been here, as was your duty, this attack might not have happened and it certainly would not have been so successful.”

Michael already blamed himself for not being with the villagers when the attack came, but the accusation from Cara was hardly supportable after all he had done for the tribe. Just once he had done something in his own self interest, and now it appeared they were going to hold him responsible for the attack.

It seemed, he thought suddenly, all too neat and contrived. It just so happened that he left, and it just so happened the riders were called away and it just so happened that an attack occurred at the intersection of these two events.

Jelena would have already reached that conclusion, he thought abstractedly. She would already be wondering who had betrayed their vulnerabilities to the attackers and she would be positing the argument that the riders had actually been lured away in order to create such a vulnerability.

He studied the faces of the elders for a moment and then he said, “I am, of course, sorry for what has happened here. But I was not aware that permission was required for an awakened citizen to go beyond the fence. In future I will be sure to apply for such license.”

Cara's head snapped up and her eyes narrowed at his words. Apparently this was not what she had expected him to say. Then, to her further astonishment, Michael rose and left the room.

• • •

Michael sat by Danielle's pallet, stroking her face and holding her hand.

“I blame myself,” she fretted. “Charmaine shouldn't have had to command the riders. She wasn't prepared for it.”

“That is the most foolish thing I have every heard you say, my friend,” Michael said. “You can't help that your babe was stillborn at that time.”

“I should never have been carrying the babe in the first place,” Danielle said.

“Oh, well, if we are talking about ‘should haves,'” Michael said easily, “I should have turned the command over to you a year ago, and you would have had time to train a second.”

Danielle's face relaxed a bit. “I did wonder about that. You had so much pressure on you.”

“I liked being in command of the riders,” Michael said. “Hubris. Pride. Only I could do it all. Another thing I should have done. I should have recognized my own vanity.”

“You don't strike me as a vain main,” Danielle murmured.

“But I am. Bertha tells me I'm in love with my own self image.”

“Bertha should keep some of her opinions to herself,” Danielle said. “And I should have known better than to get pregnant by a man I was unwilling to partner with and you — you should have — ”

“Ay,” Michael said to forestall her.

“You should have told Jelena you loved her.”

Into the silence that followed, she said, “You found no sign?”

“None.”

“Do not let that worry you unduly,” Danielle said. “I wager we have not seen the last of that woman yet.”

The day dawned cold and miserable, the rain and mist reducing their sight. They plodded on through the wet, muddy prairie, hardly raising their eyes from the ground beneath their feet. Even the wolves looked miserable, sodden, and uncomfortable.

“Should we erect a shelter?” Jelena asked Derek, who walked alongside Horse.

“Look there,” Derek said. Jelena raised her eyes to see what he was pointing out. In the distance she saw a ridge of trees breaking through the mist.

“Derek,” she said. “Those are the first trees we've seen in how long?”

“Ay,” Derek said. “Jelena, we've found the river.”

Jelena swung down off Horse, handing the reins to William, mostly out of habit. Horse, if he was going to run off, had already had ample opportunity and yet he had never seized the day.

The trees grew in a thick rank alongside the river, the beautiful life-giving river. Jelena leaned her head back and laughed as the rain pelted her face.

“We're home,” she said, jumping into Derek's arms and hugging him tightly. “Let's start by putting some shelters up. When the rain leaves, we can decide where our permanent settlement will be located.”

“Ay,” Derek said. He released Jelena gently and dipped his hand into the river. “We found it,” he said.

“You found it,” Jelena corrected. “Derek the explorer.”

“Nay,” said the man. “Say just, Derek, Child of the Wolves.”

• • •

They busied themselves erecting the Onaphile shelters of bone and buffalo skin. Jelena no longer thought of them as the One, nor of the outcast Wudu-faesten as the unawakened; they were all, to her, Children.

She found a slightly sheltered spot and tethered Horse there beneath the trees. He did not seem much more comfortable than he had been standing out in the open in the rain.

“Poor Horse. Ill-used from the beginning,” she said, patting his flank.

Looking about her, she saw the wolves were gone. “Topaz,” she called. “Garnet? Where are you?”

She didn't hear a response. Following the shore, she called for them as she walked downstream. Here the river cut through a limestone hill, the rocky sides of the hill jutting far above her head. The water was deeper here. Because the shoreline had given way to rock walls, she was forced to wade through knee-high water. As she crept along, she kept one steady hand against the stone in case the river grew wilder or deeper.

“Topaz!” she called again. This time she heard an answering howl close at hand. But no wolf was in the river. She tilted her head back to see if Topaz was on the bluff of the hill overlooking the river.

“Topaz!” she shouted. The wolf howled again. Suddenly the rock gave way to nothingness beneath her hand.

Leave it to the wolves to find the one dry spot in all the land. Jelena smiled, ducked her head and entered the cave.

The cave opening led to a small room with tunnels branching off it. Topaz was pacing in the small room, pausing to shake water from her fur and looking for a comfortable place to curl up and sleep.

The cave would make a nice den for the wolves, Jelena thought, then decided to take a moment to explore further. Although she had no lantern, the opening allowed just enough light in to guide her feet through the first tunnel.

She walked along the passageway as it grew progressively darker. The air was chill and had a musty smell, reminding her of something, the memory just out of reach. She stopped to focus her eyes, then realized she couldn't see anything. Turning to retrace her footsteps, she stumbled and put her hands out to brace herself.

The smooth, cool metal beneath her palms shocked her. She pulled her hands away as if they'd been burned. She — or, in fact, Topaz — had found a cave of the saved.

Michael steadied the fence post as Rufus shoveled stones and dirt in the hole to fill it. The eastern paddock was nearly rebuilt. Emma and Colleen were repairing the roof of the main hall, scampering across the burned timbers with a confidence that made Michael want to look away so he wouldn't see when they fell.

Rufus tossed a last spadeful of dirt in the hole, tamped it down and leaned against the shovel, drawing a hand across his sweating brow.

“The villagers are unhappy,” he said.

“I know.” The unease built each day. In the dining hall, little laughter and few smiles punctuated the low-voiced conversations, and the people hurried in their tasks, jaws tight with strain, looking over their shoulders for the evil that might be drawing near.

“They're concerned about the next attack. They're bracing themselves for it. But they don't know where or when it's coming.”

“Ay,” Michael said. “We must have a stronger defense. But — ”

“I know,” Rufus said, pulling his beard. “We are a peaceable people.”

• • •

Michael washed up and changed into a fresh tunic in the small makeshift room in the meeting hall where he now slept. He thought momentarily of the room he'd shared with Jelena when he'd been her protector. Shared now by Teresa and Rodrigo, who had no qualms about partaking of the most intimate of acts, despite those acts being expressly prohibited. And yet what could Michael do to stop them or persuade them to have a care for the future? It was not those two he needed to persuade, anyway. It was the elders.

He sighed and went over in his mind what he would say to the elders to make his case. Stronger fortifications, more riders, riders who were temporarily relieved of their other duties so they could train and guard the village. Basic training for all the people, so they could learn to defend themselves.