Storm Wolf Page 8

  Alexei pawed at the earth in frustration. “We are both the same—forced to kill and then forced to leave our homes! I understand you, Spīdala! I know your torment!” he tried to cry out to her, but only the whines and whimpers of a wolf came from his throat. “I need you to free me from the wolf magic!” he tried to tell her, but only more whimpers could be heard.

  The Master of Wolves looked from Spīdala to Alexei and back again, then burst out in guffaws. “Both of you!” he laughed. “Such miserable creatures, both of you! You shall both now serve me—you, vilkatis, until you have paid your debt for the animals you have killed and eaten without my permission, and you, girl, shall be my ward until I decide that you are not.” He turned and hobbled away on his crutch.

  “Eat her if you wish, wolf. Or not. It matters not to me.” The Master kept limping away. “You shall get nothing to eat from me except whatever weeds and vegetables you find. You shall have no meat while you are working off your debt to me, except her flesh.”

  Alexei heard him but kept his eyes fixed on the weeping girl. “How can I make her understand?” he demanded of himself.

  “But while you decide whether to eat her or not, you will both come with me!” snapped the Master back at them, over his shoulder. Alexei felt the snap of a leash and collar about his neck, calling him to attention, and he cried out involuntarily as his head was wrenched around toward the Master limping away through the forest. Alexei quickly turned to follow, trotting a few steps behind the Master.

  Spīdala also seemed to be snapped forward as if on a leash held by the Master and dragged behind him. She and Alexei fell into a rhythm walking beside each other, and it was not long before she was resting her hand on his furry shoulder and then, not long after that, Alexei felt her working her fingers down deep through the thick wolf fur and wrapping it around her fingers. Alexei liked that she trusted and dared to touch him; he had not felt anyone’s touch since that terrible Midsummer night when he had slain his family. He glanced up at her and caught her looking down at him. They smiled at each other and simultaneously let go a sigh of relief that they had each found a friend while caught in the miserable company of the Master of Wolves.

  The Master led Alexei and Spīdala through the woods that night until the shadows crawled back into the underbrush and streaks of sunlight filtered through the leafy canopy above them. Birds chirped and called to one another. Alexei’s haunches ached from walking all night and his paws felt raw on the earth. Spīdala was beginning to stumble alongside him, exhaustion overwhelming her as well. Only the Master, limping on his crutch ahead, seemed unchallenged by the night-long hike he had taken them on.

  The trees thinned and the Master led them out to the edge of a series of fields, the harvest clearly having begun, but none of the workers had yet arrived that morning to begin the day’s work. The morning air smelled fresh and clean after the storm Alexei had driven off. Alexei blinked and dropped his head, rubbing his eyes with one paw as he whimpered.

  The Master pointed with his crutch to the barns set at one end of the fields. “You two will find a place to sleep in the hayloft of one of those barns,” he instructed. “I will find you later this evening. Do not try to run away,” he warned them, turning back to them and making a fist. Alexei felt his throat tighten and constrict again, as if a gallows rope had been looped over his head and was being pulled taut by a hangman. Spīdala clasped her throat as well, coughing and sputtering as if she felt the same. The Master released his fist and the sensation was gone, Alexei and Spīdala both gasping for air.

  “I will come after dusk,” the Master reminded them and hobbled back into the forest.

  Alexei and Spīdala stood at the edge of the fields for a moment longer and then made their way along the edge of the trees towards the barns, where they did climb into one of the haylofts and quickly fell asleep in a corner beneath the eaves.

  The hayloft was draped with shadows when Alexei awoke. Something had startled him in his otherwise dreamless slumber. He lifted his head and sniffed. Something smelled bad. Wrong. Spīdala stirred in the hay beside him. Then he recognized the stench of the Master of Wolves.

  “Come down, vilkatis,” called the Master from the empty cattle stalls below them. “Bring the wench Spīdala with you. You both have work to do tonight.”

  Alexei nuzzled Spīdala, still half-asleep in the hay. She stirred again and stretched, then sat up and rubbed her eyes. It seemed to take her a moment or two to remember where she was. And why. Alexei could see the confusion in her face at first, and then her shoulders slumped and her head bowed down when she recalled that she was in the hayloft of a stranger’s barn and how she had come to take refuge there. She scratched behind Alexei’s ears and nuzzled her cheek against his.

  “Poor werewolf,” she murmured.

  “Poor Spīdala,” Alexei tried to answer, but the only sound that came from his throat was a rapid series of short, sharp yips. He hoped she understood what he meant to say.

  Spīdala stood and walked to the ladder leading down from the hayloft. She turned and gathered her skirt and apron in one hand, beginning to descend the rungs to the barn floor below. Alexei followed her to the edge of the loft and watched her descent. The last sunlight of the dusk was sliding into the barn from the open hatch above the great doors. He could see the dark figure that he knew was the Master of Wolves standing just outside the barn doors.

  Spīdala looked up at him from the bottom rung of the ladder. He had attempted to clamber up the ladder into the loft that morning but had been unable to do so in his wolf shape. So he had resorted to jumping into the air and then flying into the loft. Looking down the ladder to Spīdala now, Alexei knew that he would be even less able to climb down the rungs than he had been able to climb up. So he leaped into the air and gracefully sailed down to the hay-strewn floor below.

  “Well done, werewolf,” chuckled the Master of Wolves at him. “That is precisely how I mean to travel tonight. But first, I have brought you and the wench your supper.” He held out a basket whose contents were hidden beneath a linen napkin. Alexei and Spīdala hurried over to him. Spīdala took the basket from the Master’s hand and eagerly pulled back the napkin, revealing a dark rye loaf and a wedge of cheese as well as a flask of beer. She hurried over to a milking stool left in one of the empty stalls and sat down with the basket on her lap. She tore a piece of bread from the loaf and set it down on the floor in front of her, offering it to Alexei. He snapped it up and swallowed it, hardly tasting it. She tried to offer him a second piece, but he pushed it back towards her with his nose. He could see that there was hardly enough bread and cheese in the basket for one person, let alone two—especially if one was a great wolf! Spīdala took back the second piece of bread and chewed on it, gradually consuming the loaf between sips from the flask of beer and bites from the wedge of cheese. She tried to give chunks of cheese to Alexei as well but, hungry though he was, he only took one of those as well.

  The Master, watching them from the barn door, laughed at Alexei.

  “How gallant, vilkatis,” he mocked the werewolf. “Denying yourself so that the maiden can eat. You will not be able to remain so gallant for long, I fear. You may, indeed, be forced to accept my offer to eat the wench. But that is no matter to me, either way. Do as you will.”

  Spīdala and Alexei, having finished their repast, continued to sit in the growing darkness until the Master insisted that they join him in the barnyard. Spīdala reluctantly stood and left the empty basket beside the milking stool as she and Alexei joined the Master outdoors. He was standing, his back to the barn, looking across the quiet fields and the surrounding forests. Alexei could hear the farmhands somewhere nearby, singing in the dark after they had eaten their supper.

  He whined, wishing he could join them, but knew it was impossible so long as the Master of Wolves held him in captivity.

  The Master pointed to the earth at his feet. “Kneel down here, vilkatis,” he barked. Alexei padded across the barnyard
and knelt down as the Master had ordered.

  “Now, you climb aboard his back, Spīdala,” the Master ordered next. Spīdala stared at his back and then walked forward and quietly took her place astride Alexei’s broad shoulders, followed by the Master, who climbed aboard Alexei’s back as well, wedging his crutch alongside him between his saddlebag hanging over his shoulder and his hip.

  “Now, vilkatis,” the Master instructed, “you will carry Spīdala and me across the forest to the next farm, several miles in that direction.” Out of the corner of one eye, Alexei saw him gesture at the woods across the fields before them. “When you see the manor of the farmer, I think you will recognize that he is one of the wealthier farmers in this district. He will not notice what we will need to relieve him of tonight. And if he does notice it, I do not care. Do you understand me, vilkatis?”

  Alexei nodded. He braced himself and then stood, afraid of how heavy the Master and Spīdala together would weigh. At first, Alexei felt only Spīdala astride his shoulders, in front of the Master, as if she were the only one he carried. But then he felt the crushing weight of the Master behind her and stumbled, his rear haunches nearly collapsing.

  Spīdala reached out and grasped Alexei’s ears to steady herself as he stood with the two riders on his back. The Master wrapped his free arm around Spīdala’s waist and pulled her back against his chest. “Does my weight confound you, vilkatis? Imagine if this were the beginning of the season and my food satchel was full for distribution among your forest brothers. You should be glad that the satchel is nearly empty now. You will have a much easier time of it!” The Master laughed again and Alexei struggled to take a step forward. “You may go now, vilkatis. Carry us to the farmer’s manor beyond the forest there.”

  Alexei took a deep breath, preparing to follow the Master’s instructions. He had never carried riders through the air before. There was no way that he could carry the Master anywhere if he were simply bound to the earth, he realized. Flying would be the only way he could obey the Master’s directions, and so he gathered his strength and launched himself into the air.

  Once airborne, the weight of the Master became somewhat more tolerable, and Alexei began to trot upward and then across the treetops. He felt Spīdala grip his ears so tightly that he nearly cried out, but he knew that she must be both terrified and exhilarated to see the earth from above, as he had been the first time he had taken to the air as the village werewolf back home. He could feel her shift and move, her legs gripping his barrel chest as tightly as her skirt allowed, and imagined that she must be leaning out to look this way and then that as she struggled to keep her balance and not fall from his shoulders.

  He thought of Grete and how she would have been as thrilled and terrified by a ride on his back through the sky. He wished he could have shared this with her as well as with Spīdala and felt tears well up in his eyes.

  He trotted as quickly as he could through the air without frightening or dislodging Spīdala.

  “Faster, vilkatis!” demanded the Master, kicking Alexei’s ribs several times with his heels. “Did you think I meant this only to be a tour of the skies for the wench?” He heard the Master spit, and Spīdala gasped as the Master roughly pulled her back against his chest even more tightly.

  Alexei seethed with anger at the Master on Spīdala’s behalf. He imagined himself sharply turning, flying sideways, maybe even upside-down, in order to throw the Master from his back. But that would dislodge Spīdala as well, and though the Master could no doubt survive such a fall, Alexei was sure that it would kill Spīdala. So he bit his lower lip and trotted a little more quickly, enough so that the Master might be satisfied but not so fast as to frighten or topple Spīdala from his back.

  The forest spilled out beneath them in a sheet of dark treetops. What would have been a walk of several hours through the trees was instead a flight of an hour or two above the trees, and when Alexei could see the edge of the forest ahead of him, he knew that the farmer’s manor the Master wanted must be nearby.

  Alexei could see the fields stretching out below them, the barns and cottages of the laborers black smudges in the night. Then he saw one of the grandest houses he had ever seen and knew that must be the manor the Master had described. The kick in the ribs confirmed his supposition. “There!” ordered the Master. “Descend there!” Alexei dropped down and circled the grand house. He came around again and was trotting along even lower, his feet nearly touching the earth.

  The shock of his paws actually coming down onto the ground, trotting as slowly as he was, still nearly threw Spīdala from his back. She yanked on his ears and he did cry out, a great wolf howl echoing in the night. The Master kicked him in the ribs again and threw Spīdala off Alexei’s shoulders, tufts of fur coming away from his ears in her fists as she cried out and fell flat onto the ground.

  “Did I give you leave to reveal our presence?” he hissed at his two captives. “Do that again and you shall know the full weight of my anger!” He kicked Alexei in the ribs once more and slid off the werewolf’s haunches, adjusting his crutch beneath his armpit. Alexei whirled around to face the Master, snarling and growling. Spīdala was a few feet away, pushing herself up. Alexei felt her anger seething out towards the Master even as her fear of him made her struggle to not cry out.

  The Master seemed unconcerned with Alexei and Spīdala as he hobbled to the manor and peered at its dark windows. A wisp of smoke curled up from the chimney, the coals of the kitchen fire banked for the night and awaiting the morning cooking. The Master turned back to Alexei and Spīdala, who was now on her feet.

  “Forget your anger,” the Master snarled at them both. “I have an errand for you, Spīdala. Did you think it was only the vilkatis that I had instructions for tonight?”

  “An errand?” Alexei could hear the anger and fear still struggling with each other in Spīdala’s voice, even as the growl still hovered in his own throat. “What errand is that?”

  “I have need of the farmer’s trinkets,” the Master explained, turning back toward the house. “The rings and baubles he has given his wife over these past many years. She has more than she could ever wear, and it is only right that they share their gaudy jewels with me.”

  “Why is that?” Spīdala wanted to know, still gasping with anger at having been thrown from Alexei’s back. “Why should anyone share anything with you? What do you need the rings and jewels for?”

  The Master glanced back over his shoulder at her. “The jewels have certain properties. They can be used against me, to keep me and my wolf children from the animals as well as the farmhands on this estate. I need to take the jewels before the farmer can learn how to properly use them to bar me and my wolves from his property.” He turned back to the house. “But do not think that you will be able to use them against me, either. I want you to fetch the trinkets from their hiding places and place them directly into my satchel, here.” He patted the saddlebag under his cloak. “You will never directly touch the jewels or ever see them again. They will be of no use to you… or to the farmer, even if he does ever appreciate their true worth.”

  “And how did you think that I would be able to do this for you?” Spīdala hissed at him. “Did you think I would break a window or smash the door down and then… what? Steal into the farmer’s bedroom undetected and bring back out his wife’s jewelry box?”

  The Master shook his head sadly. “Spīdala, my child, do not play the simpleton with me. I expect you to charm the jewels to come to me of their own accord.” He limped ahead on his crutch and then sat down on the steps leading up to a wide porch encircling the farmer’s grand home. The Master slipped the leather saddlebag off his shoulder and set it on the step beside him, the flap turned back and sitting open.

  “Charm the jewels?” Alexei heard the shock in Spīdala’s words, the anger and fear. “How shall I do that?”

  “When your husband wanted something, you found a way to accomplish it, did you not?” The Master pulled a pipe and tobacco
from somewhere in the folds of his cloak and prepared to smoke. “I trust I shall not need to beat you, as he did, for you to discover a way to accomplish this.” He struck a flint and lit the pipe, the burning wad of tobacco in the bowl of the pipe becoming a red coal winking in the night. The Master leaned back against a post supporting the roof over the porch, and the white smoke hovered and curled around his head.

  Alexei slunk over until he stood beside Spīdala, wanting to somehow give her the strength and knowledge she needed to do what the Master had asked. She wrapped her fist in the fur between his great shoulders, covering her mouth with her other hand as she struggled to think how she might do as the Master had instructed.

  “I think I know a way,” Spīdala muttered at last.

  “I am glad to hear it,” the Master answered, still smoking his pipe on the porch steps. “Please proceed.”

  Spīdala knelt in front of Alexei and looked into his eyes. “Please do not think ill of me, vilkatis,” she whispered. “You know that I do this only because there is no way we can escape the Master—yet. But we will find a way, werewolf. I promise us both that!”

  Alexei nodded and yipped once. He sat down on his rear haunches, keeping his head up. Spīdala stood and faced the house, gently grasping Alexei’s ear with one hand. The other she held towards the Master as she began to sing.