Wolf pack, p.8
Wolf Pack, page 8
“You did it wrong.” The fight left her voice, replaced by the warmth of having a brother who would protect her so fiercely. Who loved her.
“You made that clear.”
She huffed out a sad breath.
“You’re right.” Uriah drew her against his chest, and she rested her face against his broad shoulder. “But don’t get used to it.”
She pulled back, her lips pursed.
He smiled. “I’m sorry I mucked it all up.”
“You’ll apologize to Ferth.”
He scowled. “Yes.”
“You’ll try to make friends.”
“I need time.”
She folded her arms.
He sighed. “But I’ll try.”
She nodded, satisfied. “Now, take me to dinner.”
He held out his elbow, and she took his arm. Together they exited the tent to find Xandra swooping low over the camp, a rare sight in broad daylight.
“What is it?” she asked her hewan.
“Six people arriving from the south. The horses are exhausted and so are the travelers, like they’ve been chased by Laconius. I don’t know what’s happened, but it can’t be good.”
Suza dropped her brother’s arm as a chill spread through her veins. “Something isn’t right.” She ran toward command, Uriah close on her heels.
Fifteen - Strangers
FERTH
Ferth sat with Captain Titus and Commander Asvig in the command tent, filtering through every detail of Skotar’s operations, again. The man was thorough. Ferth would rather be patrolling the camp with his wolves. His stomach grumbled—or eating.
“The slaves live here.” He pointed. “But they’re often found in soldiers’ quarters at all hours. The water sources are here.” His words trailed off as Rom spoke to his mind.
“Riders on horseback from the south. They look travel-worn. Four men and two women. Three in uniform. Dismounting at the stables.”
“Rom reports six human arrivals at camp,” Ferth said.
Titus raised a scarred eyebrow.
Ferth swallowed. Humans never referred to themselves as humans. Only Draco Sang did that.
Titus straightened from his position bent over the table. “Forerunners for reinforcements, I hope.” He righted his uniform.
“The guard is bringing them here,” Ferth said.
Moments later the door flung open. The six people who stumbled into the tent were exhausted, their clothes filthy and their faces unwashed. One woman wore a wide-brimmed hat with a veil hanging over her face and hair, hiding her features. Ferth tried to piece the unexpected group together, guessing the three soldiers were the veiled woman’s guards, the remaining male and female possibly her servants. A short-haired black and brown dog a head shorter than Rom followed them in. The dog’s keen eyes held his. Another hewan? Questions queued up in Ferth’s mind.
He looked to Titus, who had stopped mid-step as if paralyzed. His blue eyes froze as he focused on the woman, glaring as if he could see through her covering to her face. She straightened her spine and gripped the fabric as if to pull it off.
“Don’t,” Titus said.
Ferth could sense the woman’s focus shift to him as if questioning, why not?
“Not here.” Titus’s voice was strained. He raked graying hair back in a frustrated gesture.
Who was she, and why couldn’t Ferth know?
A man in his prime, wearing a green tunic and brown riding pants stepped forward. He stuck out a hand, and Captain Titus gripped it.
“Raja Darius,” Titus said.
Ferth vaguely remembered learning a little about the human ranking system. A raja was a ruling member of the king’s inner circle and a wealthy landlord. The Draco Sang didn’t put much value on studying a system they intended to destroy.
“Captain Titus.” Darius affected a half smile, but it quickly died, setting his face back into thin sharp lines. “Our proper greetings will have to wait. King Andras was killed by a Draco Sang assassin.”
Titus’s face paled, but he spoke with icy calm. “Come in. Sit.” He gestured to the seats and pillows set in a circle around the maps. “Rourke!” His voice cracked.
A young man stepped into the doorway. “Sir?”
“Gather my officers. Have them report here immediately.” Titus paused and looked at the wall. In a low voice as if talking to himself he added, “The king has been murdered.”
“Yes, sir.” The boy stepped back, eyes wide.
“After you gather my officers, have food and drink brought here.”
The boy fled.
“How long ago?” Titus asked.
“Eight days,” Darius replied. Despite the sunken eye sockets and wild hair, the man sat up straight in his chair. “I might have gotten here faster if—”
A stern woman’s voice from below the veil cut him off. “I did not slow you down.”
Darius’s thin lips tweaked up as he glanced at the figure hidden behind fine cloth.
A shadow passed over the tent door as Eio and the wolves entered the tent. The three soldiers stiffened, and their hands went involuntarily to their weapons. Darius, to his credit, did not flinch. Rom and Lyko padded over to Ferth and stood at his sides.
Eio, to Ferth’s shock, went directly to the veiled woman.
“Eio.” She squealed and threw her arms around his thick mane. A jolly rumble issued from the golden beast. The dog yapped a happy welcome and wagged his thin tail at the big cat.
Titus narrowed his eyes at the scene, but when he turned away, Ferth caught the smile that spread over Titus’s face.
“The Draco-blooded woman is hidden. Why?” Rom asked.
So, the dog was her hewan. Interesting.
“Maybe she’s horribly scarred,” Lyko said.
“Or to hide her identity,” Ferth said. “Which I intend to find out.”
Zemira shot into the tent, her fighting leathers tight over her lithe form.
Ferth’s chest cramped when Uriah and Shale entered right behind Zemira’s panther, Opal. Ferth didn’t meet their eyes. The training yard scene was hot in his mind and in his muscles. Several more warriors and commanders entered.
“Come, Kira,” the veiled woman said to the dog. “Come. Sit.” A gloved hand stroked the narrow head. “Good girl.”
Ferth’s eyebrows rose. “Is she pretending that dog is an ordinary pet? Who does she think she’s fooling?” he asked his wolves.
“Probably every human,” Rom said.
Ferth itched to rip off the woman’s face covering, unveil her secrets.
Pelussa and her raven arrived last. With everyone seated, Titus spoke. “Raja Darius has just arrived with alarming news from Mitera.” Titus nodded to Darius.
“Eight days ago, King Andras was assassinated in his own gardens,” Darius said. “A Draco Sang with dark brown wings and a white-feathered head stood on the city walls and shot an arrow through our king’s throat. One shot. One masterful shot.”
Ferth’s blood drained from his limbs as he listened to the report. Thirro.
“I was there.” Darius’s long fingers gripped his sword pommel. “Three other members of the raja circle and many more courtesans were all standing targets. Including the heir. Thankfully, for whatever reason, the Draco Sang left after firing a single shot. The raja met that evening. Abner has been crowned king. He is only fourteen years old, but six rajas remain in Mitera with him. Messengers were sent to the five rajas not in the city, and I elected to bring the message here myself. Two thousand troops are four days’ march behind us.”
As the news sank into the silent room, food arrived. Servers set down platters of cheese, bread, fruit, and cut meats. Despite the alarming news, Ferth wasn’t the only one who took a large serving.
“Raja Darius, who are your traveling companions?” Uriah looked pointedly at the veiled woman.
Raja Darius turned to Captain Titus instead of answering.
Titus shuffled parchments on the desk as he answered, his voice crisp. “This is Imanna. She’s my …” He hesitated as if looking for the right word. “… daughter.”
Titus’s daughter. Ferth blinked in bewilderment.
“She brings a healer for our camp with her.” He indicated the middle-aged woman. “Imanna covers her face to protect the healing burns on her skin.”
The veil twitched.
“I win,” Lyko said.
Before Ferth could make sense of that curt explanation, Titus had moved on.
“Two thousand soldiers will strengthen our battle tactics greatly.” His gaze flicked to Shale and Ferth. “How are the calls?”
Shale waited for Ferth to speak, but he didn’t. They were equals here, and she was indescribably more liked and trusted by the group.
“We crafted four horns that work properly.” She held up a circle of pipes.
They’d made a dozen more that didn’t sound right. It had been easier work before she’d joined him, filling his mind with her scent, reminding him of what he would never deserve.
“Ferth and I both know the calls,” she said. “And I’ve taught six others them as best I could.”
Titus nodded. “Well done. You’ll be heading that effort. You’ll call out the orders from my command station. I need Ferth and the wolves leading a squad on the ground.”
“Yes, sir.” Pride flickered in her emerald eyes.
Good. She would be safest at Titus’s side and away from the front lines.
An alarm rang out across camp, followed by another piercing cry and another. Ferth fled the command tent with the others.
A soldier ran forward, panting. “The Draco Sang are on the move. The army marches south in battle gear. They’re a half-mile from the river.”
Ferth’s pulse hitched and his nerves crackled. His Draco army was finally attacking Elysium.
He would stand against them.
Father, Thirro, Dara, Jade, Keal, Mina. Names and faces flashed across his mind in a blink. His family. His clan. He felt betrayed and a betrayer. Ice seemed to form over his heart and spread through his limbs.
Around him, the human camp came alive. A camp full of strangers.
“Armor on,” Titus yelled. “To your squadrons! Skinny formations.”
Fight.
Kill.
He did not want to do it. His hands were too bloody already.
Ferth pictured his brother’s ashen face. Dead before battle. Cut down before they … before even … He gasped in pain, his ribs like a clenching fist around his heart.
War drums cut through the warm air.
He harnessed his tidal wave of grief, channeling it into battle fuel as around him the human commanders sprinted away, hands on hilts. Ferth was about to follow, to collect his leathers, his weapons, and a drink, but Titus’s hissing whisper stopped him.
Ferth glanced over his shoulder. Captain Titus’s hand gripped Imanna’s elbow as he spoke to her. “You promised to stay in Mitera. You promised me.”
“The king was not safe in Mitera, so neither was I. And here I can help. I can fight.”
“Absolutely not.” His voice was firm and rough.
“You need fighters.” The more she spoke, the younger she seemed.
“I need you to live. I need you safe. I don’t have time for whining. You will stay in my tent, and I will post a guard with the sole instruction to keep you from leaving.”
“Don’t waste a guard on me.” Her voice was resigned.
“It’s not a waste.” Titus let go of her elbow and wrapped a loving arm around her shoulders.
Her fingers gripped his back. “Stay safe.”
He let her go and turned to Ferth, who shrank back, embarrassed to be caught eavesdropping.
“Ferth, take her to my tent on your way. Get Tomark and give him instructions. Make sure he knows the privilege and importance of his duty to keep her safe during this battle. If things go poorly, I trust him to take her south. She must escape.”
Chills rolled along Ferth’s arms. “Yes, sir.”
Titus’s daughter turned to Ferth, and he imagined all sorts of faces hiding behind the veil, but never once did he imagine one covered in burns.
“And Ferth.” Titus unbuckled a thin leather knife belt from around his waist. He held it out.
Tentatively Ferth wrapped his palm around the beautiful bone handle and unsheathed the blade. Dracosteel. Expertly crafted. Cal’s knife. The knife that had killed Captain Jobu and had nearly ended their father.
“It’s yours,” Titus said.
Ferth opened his mouth to decline the generous gift. He didn’t deserve this. But no words came. He wanted the knife. Another piece of Cal. And he wanted to someday deserve to bear it. He closed his lips and sent an uncertain glance at his new Captain.
“It cannot be easy to fight on this side of the line after spending your whole life on the other. It is no small thing to lift arms against your friends.”
Ferth swallowed, grateful for the acknowledgement. His guts were a torn-up jungle. “You have no reason to trust me after I already turned against the Dracos, but I won’t turn on you today. Elysium is in the right, and I will fight for you.”
Titus nodded grimly. “When this is over, I’ll tell you how Cal came to own that knife.” By the glint in his blue eyes, it was a story worth hearing.
“Deal.”
Titus jogged away. Ferth belted the treasure on his waist, feeling defensive and exposed because the strange girl had heard such a personal exchange. His wolves circled closer to Imanna’s dog. Kira bared her teeth aggressively, her short fur on end as the predators inched closer.
“Beautiful wolves.” Imanna’s voice held steady, but her shoulders tensed.
Ferth didn’t answer, letting the wolves flank the terrified dog instead.
A deep taunting growl rumbled from Lyko’s chest.
“They’re not allowed to eat my pet.”
“They’re just making friends with your hewan. They must really like her.”
Imanna didn’t respond, and Ferth wished again he could see her face.
In the privacy of their mental connection, Ferth spoke to Lyko. “You know Tomark?”
“Yes.”
“Get him. Meet us at Titus’s tent.”
Lyko’s tall shoulder bumped Kira’s nose as he bolted off.
“I’ll take you to your father’s tent.” Ferth strode out.
“You have two hewans.” She nearly jogged to keep pace.
“I do.” His voice was curt.
“I’ve never heard of that.” Her inflection invited him to elaborate.
“I’ve never heard of Captain Titus’s daughter.”
Imanna didn’t respond.
They arrived at Titus’s tent, and Ferth pulled the door open. She ducked inside with Kira, but he stopped at the threshold. They waited in awkward silence until Lyko returned followed by a confused-looking soldier.
“Tomark,” Ferth said. “Your battle orders from Captain Titus are to guard this woman. She is very important to him.”
He peered inside the tent at Ferth’s gesture. He’d been strapping on his armor, but his thick hands paused.
“Who is she?”
“Imanna. Captain’s daughter.”
Tomark’s eyes widened.
“If the battle goes poorly,” Ferth didn’t add that it most surely would, “you are ordered to escape south with her and keep her safe.”
“Yes, sir.”
He thumped the man on the shoulder and left. He threw out all thoughts of the captain’s daughter and focused on the approaching battle. The drums had settled into an eerie rhythm as they rang out the enemy’s advancement. The Draco Sang were a quarter mile from the river now.
His friends.
He shook his head. His father would have ordered his son killed on sight. Today, he could not think of the Dracos as anything more than enemies.
Inside Cal’s tent, he tied leather vests on Rom and Lyko, before letting the waiting attendant help him into Cal’s fighting gear. The trio then headed outside to meet the gathering army.
He’d been training with his new squad of three hundred humans, and a flash of pride hit his chest when he saw them filing into formation and adjusting armor and weapons. The Elysium troops operated at an impressive level of order and efficiency. But that would only go so far against the Draco Sang.
Not far enough.
Sixteen - Change
SUZA
Suza tore off her dress and dropped it in a heap on the ground. With Zemira’s help, she’d had a custom suit of fighting leathers made. Where Zemira was sinew and length, Suza was curves and brawn.
She hadn’t worn her body-hugging suit outside the privacy of her tent. She still wasn’t used to having control over her own skin. She’d felt awkward and strangely presumptuous with the soldier gear on, a lingering effect of having a submissive slave mindset for so many years.
But she was free. She was a soldier now.
And Suza wasn’t going to battle in a skirt. She buttoned up the black leggings and bent her knees a few times to loosen up the stiff leather. She secured her breasts with a tight band before pulling on a cotton undershirt. Overtop, the leather jerkin molded to her torso.
She gripped twin Dracosteel short swords, each the length of her arm. Her pulse settled as she slashed through the air, feeling the familiar comfort of her favorite weapons. She’d practiced with them every day since her escape, since she’d stolen them from the enemy’s armory. With determination, she’d returned to the drills and sequences she’d learned as an underling at Gristlecove. She sheathed them at her sides and slung her call horn around her neck. Striding out of camp to the northern battlefields, she felt powerful and free. Until Ferth saw her.
He stood at the head of his squad, handsome and fierce. His wolves flanked him in an intimidating display of force. He appeared to be about to make the signal to lead out, but his hand froze when his eyes met hers across the dirt. The dirt destined to run red.
Suza’s heart hammered against her fitted suit. Ferth’s piercing gaze raked over her, taking in her swords and curves. Her skin burned with what she tried to tell herself was not pleasure.
