Renegade Heart (12 page)

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nable to contain his anger and frustration a moment longer, Wolf slammed his fist into the nearest tree. How dare Fairac dismiss him the way he had, ordering him into the forest to walk off his temper like he was a disobedient child? He punched the tree a second time for good measure, hissing sharply between clenched teeth as the rough bark tore open the skin on his knuckles. Bringing his hand to his mouth he sucked the wound, savouring the pain.

Much as he hated to admit it, Fairac had a point. He had to calm down if he was to be able to think. If he was to prevent Enola from going to the city with the renegades then he needed a clear head.

He found a fallen tree trunk to sit on while he collected his thoughts and nursed his injured hand. Belatedly, he realised how stupid he had been. In a few hours’ time he would be riding into battle barely able to hold a sword because of his temper.

“Papa?”

Wolf’s head jerked round at the sound of the child’s voice. The boy stood on the far side of the clearing, his little face solemn as he studied his father through bright blue eyes. Wolf stared back, wondering how he could look upon his tiny son and feel absolutely nothing. No love, no warmth, no pride; just a bitter emptiness and– yes, even jealousy that the child took up so much of Enola’s time and love. What if she loved the little brat more than she loved him? Maybe it would have been different if the boy resembled his mother just a little bit, but there was nothing of Enola in his big sapphire eyes and unruly black hair.

“Go back to your mother, boy,” Wolf said, not unkindly he thought, but the child scowled and moved further into the clearing. “I mean it. Go back to camp.”

The boy stopped, standing just in front of his father. The two of them glared at each other in silence and Wolf realised the child was every bit as stubborn and strong willed as he had always been.

“I don’t like you,” the boy said.

Despite his son’s sudden announcement, Wolf smiled softly. “That’s okay. I don’t like you much either.”

“I like Lark,” the boy continued and, being a child of just three turns, he failed to see the smile slip from Wolf’s face or notice how dangerously still his father had become. “I wish he was my papa and not you.”

Later, when he had time to think it over, Wolf would swear to himself he had not meant to react the way he did. He did not intend to lash out or to strike the child quite so hard. The boy did not even cry out. He just folded in a boneless heap at his father’s feet. His eyes fluttered weakly and then he was still.

Wolf slipped from his perch on the tree trunk and knelt on the hard ground next to the boy’s inert little body. Tentatively he reached out and shook thin Hawk’s shoulder.

“Hawk, wake up,” Wolf pleaded and it was not lost on him that it was the first time he had used the boy’s name. He shook him a little harder, his fear increasing as the boy failed to respond.

Wolf sat back on his heels and rubbed the heels of his hands across his smarting eyes. It was hopeless, he could see that now. The boy was never going to wake again, the life knocked from his small body with that single blow.

They would blame him, Wolf thought resentfully. Nobody would understand how the child had goaded him, taunted him even. They would not believe it had been an accident and even the renegades would not tolerate the presence of a man who had killed his own infant son. And what of Enola? She would never forgive him once she knew what he had done and that thought terrified him more than any other.

He could take the boy back to camp and tell them he had found him in the forest, that Hawk was already dead. He owed it to Enola to give her the chance to bury her child. But then they would see his bruised knuckles and the questions would start.

Alternatively, he could leave the boy where he lay. Pretend he had not seen him and let someone else stumble over the small body. He shook his head, dismissing the notion. It would end the same way whatever he did; the suspicion, the accusations and Enola hating him for the rest of his life. Which would not be very long given renegade justice was swift and brutal.

The only option left to him was for the boy to simply disappear. There would still be questions, but they could prove nothing without a body. Let them think the boy had too far into the forest and could not find his way back. They would search for him, naturally, but Wolf knew of a place where a body would never be found.

He scooped the lifeless child into his arms and stood, holding his son close to his chest. Looking down at the pallid little face he tried hard to feel some emotion and failed. There was nothing. There never had been, Wolf realised. His whole life, he had never felt anything but anger and resentment toward the people he met. The only one he had ever cared about –
would
ever care about – was Enola. She could never know what he had done to her child.

Wolf walked for more than an hour, his step never faltering. Few of the renegades ventured this far into the forest, not liking the way the branches of the tall trees wove together like a roof, creating dark menacing shadows. For Wolf, who had spent his whole life seeking out places he could hide from the world, the shadows held no fear. He pushed further into the trees until he finally came to the edge of a deep chasm, a long narrow fissure gouging the earth through the forest. In his younger days, Wolf had explored as much as he dared, climbing down the steep sides of the fissure wherever it was wide enough to fit a grown man. Despite his efforts he had never once reached the bottom.

He stood on the lip of the chasm, his heart pounding. For the first time he felt a vague stirring of emotion. Whether it was guilt or grief he did not care to know. There was no time for sentiment, no turning back. He had chosen his course and all that mattered was Enola. He would do whatever it took to keep her.

His mind made up, Wolf let his arms fall open and watched unmoved as Hawk’s body tumbled into the blackness below.

A steady rain had started to fall by the time Enola returned to camp with her search party. On the far side of the camp she saw Wolf emerge from the trees and her eyes dropped immediately to his side, praying to the Gods she would see a familiar little figure trotting in his wake. Her heart sank as she saw Wolf was obviously alone.

Enola flew across the camp and launched herself into the young renegade’s arms, closing her eyes as he folded his arms around her and held her tightly against his chest.

“Is Hawk with you?” she asked desperately, despite the fact she had already seen for herself that he was not.

Wolf shook his head. “I’m afraid we’re not the best of friends after this morning. Besides, I thought he was with Krisha.”

“She swears she only turned her back for a moment.” Enola began to cry. “When she turned back he had gone.”

“He can’t have gone far,” Wolf answered calmly, speaking with an air of maturity she would not have expected from him. “Where have you looked?”

“Everywhere,” Enola wept. “The men are still out searching. Wolf, I’m so afraid he’s lying hurt somewhere. Otherwise why doesn’t he come when I call?”

“Listen to me,” Wolf said gently, tilting her chin until she was looking into his deep blue eyes. She wished she could see what he was thinking, but his expression was as inscrutable as ever. She hated that he hid behind this mask of indifference even when he was talking to her. “I ran away all the time when I was a boy, you remember? I never came when you called either.”

“You were older than Hawk. He’s just three turns.”

“I don’t know what I was like at three turns,” Wolf argued. “And neither do you. The point is, he’ll come back when he’s hungry, just as I always did.”

Enola wanted so badly to believe him, but she felt sick to her stomach with worry. She had never been apart from Hawk for so long and there had never been a time when he had not come running at her bidding. In her heart, she knew what Wolf said made sense, but in her heart she was sure some ill must have befallen the boy to prevent him making his way back to the camp.

She felt Wolf stiffen and turned her head to see Magnosa and Fairac striding across the camp towards them followed by some of the renegades and whores. The sombre set of their faces told her they too had failed to find Hawk.

She saw the way several of the men looked at Wolf and understood why he had reacted so defensively on seeing them. His own men no longer trusted him, suspicious of Ombar’s reasons for releasing him. Magnosa, of course, had never trusted him, still thinking him responsible for everything that had ever happened to Enola. Gripping Wolf’s hand tightly she stood by his side as the others approached.

“No sign,” Magnosa told her. “Lark and a couple of the men have gone further upstream.”

“What happened to your hand?” Fairac demanded of Wolf, spotting the injury immediately.

“I hit a tree.” Wolf held his bloodied and swollen hand out in front of him. “Twice.”

Magnosa rolled her eyes in disbelief. “And you’re sure you have not seen the child?”

“Of course he’s sure,” Enola burst out, pulling Wolf behind her protectively. It was bad enough that Hawk was missing without everyone thinking his father was somehow responsible.

“He was gone for hours,” Fairac said doubtfully.

“Doing as you ordered,” Wolf replied. “I was walking and thinking things over. I didn’t realise how long I had been away from camp. And I had no idea the boy was missing until I returned just now.” He grasped Enola’s shoulders and gently turned her to face him. “I know I have not done right by Hawk so far, but I intend to change that. From now on, I promise to be the best father and husband I can be.”

“Husband?” Enola echoed, ignoring the sharp tut of annoyance from Magnosa.

“If you’ll have me.”

“Of course I will. But, I’m sorry, Wolf, it can only be once our son is back with us.”

“We’ll find him,” Wolf promised. “And then we’ll be a proper family. Just the three of us.”

Enola smiled and rested her head against his shoulder. For her whole life she had dreamed of being Wolf’s wife. His timing was terrible, but when had Wolf ever been any different. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe the happy ending she desired was really possible. She wanted to believe so badly she chose not to notice how the promise in Wolf’s words was not matched by the cold indifference in his eyes.

An hour passed. Lark and his companions returned to camp cold, wet and empty handed. Enola had eventually been persuaded to rest and slept fitfully in her shelter. The heavy rain continued to beat down, driving the renegades under cover and turning the camp into a muddy swamp. Fairac came across Wolf moving purposefully among the tethered horses.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Wolf did not turn around. “I’m making ready the horses.”

“Have you taken leave of your senses?” Fairac snapped. “The forest is too dense to use the horses. Besides, darkness is almost upon us. You’ll never find Hawk on horseback.”

“I’m not looking for Hawk.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“I told you.” Wolf rounded on the renegade leader impatiently. “I’m making ready the horses and then I’m going to the city. Isn’t that what we planned?”

“Of course.” Fairac looked slightly shocked and Wolf suspected the man had actually forgotten their mission to rescue their fellow renegades. “Only that was before Hawk disappeared.”

Wolf sighed. “You said yourself it is almost dark. We can’t search for the boy tonight. If he has a brain at all in that little head of his, he will be curled up under a bush and waiting out this damned rain. In the morning, I have no doubt he will find his way home, just as I always did as a boy. If not, well then the women will stay here to continue the search.”

“You would turn your back on your own son?”

Seeing they had, despite the abysmal weather, attracted quite an audience, Wolf raised his voice when he answered, ensuring the men heard his words as clearly as Fairac.

“Are you turning yours on our renegade brothers? Would you let them die in order to stay here and search for a lost child?” Behind Fairac the men had begun to shift uncomfortably though it was difficult to tell whose side they would take if it came to having to make a choice. “I’ll go alone if I must,” Wolf continued, addressing all of those assembled. “And when I return with our comrades, I hope you will somehow find the courage to explain to them why you chose not to ride with me.”

“You don’t have to go alone.”

The crowd parted and, once again, Wolf was hit by a familiar surge of anger and hatred as Lark pushed his way through the men. Of all the men in camp the young renegade was the very last Wolf either wanted or expected to lend his support. On the other hand, he realised, it might be his best chance to rid himself of his rival once and for all. If only the two of them left the camp Wolf pledged Lark would not live long enough to reach the city.

“Wolf is right,” Lark said and Wolf bristled at the casual use of his name. Where had the new found confidence come from? When had young Lark matured into the brave man who stood in front of the renegades? When he bedded another man’s woman, Wolf thought bitterly, that was what had changed him.

“We have to go to the city as planned,” Lark continued, and Wolf noticed how the men listened to him when he spoke now. Things had certainly changed in his absence. “If, when we return, Hawk is still missing, there will be more of us to search. We will take this forest apart tree by tree until we find him.”

The men murmured in agreement leaving Fairac with no choice but to concede. Within the hour the renegades rode out of camp leaving the women behind. Wolf glanced across at Lark. So one opportunity had been missed, but the battle at the castle would be noisy and confusing. People would die. He meant to make sure Lark would be one of them.