The Dragon Hammer (Wulf's Saga Book 1) (21 page)

He tried to put
that
thought out of his mind as quickly as he could.

He forced his thoughts back to Ravenelle.

Yep, some Roman lord of the south was going to scoop Ravenelle up the moment he laid eyes on her. Or actually, she would scoop
him
up and make him prince consort, since Vall l’Obac was ruled by the eldest female of the royal family, and Ravenelle was firstborn.

“Poor Rainer,” Wulf mumbled. He shook his head. “Not a chance in cold hell.”

“What did you say, von Dunstig?”

“Nothing,” Wulf said.

“I heard you say
something
about Stope
.
”

“It’ll just depress you. I really don’t feel like talking about it.”

She turned away and stared forward again. “Fine, then.”

Then she was just his foster sister Ravenelle again to him. Part infuriating, part charming.

Ravenelle, for her part, was trying to think about
anything
except where they were going. They rode on the huge horses the buffalo people bred to hold up their bulk. Although the gait left her sore, Ravenelle liked the height the horse gave her.

Maybe I’ll ride one of these when I’m queen. It might be a good thing to bring some of the northern things with me when I go back. They’ll think I’m half barbarian anyway.

It often worried her that she had very little idea
what
anybody would think of her in Vall l’Obac. She hadn’t been there since she was a year old. And, though she was able to pick up images of Montserrat from her mother and her mother’s bloodservants when the queen visited Raukenrose to see her daughter, she couldn’t put them in any kind of perspective since she didn’t know the city.

Messengers had been sent galloping ahead, and most of the village of bear people turned out to see Wulf and Ravenelle ride in.

Ravenelle sat as expressionless as possible, while Wulf nodded to the crowd, trying to look serious. He did wave at the cubs, though.

“How’re you doing?” he asked Ravenelle out of the side of his mouth.

I’m surrounded by
bears
, she thought.

“They seem pretty well fed,” she replied.

“It’ll be fine.”

They finished the ride through town and approached the eastern mountainside. High above on the mountain, Ravenelle could see white splashes of waterfalls through the budding trees.

Then they arrived at the yawning cave entrance. Beside this opening were two statues that were carved from gigantic oaken trunks as big around as the Olden Oak. The pole on the left was painted dark red. It was shaped in the image of the divine being Sturmer—although Sturmer had a very bearlike look to his face. On the right was a black pole. It was carved as Brenner, divine being of the fire and the wife of the Allfather. They didn’t stop to look, but rode into the cavern.

The cave was not dark. Torches were set in wall holders, and they lit the path. The walls seemed to sparkle with crystals of quartz embedded in the rock.

After they’d come far enough in so that the entrance was a round circle of blue daylight behind them, the bear man who was leading them dismounted and signaled them to do the same. More bear people appeared. They took the reins of the horses to lead them down side passages.

“What are they going to do with my horse?” Ravenelle asked. She had gasped when the reins were taken from her unexpectedly, and she knew she’d let a trace of panic creep into her voice.

She couldn’t help imagining that the creature was being led off to be eaten.

“They’re going to the stable,” said their escort. His voice was deep pitched, and his valley accent was thick as honey. “They’ll be well taken care of, m’lady princess.”

“Oh,” Ravenelle replied. “Well, that’s all right, then.”

The escort indicated that they should follow him farther into the mountain. Ravenelle tried to hang back a bit. Behind her the press of the buffalo guard kept her moving forward, however.

Instead of getting darker, the way ahead got brighter. They came out into a vast room as large as the cathedral nave in Raukenrose. A huge brick chimney led up to the ceiling a hundred hands above them. The chimney vented a room-size fireplace. The burning logs were bigger around than a man. Each was at least twenty hands long. It was an even bigger fireplace than the one in the great hall in the castle.

No tapestries, though, thought Ravenelle.

On either side of the fireplace stood what looked like two trees, one a willow, the other a hickory. Their branches had a few fall leaves clinging to them, and the tips were budding out.

They have to be otherfolk, Ravenelle thought. There was no way a tree could grow here without sunlight.

The light from the fire and from many beeswax candles bathed the entire cavern in a warm glow. There were hundreds of cave formations. Stalactites, stalagmites, limestone curtains, and formations that resembled sides of bacon or frozen waterfalls. Most of the formations were white and shone as if they’d been polished. The rising sides of the cave had been cut into steps that were used as seats for the law-speak audience.

And there
was
an audience here. The steps were covered with dozens of Tier.

Bear people, raccoon people, bobcat people, beaver people, wolf and fox people, badger people, deer and buffalo people—the only type of animal person missing was the reclusive bird people who kept to themselves in the high Greensmokes. There were also humans. There were several villages of men on the north end of the valley.

The cavern was filled with the excited murmuring of the Tier when Wulf and Ravenelle entered. It seemed as if the meeting had been going on for some time. Some took advantage of the break provided by their entrance to stand up and stretch, and some ignited willow wands off candle flames to light tobacco in clay pipes and papyrus-rolled cigars.

Bear people were notorious smokers. This was not a surprise since they had built a lot of their wealth on growing tobacco. Ravenelle couldn’t stand the stuff, even though she knew that the kingdom she was going to inherit one day had tobacco plantations everywhere.

Even with the fire, the air was damp.

But the cave doesn’t smell like a hole in the ground, Ravenelle thought. What is that odor? She considered for a moment, then she had it.

Tobacco flower mixed with vanilla from the Spice Islands.

The fragrance must be in the candle wax, she decided. The bear people were famous for their beehives. It smelled wonderful and welcoming.

Which made Ravenelle tense up even more. Some part of her suspected it was all a trick, and the bear and other Tier would come for her with their tearing claws, biting teeth, and those beady, angry eyes from her childhood dreams.

Near the fire was a large bear man with silver hair. This was Keiler, Earl of Shwartzwald. The bear man rose from a large oaken chair and strode toward them.

He bowed to Wulf.

“Lord von Dunstig,” the bear man said. “It is good to see you again.”

“Earl Keiler,” Wulf said. “I’m really glad to see you, too.”

“I implore the divine ones for your father’s return to health,” the old bear man said. His voice was thin and reedy, as Ravenelle remembered, and surprisingly high-pitched for anything that big.

“Thank you, Earl,” Wulf replied.

Keiler turned to Ravenelle and bowed deeply. “Princess Archambeault. It is the greatest of honors to have you in our home.” He spoke as if he meant it. But then he was a practiced diplomat who could literally talk a mother into giving up her child.

“The honor is mine, Earl Keiler,” Ravenelle replied quickly, in maybe too clipped a tone, she thought. She was being very careful not to say something offensive, even though the bear man standing before her had been the chief diplomat who negotiated the peace after the Little War. He was the very person who had taken Ravenelle from her mother’s arms and locked her away in a dank castle in barbarian lands.

Keiler suddenly doubled over with a coughing fit. He wheezed and coughed for an uncomfortable moment, covering his mouth and nose with a silk handkerchief. The cough sounded deep and unhealthy. Then he straightened up.

“Beg pardon, m’lord, m’lady, it’s the scrofula. Gotten worse lately. I’m afraid I might soon be with my dear Hilda in Helheim,” he said. “But not quite yet. Come join us in the circle.”

Earl Keiler wore rich clothes, and a bright red cape of fine wool that had to have come from the Old Countries. Ravenelle was envious. Her mother had never shipped her any material quite that nice.

As they walked toward the council circle, Keiler moved beside her. He bent his head toward her and spoke in a lowered voice.

“I’m afraid not everyone shares my happiness that you are here, m’lady,” Keiler said. “You are Roman, and some Tier have long memories of the bad times with the colonies.”

So they
do
want to eat me after all, Ravenelle thought. What would Mother do? It was hard to say. She’d only ever seen her mother in Raukenrose. What would Ulla do?

She’d go with her instinct, that’s what.

“Earl Keiler, I will do all I can to help my foster family the von Dunstigs,” she replied, trying to keep her voice even, but sounding, she knew, strained. “They have been nothing but kind to me.”

“Well said, Princess.” The bear coughed again, but this time didn’t descend into a fit. “And they
are
your own blood, you know. Your great-grandmother Sybille was a von Dunstig.”

“I wish I’d known her, Earl Keiler, but my mother’s told me about her.”

Keiler nodded. “Sybille was quite a handful, I remember. So, your being Roman, one concern we have is that you can speak mind to mind with those who are bound to you as bloodservants?”

“Yes, that is true,” Ravenelle answered.

“You could show what is said in the hall to others you are bonded with?”

“Yes. If there were any within a league, Earl,” she answered. She felt again the anguish of Raphael and Donito ripped from her mind and heart. That was really why she wanted to beat the Sandhaveners to a bloody pulp. She felt her eyes growing moist.

They will totally not understand blood tears, she thought. Do not cry.

She concentrated on a stalagmite long enough to get the memory of Raphael’s body filled with arrows to recede.

“The raiders killed my people.” She raised a clenched fist and imagined she was
pounding the raiders. “I want those murderers dead, dead, dead.”

Keiler cocked his head to consider her. He seemed impressed with her outburst. He turned to Wulf. “Do you vouch for Princess Ravenelle Archambeault, Lord Wulf?”

“With all my heart, Earl Keiler,” Wulf answered immediately.

“All right, then,” he replied. “It is my determination that she be admitted to the law-speak council. Now, let’s take our places.” He motioned them toward the fireplace. On either side of the fire were two half-circles of what looked like tree stumps. Ravenelle saw that that they were actually upright logs sawn into chairs. Plain wooden seats, no cushions. Barbaric. But there was so much splendor to the cave, she could see the point of not having the furniture take away from it.

There were all sorts of Tier in the council semicircle. Some of the Tier were more manlike than others. The badger person looked very like a stocky man, but with brushed-back hair with a gray-white stripe down the middle. His ears were small and folded like his namesake animal. Otherwise, he was human in appearance. Well, until he raised a hand and revealed long claws for nails.

Bear people and buffalo people were some of the strangest appearing of the Tier, since their heads were very much like the animal’s, and their lower bodies were more manlike. The antelope and horse clans of Tier were different. They had manlike upper torsos. There were no fauns here except Grim. He had ridden behind them and was now seated somewhere in the law-speak audience. Fauns were goat people. There were no centaurs, horse people, but there was a deer person in the council circle. She was a doe, and wore a green silk blouse that Ravenelle thought was gorgeous, and a veil tied around her head with a scarf. Only the male deer people had antlers. The buffalo war chief Tupakkalaatu had ridden with them. Keiler bowed in his direction and motioned for him to take his place in the council circle. From the casual way they acted, the two seemed to know each other well.

Keiler indicated two empty side-by-side stump seats saved for Ravenelle and Wulf. They sat down. Keiler went to his own seat, which was not a stump made into a seat like the others, but a padded chair with massive carvings on the legs and arms. He remained standing in front of it.

Keiler then held up a large staff with a bear’s head carved on the top. He banged the staff against the floor three times. There must have been a hollow space underneath the rocky floor, Ravenelle thought, because the bangs of the staff sounded like a kettle drum being pounded.

“I call this law-speak back into session.” Keiler turned to Wulf and bowed. “We have with us Lord Wulfgang von Dunstig, son of Otto von Dunstig, our duke and liege lord. We meet in dire circumstances. It is right that we ask Lord Wulfgang what action he wishes us to take.”

Ravenelle glanced at Wulf. He looked shocked. All the color had gone out of his face—what color there was to begin with—and he looked like he was going to faint.

She poked him in the shoulder and whispered, “Stand up, von Dunstig.”

Wulf stood. He took a moment, and spoke in a quavering voice. “I’m here to find out what you are planning, Earl. I want to help.”

He sounds like he’s been called on by Master Tolas and hasn’t done his reading for class, Ravenelle thought. Not that Wulf ever skipped his reading.

Earl Keiler didn’t speak for a moment. He turned his great bear head and considered Wulf.

“Look…I mean to say…I’m the
third
son of my father.” Wulf shrugged, as if that explained everything he was trying to say, but when no one spoke, he continued. “The truth is, I wasn’t trained to
lead
a battle, if that’s what we’re going to do, I mean,
have
a battle. I’m trained to fight, and I will, but I just don’t have the background to give someone like
you
orders, Earl Keiler. I mean, Father says you were his right hand in the Little War.”