Victim of Fate (21 page)

A growl caused him to turn around. The elder
wolf stood atop the carcass with his hackles raised and teeth
bared. Alto knelt down and picked up his battered club and stared
at the elder wolf. The hunter lowered his club and dropped it back
to the snow.

"You keep that one; you earned it," Alto
said. He turned to the two dead wolves and frowned. He shrugged and
started toward them. "Not much meat, but we’ll make do."

"Why?"

Alto stopped and turned, confused at the
voice. The wind died away, leaving stillness for the voice to
carry. He saw only the wolf that stood atop the fallen animal. Its
fur lay smooth and its lupine lips were relaxed.

"I must be mad," Alto muttered. He turned
back away again and started to reach for the wolf he’d
strangled.

"You are young and fit; why would you not
take the caribou? I am old and slow, no match for a strong
hunter."

Alto twisted around again to see only the
wolf standing where the voice had come from. He glanced at the dead
animal, studying it so he knew what a caribou looked like. He
raised his eyes back to the wolf and wondered if he’d hit his head
while fighting the wolves. "I didn’t kill the caribou; I killed
these wolves. You killed the caribou; you earned it."

"The spoils of the hunt go to the
strongest."

Alto shrugged. "I believe in keeping what
you’ve fought for and what you’ve earned. There’s enough for both
of us, even if yours is bound to taste better."

"This is not the way of the hunt."

"Maybe it should be," Alto challenged.
"Anyhow, it’s my way. You want to fight—you come at me and I’ll
fight you; otherwise, I’ve lost enough blood and my hand’s torn up
pretty bad."

Alto raised his hand and stared at it again.
Why was his hand not working? The wolf had bitten him on the arm,
not the hand. He reached across and tried to pull the fur sleeve up
but found the fingers on his right hand weren’t responding either.
Alto stared at his hands while his heart began to beat so loudly
and fast he could feel it in his chest. The fear he’d felt earlier
returned. Was this real? Were his hands useless?

"You’re a wolf." Alto raised his eyes to the
wolf and breathed the words out. "Wolves can’t talk. I’m not mad;
I’m dreaming. My hands are frozen and dead. None of this is
real."

The wolf stepped off the caribou and walked
toward Alto. Each step kicked up snow that swirled around the beast
and obscured it. Alto could see the shape shifting and growing as
it approached him until the snow fell away to reveal a tall man
wearing the pelts of many animals and adorned with a necklace full
of animal teeth.

"Saint Preth?" Alto whispered.

"I am but a shadow," he said with the same
voice the wolf had spoken with. "A reflection in the water."

"I came seeking to restore my hands so that I
could fight for my people. I’m not of the Snowbear clan, but I
believe my quest will save them from great evil as well," Alto
said. He stared at the imposing man who came to a stop before him.
"Um, should I kneel?"

The man’s smile did not reach his eyes as he
asked, "Do you kneel?"

Alto frowned. "No, I guess I don’t," he said.
"I’m respectful; I just don’t give my allegiance blindly."

"Confidence, strength, and skill are
admirable. You risk arrogance," the avatar stated. "Go back to your
people. Your heart is filled with courage and fairness. Take care
that it is not your undoing."

Alto frowned. How could being just and fair
cause him fault? Well, he’d nearly gotten in over his head several
times now because of his insistence on doing the right thing, but
he didn’t think the vision of the saint before him was warning him
of that. He opened his mouth to respond but the snow burst up
around him and the wind whipped it into a sudden maelstrom that
sucked the breath from him. The blizzard became overwhelming,
preventing him from seeing anything until he realized that it
wasn’t just snow anymore. The whiteness took him and swallowed him
up until he knew no more.

Arguing voices roused Alto. He blinked his
eyes as he heard Patrina say, "I am a lady of the Kelgryn! You will
not think to treat me as cattle to be traded or won in a game of
sport. That man in there has more courage and nobility than you
will ever dream of! He risks his life to help three nations of
people. What claim can you make that would compete?"

"A real man worries about his family first,"
Garrick’s voice responded. "Pity he’s not whole enough for me to
challenge him. In these lands, strength and skill are what matter,
not fine words and impossible promises."

"Impossible! You don’t know the first thing
of impossible! You’re impossible, you oaf!"

Alto threw back the blanket made from bear
fur and rolled to his feet. When they hit the cool dirt, he
realized his boots had been removed. He flexed his toes and stared
at them. They looked healthy and normal, although the cool ground
chilled them. Alto grinned and pulled his hands up before his face.
His fingers curled when he flexed them and they looked like he
remembered them from before his run-in with the mercenary
brothers.

Garrick’s growl and Trina’s cry reminded him
of his situation. He cast about and saw his boots sitting nearby,
with his chain armor and sword lying in a pile beside them. He
pulled his boots on without bothering to lace them and then climbed
to his feet and made certain he still wore his breeches and
shirt.

Alto threw open the animal hide that served
as a flap over the healer’s hut and stepped out. He blinked against
the sun that shone from the east, telling him he’d slept through
the night. Garrick stood nearby with his hands clenched into fists
at his side. Patrina had her sword drawn and pressed against his
chest. Alto saw her nostrils flaring and a flush in her cheeks.

"I’m whole now; how about that challenge?"
Alto asked the barbarian.

Garrick stepped back and turned to face him.
Before he could say anything, Patrina slammed into him, squeezing
him so tight he thought he might need another dream visit from
Saint Preth.

Garrick stared down at him, his eyes cold. He
snorted and turned away. "You lived. Elgar wishes to see you."

Alto nodded and tried to disengage from
Patrina, but she wasn’t ready to let him go. "Let me get my
things."

Garrick turned away and started towards the
chief’s hut. Alto watched him go and then felt Patrina’s breath on
his cheek. "You infuriate and amaze me," she whispered. "Work on
doing more of the latter."

Alto smiled and separated them. "Yes, my
lady."

Patrina grinned at him and gently slapped his
face. "Go get your things; we’ve got to meet the chief."

Alto nodded and headed back into the hut. He
tied his boots before donning his chain hauberk and girding his
sword back on. He paused when he saw a length of green cloth
embroidered with yellow thread in the shape of flowers lying on the
ground. A glance at his wrist confirmed that Aleena’s ribbon had
been removed. He looked about but could not find it. Alto smiled,
and then shook his head.

What was Patrina doing? She liked him, he was
certain of it, but she’d as much as told him that their stations
would never allow anything but friendship. The only way would be if
she were to leave her people behind and he would never ask her to
do that. She had responsibilities that she would not cast aside. He
admired that about her.

Alto picked up the ribbon and walked out of
the hut, comfortable with the weight of his armor pressing against
his chest and shoulders. When he emerged, Patrina’s eyes went to
his hand and then dropped to the dirty snow at her feet.

"I don’t remember this," Alto said, holding
up the ribbon. He followed her eyes and realized her dress was
shorter than it had been before. She’d torn the bottom off the
monogrammed material and left him a portion of it. Under courtly or
civilized circumstances, showing the small pants she wore under her
dress would have been scandalous.

"Oh! I must have dropped it when I placed
your armor beside you," Patrina stumbled.

"It’s pretty," Alto said, his mouth dry. "If
you don’t need it, it seems I’ve lost a ribbon."

Patrina looked up at him and met his eyes. He
saw the redness in her cheeks and a reflection of the sun in her
blue eyes. She blinked the moisture away and said, "You’ve saved me
over and again, Alto. Whether we like it or not, it seems you’re my
champion. You should be recognized as such."

"Your champion?" Alto echoed. He felt a
weight in his stomach that confused him. Was that all he was to be,
her servant? "I pledged myself to your father already."

"That’s all right," she blurted out quickly.
"I mean, he’ll understand and be quick to approve of this."

"What does this mean, exactly?" Alto
asked.

"The chief is waiting!" Garrick shouted from
across the clearing in the middle of the small village.

"We should go," Patrina said, turning
away.

Alto grabbed her hand and pulled her back.
"I’ll do it."

She smiled and took the ribbon from him, and
then tied it about his arm. She finished with a hasty kiss on his
cheek. "Thank you. I feel safer already."

Alto chuckled when Patrina spun away and
started working towards the chief’s hut. He hurried after her,
struggling to match her long-legged stride. "Why am I worried I’m
going to need someone to protect me? You have a habit of getting
yourself into trouble."

"Well, you’ll just have to stay by my side
all the time then," Patrina said. She flashed him a smile and
winked, and then composed her face before turning back to face the
scowling barbarian who held open the door to the chief’s house.

Alto blinked to let his eyes adjust to the
darker interior of the chief’s hut. Elgar sat in his chair and
Arcan, the healer, stood beside him. "Well met, lad," Arcan said.
"Never seen it before, though our legends tell of it being
done."

"You spoke with Saint Preth?" Elgar
demanded.

Alto started to nod his head and then he
stopped. "He said he was a reflection in a pond of Saint Preth,
whatever that means."

Arcan laughed. "Preth is a saint, boy! To
reveal himself to a mortal man would drive you blind or mad, if not
dead. You saw just a hint of him, only as much as he allowed you to
see without destroying you."

"I’m honored."

"You’re more than honored, boy!" Elgar
snapped. "It’s been generations since any of the Snowbear clan have
had such a vision. I hoped it would be my honor, but I’ve grown old
and the cold settles deep in my bones. Then I hoped it would be my
son, but he is rash and quick to action before thought. He offered
to accompany you before out of anger. Now I hold him to that.
Garrick will join you, and I hope you might teach him some
humility."

Garrick swore loudly and spat on the ground.
"He is not one of us! I will not heed him!"

Alto and Patrina glanced at each other,
sharing their surprise at Elgar’s proclamation. "Chief Elgar, it
might be better if we went alone," Patrina began. "We are familiar
with these creatures and the underground mines; we’ve fought in
them before. If there is any problem between us, it could spell
doom for us all."

Elgar slammed his hand against the arm of his
chair. "No! He will not fail. No matter how angry or rash he may
be, he will not bring shame on his clan." Elgar’s eyes swept across
all of them, catching and dwelling on Garrick the longest. "You
will journey together and the saints will decide if you’re
worthy."

Patrina opened her mouth but Alto spoke
first. "Of course, Chief. Garrick is welcome to accompany us. I
thank you for your wisdom. Our enemies will tremble before
him."

Elgar chuckled. "There will be much to learn
on this hunt. Go, all of you, and do not return without news of
this threat you prophesy."

Alto nodded and Patrina curtsied. They turned
and left then waited outside for Garrick to join them. "Hard to
imagine where Garrick gets his temper," Patrina whispered.

Alto coughed to cover his chuckle when the
door flew open and Garrick stormed out. He turned to glare at them.
The barbarian had a sword across his back wrapped in a wolfskin
scabbard and an axe that hung from his hip that looked large enough
to fell a tree with.

"Come, the mines are this way," Garrick said.
"Try to keep up."

"Garrick, Alto hasn’t had more than a few
swallows of water or scarcely anything to eat for days. Can’t we
break our fast first?" Patrina asked.

Garrick turned to stare at the famished
warrior. Alto met his gaze and shrugged. "I’m fine," he said.

"He said he’s fine. A real man can handle
missing a meal or two. Come, we’re wasting time."

Patrina’s eyes narrowed as he turned away and
started to walk. She said nothing but her look shared her thoughts
of the man. Alto smiled and nodded with his head for them to follow
their new companion.

They walked through the morning, pausing only
twice to drink and for Garrick to relieve himself in the woods.
Patrina’s wide eyes shared her shock at his crass behavior. Alto
shrugged it away, reminding himself that they were visitors in a
land with strange customs. It wasn’t until Garrick leered at
Patrina that he felt his own cheeks heat with anger. Before he
could speak on it, the barbarian pushed on and led them through the
snow towards the hills.

The sun had barely passed overhead when
Garrick stopped and stared off to his right. The hill sloped away
in that direction and showed a group of the large-bodied caribou
that Alto had seen in his vision. He felt his mouth watering at the
thought of the meat the animals offered. His stomach rumbled loud
enough for Garrick to glance back at him and laugh. The noise made
the animals perk their ears up and look around. They sniffed the
air and took off at a gallop, kicking up snow behind them as they
raced through the trees to safety.