Children of the Wolves (26 page)

Squaring his shoulders, he crossed the courtyard to the main hall. He knocked on the council room door and was granted permission to enter. He wasn't surprised to find Teresa in his former place of honor and took his now-accustomed seat on the bench along the wall. Falling from grace had the peculiar result of helping him to understand why Jelena had been the way she was, and why she'd left the village the way she had.

Though he had no intention of leaving.

Archibald leaned over and whispered something to Maurice, his eyes never leaving Michael's face. Maurice nodded and looked over at Michael.

“Archibald says you have been repairing the paddock fence,” Maurice said.

“Yes. Rufus and I — ”

Maurice slapped his hand against the table. “We are threatened and attacked by raiders and all you can think to do is fix the fence?” His voice rose to an incredulous pitch.

“I suggested we should place fortifications around the perimeter of the main encampment,” Michael said mildly. “But the council did not wish to waste precious resources that way.”

Maurice leaned back in his chair, pulled at his lower lip with his fingers. “We are faced with a most pressing and imminent threat,” he said. “And you propose to spend months making sentry boxes?”

“That's not what I proposed.” Michael got to his feet, pacing the floor as he spoke. “But if you don't want fortifications, then perhaps we could recruit a few more riders? And perhaps set up some training sessions — ”

“A few more riders? Training sessions? Michael, you seem not to comprehend the severity of the situation. Of course,” Maurice said, as if the thought had just occurred to him, “You're the one who said that initial attacks — on the trader and on Isolde — were the work of wolves.”

“You know full well that I never — ”

Maurice held up a hand to stop him. “We were foolish to rely on an incompetent leader of the riders. We have decided, effective immediately, to relieve you of your command.”

Jelena would have known this was coming, Michael thought. She would have expected it and warned him about it, and he would have argued with her, for the elders would never do such a foolish thing.

His hands curled into fists and he forced himself to relax. He'd been wrong about many things but he wasn't wrong about wanting to protect the people. Now he must be careful and discern what this meant, and do what he could to prevent it meaning disaster.

“Rodrigo will serve as the new commander of the riders,” Maurice said.

Michael's belly clenched. Anything but that. Any choice would be better. He slanted a glance at Teresa, who sat with her hands piously folded, head down, but a sly smile like the cat who got the cream played at the corner of her lips.

“He isn't awakened,” Michael said. “He hasn't found his calling.”

Teresa raised her head and looked directly at him. “We believe Rodrigo is the warrior,” she said. “And what more fitting role for him to play?”

“He has no experience,” Michael objected, although he knew his objections must fall on deaf ears.

“The council has spoken,” Maurice said.

Michael returned to his seat on the bench, his mind working furiously. The elders had just decided this now, or he would have heard rumors. He wondered what Teresa had said to persuade them. Surely they knew an untrained, unawakened commander would be ineffective — not to mention soon dead?

“There is, I believe, one other thing,” Teresa said softly. “Begging your pardon, dearest elders.”

“What? Oh, yes, yes. Teresa reminds us that we have sometimes thought of moving our village. We may be forced to that eventuality if we cannot bring these threats under control.”

“We can't give up the saved,” Michael said.

“We believe that other caves exist to the north of Wudu-faesten territory,” Maurice said. “We could undertake to move the saved to a new location.”

“The caretaker has agreed that it might work,” Cara put in.

Of course she had. That was the trouble with consensus. If no one was willing to stand up and create conflict, disaster might ensue. The Wudu-faesten had proven that in the past. Jelena was right.

“You can't risk our future like this,” Michael said. He tried to imagine moving the saved. How could it be accomplished without killing them? He couldn't imagine how it might be done.

“If these attacks continue unchecked, there will be no more Wudu-faesten,” Maurice exploded.

Michael held up his hands in apology. There was no point in arguing now; they'd made up their minds. What he must focus on now was how to prevent the disaster and undo the damage. “Yes, of course. But how do you expect to find these caves?”

“Why,” Teresa purred, turning to him, and he saw the full malice she bore him stamped on her face. “That's where you come in.”

“Yes,” Cara chimed in. “Since you so enjoy traveling beyond the fence, we thought you and Rufus would be our scouting party. You'll find the caves and then report back to us.”

Michael barely listened. His eyes stayed on Teresa's face until her own eyes fell and she turned away.

She would destroy the whole tribe to destroy me,
he thought
Why does she hate me so?

“As you wish,” he said, rising to his feet. “I will inform Rufus.”

• • •

“They did what!” Rufus demanded, throwing down the shovel and taking a step forward as if he might go after them with his bare hands.

“They relieved me of my command. But I don't think anyone else knows it yet. Rufus, I need your help, and I need you to think. Can you think without wanting to rip someone's head off?”

“Ay,” Rufus said sullenly. “If I must.”

“I need you to look as if you're preparing to leave with me. Pack your bags. Grab two mounts and meet me at Isolde's cabin, just as if we were obeying the command.”

“Ay. I follow you so far.”

“But you won't go with me. You'll stay here, ready to command the riders. I don't like the feel of this.”

“Ay. They're sending you away so they can try some trick or another.”

It wasn't
they
so much as
she
. Michael didn't understand it, but he felt the danger, like a living thing, and he must stop it.

“But I don't know what trick,” he said to Rufus. “The elders are listening to Teresa. She's telling them what they want to hear. But why they want to send me away, I don't know.”

“Could be they're hoping to shock Rodrigo awake.”

“You'd think they'd remember how dangerous that is to the people involved,” Michael said. He remembered the taste of fear the day he'd tried to do the same with Jelena, when he'd given her the necklace she'd grasped in her hand as a newlyborn. It had taken him seven years to develop the courage to do it, and only when he thought he had no choice had he tried it.

And he had failed, and nothing had changed, and everything had changed.

“They're desperate,” Rufus said.

Michael had been desperate, too. Was that a reason or an excuse? And did it matter, in the end?

“Surely you won't be heading out alone?” Rufus asked. “I'll bring the horses and pretend to leave. I'll bunk at Isolde's house tonight so it will be morning before the Elders know you're a step ahead of them. But you can't go alone.”

“I won't be alone,” said Michael. “I'll bring Rodrigo with me.”

Rufus's grin grew wide with delight. “By all that's good,” he said. “That's the way, by all that's good.”

• • •

Danielle had agreed to distract Teresa and keep her occupied while Michael recruited Rodrigo for the mission.

He told Rodrigo that he was being considered for a very special privilege, a place on the team of riders, despite his unawakened state and his lack of calling. Rodrigo's reaction — pleasure at the honor, doubt at his readiness — convinced Michael that Rodrigo had no idea that he'd been about to be promoted to commander of the riders.

“To help prepare, you and I will set out on a scouting journey,” Michael said. “We'll leave quietly — we don't want a lot of questions. This is a private matter, and we don't need to spend time debating it with the other villagers.”

“I understand,” Rodrigo said, his eyes shining with excitement.

“As you know, Teresa is privy to the council and fully agrees with the decision. She has handed you over to my protection.”

“Of course,” Rodrigo said. He hesitated a moment, then added: “I'd like to say goodbye to her.”

Michael had anticipated this. “She's with the council just now and shouldn't be disturbed. She asked me to convey her heartfelt good wishes to you. She wouldn't want us to delay.”

“Of course,” Rodrigo said again, then turned and made a pack out of his meager belongings. Michael grabbed the pack and swung it over his shoulder so that if they encountered anyone it would look as if Michael were the one preparing to leave, not Rodrigo.

No one stopped them as they made their way to Isolde's cabin. Rufus had already arrived with the mounts, which he'd saddled. He'd also packed Michael's saddlebags for him.

“It is the Way, my friend,” Rufus said, before ducking back into the cabin where he would spend the night.

A tendril of cold fear wrapped around Michael's heart. Was it the Way? He had no idea anymore. Even though he was the one who was supposed to know.

He nodded to Rodrigo and they mounted their horses. No one would notice them this far north of the main part of the village. Michael turned his horse, heading for the river they would follow north.

They picked their way through the trees, past the cave of the saved. Michael didn't speak. If Jelena had come this way, after all — if Bertha had sent him off in the wrong direction — then she'd done this, too, skirted this rock fall, negotiated this copse of trees, wondered what dangers lay in the path.

Not being a tracker like Rufus, Michael could see no sign that anyone had ever passed this way. It had been so many weeks now that he doubted even Rufus could find tracks. But that did not stop him from looking, squinting his eyes in the vain hope of seeing a strand of hair, a thread of cloth from her cloak, some sign to show that she had actually existed. He didn't even find that much.

• • •

They had left behind the protection of the trees and traveled on the endless empty plains now. Michael was uneasy under the blue open sky. The tall grasses moved and rustled in the wind, hinting at dangers and attacks that would surely come … but when? He kept the river in sight, traveling parallel to it as they rode.

Rodrigo kept to himself, quiet, following Michael's lead without question. He must find the whole experience disorienting, Michael knew. Rodrigo was still too newlyborn in this world to take much in, so he plodded along after Michael. He'd stopped staring and starting on the second day, which Michael appreciated, but now he seemed not to be seeing anything; he seemed to be shutting out the entire experience.

When the snow began to fly, they stopped for the night. Rodrigo volunteered to take the first watch, so Michael curled into his blanket and fell asleep almost immediately.

When he felt the movement near his shoulder, he thought was Rodrigo coming to rouse him for his turn, but when he opened his eyes, he saw that Rodrigo lay sprawled nearby on the ground. In that moment, Michael grabbed his dagger and threw himself away from the movement. He crouched and thrust the dagger upward, catching the attacker in the abdomen. He leapt lightly away and grabbed his broadsword from where he'd placed it on the ground near his blanket. Swinging it in an arc, he connected solidly with flesh.

Almost as quickly as the attack started it ended, the attackers melting away into the darkness — those who could, anyway. Like most animals, they preferred not to have their prey fight back.

Moving slowly to make sure he wouldn't be unceremoniously ambushed, Michael made his way to the fire where Rodrigo sprawled. He knew without looking that the man was dead. Despair gripped him, so great it nearly overwhelmed him. Guilt clawed at his heart. He had believed it was more dangerous for Rodrigo to lead the riders than for him to come on this journey.

Michael had been wrong.

The blizzard hit hard and suddenly, covering the grass for miles around with a thick blanket of snow and ice. The river had already frozen solid and the Children huddled in their caves with their wolves, keeping each other warm, tending careful fires to conserve their fuel.

Geoff, the lookout stationed near the cave entrance, reported the figure in the distance, riding a horse that could barely lift its legs in the drifting snow. Jelena got to her feet, unhappy at leaving the companionship of the fire and the warmth of the cave and the wolves. But she was their leader and she must not leave to other people those tasks she wasn't willing to do herself. She found her cloak and wrapped a scarf around her face, then went to stand at the cave entrance.

In the twilight of the storm, she saw the horse staggering toward the river, and realized it held two riders. She signaled to Geoff to tie a rope around her waist, then went out into the howling wind, struggling against the force of it.

Before she could reach them, the horse foundered in the snow, collapsing, the riders tumbling from its back. The horse reared and tried to get up but couldn't. It sank back, exhausted and unmoving. The two riders lay motionless where they'd fallen.

Jelena pushed harder against the biting snow and ice. If the fallen were members of the Jackals, she'd leave them to die in the snow. Picking her way through the drifts, eyes focused on the ground beneath her feet, she finally reached the men. She recognized the horse as belonging to the Wudu-faesten riders. Her heart leapt in her throat as she bent over one of the men. It was Michael.
Michael
.