said to yourself. Nothing Jeannine has not already said, either. More and more, people do not want you around. They are afraid that the places you go are twisting you. If they knew how often you went to the keep, they would drive you from the town."
I shook my head. "You would not let them."
"Oh?" His eyes narrowed. "Are you sure? I am one of the few people willing to give you this chance. Even Jeannine has her limits, patient as she is."
My jaw clenched at that. Though our time together was hardly the dizzying, young love of years past, we had grown to accept each others company and warmth. I did not relish a day in our village without her smile or embrace.
Erik could see that thought in me, as though he read it upon a page. "So take this chance. Stay around the village, help me do my work, and maybe by the time the deep snows melt away in the spring, the people around you will actually want to be around you."
I swallowed hard. I was not at all certain that I could avoid the sojourns I so relished, but Erik's tone was enough to make me take stock of what the alternative was.
I simply nodded. In the back of my mind, I even agreed with him. We headed south, towards home.
***
"Hold!" He whispered with a fierceness that stopped me in mid-stride. "Listen."
I did not ask what was wrong. I was not so foolish as that. I listened, as commanded. He had no authority over me, not since the earliest days of my service, but his instincts were screaming for his attention, and I knew well enough to listen to their cries. The journey from the river to this small forest had been a silent two days, with barely a dozen words exchanged. Now though, our eyes spoke back and forth across the distance between us, leaving behind the strained silence that had come since the argument at the river.
I turned my head left then right, slowly and steadily. I listened, picking up every sound around me. As I had been trained by the Royal Guard, I imagined myself at the center of an arena, every obstacle around me, every tree and rock, every bird and man, all of it, as adversaries. In my mind's eye I saw myself from above, as though I were a small figure upon a war planning table. My ears and eyes filled in the spaces around me, as I pinpointed the trees and rocks, and the sounds which had called Erik's attention.
Growling. I could hear it on all sides, now. It was a low, quiet growl. The growl came from many throats, perhaps as many as fifty. Most of the growls were behind us, but several came from my left and right, and a few more in front of us. I heard the rustling of fur, and the scraping sound of claws against rocks, and to my left, against a fallen tree. The growls were not more than fifty feet away.
"Wolves." Erik's voice was low, rumbling. I knew the tone. He was putting his mind toward violence, readying his mind and body for the struggle.
I slowly drew my sword, careful not to allow the blade to scrape against the metal parts of my belt. Erik's massive sword was already in his hands, though I had not seen him draw it. I watched as he tightened the straps on his pack, as did I on mine. This would be a running fight, and anything dropped would be shredded by the angry beasts.
Erik looked toward the path ahead, and he shook his head. I saw the creature's eyes, first. Cruel and glowing with a terrible red that reminded those unlucky enough to see them that terrible magic plagued the souls of these creatures. This was not a wolf, not really. Once, it had been a man, but now it was a man no more. Not a man, not really. The creature was something in between, and as my eyes traced the outline of its form, that became all too clear. The fur was a mottled black and red, giving it the look of having been splashed with blood. The arching back of the monster was far more pronounced than in a normal wolf, as though the magic had twisted its form. The shoulders were muscular, and half-covered by armor which I recognized from my time in Skyreach Keep. The front legs seeming half-way between proper wolf's legs, and those of a man. The paws were more like hands, each finger ending in a sharp claw.
I looked toward Erik, nodding my understanding. He returned the nod. I whispered what we both knew, as if saying it aloud made it more believable. "Kronan wolves."
This simple truth was that these beasts did not leave their forest cover in Meekwood, not ever. Not in all the years since the Kronan army had marched into Meekwood forest, had a single beast been seen beyond those trees. Yet here they were. They would have had to cover the open fields between those woods and these, which was a day's walk, even for these beasts. They could run it in far less, but what would drive them to dash the distance? The Kronan wolves never stepped onto open ground. What were they doing here?
The eyes. I was pulled back to its eyes. They glowed red, and I saw the anger of a man behind them. Though this was certainly not the time to have such musings, I wondered to myself if these beasts were truly as mindless as the locals thought. I knew the glare of a hungry wolf, a stare that, while fierce, was devoid of any real anger. A real wolf was aggressive and fierce because it had to be. This creature, with its red eyes, was full of hate. I could see it. I could smell it. I could taste its bitterness on the wind. It was poisonous, and I felt nauseous at its touch.
Erik's shaken head told me that he did not want to advance forward. Wolves, even normal wolves, knew well how to trap prey. Give chase, drive the prey forward, exhaust it, and then force it into the jaws of the waiting pack. I knew this, as did Erik. Most of the pack would be ahead of us and to our flanks, well out of reach of our ears. Only a few would be at our rear, intended, not to catch us, but to push us forward. They would make enough noise to seem like many more than a few. Why did this one Kronan wolf stand in our way? It would only make us less tempted to go that way. I could hear the growls, and my mind's eye placed them upon the war-table in my head.
I looked back toward those red eyes, staring into them, trying to discern their will. I felt something crawling on the back of my neck, though nothing was there. I could feel the Kronan wolf using the angry magic in his red eyes to whisper doom to me. I could sense its hate, its desires, and…
In an instant, I knew what was happening. I looked to Erik. He was looking around, seeking a route for escape. He did not realize what I did. He did not see it. I clucked my tongue ever so slightly, just enough to get his attention. As soon as his eyes locked upon mine, I nodded sharply. Erik's eyes narrowed, and I could read his words, even though he said not a word.
'No, Jovan. Bad idea,' his eyes seemed to say. Perhaps it was, but I had no time to explain what had become obvious to me.
I dashed forward, my legs driving me onward as though I were mounted on a powerful war-steed. My feet found good footing on the dry earth, and I did not have to waste energy or concentration on slogging across wet ground. A fallen tree before me became a tool in my hurry, as I planted my foot upon it and launched myself forward, hitting the ground at a run. I leaned forward, running as though in a race. A race it was indeed, with my life and Erik's as the prize.
I could hear Erik following me, growling at what he no doubt thought was foolishness. Was I mad, he surely wondered, to race into the waiting jaws of the pack? His footfalls were heavy, and the fallen tree groaned under his weight. He hit the ground with a thud, but did not falter. I could hear his heavy breathing. His age was an enemy now, as much as the Kronan wolves. He was slower than I, less agile. I was careful not to push too far ahead of him, though my plan relied on putting some distance between the two of us, if just for a moment. The sun cast his shadow ahead of me, and I could see that his sword was held mid-way between point and hilt. His type of sword was not particularly sharp, relying mostly on the brute force driven by the muscles of men as big as Erik. Held as it was, it was only useful to fend off
