The Wolf and the Maiden

Chapter 8

Werewolves.

It was the first thing Rían sensed when he woke up. Yesterday, he had scented them for nearly the entire ride since they left Landreth and began their journey to Tereswin. Now, in the early dawn when the horizon barely blushed with swatches of oranges and pinks, that smell, that tingling sense of something supernatural, stirred him from his sleep.

Not wanting to spook them away, Rían carefully lifted his head, though not by much, as he scanned the immediate area. Since there wasn’t any homestead to stay at last tonight, they set up a camp outdoors, a mile off the road, with everyone now circling around the dying embers of a fire ring. Since there wasn’t much around them except a few short trees and underbrush, it was easy to see at least ten yards out.

When his eyes swept back over the perimeter, it was then he knew Rory was also awake, his breathing rhythm giving him away. The wolves’ scent must have roused him, too.

Since his brother was facing the other direction, Rían placed a hand on his shoulder to let him know he was awake. Rory gently turned toward him, trying to make as little noise as possible. Without speaking, they communicated with each other with their eyes and hands. This was something they learned while growing up with Lycan parents whose enhanced hearing seemed to always notice when they were trying to sneak back into the manor in the early hours of the morning after their partying all-nighters. Even so, Rory was signaling that two fingers and pointed outward, left of the camp.

As he studied that area, he noticed Isak and Chaz’s eyes were also wide open, quietly watching him and Rory interact as well as shift in their bedrolls, turning to face the place of interest. Chaz’s nose twitched before he touched it, then pointed away from where Rían sensed the wolves, indicating he smelled something in that direction, too. Isak nodded in agreement, holding up both hands, indicating a possible seven or more scents. It was interesting that, here they were, newly corralled together a week ago to save the world, knew next to nothing about each other, yet already seemed to gel as teammates. Perhaps Socius Esmond knew what he was doing when he chose his band of champions.

Just when the sun began to peek over the trundling verdant hill, two wolves rose from their sprawled positions, sitting tall with a majestic air. In a perfect pose of opposites, one wolf’s hair shined an obsidian black and the other burned a brilliant white in the glow of the emerging sun.

Moving to his knees, “Do they want us to go talk to them?” Rory whispered.

Also sitting up, “I’m not sure yet. But they are interested in us as we are in them.” Rían continued to watch, waiting for some sort of decorum to pass between them in order to guess as to what they wanted. He, of course, was eager to approach them. As supernatural beings of Vafaren, they must know a lot about the secrets this place holds. And if they knew anything more about the Kiviä stones or any sort of lore about Wa’ake or even Akish, he wanted to know it. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to trust King Joel or Socius Esmond, but all he had heard was their side of the story. As far as he felt now, they seemed trustworthy, but he had learned the hard way through watching his father engage with businessmen over the years at his company, that it was never a good idea to take someone at their word, especially when only hearing one side of the issue.

When Rían slowly stood up, his hand cupped the silver medallion around his neck and was mid-way from lifting the chain off his neck when Rory grabbed his arm. “No, don’t—” He cut himself off when Brett stirred in his bedroll, nearly waking. After the ranger settled down again, he mumbled quietly, “Leave it on. With that Dasianu essence in you, we can’t risk you being detected.”

“But I want to let the werewolves know who I am,” Rían countered. “We need to make contact.”

Chaz hushed, “Rory is right. You can’t chance it. We aren’t in some warded farmhouse right now. We’re out in the bloody open.”

“If they’ve been tracking us since Landreth, then they know who we are,” Isak breathed.

The werewolves made his choice for him when both stood and turned away, together padding back over the hill. Rían cursed under his breath, feeling another opportunity slip away as they disappeared from sight. It seemed for the best anyway. A moment later, Brett suddenly sat up, his eyes jumping curiously at each of them, perhaps trying to grasp why the hell all of them were awake and staring at an empty hillside.

After packing up camp, and choking down another marvelous breakfast of salty, dried mystery meat, Rían jumped onto his horse while chomping away at his apple. He glanced back at the far hill, feeling the disappointment stab at his stomach again that he didn’t have an opportunity to speak with the wolves. He sensed them still; either it was a lingering scent or maybe they were still out there? Perhaps the wolves would continue tracking them, possibly wanting to see what he and the others were up to before they actually made contact?

When Brett motioned for them to head back out to King’s Road, just as he gravitated his attention toward the ranger, Rían jerked his head back to the hill, swearing that he saw movement out there. A smile feathered across his lips as he prompted his horse to start moving. Yes, follow us, Rían mused as he took another bite of his apple. We need to chit-chat.

After riding for an hour, the smell of smoke preceded an ashen plume rising above a knoll east of the road. A side glance was all it really warranted, and maybe the briefest curiosity. The ranger caught sight of it too, and shrugged it off, claiming this part of Vafaren was no stranger to travelers and gypsies. As opposed to where Esmond lived on the edge of the marshland in the moors, the eastern lands of Vafaren were quite popular this time of year after the season of heavy rains and before the burden of summer’s heat. It was open, easily traveled, and provided food unmarshalled by the area’s sovereign, whose name pursed Brett’s lips like a bad wine. Whoever this King Honore Tatiane was, he certainly wasn’t on the ranger’s happy list.

Rían’s attention swung back to the dirt-trodden expanse of King’s Road, back to the task that awaited him miles ahead, days away. When he noticed Brett had sped up, he gripped the reins of his own horse, dug his heels lightly into the sides of its belly to provoke Griff to catch up, likewise anxious to get to Tereswin. The stallion quickened its step. Rory, who flanked him, matched the stride.

“Wait! Do you hear that?” Isak called from behind.

Noting Isak had stopped ten yards back, Rían slowed to a halt and turned in his saddle to look at the weredragon. Personally, he did not hear anything, perhaps he was too preoccupied with the pounding of horse hooves or maybe because he was still keeping tabs on the wolves whose scent still paced close by, but he followed Isak’s gaze back to the darkening, thickening smoke that billowed at their far right.

Rían tried to filter out any irritation but slightly failed as he grit, “What is it?” Tereswin was miles away and stopping in the middle of the road to stare at someone’s campfire smoke wouldn’t get them there any faster. This pricked his forethought, but even in the brief time that he knew the weredragon, Rían also realized that something Isak would deem as important shouldn’t be ignored.

Chaz’s face was a statue of concentration. When he leaned forward as if it would help him hear any better, his pointed ears shifting, perking upward into more of a cat-like form, though nothing else of him changed. “Yeah, I hear it. It’s faint. But is it something like a cry? Is someone crying?”

Rory pressed, “Maybe it’s an animal? If those are gypsy-peeps out there, maybe they’re slaughtering their dinner?” Although his brother sat high on his horse with squared shoulders and straight posturing, a melancholic fatigue pulled at his mouth and eyes. Was he thinking of his kamará? The ride had already pulled long black strands loose from his earlier attempt at combing his hair, lending them to brush across his morose expression. When Rory lifted his wrist to his nose, Rian knew it was exactly that.

It killed him that his brother’s heart was breaking, and he couldn’t do anything to help him.

“I hear it now.” Rían turned his horse so he faced west, faced the smoke plume. The noise was faint, perhaps a mile away? But something in its muffled cadence tore through his chest, begging him to listen. “Ror, I don’t think it’s an animal. I am nearly sure it is human. Female.” He added a curt nod in its direction. “Someone is in trouble. We need to check it out—"

“We don’t have time to patrol it!” Brett barked from ahead, who had stopped thirty feet down the road. “You boys have a job to do and it’s not rescuing damsels in distress or whatever the hell it is.”

Rían locked eyes with the ranger, weighing out the importance of the mission as well as the detour with its beacon of trailing smoke. “Brett’s right. We don’t have time.” Getting to the Kiviä before the Karanlık needed to be the top priority, despite who was over that hill.

Chaz quipped, “Charity always has time.” He directed his horse back to Isak. “I trust a Lycan’s ear. If you heard a lady’s call for help, we must respond!”

“Well, I do need to get my mind off something,” After Rory exchanged a glance with Rían, he cleared his throat as he plastered on a fake smile. “And, my quota for saving damsels has been rather low ever since I’ve come to this realm.”

Chaz laughed, “Well, here you go! Save the girl, get the bonus? Perhaps even that happy ending you’re after?” His infectious smile washed over the group.

Isak rolled his eyes at Chaz, “Your philanthropy is astounding.”

Although Rían was all for Rory moving on and forgetting the Queen as soon as possible, he didn’t agree with this little idea of boning the next girl he saw. Since he didn’t reject the Queen and break the budding inherent connection, having s*x with someone else would only make him feel worse. “You guys, we can’t,” he emphasized the last word with a definite glare at Rory. “We need to get to Tereswin.”

“I know, Rían, but I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight, knowing what we may be ignoring out here,” the púca faerie’s head tilted toward the smoke.

Rían felt the weight of his words, knowing he wouldn’t either. Especially with the gripping sensation that kept tugging at him to go to it now. What is this feeling?

Chaz pressed, “Rían, consider the invaluable rescue of someone in need? Dare we say no? The intrinsic rewards alone--”

“Intrinsic? Really? Is that what it is?” Isak shook his head. “You and Rory are such the peak of integrity.”

Rory grabbed his chest, “That hurts, Isak,” he bit his tongue as he smiled, gearing up for another comeback, but was stopped short as a definite scream, one they all heard this time, ripped over the hillocks. “Ok! Totally heard that!” he balked.

“Shít!” Rían jolted at the cry, feeling like it ripped through his own chest, his nerves buzzing. Without further hesitation, he urged his horse to take off with a purposeful kick to its side, driving at full force toward the rising, darkening plume.