Wolf's Blood (42 page)

“And the largest hawks,” Blind Seer agreed, “are Royal-kind. Even if not, better than making our way along a road that might only have existed to make apple picking easier many years ago. This way.”

Firekeeper followed, knowing that Blind Seer’s hearing would have better isolated the specific direction from sound that to her ears translated only as “over there.”

She stayed alert, for although few creatures would challenge a wolf the size of Blind Seer, springtime was kit time, cub time, pup time, fawn time, fledgling time. Even a songbird had been known to find courage when it felt its eggs were threatened. Bears had no fear of wolves, and a she-bear with cubs was something any sane creature knew to avoid. The apple trees with dried and withered fruit clinging to the upper boughs might attract a winter-thin, nursing-thin bear.

But other than the birds, that had by now stilled the frantic level of their cries, Firekeeper saw few creatures. A squirrel scolded them. She glimpsed a palm-sized rabbit too young to have learned fear, but otherwise they might have been alone in the trees.

The light began to brighten, announcing the coming of open spaces. Firekeeper heard a new sound, one the cacophony of crow and jay calls with their under-chorus of songbird screams had drowned out before. It was an eagle’s scream, shrill, fierce, and triumphant.

But the little birds yelled
“
hawk
,” she thought, and found her feet quickening of their own accord as she ran toward the open spaces where she could see what the sky held. Moved by the same impulse, Blind Seer loped alongside, and the two wolves burst into a highland meadow knee-deep in spring grasses and flowers.

One glance into the sky was enough to explain why the littler birds had cried so loud and so long. Two large raptors dipped and soared in aerial battle. One was the promised “hawk,” a splendid peregrine falcon. The other was a golden eagle. The eagle’s brown wing feathers were edged along the underside of the wings in deep bands of white that caught the sunlight. In contrast, the underfeathers of the peregrine falcon were barred, so that the white patch beneath the head and along the throat seemed curiously vulnerable, especially in contrast to the dark feathers that hooded the head.

The eagle was in pursuit of the peregrine, and though the eagle was nearly twice the size of the falcon, the peregrine was performing some astonishing maneuvers that made it impossible for the eagle to maintain a position above the falcon long enough to dive into what would surely be a fatal attack.

But the falcon could not continue to avoid the eagle for much longer. The twisting dance of their battle kept both birds from the glides they usually used to rest their wings, but the eagle was larger, and could probably last longer than the falcon.

She—for Firekeeper felt certain the peregrine was a female; among raptors the females were almost always larger than the males, and this was a magnificent bird—seemed to know she could not last much longer. Already her darting moves were covering less space. The eagle was adjusting its own flight to take advantage of its opponent’s weakness.

Firekeeper shifted her bow into her hands, stringing the shaft and setting arrow to string. She was not completely certain, for the sky did not provide landmarks by which she might judge the birds’ size, but she thought both of the raptors might be Royal. There was an intelligence to their tactics, to how they banked and adjusted. There was also the simple fact that raptors did not usually pursue other raptors without good cause.

The peregrine clutched no prey in her talons the eagle might covet. The fields teemed with rabbits and other small game, the streams with fish. The eagle could not be so hungry as to want the stringy, muscular meat the peregrine would yield. Why then was the eagle so intent going after the smaller bird?

Blind Seer saw what Firekeeper was doing.

“Will you kill the eagle?”

“I will try not,” Firekeeper said, “not until we know the quarrel between them, but these are unfair odds, and I have an old fondness for peregrines.”

Blind Seer did not stay her hand, but waited, sniffing the air as if trying to puzzle what little scent the drifts of air would carry to him.

Firekeeper pulled back the bowstring and set the arrow, waiting for a moment when the two raptors would be separated in their airborne dance. She released the shaft so that it cut the air between them, and sent another almost as fast as thought in the first arrow’s wake.

As she had hoped, her interruption broke the eagle’s concentration. It banked and backed, beating its wings hard as it tried to rise above the height an arrow might reach.

Another proof that they are Royal,
Firekeeper thought,
and that the eagle at least knows something of human weapons.

In contrast, the peregrine fell into one of the sharp dives for which her kind, with their angular wings, almost razor-edged in contrast to the eagle’s broad-feathered plumage, were known. In that dive and in the way the peregrine neatly soared to take cover beneath the shelter of one of the large trees near the meadow’s edge, Firekeeper knew that this was not just any peregrine, but one close to her heart.

Screaming defiance and disappointment, the golden eagle continued its rise, wheeling toward the clouds and then away. Once she was certain her back was safe, Firekeeper spared it no further thought or mind, but pelted through the thick grass to where the peregrine now rested on the outstretched bough of a pale-leafed old oak.

“Elation!” Firekeeper howled, not caring who the midday cry of a wolf might disturb. “Fierce Joy in Flight!”

The falcon shifted foot to foot on the branch, turning her head so that one golden-rimmed brown eye might see those who approached clearly.

“The wolfling,” came the peregrine’s reply, “not so little Two-legs, and the blue-eyed one beside her as ever. You could not have chosen to show yourselves at a better time.”

Firekeeper knew the peregrine of old, and knew, too, that in her own way Elation was as proud as any great cat. Elation’s relief must be great indeed if she would greet them with both thanks and a compliment.

Blind Seer looked up at the peregrine and panted a wolfish smile. “I thought I knew who cut the air so fine by her manner of flight, but the winds would not carry me down a scent. It is good to see you again, Elation.”

Firekeeper was laughing from pure joy, and unable to reach the peregrine and greet her as wolf would wolf—if Elation would have permitted such liberties—she thumped Blind Seer on his broad back with her fist.

“Did I say an ‘old fondness for peregrines’?” she laughed. “Here is that old fondness herself. Elation, what brings you here so far in the north?”

Elation shook her feathers straight, preening one wind-twisted pinion into line.

“I will tell, and in full,” she said. “This I promise, but I have flown hard and my gullet is empty. I must hunt or I will not have the strength to fly.”

Firekeeper shook her head. “Your battle with the eagle will have frightened everything that knows a falcon’s silhouette. Rest. I will backtrack a ways, and find you hot blood and flesh.”

“And I,” Blind Seer said, “will do the same. Call out, sweet Firekeeper, if you strike first, and I will do the same. I do not fancy Elation’s tale is one that should wait.”

That Elation did not protest that she was perfectly fit to hunt for herself said more than any speeches. She did raise herself from her exhaustion to offer warning.

“Hunt south of here, east or west as you will, but do not go north. There are things there that would hunt you as the eagle did me.”

The few words took such effort that Firekeeper and Blind Seer did not ask for clarification. Instead they split south, keeping out of the open meadow where they might be easily seen, one going a bit east, the other a bit west.

FIREKEEPER FOUND HER prey first, a surly groundhog that knew nothing of the range of bows, nor the sharpness of arrows. She cried her kill to Blind Seer, and when his reply came back, she collected her prey and headed to rejoin Elation.

The peregrine had not moved from her perch, but woke from her drowse when Firekeeper returned. She drifted down on stiffly spread wings, and eagerly accepted the rich liver and heart still steaming with the groundhog’s life that Firekeeper cut out for her. Thus revitalized, Elation moved to do her own feeding, and Firekeeper drew back, having too much respect for what that curved beak and sharp talons could do to insist on interfering further.

Blind Seer returned while Elation fed, carrying the arrows Firekeeper had shot in his jaws. Although he had brought nothing to add to their meal, something in the tilt of his ears and the slight rise of fur along his spine told Firekeeper that his hunt had not been completely useless.

She held herself from questioning him when Blind Seer did not offer explanation, sensing he wanted Elation to offer her information untainted by the addition of his own suspicions.

While Elation ate, Firekeeper found herself remembering the many journeys she and Blind Seer had takèn in the peregrine falcon’s company. Elation had been with them when they had first crossed the Iron Mountains in the company of Earl Kestrel’s expedition. Indeed, the falcon had known far more about human customs and speech than had either of the wolves.

When, overwhelmed by her new environment, Firekeeper had been tempted to slip into passivity, Elation’s taunts had forced the wolf-woman into action. Later still, Elation had served as high guard and scout during their two journeys into New Kelvin. However, she had been more than a pair of wings and sharp eyes. Without Elation’s wisdom and good counsel, Firekeeper knew certain events would have turned out for the worse.

Over the time they had spent together, Elation had also developed a liking for Derian Carter, and she paused in her feeding.

“Where is Fox Hair? When I learned that you were returning north, I thought to find him with you. I hope he still lives.”

“He lives,” Firekeeper said, fighting down an impulse to ask just how Elation had known about their travel plans. “But he is much changed, and those changes make him very reluctant to travel into human lands.”

“Querinalo,” Elation replied, saying more with one word than she could have with speeches. “Something has been said of this, but I will admit, I have not completely understood.”

She sat straight, and made a small sound indicating satisfaction. Raising one leg, she picked bits of raw flesh from her talons, then groomed and smoothed her feathers.

“Much better,” she said, flapping up onto the tree limb again. “My thanks.”

Firekeeper indicated to Blind Seer that he was welcome to what remained of the groundhog carcass. Not only didn’t she have much taste for falcon-ravaged meat, but she thought making a fire might be unwise until they learned what Elation had to tell. She had thought about suggesting they retreat deeper into the forest, but then realized that she had no idea which direction was safe. In any case, they had been seen. This was as good a place as any to watch for other possible attacks.

“You have been patient,” Elation said after she had settled herself onto the bough. “especially for wolves who I remember fondly for many traits, but not particularly for patience.”

“We have run more than a few long roads since those days,” Blind Seer replied, “and even Little Two-legs has learned that sometimes waiting brings the game to you.”

“I have heard something of those roads,” Elation said, “as you must have gathered. When you three vanished from Eagle’s Nest, humankind may not have noticed, but the Beasts did. The winged folk who report on the actions of the humans east of the Iron Mountains had gathered that you intended to travel west. That word was relayed, and those of Royal-kind who had reason to love you were quite pleased. Even those who are less biased were pleased, for they felt that this journey indicated that Firekeeper was taking responsibility for actions they felt she had set in motion.”

Firekeeper felt Blind Seer’s growl rumble through her arm where it rested over his shoulder. but he did not interrupt. Neither did she. As much as she loved the wolves who had raised her, she would have had to be blind and deaf not to know all the Royal Beasts did not feel as comfortable with her. Oddly, the Wise Beasts of the southlands, because they had never felt themselves the enemies of all humankind had accepted her more easily.

Elation ignored the blue-eyed wolf’s growl and went on with her account.

“But you did not arrive, and when messages were sent back we soon realized that not only had you not arrived, you had never departed from Eagle’s Nest. Your trails ended at the dancing and celebrations following the naming of young Prince Sun, and not even those with the keenest noses or sharpest eyes could find you.”

Firekeeper thought this was no great surprise. If the alarm had not been raised until days after they had been kidnapped, what scent trail they would have left would surely have been obliterated. They had not been permitted sight of sky until they were well out at sea. The Royal Winged Folk did keep some track of ships, but they had no reason to watch for a large vessel coming from the far south, a vessel that had stayed out of sight of land. Humans in the New World rarely navigated out of sight of land, but the Liglimom, on their sacred mission, had taken risks.

Moreover, there had been much for the winged folk to watch closer to shore, as ships came from ports to the north and south of Hawk Haven bringing guests and supplies to the celebration for the new prince. There was no wonder they had not seen a ship that no one expected to see, carrying passengers they might not have known in their foreign attire.

Even now when Firekeeper had reason to believe that the oceans held their own Royal—or Wise—inhabitants, she knew little about them. Sea otters and seals both she had met, but although these creatures had served as guides in a few critical occasions, they had not told her anything of themselves or how they viewed the land dwellers. For all Firekeeper knew, they—or deeper-dwelling kin such as whales and dolphins—might have witnessed her and Blind Seer’s plight, but if so they had chosen to let their fate ride out uninterrupted.