without names since they were yet to reach their first year, would be there among them. Hopefully one of his pack members had ensured them a close seat for when Bonebite challenged Goldteeth. They should witness such strength firsthand, see what it meant to face a rival and conquer him without hesitation or remorse.
The rest of his party loped behind him, and Redclaw did his best to put Yellowscar out of his mind. The fool had endangered his pack, cost him the life of a fine warrior, and revealed himself lacking in any sense of cunning or tactic. Let the humans kill him once he grew fat on the plentiful game waiting across the great river.
“Do you think Goldteeth won?” Rockeye asked.
“Goldteeth is stupid. His pack is small because even the wild dogs think better. He will expect to win on strength alone. Bonebite is smart. Bonebite is fast. I have no doubt who won. Goldteeth’s pack will swear their allegiance to me.”
They crossed the hills, and as they did, something tugged at the back of Redclaw’s mind, like a thorn that had worked its way underneath his skin. Ignoring it, he slowed his run so he might arrive standing tall and proud instead of with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. As they walked, Rockeye cocked his head and listened.
“The Gathering nears its end,” he said. “I hear them howling in celebration.”
“A new leader,” Redclaw said. “Let us meet him.”
They entered the circle, and Redclaw was pleased to see the sacred mound soaked in blood and gore. The best Gatherings were ones where not a shred of bone remained white come the rise of day. Three dead wolf-men lay atop it, with one lone survivor standing, his left eye swollen shut and the fur of his chest hanging ragged from torn skin.
“Bring him to me,” Redclaw said as Bonebite came closer.
“Of course,” said Bonebite. The dead wolf-men were placed before their pack, and they began their feast. Redclaw looked for his pups while he waited. Sure enough, they were near the front, within easy view of the bone mound. He grinned, and when they saw him, they respectfully dipped their heads. Pleased, he looked to the new pack leader, who came and knelt before Redclaw.
“I am Moonclaw,” said the wolf. “My pack swears its loyalty to you, mighty Redclaw. Bonebite fought in your stead, and his tongue tasted much blood. We will learn from that strength.”
Redclaw narrowed his eyes as he looked over the new pack leader. He had an almost lanky appearance, for while he was as tall as Redclaw, he lacked the muscle. His fur was a deep black, with a few splotches of white across his face and hands.
“I must see you fight another time,” Redclaw said. “I wish to judge your strength, but tonight, I deem you leader of your pack.”
“And I deem you leader of leaders, Wolf King.”
Moonclaw bowed even lower, and Redclaw felt his heart leap at the title. So it had begun, small perhaps, only the tiny step of a pup, but a step nonetheless. The wind shifted, swirling for a brief moment, and with it color poured over the hills south, the scent faint but inescapably human. Redclaw felt panic only a moment, swiftly replaced by anger.
“They were here!” he roared. “Humans! They watched the Gathering, and none of you saw? None of you heard their whispers, smelled their scent?”
“The noise was great,” said Moonclaw. “And what else could we smell but the blood upon the mound?”
“Forgive us,” Bonebite said, stepping back and lowering his head. “I heard and smelled nothing either. The wind was their ally, and the noise of the Gathering their friend.”
Redclaw let loose a rumble from deep within his belly. The rest of his pack gathered around him, remaining just far enough back to maintain a respectful distance. He felt his plan weaving through his head. They lacked the numbers for what he desired. They could slaughter the village, that he knew, but it was the humans that would come from afar that he feared. So far he’d kept his numbers hidden from them, but if any had seen the Gathering, had seen the force building so very near…
“Moonclaw, Bonebite, with me,” he said. “We have much work to do, even beneath the angry fire of the sky. Rockeye, go west to the packs of Bloodfang and Murdertongue. Summon them to a Gathering. We have little time.”
“Yes, Wolf King,” said Rockeye, leaving at once. Redclaw walked south, the two strong wolf-men following him. He found where the men had lain, and he inhaled their scent. There had been a pair of them, and they stayed for a long while. Shaking his head, he turned to Bonebite and Moonclaw.
“No help,” he said. “No rescue. No chance for war. Hear my plan, Moonclaw. Hear me, Bonebite. Our freedom from the Wedge begins at dawn.”
8
Darius slept late into the morning, despite Jerico’s arguments otherwise.
“Either the wolf-men will catch us, or they won’t,” he’d said. “I don’t think me getting a few hours of sleep will matter one way or the other.”
“The people of Durham need to prepare.”
“Then you wake at dawn and tell them,” Darius had said as he set aside his armor and slipped into bed. “Meanwhile, the sky’s still dark and my head feels like two wolf-men are fighting inside. Good night.”
His head felt little better come waking, but at least it had lost some of its knife edge of pain. His legs ached from the many miles they’d walked, and his back was sore for doing it all while wearing his armor. He stayed in the sole upper room of Durham’s inn, and he came down to have breakfast with the lady of the place, a widow named Dolores.
“Bread and honey as always?” he asked her, trying for levity.
“You’ll make do with porridge,” she said, not a smile on her wrinkled face. “The whole town’s talking, and it’s got me scared. I can’t leave everything behind, Darius. Even riding in a cart will make my old bones groan, and what hope could I have to earn a living elsewhere?”
“I hear a beautiful woman such as yourself earn quite a lot in the back alleys of Mordeina.”
She slapped his head with a rag, and he grinned at her. Seemed like Jerico had already met with Jeremy, and he felt relieved. Let him deal with that enormous hassle. He began eating his meal.
“Oh, dear me, slipped my mind,” Dolores said a few minutes later. “A man came to speak with you, but I told him you’d been out at night helping us and you don’t take kindly to waking up early. He said he was one of you, at least in a way. A priest, he said. I offered him a room, but he said he wouldn’t be staying long.”
“A priest?” Darius asked. “Where is he now?”
“Said for you to meet him at the square. He seemed in quite a hurry.”
“Thank you, Dolores. I’d best be going then.”
He hurried back up the stairs, trying to make sense of things. Sometime in the next few months he knew a paladin of Karak was supposed to check in on his progress, but a priest? Had he just happened to pass by Durham? Or were they to change his assignment? Priests were considered superior to paladins in Karak’s hierarchy, and if the priest gave him an order, he would have no choice but to obey. Still, his arrival was certainly fortuitous in other ways. Perhaps he might help with the wolf-men, or know of a better plan than simply tucking their tails between their legs and running.
Once he was dressed in his armor, his sword sheathed on his back, he came down.
“Did he say a name?” he asked Dolores before stepping outside.
“I reckon he did,” said the woman. She tapped her teeth with a fingernail. “Slipped my mind, though. Seemed polite enough, though I wouldn’t wish him around long. Got a queer air about him. Cold, too.”
“Thanks.”
Darius pushed open the door and hurried his way to the square. Jerico found him first. A mob of seven or eight surrounded him, and he pushed his way toward the dark paladin.
“Enjoy your nap?” Jerico asked.
“Tremendously,” Darius said, forcing a grin. “Enjoy your talk with Jeremy?”
“He saw reason, thank Ashhur. The whole town will be heading south. We’re fifteen miles from Wetholm, and
