The Sorcerer's Vengeance: Book 4 of the Sorcerer's Path (39 page)

As the former captain of the King’s Blackguard assigned to protect Jarvin’s father, something not even his employers knew, he had avoided any personal attachments during his service and prayed that she would return. He knew she was not going to return this day and likely not for some time to come. He had never felt such intense feelings for a woman as he felt for Hati, and the sensation unsettled him more than just slightly. Jansen was unable to put his finger on the source of his sudden ardor for such an unusual yet captivating creature. He hoped she did not possess some innate charm ability like a siren or nymph.

Perhaps it was because for the first time in years his mind was able to focus upon something other than his duty. For nearly ten years he sought the Rook so that he could fulfill his vow to kill the man. That quest came to a bitter end when the assassin got himself killed by a lowly goblin.

He could still not believe it. Ever since he had failed in his duty to protect Jarvin’s father from the deadly killer, Jansen had made it his life’s focus to achieve that vendetta. After several near misses then completely losing the trail, he had attached himself to the sorcerer’s friend, figuring that their paths would cross one day.

He tucked his personal thoughts and feelings deep into the recesses of his mind, just as he has done by necessity so many times in the past that it was a perfectly natural state for him. This time, it seemed just a bit more difficult to shut the lid on them. The bodyguard continued his patrols upon the wall. He could smell danger in the air, an acrid sort of tension that seemed to cast a pall across the land. He just wondered when the source of it would finally show itself.

***

Wolf and Ghost plodded through what were probably the last snows of winter even though spring should have arrived weeks ago. It was still cold and the snow would not likely melt for another few weeks, but he and Ghost had been cooped up inside the keep far longer than either of them could tolerate.

Wolf enjoyed the clean cold air blowing on his face and filling his lungs. He hoped he might bag a nice winter hare or two today. Ghost suddenly stopped and stared towards the south as a deep, low rumbling filling his massive chest.

“You feel it too don’t you, boy?” Wolf asked. “Someone is in our woods that don’t belong. I thought it was just my nerves from being cooped up too long, but it’s not, is it?”

Ghost glanced up at his half-elf friend with his golden eyes then stared south once more.

“I didn’t think so. Let’s go see what it is.”

The snow was still fairly deep even beneath the thick bough of the evergreen trees as they walked south in search of whatever it was that disturbed the spirit of his forest. Wolf wore a pair of snowshoes he made from deer sinew and soft pine branches earlier in the season. He did manage to take down a winter hare and a pair of grouse with his bow, for which he was grateful. He knew he would not find whoever or whatever it was that he was looking for before nightfall.

Wolf found a good hollow under a young evergreen and shoveled out the remaining snow until he managed to reach dirt and old pine needles and cleared a large enough space for the two of them. He then kindled a small fire inside the hollow and roasted the two birds and the rabbit. Wolf dropped a fist-sized chunk of coal from his fire kit onto the fire that would stay smoldering and giving off heat for hours and quickly fell asleep.

Wolf found himself loping through the snow-covered woods. Because the pristine white snow covered nearly everything, it took several minutes before he realized that he was colorblind. He saw that where the snow had fallen from some of the tree branches the needle-covered limbs were a dark grey, not green.

His lack of color vision was far from a handicap. Whatever has happened to him, he can see more shades of grey than he thought were possible. He could also hear with amazing acuity and the scents that came to his nose were so strong and concise that it was almost like a second type of vision.

His view was also oriented lower to the ground than he was accustomed to. He looked down and saw his broad black chest and forefeet. He was not Wolf but Ghost. The feeling was strange but exhilarating. Wolf-Ghost caught the scent of a deer and raced off in the direction from which it came. He could tell just by the smell that there was a buck and at least two doe not far from where he stood.

His delicate nose picked up the scent of fear that suddenly roiled off the prey animals as their own acute hearing detected the sound of his careless charge. Wolf-Ghost caught a flash of movement ahead and saw the broad, white rumps of the deer spring away into the woods. Wolf-Ghost laughed aloud but it sounded more like a yip and was about to give chase when another scent intruded onto his senses—smoke, men, and horses and not far away.

He resisted his chase instinct and moved towards the source of the smell but with much more caution than he had the deer. The scent of a lone human separated itself from the others. It was stronger, closer. Wolf-Ghost crept nearer, skirting around the base of the trees so his black coat would not stand out so much and would appear as just another shadow.

He heard the human’s breathing before he saw him. He was dressed in white and grey clothing and furs, blending in with the surroundings quite well. Wolf-Ghost knew that he would have to get past this human if he were going to be able to see who else was in his woods without his permission. Though technically outside the area he frequently marked as his own, in both his forms, he still considered these his woods and he did not tolerate interlopers—especially ones that stank of foul intent as these did.

The human was vigilant but he did not belong here as Wolf-Ghost did. He was out of his element and it was going to cost him dearly. Wolf-Ghost was able to creep within a few paces of the man before the human turned and saw the crouched black form against the base of a nearby tree.

The human tried to pull one the long, steel claw-fangs hanging from his side but Wolf-Ghost was faster. Before the human could shout a warning to the rest of his pack, Wolf-Ghost’s powerful jaws pierced the soft flesh of the man’s throat and crushed his windpipe, riding the falling body to the ground.

The human was dead before his head hit the snow. Bright red blood, dark grey to his wolf eyes, ruined the pristine snow all around the body. Wolf-Ghost’s black coat did not show the blood that covered his jaws and chest but he could taste it. It was not the pleasant taste of his usual prey food but it was not altogether vile.

He followed the human’s tracks back towards the rest of his pack, more by smell than by the sight of the prints, but he could use those too. Even when he was just Ghost, he knew what tracks looked like and could decipher their meaning. Within minutes, he saw the dying fires of the humans and the dens the humans made of hides that came from plants.
Canvas,
the Wolf part of Wolf-Ghost said in his bilateral mind.

The pack was huge, bigger than any he had seen outside of a human city. The count was beyond his ability to reason, but he knew that this was the source of his troubles. He had to warn the rest of his pack. Wolf-Ghost decided it was best to get back to his own den, but he picked up the scent of another lone human not far from the first one he killed.

Well, I have time for one more,
he thought and set out to leave another example of how he dealt with intruders in
his
forest.

Wolf awoke from the strange but wonderful dream with a yawn and a stretch. He smacked his lips at the coppery taste that filled his mouth like the shadow of memory. He plucked a pinch of young pine needles from the tree and chewed them, quickly taking care of the strange morning taste. He squinted at the darkness and felt around for Ghost but the wolf was not here.

Probably went out to expand his territory again. Not a bad idea come to think of it.

He laid his hand onto the silver wolf’s head pommel of his short sword and was surprised to find that it was warm to the touch.

It was probably under Ghost and he just left.

Wolf gave his chest and arms a quick scratch then crawled out from under the thick boughs of the young tree. Rough hands suddenly grabbed him and lifted him to his feet. Wolf cast a startled glance behind him and looked into the fur-hooded face of the man that held his arms tightly to his sides.

“What do we have here?” a second man with a drawn sword asked in amusement. “You ain’t no wolf!”

“I am so!” Wolf shot back.

“Ya look more like a wood rat than the wolf we tracked back here. What do ya know about that, boy?”

Wolf dropped to his knees without warning, slipping from the man’s grip that held him, rolled to the side, and drew his small sword.

“I know you orc lovers better leave me alone,” Wolf warned, brandishing the masterly crafted shortsword with much more bravado than skill.

Both men grinned disdainfully at the half-elf’s bluster and the one with his sword drawn spoke. “Now ain’t that a pretty little thing. Am I supposed to be scared of a little boy with a pretty little knife?”

“I would be more afraid of Ghost if I were you,” Wolf replied to the man’s taunt.

“I’m a man grown, boy, ghosts don’t scare me none no more.”

“Well I guess that will be the last mistake you ever make then.”

Before the man could reply, a black blur leapt out of the trees, pinning his sword arm uselessly against his chest as he fell and Ghost found his throat. Wolf lunged forward and slashed at the other man before he could even get his own blade halfway clear of its sheath. The wolf-headed sword sliced through the thick fur coat and steel-linked armor as if it were made of paper. Blood blossomed in a thick line across the man’s midsection as he dropped to his knees then fell facedown into the snow.

“I think it’s time to go, Ghost.”

Wolf gathered his bow and quiver and strapped on his snowshoes, never noticing the dark, dried blood that covered Ghost’s chest. He looked at the bodies of the two men, unaffected by the sight of their blood.

Definitely not from around here; too tan and they stink.

Wolf and Ghost began the long trek through the snow back the way they came. Wolf knew all he needed to know and was in a hurry to get back and tell Azerick. Whatever these men were doing, it was not going to be good for the school or North Haven.

Wolf returned to the keep late that afternoon and sought out Azerick and the others. He was doubly lucky in that it was almost time for the evening meal. That way they would all be together and he could fill his hungry belly.

Wolf and Ghost strode into the dining hall, took a seat without preamble, and began helping himself to everything within reach, fixing a second plate for Ghost and setting it on the floor. He did not like that Ghost was required to eat on the floor like an animal, but Allister got mad last time he set him a place at the table with the rest of them.

Humans, go figure,
he thought.

“It is nice to see you actually sitting at the table and not darting out from under it to steal a ham or swinging down from the rafters,” Azerick said from the head of the table.

Wolf just shrugged and shoveled food into his mouth with inexpert use of the metal utensils. Yet another reason he rarely ate at the table with the others.

“There are people in my woods—men,” Wolf finally said once he slowed down with his eating.

“I imagine there are from time to time. Does this surprise you for some reason?” Azerick asked.

Wolf shook his head as he bolted down a large piece of roast. “There are a lot of men. I killed some, one, and Ghost killed three—although I may have killed three and him one, not sure. Maybe we should split the first two.”

All conversation stopped and every eye suddenly turned to look at the young man still eating, seemingly unperturbed by what he just said.

“You don’t know if you killed one or three?” Azerick asked.

“I don’t know, maybe it was a dream, I’m not sure.”

Azerick spoke with measured slowness. “Who did you kill, Wolf?”

“Some men; soldiers from the looks of them—guards, maybe scouts. Definitely scouts I think. They had a really big camp with lots of tents and horses.” Wolf glanced out of the corner of his eye towards the ceiling. “I think there were anyway, but that may have been a dream too but I don’t think so; not
just
a dream anyway.”

It was Aggie who spoke next. “Wolf, what do you mean by you think it was a dream and what did you see?”

Wolf shook his head as he swallowed nearly half a potato, barely chewing it. “I went to sleep, I think, and then I was Ghost. I chased some deer then I smelled humans. I killed a guard and saw a huge camp with lots of tents and horses. When I woke up two men grabbed me. Ghost killed one and I killed the other with my sword. By the way, have you found my present yet for those feathers?”

“No, Wolf, I have yet to find something appropriate,” Azerick replied in exasperation.

Aggie looked at Ghost who was peering over the top of the table as if he were following the conversation. He yawned widely, his tongue jutting out and curling, and ended it with a squeak.

“What do you make of that, Aggie?” Allister asked his lady friend.

“I think we had best heed the young man’s warning. I won’t pretend to fully understand what he is talking about in regards to the dreams, but I think he has seen enough that we would be foolish not be ready and quickly.”

Azerick nodded at her suggestion. “I agree. Coupled with the news Zeb brought and what I saw with my own eyes, I think we need to be extra vigilant and warn North Haven as well. Wolf, how far away were they and how many do you think there were?”

“It took me the entire day to get back so figure two, maybe three days for them. I’m not sure how many men. There were tents for as far as I could see and I could see pretty far with Ghost’s eyes. At least as many humans as I have ever seen in one place before and several hundred horses.”

“Bags, hundreds of horses and likely not even their entire force,” Allister muttered.