Wolf's Blood (58 page)

Bruck’s snoring came from the lean-to she had made for him from pine boughs and bent saplings. Elation drowsed on a tree branch above the lean-to. Firekeeper moved one foot and gently shoved a pile of tinder she had prepared earlier into the banked coals of her fire. She didn’t need a fire, but she thought Bruck might be sweeter if they offered him something hot to eat and drink when he woke.

They needed him sweet, for none of her other traps had been tripped. Bruck’s capture apparently had served as warning enough to those who dwelled in this area—human and Royal Beast alike—not to go near the newcomers’ handiwork. This meant that their camp had remained safe and secure, but Firekeeper knew well that she and her two allies could not remain in that relatively small space indefinitely, not if they hoped to achieve what they had come for.

Bruck had said quite frankly that he did not expect anyone to come to rescue him. He had not been firmly in any one faction, and time and too close quarters had, oddly to Firekeeper’s way of thinking, distanced him from those who had once been his comrades. But humans were like that. They remembered the slights and offenses, the angers and indignations, and too easily forgot the kindnesses and sympathies.

She sighed and rubbed her face with her hands, wondering if she would ever fully understand these creatures who had given her body life, but who had not shaped her soul.

False dawn became true dawn, and Firekeeper’s companions continued to sleep. The surrounding forest was quiet, but Firekeeper was not so unwise has to believe that meant it was untenanted. Rather, the reverse was true. Someone was out there, probably several someones, powerful enough to frighten the little songbirds, and to make the squirrels keep to the branches overhead.

Firekeeper slid a foot toward Blind Seer, and found the blue-eyed wolf already awake, his eyes narrowed almost shut, holding the position of sleep while ears and nose told him something of what had unsettled the surrounding woodland.

She took her lead from him, leaning to stir the fire, taking up her quiver and making as if she was inspecting the condition of the fletching on the arrows within. No casual observer, human or otherwise, would be certain as to how much she had noticed.

“Bear,” Blind Seer breathed, “and wolves, many wolves. Boar and great cat. Puma and bobcat. Moose.”

Firekeeper counted her arrows. A dozen. A bear alone could claim four or five. Bears were well known for being too stubborn to realize when they were dead. Boars, now that she considered the matter, were almost as bad. And pumas and bobcats … She knew less of moose, for they were northern creatures, but had heard that one angered made a bear seem mild. She had to struggle against an impulse to scan the trees.

Blind Seer no longer was pretending to be asleep, but leapt to his feet and shook off sleep with one enthusiastic motion that included bumping his head against Firekeeper and sloshing her with his tongue.

Had he been a human, his motions might have translated as “Darling, I believe there’s someone at the door!” But of course there was no door, so that translation was fatally flawed.

Elation had also awakened, but as she did not take wing as would be her more usual course of action on such an occasion Firekeeper guessed that the peregrine had glimpsed motion in the skies above. Perhaps the golden eagle had returned.

The only member of their little encampment who had not awoken was the sorcerer Bruck. Firekeeper moved to inspect him, to make certain that he was not feigning sleep, but the man was soundly out. It was hard to tell in the pale dawn light that filtered through the pine boughs, but he didn’t look well. Firekeeper suspected the contact with iron was taking a toll. She would need to make a decision about whether to keep it on him if he remained in her custody for many days longer.

She dropped her hand onto Blind Seer’s head. They were in a difficult situation. The Beasts surrounding them could not approach without running afoul of the various traps and alarms—not to mention the assortment of arrows, fangs, and talons that would meet them if they brought their attack into the glade. However. Firekeeper and her allies could not remain indefinitely without food. Water they had, having made their camp near a small spring, but the falcon, at least, would need to eat fairly frequently.

Firekeeper could think of various ways that the three of them could be overwhelmed, and she figured a fight of some sort was in order. The only thing that puzzled her was why the Beasts had waited for daylight. True, she saw better than most humans after dark, but darkness would have handicapped both her and Elation. Maybe the Beasts had felt they could better avoid her traps in daylight.

“We are the Bound,” came a voice Firekeeper knew was a wolf’s. “And we have come to honor our trust.”

XXVIII

  “COME THEN,” GROWLED Blind Seer, “and tell us of this trust.”

There was rustling among the surrounding greenery, and although the various alarms Firekeeper had strung crunched or snapped in warning not a single trap was triggered. Indeed, although the sounds were loud to Firekeeper’s ears, they must have been soft enough, for Bruck did not even turn in his slumber.

Forth into the small glade came three wolves, a bear, a boar, a moose, and a puma. Firekeeper knew other Beasts waited out of sight, but these few were enough to set her blood pounding hotly in her ears. She rested her hand lightly on Blind Seer’s shoulder, feeling as well as hearing the wolf’s growl. Her hand was tickled by the brush of his fur as his hackles rose.

Firekeeper was oddly reminded of her first encounter with the wolves of Misheemnekuru. Then, too, had she and Blind Seer been challenged by guardians hidden deep within the greenery. Then, too, she and Blind Seer had wondered whether a battle must follow the challenge. Then words had been enough, and some of those wolves had become as dear as kin to Firekeeper and Blind Seer. So, she hoped, would it be now. However, the first words spoken by the Bound did not give much reason for hope.

“We have come to give you warning,” said one wolf, who stood slightly to the fore of the others. His fur was black shading into grey, touched with a bit of white about his chest and shoulder. “The tale of our trust is an old one, and you three are young and may not know on what land you trespass—nor how closely you are courting death.”

Firekeeper tossed her head to indicate the sleeping Bruck.

“I think we know,” she said, “but we would hear your telling of how you came to call yourselves Bound.”

The Bound did not react to her speaking as Beast to Beast, and by this the wolf-woman knew some form of her own tale had reached them. Their lack of curiosity was disheartening, but still she hoped that whatever version of their own history these Beasts might tell would provide her with some way to avoid fighting them.

The Royal Beasts were her people, those who had reared her and taught her what to value. Something in her revolted against fighting them as she had never felt restrained from fighting humans. She didn’t know whether Blind Seer or Elation felt as she did, but both indicated their interest in listening.

The mostly black wolf was curt.

“This land is forbidden to any but the Bound and those we guard, unless we choose to admit them. Leave here or else your lives are ours by ancient rule.”

Blind Seer flattened his ears, a posture that could indicate he was considering giving way—or that he was ready to fight.

“And what must one do to be admitted to your august company?”

The almost black wolf did not answer directly.

“From time to time one has come here, driven by rivals from territory he or she has held, dispersed from pack or herd too large. Those that have been willing to swear to share our ancient trust we have taken into our packs, given room within our hunting grounds. Thus, we have kept our numbers fresh and strong. We do not think you are such as these.”

Elation cried high and shrill, “We most certainly are not! Even so, cannot you welcome us? We might bring you relief from this task to which you consider yourselves bound.”

Firekeeper let hope touch her that the peregrine had found a solution. Surely, these Bound knew themselves more truly Tricked. They had taken on a task their ancestors must have thought would last no more than a generation or so, but that task had stretched to fill more than a hundred long years.

“We will not cheapen the fidelity of more than a century,” the puma snarled. “There is no relief to our task but in the deaths of those we guard, and they will not come to death through any negligence of our own nor of our kits.”

Firekeeper looked from puma to bear to boar to wolves, but in not the slightest twitch of ear or ruffling of fur did she see anything that indicated the least break in this shared resolution.

“So you have come to give us warning,” Blind Seer said.

Now that it did not seem as if they faced immediate attack, his hackles had lowered. His ears and tail expressed interest, and not the least bit of fear. Seeing him, Firekeeper realized that she, too, was no longer afraid, merely ready for whatever would come.

The boar raised his head to catch their scent, wide, wet nose snuffling as he took in their resolution.

“Our warning is this,” he grunted. “If you return as you came, leaving forever this territory we guard, we will not harm you. However, if you take step or flight into our lands, then we will offer no further warning and no mercy. You will be slain, not captured.”

Blind Seer replied as calmly as if the boar had done nothing other than comment on the likelihood of rain ruining a planned hunt.

“Certainly, you do not think you can achieve this without dying yourselves? We are no roots to be grubbed out with your tusks, no fawns to fall beneath your claws, none of the half-blind, half-deaf creatures that must surely be your usual prey for you to be so confident.”

The boar snorted in mingled indignation and amusement.

“You taunt well, pup. We have heard of you and your strange pack mate, even of the falcon. We do not doubt that in holding our trust one or more of us may be wounded or killed. That does not change our position.”

A nearly white wolf who reminded Firekeeper somewhat of her mother Shining Coat snarled, showing excellent fangs.

“Were it not for us and for the trust we have borne so faithfully through the ages, you likely would have never been born. Indeed, Beasts might exist only within the custody of humans—if at all. Our ancestors made a pact that saved the lands that gave you birth. Neither they or we are the hunters of blind, spavined prey such as you imagine. The moon songs tell of you all as great hunters, battle-blooded warriors, but I tell you this—such is our heritage as well, and we will serve it with pride with our last breath and to our final drop of blood!”

Blind Seer’s reply showed pity: “So you gave your own freedom that all other Beasts might be free. Surely, you can see the time for that is past. The great sorcerers are gone except for those you guard here.”

The white wolf’s snarl sneered afresh.

“Truly? This is not what we have dreamed. Magic contaminates the world afresh. We will not permit you—you who reek of the stuff—to spread it further. Indeed, were it not our law, laid down by those who came before us, to give warning before we attack, I would have fed your stringy flesh to the pups of my pack before now. Traitor!”

Firekeeper did not glance at Elation, but she thought the falcon could not have missed the import of the white wolf’s accusation. Would this revelation that Blind Seer had magic of some sort rob them of their one ally here? They could scarce afford it.

The nearly black wolf bumped the white with his shoulder.

“Peace, daughter. We keep the law, as we have always kept the law. The warning is given. Now bloodshed may fairly begin.”

“If we violate the terms,” Blind Seer said.

“If you violate the terms,” the nearly black wolf conceded.

Firekeeper spoke before the Bound could turn away.

“What of him?” she said, motioning to where the snarls and growls had finally awoken Bruck. “He is our prey, fairly caught. If we leave, must we relinquish the meat of our hunt?”

The bear, silent until now, gave a contemptuous grunt.

“That one? He strayed when his den mates told him stay. My people say if a solitary hunter cannot kill the wolves then he dies. I say the same as well.”

The other Bound were similarly dismissive.

“Our trust is to guard those within the fortification,” the white wolf said, “the ones who made the spell that burned away the magic. This one has separated himself from them. If they asked us to get him back, perhaps we would, but in breaking with them, he has broken with us as well. Such was the pact we made, otherwise we might have been split from our purpose as the humans split from their own.”

Blind Seer’s ears perked in astonishment.

“So you know that the humans have not kept faith with their task?”

“We do,” the puma said, muscles rippling silken beneath her fur as she turned to depart.

“And this does not change your feelings about the suitability of being Bound to them?” Blind Seer protested.