Ravenwild: Book 01 - Ravenwild (75 page)

“It is,” he said. “Provided she is the one.”

“She has to be,” said Diana. “She has to be … ”

The next day they were headed east.

They made their way by dead reckoning, staying mostly off of the main trails. It was extremely tough going and they ended up sleeping for several days in a row under windblowns, holding on to each other and wrapped tightly in their deerskin cloaks. At least food was not a problem; they had plenty, albeit cold. Moreover, Jared’s skill with the wild herbs and spices of the forest floor provided enough taste to make the simple meals not only nourishing, but somewhat pleasant.

“How far do you think we’ve come?” he asked, chewing on a piece of meat that he followed with a handful of wild nuts. He took a large drink of water from the waterskin and refastened it to his pack, awaiting her answer. She finished her own long chew of the tough venison and said, “At the rate we’re moving, it will take us at least a month to make Belcourt. Maybe six weeks. Maybe eight.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Not good.”

“We need horses, that much is apparent,” said Diana. “Any suggestions?”

“Nearest place that sells them?”

“And where do you figure that might be?”

“You know you are pretty demanding,” he said with a small smile. “I say we pick up a trail, stay on it, scout forward, and find a town that might have a horse or two to spare.”

“Done.”

“You made a promise,” said Jacqueline as she and Cinnamon sat, being surveyed by the pack of eight below them. On a tip from Stefen, who had known of the others’ return when they were still quite far out, they had taken refuge back in the treetops to await their appearance in camp. For while the four below them had given
their
word that they would not harm them, there was no way to know if the other four would do the same. So they sat in the trees and waited while the group conferred.

What they could not know was that the Wolves, who communicated not only by spoken word but by a simple form of telepathy, had already discussed at some length the potential significance of their presence in the Agden Forest, as well as the likely role they might have in the unfolding of Prophecy. Seven of the eight were convinced that this young girl, if not the actual girl in the prophecy, was without question involved in it in some way. If not for this, they would surely never be considering what they were considering.

The current discussion being held was whether or not they might want to literally adopt them and make them a part of the great family of Agden Wolves. Half of them remembered that this was the way the prophecy said it needed to be, although none could remember any specifics. The other half did not.

But before they could ever make a decision on such a course of action, all wanted to know, beyond any reasonable doubt, that the code by which they lived, the code by which the Wolves lived, had always lived, and would always live, was honor. Honoring the life of another Wolf was simply the way it was, the life of any one individual being no more or less important than the life of any other. And everything was shared equally, from the labor effort required by the pack to survive, to the spoils of the hunt.

For any one Wolf to “have” more than another was a notion that just didn’t apply.

It was a hard life, but a good life, with pack celebrations of a successful life that happened all the time, but only because they all held the common belief that honor was the most important principle of all.

Hence, all the Wolves talked to the two of them, one at a time. It took hours, as Jacqueline and Cinnamon listened carefully to all the questions they were asked. They answered them all honestly while they nibbled on wild nuts, dead moles, and such.

In the end, they were made a part of the pack.

Only Stefen dissented. To him, they were merely food, nothing more, nothing less. It had never been done before. A Human taken into the Agden Forest family of Wolves as though she were one of them, and a cat no less. More than once he told them he thought they were all out of their minds.

The rest believed that these displaced visitors to their forest were part of something important, something vital, something that might change the very future of the planet itself according to Prophecy, and rather than stand in the way, they chose to help them the best way they could, which was to make them one of their own.

It was an amazing transformation. Their senses of hearing, eyesight, and smell all suddenly became hyper-acute. Their physical strength was tripled. They would soon learn the same of their endurance. And they both found that they could call up any of the pack members around them by merely thinking of them and asking to be heard.

Jacqueline would later remember thinking, “This is a million times better than ‘I.M.’”

Rolan stood and walked off the cramp. “Too much sitting,” he thought. “Not enough doing.” Borok entered his tent, saluting in the usual way. “My King,” he said. “I have assembled the messengers and reviewed their assignments with them. Do you wish to speak to them as well?”

“I do.”

“Very well.”

In the tent next to his, Rolan studied the group of a dozen: Seven Humans, three Dwarves, and two Elves.

“You have your orders,” he said. “It is not my intention to review these yet again. I am sure that they were explained to you in clear enough terms
.
Retake The Gate with whatever forces the commanders deem necessary, and feed the survivors. Deploy the rest to the east without delay for our march on Vultura. Do not get caught. Any questions?”

The messengers scrambled to do their duty.

As he was getting on his mount, one muttered to another, “Do you realize that we got our riding orders from the King
himself
?”

“Amazing,” said the other, shaking his head in disbelief.

“For Ravenwild!”

“For Ravenwild!”

Then, away they rode like they were being chased by demons from the underworld.

Sliphen lingered for a while outside of the “Happy Troll.” It was an offbeat drinking establishment in a dark corner of Ghasten. This seedy bar, known to be frequented by criminals, malcontents, and other undesirables, caused him to think twice about setting foot in the place, but he pushed back his fear. The message he carried was too important to not deliver. He wondered why a general in his Emperor’s army would ever bother to hang out in such a spot; with all of the resources he now had at his disposal, why he didn't stay at home in his mansion and drink to his heart’s content. The only way he could figure it was that some old habits die hard.

After he had worked up the requisite courage, he took a deep breath and walked in. He immediately wished he hadn’t. As soon as he had entered through the swinging doors, an enormous Troll that towered over him by at least a head approached him.

“State your business,” he demanded. Sliphen noticed he was fingering a long dagger that was stuck crudely in his belt, showing pretty much the entire length of the deadly blade.

“I have an important message for the general,” he said.

“And what might that message be?”

He decided that now was not the time to appear meek. “Stand aside!” he barked at the Troll in front of him. “In the name of the Emperor himself. He will have your head on a pike before the sun sets if you delay me one more second. I
will
speak with the General, and I will speak with him
now
, fool.”

The huge Troll curled his lips into a lethal sneer. “Fool, is it? You take quite a chance, little one. Wait here.”

Sliphen ignored the order, instead following the Troll across the main drinking room, through a doorway, down a short hall, and into a small back room where the general sat alone at a small table with a tall, half-empty glass of spirits in front of him.

The voice beckoned her forward for a while, then faded away.

She noticed the temperature had become warm all of a sudden, and she removed her buckskin wraps, securing them to her pack. Emerging from the thick mist, enormous trees and all sorts of dense shrubbery now surrounded her. High overhead, great nests of some large bird were scattered all about.

Still, despite the impenetrable forest growth all about her, there was a clearly marked trail.

On she walked, the forest soon far behind her, and what she now looked upon was a vast flatland from high up on a hill. The trail descended into it, and a clear-water stream appeared as she rounded a bend. She stopped, knelt, and put her hand in it. It was as cold as ice water. She took a long, refreshing drink and stood. On down the path she continued.