The Lost Dragon Princess

Chapter 16

“Hold up, Mom.” As I stopped, Boogie caught up with us.

He bounded past, but then halted, nose in the air. His hackles went up, and he ran back to Mom’s side, growling at the route ahead.

And it was a route, I realized, noticing that we’d gone from tramping along unbroken ground to a trail again. Not one as substantial as the hiking path around the lake, but there were prints in the dusty earth, showing recent use. Some of those prints had been made by boots, but others had been made by large canines and still others by what at first I thought belonged to bears. But they were more similar to human prints, large human prints. Nobody on Earth had a foot that big. Were there trolls or orcs out here?

“What is it, boy?” Mom rested a hand on the dog’s back.

Boogie whined and growled at the same time.

“What species is your acquaintance, Mom? And is there a whole pack of them?”

“She’s a golem, and no. There is a village up here with a lot of the magical living together.”

“Such as werewolves?” The large humanoid prints could have been made by a golem, but not the canine prints. Those were too large to belong to the coyotes that roamed these forests. Even wolves wouldn’t have left prints that big. Not normal wolves.

“No. I’ve never met a werewolf.”

“I think we’re about to.” I could feel the auras of the pack drawing closer.

The sheer number of them made me uneasy, especially with Mom and her dog here. I would have suggested running back to civilization, but we were too many miles from the parking area and campgrounds, and werewolves could move a lot more quickly than we could.

“Do you have a g*n or just that axe?” I waved to the hatchet strapped to her pack, one more suitable to cutting branches than clubbing hostile magical enemies.

I already had Fezzik out and was loading a magazine of Min’s special cartridges. Even though I rarely hunted werewolves—they usually only killed livestock, and the government didn’t consider that enough of a crime to send out an assassin—there was some silver twined in with the other magical stuff in the ammunition.

“I’ve got a Glock in case the coyotes come after Boogie,” Mom said. “Up until a couple of years ago, I never saw anything weird in these hills, and coyotes and the occasional mountain lion were the only things you had to worry about. Maybe some black bears, but they’re usually easy to scare away. Boogie has a big bark.”

“I don’t think he’s going to keep werewolves away.”

Nor did the dog look like he had barking in mind, not anymore. Maybe he had a sense of what was out there.

Boogie tried to jerk away from Mom, but she caught his collar.

“Get him leashed up and stay here. I’ll go ahead and talk to them.” I hefted Fezzik meaningfully and didn’t miss the irritated look Mom gave me as I stepped past her. She wasn’t used to me giving her orders, but this was my expertise, not hers.

“I’m not letting you go up there alone,” she said. “Can we back down the trail? Maybe they won’t follow.”

I saw the first glimpse of gray fur between the trees ahead of us. My senses told me more accurately than my eyes that they were closing in on us from multiple directions.

One howled, an ear-splitting wail that wasn’t at all romantic, despite what the stories liked to say. It sent a chill down my spine. It was the sound of wolves on the hunt, not a friendly greeting or a mere warning that we should get out of their territory.

“They want something,” I said, sure of it. “Probably me.”

“You, why?”

I’d taken out werewolves in Idaho after one had contracted rabies and killed a bunch of people on the Washington border. I wondered if this pack knew about that.

“Because of my job.” I took a few more steps, hoping Mom would back away, and touched the cat figurine. “Damas, I could use some tiger intimidation.”

Mist formed at my side as the wolves drew closer, massive beasts that were over four hundred pounds, their heads level with my chest. Fortunately, Damas was even larger, and he glowed with magical power that should give them pause. Unfortunately, there was only one of him. I could pick out twelve werewolves now.

Mom let out a startled gasp, though I didn’t know if it was because of Damas or the wolves.

One black male with yellow eyes stopped on the trail twenty feet ahead of us. He rose on two legs as he morphed into a human form, a powerful, tall, broad-shouldered, and noticeably n***d human form. He had to be seven feet tall, maybe more. The alpha, I assumed, unless he’d been sent out as cannon fodder to speak with us. Maybe all the others were nine feet tall in human form.

Are we hunting wolves? Damas’s gaze locked on to the one on the path, as his ears twitched, following the noises of the others. His magic would doubtless tell him exactly where they were even without sound.

That wasn’t the plan, but they’ve placed themselves in our path.

Canines are rude.

Yes.

I lifted my chin and met the werewolf’s cold eyes. “Will you let us pass? We’re not looking for any trouble.”

“You are well-armed for one who seeks no trouble.” His voice had an alien edge, the accent unplaceable, but I had no trouble understanding him. “Maybe you are here to hunt the pack, no?”

“No. Today, my weapons are for defense only.”

“Humans are always so full of lies. They spill out, like owl pellets hacked up in the forest.”

“I’m capable of lying without making gagging and coughing noises, actually. We’re looking to talk to someone out here. Not you.”

He tilted his head, glancing past me.

I hoped Mom wasn’t doing anything to draw attention. I could hear Boogie whining and growling, but I didn’t risk taking my eyes from the speaker. Even in human form, werewolves could move like lightning.

“We are the protectors of this forest,” he said. “If you wish to talk to someone, you must go through us.”

To either side of the trail, wolves prowled closer, all focused on us, all watching. I sensed from the leader that he wanted a fight.

I didn’t want a fight, not with my mother here, and not against so many. While I didn’t doubt my own abilities, I also wasn’t usually dumb enough to take on a whole pack at once. I wished I hadn’t been so focused on the dragon—I should have sensed these guys earlier.

“Will you let us go if we walk away?” I doubted it, but I wanted confirmation. Mom’s vague resource wasn’t so exciting to me that I would risk her life to get to him or her.

“The Ruinous Damsel fears to fight us?” He tilted his head to the other side. “This is not what I expected from you.”

“The name is Sigrune, thanks. I only fight critters that commit crimes—or that pick fights with me.”

“Critters. You diminish us and belittle us. This is unacceptable. You shall not pass. Nor shall you run away. There are many who will be pleased to learn of your death, and our pack will grow in status when we slay you.”

“Or we’ll slay you, and your pack will be plucked apart by crows and vultures. Maybe owls that will later hack you up in pellet form.”

He threw his head back and laughed.

The attack came not from the front but the sides.

Be ready, Damas warned me as four massive wolves rushed toward us.

Back to back, I replied, already firing.

The wolves zigzagged, trying to dodge my shots. They were fast, but not faster than Fezzik. All four of my first rounds thudded into the chest of one of the wolves rushing me. It yowled in pain as one of its legs gave way, and it tumbled to the side. The one beside it sprang for my throat.

I fired at its chest even as I ducked. More of Fezzik’s rounds thudded into fur and flesh.

The wolf snarled instead of screaming, jaws snapping, but I squatted lower to avoid them. Its momentum took it over my head, and Damas, even though he was fighting his own battle, facing two that had come at him from that side, found time to leap up and eviscerate the wolf as it passed over him. His great claws slashed into its belly. This time, the wolf screamed, its entrails falling out.

In my peripheral vision, I saw the rest of the pack rushing in and spotted my mom with her back against a tree. She wrestled with Boogie’s leash even as she pointed her handgun at one of the wolves.

“I have to help Mom,” I shouted, warning Damas that I was leaving his back.

She fired at a wolf, the bullet taking it square between the eyes. But the magical creature shook his head as if it were armored and that barely hurt. He snarled and crouched to spring.

As I charged toward Mom, yelling to divert the pack’s attention, I yanked Nightshade out. I couldn’t fire, not when that wolf was so close to her.

The crouching wolf saw me coming and switched his target, springing for me instead. His powerful muscles bunched and propelled him straight toward my head.

Keeping my cool, I sidestepped quickly as I swept my longsword up, the blade flaring with blue light as if Nightshade anticipated battle. The wolf saw the threat and twisted in the air, snapping at my head and trying to rake me with its claws.

Even as I dodged the attack, I lunged for an unprotected flank. Nightshade found his side and cut in deeply. The wolf squealed and huge back paws kicked at my face. I glided out of the way, tearing my blade free as the claws flashed past, an inch from my eyes, the smell of his earthy pads hitting my nostrils.

Mom fired her Glock, and I knew another wolf was after her.

With fear for her and fury at our enemies warring in my heart, I rapidly finished off my attacker as he hit the ground. Blood poured from his half-severed neck, but he twisted and lunged one more time, jaws snapping. Hatred roiled in his yellow eyes, as if we’d met before and he had a reason to detest me. To risk his life to kill me. Maybe he did.

I shifted my grip on the hilt as those fangs darted closer, braced myself, and drove Nightshade into his mouth. He saw the blade coming but was too committed to the attack and couldn’t dodge quickly enough. My blade pierced the vulnerable flesh of his throat and drove deep.