Karn did not move.
The wolves of the patrol walked to the hillside edge, peered down the hill at Karn, then at Blood. Arana’s wiilfbunde bit his paw, reopened the wound, and dragged a red line in the dirt. Blood shied away, paced near the edge, finally sat. He looked down at Karn, moaned.
Arana’s wiilfbunde licked at the newest wounds of Karn’s lashes, where the gash had been reopened, fur had been stripped. Arana’s wiilfbunde bared teeth, growled at Karn. The black wolf drew a line in the dirt, then the brown, then the mottle-furred. Arana’s wъlfbunde put a paw near the line in the dirt, started to drag another line to form a cross.
Blood snarled, clenched his jaws over the wolfs paw before the cross could be finished, pushed the other wolf away. Blood barked at the other wolves, then carefully edged over the edge of the hillside, inched his way to the bottom. Blood poked his muzzle under Karn’s chin, took hold of the scout’s uniform shirt in his teeth, and shook.
Karn lifted his head. He breathed deeply, tried to raise himself. Blood forced his body behind the man’s back and lifted. Karn raised himself to a sitting position. Waited, then stood. His right leg was weak but supported his weight.
“The Dark is not in me, Blood. The others don’t understand. You do. You know. The Bond between us is strong.”
Blood circled his master, yelped. Karn put his left arm back into his shirt, fastened his shirt over his arm to ensure it would not slip out. He checked himself for new abrasions, found the wound in his shoulder was bleeding again. The bandage around his throat was damp on the outside. Blood sat, panting. Karn touched his canines to his lip, stared at his wiilfbunde, removed the rod from his belt.
“Never have you failed me twice,” Karn said. “You are the best of all wulfbunde. By dagger and fang, you are the best. With you, I have long been blessed by Canus. I will remind you.”
Karn raised the rod and struck Blood once. Blood howled, the other wulfbunde howled. The Forsaken heard and howled in return. Blood stumbled away, ran in a circle, bit, and licked his flank where the rod had struck. The wolf spat, barked fury at his master, moaned, crawled and leaped up, barked again. Karn replaced the rod at his side, checked the bandage at his throat, securing the end.
“I am off to find the Forsaken,” Karn said. He left Blood standing.
The wolves of the patrol made their way down the hillside wall after Karn was gone. Blood limped. Arana’s wъlfbunde drew a red line in the dirt. Blood bit his own paw, crossed the line, judgment on his master made.
Karn followed the howl of the Forsaken. He put weight on his left leg, dragged and hopped on his right. His left arm was still secure in his shirt. He held his last dagger in his right hand. The Lords of Doom shook the leaves. Their light faded with the dawn.
The undergrowth was constant and not high. The path Karn found was clear-crushed leaves, snapped branches, curving around north, west. The hillside’s base sloped back up toward Neraka. Karn was forced to work harder.
His uniform shirt was dark with his sweat and blood. The bandage around his neck was wet near the wound, dry where the cloth had once been soaked. The end of the bandage was loose. Karn kept his pace steady. He used the trees to support himself. He didn’t stop moving. He bared his canines and breathed quickly. The forest was quiet.
The Forsaken’s path led back to the original encampment. The fire was still lit. The cross in the dirt made by Arana had not been blown away by the wind. Karn did not enter the encampment. He hunched by a tree, scouted. He held his dagger to his chest, waited, stood.
From behind, the Forsaken leaped on Karn, forcing him into the encampment.
Karn twisted, brought the dagger around as he fell on his back. The edge of the blade caught the Forsaken on the bridge of the nose, bone cracking, skin shorn. The Forsaken howled, dropped on top of Karn with a knee, breaking ribs.
The Forsaken pinned Karn’s arm with a knee, bared bloody canines, and struggled to reach Karn’s throat. Karn struck with his left leg, tumbled the Forsaken up and over. The Forsaken rolled, twisted, jumped to his feet.
The wolves of the patrol stood behind the Forsaken. Blood stood behind the cross in the dirt, Karn’s lashings still fresh on the wolfs body.
Karn turned, got to his feet, dagger ready. He looked past the Forsaken into Blood’s eyes, at the cross in the dirt. Karn understood.
“I, too, have been judged,” he said. “By dagger and fang.”
Blood bared his canines and growled.
The Forsaken snarled, charged forward, broke Karn’s wrist, dagger falling. Karn spat and howled, drove his left heel into the ground for support. The Forsaken forced Karn backward into a tree. Karn snarled, struggled, dodged as the Forsaken tore and missed, gouging bark from the tree. The Forsaken pinned Karn by the throat.
Blood leaped, breaking the Forsaken’s hold on Karn. The wolfs jaws ripped, tore at the Forsaken’s throat, finding arteries, finding veins and tearing them loose. The Forsaken staggered, holding the wolf upright, the two stepping sideways, backward. Blood’s muzzle was covered, dripping, from the Forsaken’s wounds. The Forsaken raged, slowed, stumbled, toppled backward.
Blood breathed heat into the Forsaken’s face. The Forsaken growled at the wolf, did not move. Blood’s chest heaved with breath. Waited.
The Forsaken wept. Growled, snarled and clawed the air.
Karn sank to the ground. “Why, wulfbunde?” he asked Blood. “Your judgment was made.”
Karn heard the Forsaken laugh, choke around the blood flooding his throat. “In the Age of Might, the Dark Queen brought us the word of Canus. Canus brought us the Bond between wъlfbunde and master.”
Blood backed away from the Forsaken, turning to Karn. The wolf walked slowly to Karn, shuffled, put his head in Karn’s lap, forced his head beneath Karn’s hand. Karn tried to brush his fingers against Blood’s fur, but could not make his fingers move. Blood moaned, brown eyes meeting Karn’s.
Blood’s ears twitched. He lifted his head, coughed, lowered his head again. Karn listened. The patrol was nearby. He could hear the other wulfbunde leading their masters to where he lay.
The Forsaken tried to move, lay still. He said, “The Bond is the bond of love. The Dark cannot break the Bond. Above all things, a man loves his wolf.”
Karn looked into Blood’s eyes and understood. “The Dark cannot break the Bond,” Karn said. “Above all things, a wolf loves his man.”
A twist of the knife
The snow came at her in a blur-icy shards stinging her face and hands, turning her skin a hurtful pink and chasing her farther into the folds of a tattered woolen cloak. She had no hood or hat, and her long hair whipped about, spun silver dancing madly with the keening wind.
She didn’t have to be out in this weather. She could have stayed in the goatherds’ village, claiming a spot by a cozy hearth and eating her fill of something warm and reasonably tasty. But she was driven this night, like the snow was driven, and so she struggled to pick up the pace along a narrow path where the drifts were a foot deep in places.
It was the onset of winter in Neraka’s Broken Chain Mountains. In the foothills and in the rest of the country there was likely only a dusting of snow-and perhaps no snow at all in the southern parts of the Dark Knight-held land.
But this brutal storm is not so bad, certainly not as bad as others face, she told herself, as if her thoughts might somehow soften the wind’s vicious bite. People she knew in Southern Ergoth, where the white dragon Frost held sway, faced weather like this-or worse- every day of the year. Word was they had blizzards so fierce that no man could last outside for more than a few minutes, and she was lasting-and walking- making headway toward the next village.