Wolfsbane Winter (5 page)

“Yeah. You too.”

Deryn started to rise, but Shea caught hold of her hand. “And how about I meet you back here, same time, tomorrow night?”

“That sounds like, um…” Deryn paused to get the urge to laugh under control. She did not want to wake everyone. “Like a good idea.”

“A good idea? Now, personally, I’d rank it as more like a great idea.”

“Yup. Now that I think about it, you’re right.”

Deryn planted a final quick kiss on Shea’s lips and then hurried to the cave entrance while attempting to adjust her clothing on the way.

Brise was waiting by the barricade. “You all set?”

“Just about.” Deryn crouched to tie her boots.

“Good luck,” the miner on watch duty said to Brise.

“Thanks. We’ll be back for breakfast.”

“I’ll let the cook know.”

Deryn stood. “Okay.”

Brise vaulted over the barricade and set off through the dark forest. Deryn followed.

Dawn was still two hours away and the breeze was chilly. The moon hung low in the sky, etching the scene in white, with blue-black shadows. After months at the mine, the terrain was very familiar and minimal light was all Deryn and Brise needed to navigate their way, fording streams and skirting dense thickets.

They reached the shore directly opposite the outlaws’ island just as the moon started to slip behind the mountains. The last beams rippled like liquid silver on the lake. The island was lost in darkness, except for where the outlaws’ bonfire burned. The faint sound of crackling carried cleanly across the water.

“That will make a nice target to aim for. We don’t want to end up swimming in circles.” Brise spoke in a whisper.

She drew Deryn back into the trees, far enough to muffle their voices, and settled on a convenient rock. “We’ll wait until the moon has gone, so there’s no chance of them seeing us, if they patrol the island.”

“Right.”

Deryn also took a seat and rested her elbows on her knees, breathing deeply. The turmoil of emotions had her whole body shaking with eagerness for the forthcoming battle, memories of Shea’s body in her arms, and the prospect of another such night ahead. Deryn wished she could run around to burn off the excess energy. She knew she needed to calm down; she needed to focus; she needed to be disciplined, because this was all so very serious. But the excitement was as intoxicating as alcohol.

“Was it your idea, or Shea’s?” Brise’s voice was neutral of approval or censure.

“Mine mainly, I think.” Deryn looked up. “It was all right, wasn’t it? I know you told me to sleep, but I was so—”

Brise laughed softly. “It’s all right. It might even be written in the rules somewhere as the proper way for an Iron Wolf to spend the night before a battle. And as reactions go, it’s a damn sight better than lying awake worrying.”

“It’s not just about tomorrow. I’ve had my eye on Shea ever since she got here.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Tonight it just seemed, what with not knowing how the battle would go, there was no reason not to. Maybe that was what gave me the courage to say something. But it wasn’t like I hadn’t been…” Deryn’s disjointed sentences ended in a shrug and a lopsided smile. “Shea’s amazing.”

“She’d agree with you there. I can’t say I’m quite so enamored of her.”

“You don’t like her?”

“You could do better.”

“But she killed a windigo. The way she rides. She’s just so—”

“Okay. You could also do worse.” Brise’s tone was one of surrender. “And I admit you’re stuck for choices here. If nothing else, she’s safe.”

“Safe?”

“You won’t end up pregnant, and I don’t think she’ll try to kill you when you tell her you’ve had enough of her.”

“I can’t see that ever happening.” Deryn ran through the implications of Brise’s words. “You think there are some Wolves you don’t trust?”

“I know there are. This bunch are all okay, but some are”—Brise paused—“people like Martez, for example. When you’re on the Trail together, you’re comrades, and you depend on each other for your life. Then you hit a nasty spot. You sleep together, and suddenly you’re stuck in the wastelands with a maniac and no quick way out. Getting pregnant is the least of your worries, though I’d recommend keeping an eye on the moon and sticking to women when in doubt.”

“Oh, well, for what it’s worth, I think I like women better anyway.”

“We all have our preferences, but sometimes you just take what’s on offer. Danger can be like getting drunk. In both cases you can wake up the next day wishing you hadn’t done what you did.” Brise gave a wry sigh. “And I’m speaking from experience.”

Deryn nodded, although it was now too dark beneath the trees for Brise to see the gesture. “Your sons?”

“Yup. They’re both due to tight spots when there seemed no chance of me seeing the next day out. Worrying about what would happen nine months down the road didn’t get a look in. I don’t—”

Brise stopped abruptly. A couple of times it sounded as if she started to speak and then changed her mind. The uncertain manner was so totally out of character that Deryn could not imagine what would come next.

At last, Brise continued. “You know what they say about being careful what you wish for, because you just might get it? Both times I got pregnant, part of me was annoyed at myself, because it meant I couldn’t work for a few months, which blew my chance of riding the Trail that year. But there was another little part of me wishing for someone to follow me into the Wolves. I used to daydream about teaching my kid to hunt, and track, and shoot. I used to imagine us heading off on the Trail together.” Brise gave a sharp sigh that was trying to be a laugh, and failed. “You’ve met my sons, so you know how that’s turned out.”

Again Deryn nodded, pointlessly. The two boys lived on a farm with Brise’s brother. She and Brise had spent the winter before last there, passing the slack time for mercenaries. The younger son was about half Deryn’s age. The older fitted somewhere between them. Both boys had Brise’s wiry build and thick black hair. Neither had her agility and sharpness.

“They’re sweet, hardworking lads any mother could be proud of. And they couldn’t sneak up on a rock without it spotting them. They’re gonna make great farmers. I know my brother’s pleased with them.”

Although it was too dark to see, Deryn had the sense that her foster mother had reached out to touch her, without completing the gesture. She frowned, wondering where the conversation was going.

“I remember the first time I saw you, crouching in the bushes with your little bow. When we found out your family had been murdered, and what you’d done, I just felt like it was meant to be. What I’d wished for. Not the child of my body, but you’d be the child of my heart. I didn’t stop to wonder if it was right for you, or what your real parents would have wanted. I wish I could have met them, it—”

“They’d have been pleased someone was looking after me well.” Deryn broke in. The old sick feeling was rolling in her stomach and she was anxious to shift the conversation. “Do you think it’s dark enough for us to swim across yet?”

Brise’s hand rested on Deryn’s shoulder and squeezed. “I know you don’t like talking about them. But what I want to say is, I’d seen you as the child to follow in my footsteps. But with each year, I’ve gotten less and less certain, as I’ve gotten to care about you more.”

“I care about you too. You’ve been a true mother to me.”

“And I’m talking as a mother now. I know you want to ride the Trail, and you think I worry too much. But you’ve made me realize how dangerous this life is. I no longer think it’s what I want. I’m frightened for you.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I do. This coming fight—”

“I’ll be careful.”

“It’s not just the risk of getting hurt. I’m worried you’ll find it exciting. I’ve been there. When the battle’s over, your heart will be pumping and your senses will be twice as sharp as normal. For a few minutes you’ll feel so alive. It’s addictive, but it’s dangerous. Your parents were fur trappers. It’s a good trade. The things you’ve learned with me will still be useful.” Brise took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to become an Iron Wolf. I want you to go back to your parents’ way of life.”

“It didn’t keep them safe, did it?”

“The odds are still better than in the Wolves.”

“Maybe.” Deryn would not discuss it. “But like I said before, isn’t it time for us to make a move?”

“Yes. You’re right.” Brise sighed. “Think about it. Promise me.”

“All right. I’ll think it over.” The promise was easy enough to make. Two seconds was all the thinking it would take.

Deryn heard Brise get to her feet. “We need to strip off our heavy stuff here and leave it behind. We’re gonna be cold while we’re waiting on the island, but wet leather won’t help much anyway. We’ll need our knives, bows and arrows. Most important are the bowstrings. I’ve got them wrapped in waxed cloth. If I keep them under my cap, hopefully they won’t get wet, otherwise we’re dead.”

“Right.”

“When you’re swimming, head to the right of the fire. A clump of bushes overhangs the shore near there. It’ll be a good spot to hide and far enough from their horses not to disturb them. The other Wolves will be in position at first light. By then, we need to have dealt with the sentries. It’s too much to hope we’ll get the chance to take them out separately, but the good news is with them standing by the fire they’ll make nice easy targets. We won’t be able to risk talking once we’re on the island, so watch for my signals. On my mark, you shoot the one standing to the left, and I’ll take the other. Aim for the throat or the heart—whichever looks best. I’ll make sure we both have a clear shot when I signal. And just pray we do it without waking their mates, because we won’t stand a chance against all of them. Any questions?”

“I don’t think so.” Deryn hesitated. “Except, clothes. Do we leave them behind as well?”

“As long as you think you can swim okay in it, keep your shirt on. It’s dark and won’t show up as much as your skin in the firelight. Use your pants to make a backpack of the rest and tie it on using your belt. And don’t leave your boots behind. Wrap them in your pants as well. I know they’re heavy, but a stubbed toe can lose you a fight.”

“Right.”

Even though she knew it was irrational, Deryn was relieved that she would not be naked in the enemy camp. She quickly stripped off her thick cloak and heavy outer clothing. The night air was cold through her shirt, and it was going to get worse, she knew. She headed for the lake, feeling her way with her bare feet.

The moon had dropped behind the mountains. Only the outlaws’ bonfire competed with the stars. Two small figures stood in the distant firelight. It was now so dark that Deryn only knew she had reached the water’s edge when she felt the waves lapping over her toes.

“Ready?” Brise’s voice was the softest whisper.

“Yes.”

The water of the lake was even colder than Deryn had feared. By the time it reached her thighs, she could feel her skin prickling in goose bumps. She could only hope that the exertion of swimming would warm her up. Presumably Brise was already on her way, although there was no sound. Deryn sank her shoulders beneath the water and kicked off.

The high encircling mountains cut off the sky so that, while swimming, Deryn could not turn her head enough to see the stars. The cold, black water was one with the night. Only the beacon bonfire provided a reference point. Deryn knew Brise was near, and would hear her if she spoke, yet she had never felt so isolated and forsaken. Time ceased to exist. It would be easy to panic. Deryn felt as if she would be adrift in the formless, icy void forever. The bonfire taunted her with the promise of heat, always sliding farther away.

When her knee struck something solid, Deryn was caught by surprise. The rhythm of her strokes failed and her head sank beneath the water. Her right hand landed on smooth rocks, and then both knees touched down. She had reached the island. She knelt, half out of the water, while her senses attuned themselves to her surroundings.

Now she had stopped swimming, Deryn could hear the crackle of flames and soft murmuring between the outlaws on sentry duty. The firelight made a red tracery of the matted bushes, overhanging the pebble beach above where she had landed. The fire also cast its glow across the water, which meant she would be spotted, if one of the outlaws looked her way.

The urge to hurry into the shadows was strong, but making a noise was the quickest way to get the outlaws’ attention. Deryn forced herself to crawl carefully out of the lake, moving with an irregular action so any splashes would mimic the random sound of the waves. Even when she had left the water, Deryn still had to go carefully, testing the placement of every hand and knee before trusting her weight to it.

At last the bank at the top of the beach rose over her, shielding her from the firelight. Deryn was starting to relax a little when her hand landed on an ankle—that moved. Brise was already in position, waiting. Working by touch alone, Deryn removed her backpack, pulled on her pants and boots, and positioned the bow and quiver conveniently to hand. Then she lay down beside her foster mother, staring up at the stars and waiting for her pulse to calm.

The swimming had indeed warmed her up, but as minutes trickled by, Deryn felt the heat seep from her body. The wet clothes clung to her arms and legs, chafing her skin raw. Water had gotten into her boots and now squelched between her toes. The soft voices of the sentries and the occasional snore reminded Deryn that she lay surrounded and hopelessly outnumbered by her foes. She had every right to be nervous, but she was too cold to care. A chill wind off the lake added to her torment. She was racked by bouts of shivering. Would she be able to shoot straight?