A Companion to Wolves (29 page)
Read A Companion to Wolves Online
Authors: Elizabeth Bear
They arrived enough before dusk that setting up camp was not a problem. Asvolfr said, awkwardly, “How long do you think it will be?”
“I've no more idea than you do,” Isolfr said ruefully. “Have you witnessed a mating before?”
Asvolfr nodded. “Not our konigenwolf's, of course, but the second bitch went into heat right after she did, and weâ” He jerked his head indicating the other yearlings. “We bore witness.”
He said it with the same mixture of awe and horror that Isolfr remembered from the first mating he had seen. “This will be different,” he said to Asvolfr, as Hrolleif had said to him. “She chooses her consort now.” He had to swallow hard, but made himself say it: “It will not be as bad.”
Asvolfr nodded again, his eyes wide and grave.
“You and the other yearlings stay out of the way, no matter what happens or how badly a wolf is hurt,” Isolfr said. That was something Leitholfr had told him, a quick word in the mad bustle of parting. “With the rut-madness, it will be hard for the wolves to tell friend from foe, and in a mating like this one, they will be eager for blood. You, and especially your pups, could be savaged. When it is
over
, then do your doctoring.” He smiled at the boy, and after a moment, Asvolfr smiled back.
over
, then do your doctoring.” He smiled at the boy, and after a moment, Asvolfr smiled back.
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I
solfr made his camp in what must have been the corner of a storeroom, where there were still two stone half-walls to give shelter and as much privacy as he could hope. Viradechtis' heat began to build in earnest as the sun went down; Isolfr found himself praying as he knelt awkwardly
on his bedroll to make the first application of Jorveig's salve, a blanket draped around his shoulders because he did not want the wolfcarls to see this process. Praying that this time it would break quickly. He wished it done with.
solfr made his camp in what must have been the corner of a storeroom, where there were still two stone half-walls to give shelter and as much privacy as he could hope. Viradechtis' heat began to build in earnest as the sun went down; Isolfr found himself praying as he knelt awkwardly
on his bedroll to make the first application of Jorveig's salve, a blanket draped around his shoulders because he did not want the wolfcarls to see this process. Praying that this time it would break quickly. He wished it done with.
Viradechtis laughed at him from where she sat, ears up, surveying her suitors. She was enjoying herself and was glad to have
male-wolfness
to think about instead of
stenchof-trolls
.
male-wolfness
to think about instead of
stenchof-trolls
.
In that, Isolfr admitted, she was not wrong.
Asvolfr and his tithe-mates brought Isolfr supper; he ate what he could, which wasn't much, wrapped in his blankets not against the chill of the night air but because his arousal was already pressing the front of his trews, and foolish though it was of him, he did not want the yearlings to see.
A fight broke out, somewhere in the darkness. Viradechtis watched and listened. Isolfr fought the urge to back himself into the corner, to protect his flanks.
It will be one man,
he told himself.
As with Sokkolfr and Hroi. One wolf. One man.
Hrolleif's voice in his head again:
wolfjarls can be taught.
But this first time, he was at the mercy of what his wolfjarl knew
now
. He remembered Eyjolfr's brutal kiss, remembered his anger. And he wrapped himself more tightly, pretending that his shivering was due to the cold.
It will be one man,
he told himself.
As with Sokkolfr and Hroi. One wolf. One man.
Hrolleif's voice in his head again:
wolfjarls can be taught.
But this first time, he was at the mercy of what his wolfjarl knew
now
. He remembered Eyjolfr's brutal kiss, remembered his anger. And he wrapped himself more tightly, pretending that his shivering was due to the cold.
The night passed somehow. Isolfr dozed and woke and dozed again. There were more fights, and Viradechtis made one or two sorties into the midst of the dog-wolves. Not merely teasing, but almost taunting them. “Sister, you are cruel,” Isolfr said at one point, mostly asleep, but he knew Viradechtis wasn't listening to him.
He came awake, abruptly and entirely, at dawn, when the world resolved from black and charcoal gray into visibility. His sex was like iron between his legs, painful with Viradechtis' need, and he sat up to see that a semicircle of wolves had surrounded him while he slept.
The last clear thought in his head was to hope that the yearlings were safely out of range.
He freed himself from his bedding, and the shirt that
was all he had worn to sleep in, and felt more than heard the moan of the assembled wolfcarls. They wanted him, as their brothers wanted Viradechtis; Viradechtis' heat had come down upon them all.
was all he had worn to sleep in, and felt more than heard the moan of the assembled wolfcarls. They wanted him, as their brothers wanted Viradechtis; Viradechtis' heat had come down upon them all.
A snarl rose up from someone's throat, deep and thready, and Isolfr could not help flinching at the sudden explosion of fur and claws and teeth that rolled into the open space in front of Viradechtis. And then he did back into the corner, as the entire gathering of wolves seemed to turn on each other, their brothers entering the fray behind them.
Isolfr caught bits and pieces of what happened. He saw Mar standing off two smaller wolves from Vestfjorthr, saw Glaedir take Hrafn down. He saw two wolves he did not know locked together in a fury, the one with his teeth firmly in the other's ear. Violence and blood, and he pressed himself into his corner, feeling more defenseless than he ever had in his life, knowing that the wolfcarl who made it past Viradechtis would take him, whoever it might be. He was the prize in this combat, where Viradechtis was both prize and prize-giver. Her choice, not his.
The ranks of the contenders thinned out, though Isolfr did not know if it was slow or fast. He saw, very distinctly, the moment when Kjaran drove Glaedir out of the circle, as Vethulf lifted Eyjolfr entirely off the ground and threw him, sliding and skidding, across the grass and the old uneven flagstones; Skjaldwulf, his bad arm clutched close to his side, knocked the wind out of a beefy wolfcarl from Kerlaugstrond with a hard and well-placed kick. And then, with seeming suddenness, it was just the two of them: Mar and Kjaran. Behind them, Skjaldwulf and Vethulf. The two wolves started to circle. Skjaldwulf's face was white with pain; Mar was bleeding from a set of claw-slashes across his muzzle. But they weren't backing down. Isolfr could feel it, in the madness that was the pack-sense. Kjaran would have to kill Mar to get to Viradechtis. And he realized, woolly-headed, that the other was true as well: Mar would have to kill Kjaran.
This
was what made a wolfjarl and what made a konigenwolf's consortâthe will to die
for the pack. And where Glaedir was lacking that will, perhaps, or was still too young, these wolves were not. Mar and Kjaran were both snarling, a weird duet, and the entire wolfmoot of suitors was watching.
This
was what made a wolfjarl and what made a konigenwolf's consortâthe will to die
for the pack. And where Glaedir was lacking that will, perhaps, or was still too young, these wolves were not. Mar and Kjaran were both snarling, a weird duet, and the entire wolfmoot of suitors was watching.
No,
he thought, muddled, starting forward, not knowing what he meant to do, only knowing that he did not want Mar hurt, and he didn't want Kjaran hurt, either.
No more death.
But his sight was blurred and dark, his body the wrong shape, too gangling and too tall, not enough legs and centered wrongly.
he thought, muddled, starting forward, not knowing what he meant to do, only knowing that he did not want Mar hurt, and he didn't want Kjaran hurt, either.
No more death.
But his sight was blurred and dark, his body the wrong shape, too gangling and too tall, not enough legs and centered wrongly.
Isolfr's feet caught in his blankets and he fell, startled by the hardness of the ground into a cry.
Both Skjaldwulf and Vethulf turned toward him, Mar and Kjaran raising their heads, and Viradechtis made a strange, deep chuffing noise, neither a bark nor a snort, bizarrely satisfied. She bounded forward, a leap as exuberant as a puppy's but perfectly aimed and balanced for the sixteen-stone predator she was, and landed between Mar and Kjaran. And then, with a great and spurious air of gravity, she turned to touch noses, first with Kjaran, then with Mar.
Isolfr lay awkwardly as he had fallen, unable to gather either his limbs or his wits; Skjaldwulf and Vethulf were giving each other the most bewildered look, as if they did not understand why they were not at each other's throats. Then Viradechtis made her chuffing noise again, impatiently this time, and herded Mar and Kjaran toward Isolfr's corner.
And Isolfr knew, although he did not understand it and had not known it was possible. Viradechtis had chosen them both.
The rut-madness, banked for a moment by Viradechtis' choosing, roared over him again. He fumbled desperately for the salve, pushing the jar into Vethulf's shaking hands as his first wolfjarl joined him on the blankets. Isolfr rolled over, presenting himself as shamelessly as did the konigenwolf. There was nothing left in him but the need, the burning, and he moaned in frustration when he was touched with slick fingers. But Viradechtis was still teasing Kjaran;
there was still time, and Vethulf seemed determined to take it.
there was still time, and Vethulf seemed determined to take it.
Skjaldwulf's hands, with their scars and knobbled wrists and knuckles, came down over Isolfr's forearms. He could hear his second wolfjarl murmuring to him, although he could not make out the words. There were no words; there was only
need
. He pressed back, his breath coming in sobs, and Viradechtis swept her tail aside, giving Kjaran permission to mount.
need
. He pressed back, his breath coming in sobs, and Viradechtis swept her tail aside, giving Kjaran permission to mount.
Isolfr felt Kjaran as clearly as he felt Vethulf, but he also felt, as Kjaran pushed and Vethulf entered him, Skjaldwulf drop a kiss, very gently, on the top of his head.
Then there was only the madness, the glory, of Vethulf's strength. He could feel Viradechtis' joy in Kjaran, feel why she had chosen as she had. And Vethulf was powerful, but not brutal; his hands did not clamp on Isolfr's hips but caressed his back, his shoulders. One slipped underneath him, found the thwarted agony of his sex, and within moments Vethulf had Isolfr screaming at every stroke, screaming with a ferocious passion that he had not known before, not even with Sokkolfr, not even with Hjordis. The pack-sense unfurled before him; this time he did not escape his body into it, he
joined
it, joined Viradechtis and Kjaran and Vethulf, and felt their desire and need and striving. His climax almost struck him senseless, and Vethulf and Viradechtis and Kjaran were there.
joined
it, joined Viradechtis and Kjaran and Vethulf, and felt their desire and need and striving. His climax almost struck him senseless, and Vethulf and Viradechtis and Kjaran were there.
He felt Vethulf's hands stroking his hips and thighs, felt himâstill gentleâmove away. Skjaldwulf said, and now Isolfr could follow the words, “My wolfsprechend, will you roll over?”
Isolfr could not argue. He rolled onto his back, heard Skjaldwulf and Vethulf murmuring together, and then Vethulf's hands were urging him to lift his head as Skjaldwulf knelt between his spread thighs and reached for the salve.
Isolfr's head was pillowed on a blanket on Vethulf's lap, and Skjaldwulf bundled blankets beneath his hips, coaxing him to raise his legs, to let them rest on Skjaldwulf's
shoulders. Bemused, Isolfr did as he was told as Mar and Viradechtis washed each other's faces, and then as the fire began to build again, he felt Skjaldwulf's fingers, greasy with salve, stroke past his stones, push up inside him, and
oh
,
oh yes
, and he threw his head back, his hands knotting in the blankets, and he brought his hips up to meet Skjaldwulf's first thrust. He heard Viradechtis bay her approval, almost felt Mar's forelegs against his own ribs, Vethulf's hand stroking his hair, Skjaldwulf's lean, fierce strength, and Isolfr keened through his teeth and met Skjaldwulf, thrust for thrust, fearless at last.
shoulders. Bemused, Isolfr did as he was told as Mar and Viradechtis washed each other's faces, and then as the fire began to build again, he felt Skjaldwulf's fingers, greasy with salve, stroke past his stones, push up inside him, and
oh
,
oh yes
, and he threw his head back, his hands knotting in the blankets, and he brought his hips up to meet Skjaldwulf's first thrust. He heard Viradechtis bay her approval, almost felt Mar's forelegs against his own ribs, Vethulf's hand stroking his hair, Skjaldwulf's lean, fierce strength, and Isolfr keened through his teeth and met Skjaldwulf, thrust for thrust, fearless at last.
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M
ine
, Isolfr thought, drowsily, and then, as he lifted his head, identified the sentiment as Viradechtis'. She sprawled lazily on sun-warmed flags in the late-summer light, her head pillowed on Kjaran's gray rump, watching Isolfr with bright, alert eyes and a disconcertingly smug expression.
ine
, Isolfr thought, drowsily, and then, as he lifted his head, identified the sentiment as Viradechtis'. She sprawled lazily on sun-warmed flags in the late-summer light, her head pillowed on Kjaran's gray rump, watching Isolfr with bright, alert eyes and a disconcertingly smug expression.
Never let it be said that wolves don't gloat or laugh.
Someone warm was pressed against Isolfr's back, a contrast to the coolness of the morning. He turned in the blankets, saw Vethulf regarding him with a pale, steady gaze. “Are you well?”
Isolfr stretched experimentally, and found himself far more well than he had expected. He nodded. “Where's Skjaldwulf and Mar?”
Vethulf dragged a long arm out of the blankets and pointed east. “They went to kill breakfast. We're supposed to make a fire.”
Isolfr propped himself on his elbows and glanced around. There was blood on the stones, a tuft of fur pinned against a gorse bush by the steady breeze. They were alone. “They're gone.”
Viradechtis and Kjaran raised their heads as Mar appeared at the top of the broken wall. He jumped down, his injured shoulder taking his weight well, and Skjaldwulf
followed a moment later, an unlikely spidering of limbs. A brace of rabbits and two grouse hung from his hand. “Not all of them,” he said. “I don't see a fire.”
followed a moment later, an unlikely spidering of limbs. A brace of rabbits and two grouse hung from his hand. “Not all of them,” he said. “I don't see a fire.”
“We were getting to it,” Vethulf said, with a bit of an edge, and curled to his feet. “There's a picket?”
Skjaldwulf looked at Isolfr, directly enough to make Isolfr glance down, his face hot. “I hope our wolfsprechend is pleased with us,” he said. “Because his shieldmates and another half-dozen of the Wolfmaegth are out in the forest, preserving our privacy.”
Viradechtis laughed smug delight all through the pack-sense, and showed her belly to the sun.
“Word must have gotten back to the wolfheall,” Isolfr said into the blankets, guilty over having forgotten to remind the yearlings to send a message. He jumped when Vethulf laughed, and looked up.
Vethulf shrugged. “It's no different than the marriage you would have had if you'd stayed in the keep,” he said. “No more privacy and no less, and a good deal more sympathy in the morning.”
I don't need sympathy
, Isolfr thought. He bit his lip. The last thing he needed was to start off this arrangement was a quarrel.
As if we'll live long enough to
âNo. He owed Viradechtis more than surrender and death.
, Isolfr thought. He bit his lip. The last thing he needed was to start off this arrangement was a quarrel.
As if we'll live long enough to
âNo. He owed Viradechtis more than surrender and death.
Somebody had thought to bank the fire before nightfall, and there were still coals to be coaxed into flickering life while Isolfr helped Skjaldwulf clean the game. The wolves snapped the innards and heads up happily, and didn't complain when Skjaldwulf presented them with a share each of raw rabbit and grouse.
Breakfast was accomplished with remarkable speed. Isolfr drew water from the old uncapped well and heated it with the wild mint and honey-balm that grew through crevices in the flagstones to make a tisane. They dressed and ate in silence. Their escorts stayed out of sight until they were within hailing of Bravoll, and then wolves and men came out to meet them, lining the streets. Isolfr found himself blushing fiercely, cursing his fair skin as he walked
the length of the high street between his wolfjarls, their wolfbrothers jaunty and cheerful, tails waving like banners behind them.
the length of the high street between his wolfjarls, their wolfbrothers jaunty and cheerful, tails waving like banners behind them.
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