Dragon Defense (Heirs to the Throne Book 3) (4 page)

Ronda and Bess slid off their mounts.  Afraid to draw attention, Shariel got off her horse and watched as the two old friends laughed and hugged.  Ronda looked as tall as Shariel, but the resemblance ended there.  Her mother possessed light skin, short brown hair liberally sprinkled with gray, and lively eyes the blue of a summer sky.               

Shariel recognized Ronda from mental images Bess held dear, but this woman no longer resembled the vulnerable beauty of memory.  Her bearing and attitude conveyed strength, self confidence, and the skill of a warrior beneath lean muscles. 

Ronda turned to study her daughter with a sad expression.  Ronda said, “Hello, Shariel.”

Shariel nodded but couldn’t speak.

Without averting her gaze Ronda said, “You’ve done a good job, Bess.  She looks fit.  The girl’s height and build reflect my lineage, but there’s much of her father in her looks.”

Shariel’s throat felt tight and dry under Ronda’s scrutiny.  Ronda shifted her gaze to Mikla.  “Who’s this girl?”

Bess said, “Mikla.  She and her brother ambushed us on the trail, planned to steal Shariel for a reward, but her brother died during the attack. Mikla must go before the Samurai Court for judgment.”

Are you one of Jarrack’s faithful?” Ronda asked Mikla.

“No.”  Mikla’s eyes flashed and she held her chin high.  “I answer to my father, Pasha Terralt from Sudran province.  He promised me as security for my brother’s debts, and we sought to pay those debts with the reward.  Failing our task, I will live out my life in slavery.”

Ronda frowned.  “Samurai don’t hold with slavery.”

Bess nodded.  “What did I tell you girl?  Among the Samurai, you’ll have the chance for freedom.”

“Shariel was the one wronged.  Will you demand punishment from this girl?”  Ronda asked.

Shariel shook her head.  “Mikla lost her brother.  She’s been punished enough.  If she chooses to stay with the Samurai, it will not bother me.”

“She might lead riders to capture you if she returns to her tribe.”  Ronda’s tone challenged Shariel.

Shariel’s eyes narrowed, returning the challenge.  “Does it matter?  A rider already searched me out, and we killed him.”

“You killed a rider?”  Ronda said, “I guess you inherited something from me after all.”

Shariel read the next thought in her mother’s mind. 
There’s still too much of Jarrack in her eyes
. 

She said, “Do you fear my blood, mother?”

Ronda smirked.  “I’m long past living in fear, lass.  I gave you away to rid myself of bad memories, but it did me little good.  Nightmares lived inside my brain until I learned to burn them out.  If I did it over again, I might have kept you with me.”  Ronda shrugged.  “Done is done.”

Shariel’s anger erupted.  “People condemn me for the blood in my veins, regardless of who I am as a person.  Why not embrace the power I possess if I’m already judged evil?”

Ronda’s eyes narrowed.  “Make of yourself what you will, child. If you allow others to decide your life-path, rather than choose one for yourself, you are no daughter of mine.  People fear power.  They’ll fear you until actions prove your worth.”

“Will I get a chance to prove myself to you?”  Tears streamed down Shariel’s cheeks.

“Bess, see to your girl.  It’s not in my character to dry a child’s tears.  We’ll make camp and wait for morning.” Ronda stalked away while Bess wrapped her arm around Shariel’s shoulder. 

“You’ll be fine,” Bess crooned.

“What if I am tainted by his blood?  Could Jarrack’s spirit turn me into something evil?”

Bess smoothed Shariel’s hair.  “I know you to the core, my dear, and your spirit is good.  Jarrack enjoys making people suffer because he lacks the ability to hear thoughts or share pain.  You share emotions and hear thoughts, so you enjoy making people happy.  You are not a copy of your father or your mother.”

Shariel hugged Bess.  “No one knows me like you, Bess.  If I’m anyone’s daughter, I’m yours.”

*****

While they traveled to Bear Rock, Mikla helped with the work of setting up camp each night, offering to tend the fire and help with dinner.  The girl relaxed as she performed ordinary tasks. Shariel felt good that Mikla would have a chance for freedom with the Samurai.

Three nights into the journey, Mikla prepared dinner on her own.  Everyone enjoyed spicy stew filled with chunks of tender lamb. It tasted so good they over ate, and Mikla smiled at their compliments.  They passed a wineskin and enjoyed the flickering firelight, listening to stories about Marasuta.  Shariel enjoyed the laughter and drank too much wine.

As the fire died, Shariel stumbled to her bedroll and sank into soft leaves and pine needles.  Her brain felt muzzy and kept her from hearing thoughts.  The quiet felt wonderful.  She slept soundly as the night grew still.

It seemed she barely drifted to sleep when a hand closed over her mouth, wrenching her awake.  “Stay quiet!”  Mikla whispered in a husky voice.  “We will walk together.”  Her eyes wide with fright, Mikla looked agitated.  Shariel felt the sharp tip of a knife prick her throat.  “Don’t try your witchcraft on me, you understand?  We’ll use the knife on Bess if you don’t obey,” Mikla threatened.

Shariel noticed a guard slumped against a tree.  The bedrolls near the coals of the long-spent fire were still, and Shariel saw that Bess was gone from her bedroll.  Mikla pushed and Shariel yielded.  She let the girl propel her down the path, unable to make her mind work.  Was something in the wine or stew?  She couldn’t gather her energy or her thoughts.

“Where are we going?” croaked Shariel.  A sharp crack on the skull was the answer, followed by pain and rough hands lifting her body.  Her mind floated into blackness. 

She woke as spicy smoke stung her nostrils, and her head throbbed.  Her eyes were covered with a black cloth but she heard voices nearby.   She strained to understand them, but the language sounded like a jumble. 

Soft hands helped her sit up, and she heard Mikla’s voice.  “Don’t resist or use your witchcraft or they’ll kill Bess.  We brought her along to keep you under control.  Do you understand?”

Mikla told the truth.  Shariel felt Bess nearby, afraid and angry.

“Why’d you do this?  You could live in freedom with the Samurai.”

“My family’s honor is at stake.  I’ll repay my brother’s debt and return to my father.  I can’t live with my family’s disgrace.”

Shariel rolled against the hard wood of a wagon or carriage as it started to move.  Hooves clomped, harnesses jingled, and dust filtered through the mask.

“In a few hours we’ll untie your wrists and uncover your eyes.  Promise to cooperate or Bess will die.”

Shariel’s heart thudded. 
What’s going to happen to Bess and me?
 

Do not fear.
Chacka’s mental voice comforted Shariel
.
We tracked you to the camp of the desert people and will follow. They take you to a place where they keep your brothers and sisters.
 
Help the other cubs of your pack escape.

Shariel sighed. 
Can you find Aunt Bess?  She’s in the camp somewhere.

We spoke to her mind.  The desert humans have not harmed her, and she’ll wait with patience for an escape plan.

Thanks for helping me, Chacka.

Other wolves join in the hunt.

Shariel heard a distant howl, echoed by a chorus of voices.  If she found her siblings, she’d help them escape from the desert riders.  It gave her a purpose.

Kriegen scratched his ear and waited for the Council of Elders to speak to him.  The rhythmic thud of his scratching drew the annoyed glance of the White.  The elder mentally projected a ritual welcome. 
Greetings Kriegen, Leader of the Forest Guardians and Protector of the Two-Legs.

Humans.
  Kriegen corrected the elder.

We prefer the ancient name,
the White replied, his eyes glinting. 
As delegate from your pack, conform to Council policy.

According to the Law, a pack may choose its own name. Law outweighs Council policy in these matters.  Our Pack chose the name Forest Guardians and Protectors of Humans.
Kriegen yawned, flashing deadly white canines.

The White bristled.  His mental words dripped with venom. 
Humans are not a pack and the privileges of pack law do not apply.
 

His own hackles bristled as Kriegen glared. 
Humans were recognized as sentient beings when the Council accepted Tessa as an ancestor host.  Wolf packs fought the evil one, so tradition makes the humans a new pack.
 

The White’s tail swished as he shifted to another argument. 
How can tradition apply to beings from another world?  Pack law cannot govern humans who are not members of the Council of Elders.

Kriegen’s ears tilted forward, but he resisted the urge to yip with excitement. 
True enough.  We hereby petition the Council of Elders to accept Tessa as Council delegate from the human pack. King Donovan is her sire.
Kriegen played his part well, goading the White into his trap.

The White’s eyes flashed with anger. 
Tessa cannot be a Council delegate until her line hosts a hundred minds.

Kriegen wished he could laugh like a human.
Tessa hosts the line of Amber, a former member of my pack.  Since the line of Amber contains more than two hundred ancestor minds, she qualifies.
 

The White fixed the steady gaze of a predator on Kriegen, sizing up his opponent, but Kriegen returned the stare with a piercing intensity, calm but ready.

A human cannot represent a wolf pack!
  The White’s ears flattened against his skull, and he clasped the white knife strapped to his chest.

Quickly the Gray interceded. 
Amber is a member of the Forest Guardians, a pack that is represented by the line of Kriegen.   Do you wish to step down?
  The Gray stared at Kriegen and waited. 

Kriegen’s pupils dilated into hunter’s vision, his fangs dripped saliva, and hot blood pounded through his veins.  The ancestor minds helped him control the feral reaction, and he forced himself to use logic. 
Our pack serves two roles, each recognized by the Council.  We are Guardians of the Forest and Protectors of the Humans.
  He deliberately used the new pack name. 
Consult your ancestor minds.  Two Council Representatives are required, one to fill each role.  Increased representation is granted when a pack performs new duties.
 

The Council fell silent to consult their ancestor minds. As each member nodded, Kriegen knew he’d won.  His ancestor minds congratulated him for shrewd handling of the matter. 

Too soon! 

The White charged Kriegen with snapping fangs and a slashing dagger.  Rising to his full height, Kriegen stood on his hind legs and drew a dagger.  The White leaped and Kriegen sidestepped.  As the White slid past, Kriegen’s gleaming fangs snapped, and a tuft of white fur fluttered to the ground. 

Enraged the White attacked again. 

This time Kriegen plunged his dagger into the White’s shoulder and sank his fangs into the neck ruff.  The White yelped and struggled to loosen Kriegen’s tenacious grip.  Their bodies writhed across the bloody stone floor. 

When Kriegen finally broke away, rage threatened to engulf his reason.  Ancestor voices clamored inside his mind, urging calm, but Kriegen forced them down and faced the enemy.  He stood prepared to deal a death blow. 

The White shook.  Droplets of blood splattered the onlookers as he slashed the blade in a deadly arc.  Kriegen crouched to evade the blow and jumped up under the White’s outstretched forelimb.  He struck the White a body blow that sent his foe tumbling across the slick floor.  The creature lay trembling, defeated.  With flattened ears and tucked tail, he slunk out of the chamber in disgrace.

Forgive his rash behavior, Kriegen.
  The Gray stepped forward
. 
Our ancestors confirm your facts.

Kriegen shoved the bloody dagger into a sheath strapped to his chest.  Bloodlust pounded through his veins, his ears twitched, and his black ruff stood erect.  His large body looked dangerous.  Kriegen’s nostrils quivered with a predatory awareness, drinking in the scent of fear that filled the room. 

Do you declare pack feud against the White?
the Gray asked.

With difficulty Kriegen suppressed his desire to kill, sucked in a deep breath, and licked blood from his muzzle. He dropped to all fours. 
No.  Nothing but death comes from a pack feud.  We must hear the Council’s decision on our petition
.  Kriegen’s mental message felt angry. 

The Council members fidgeted. Kriegen’s alert ears rotated forward while his body quivered with agitation.  The Council shielded Kriegen’s mind while the Gray heard the vote. 

The Gray said,
The Council grants representation to Tessa, the host of Amber. If the human should die, another wolf host must take her place to preserve the ancestor minds.

Agreed.
  Kriegen relaxed and licked his paw. 
We give our report regarding the Human Pack.

The Gray huffed. 
We grow weary.  Give us the report with speed.
  Kriegen felt pleased.  He knew they’d be less critical since he’d won a major concession.  He began the narrative. 
King Donovan strives to bring peace, but the human Council argues much like ours.  The Black Market leaders demand to join the Merchant Guild, the women in the Samurai Guild demand equal rights in the Warrior Guild.  The lords argue about things called money and taxes.

The Gray’s ears tilted forward with interest. 
How does King Donovan solve these problems?

He guides the humans toward a concept called self-government, urging them to solve disagreements for themselves within the Council
.

A wise decision, humans must learn the art of compromise.  You seem to understand politics, Kriegen.
The Gray licked his muzzle. 
Do the Humans make progress?

It’s too soon to judge.
 
Using mind speech, Kriegen must be honest
. 
Change requires time.  King Donovan intervenes when the packs howl with discord.  We observe civilized tendencies emerging, but it may take many seasons to see the final results
.

The Gray scratched his ear in thought. 
And what of the evil one called Jarrack?  Have the scouts determined if he murdered the mind of the cub whose body he occupies?
  The Gray’s black-rimmed eyes peered into Kriegen eyes.

The cub grows like any youngster, adequately tended by his dam.  Our scouts detect Jarrack inside the young mind, but he has not killed the host.
  Kriegen felt doubts but his mental voice did not betray him.

Keep the Council informed.  If the mind of the cub dies, we must take steps to rid ourselves of Jarrack’s evil
.
  The Gray lifted his nose and howled, joined by the harmonious voices of pack delegates.  Kriegen raised his own voice, knowing that the battle with Jarrack was not over.