the loss of blood, it resembled nothing more than a lump of raw. meat.
'Who did this?' Mika asked forcefully, yet hoping with all his heart that the man would be unable to speak. 'Where were you? Tell us, so that we may avenge your death!'
Mika's father, Veltran, chief shaman, healer, and magic-user, knelt at the man's head, eyes shut, trying to commune with his spirit, urging it to live.
Veltran's small, withered body hunched over the injured man, his myriad of grey braids hidden beneath the snarling wolf skull he wore over his head. A thick luxuriant pelt hung from the skull, covering his thin body, and the two front paws crossed over his bony chest.
He held a staff of roanwood in one hand, the head of the staff embellished with a carved wolf's head, the teeth bared in a snarl. Wisps of fragrant smoke issued from the staff as Veltran waved it over the injured man, allowing the row of wolf tails that were tied along its length to brush over his body.
Mika knew that his father was so completely absorbed in his efforts that he was unaware of anything else that occurred around him.
But others were. 'Do not speak of death,' hissed Whituk, a shaman of lesser standing who crouched at the man's side. 'The dark spirits lurk above us and will come if they are called,' he said angrily, glaring at Mika with a baleful eye.
Celia gasped softly and rested a tiny hand on Mika's shoulder. Her touch tingled through his shoulder and nudged Mika-oba over the edge of reason. Ignoring the shaman's angry warning, he gripped the wounded man's hand firmly.
The man's eyelids were gone, crudely cut from beneath his brows. His nose had also been removed, leaving a dark gaping hole that burbled darkly with blood, showing the stark whiteness of bone and cartilage beneath. The brown, blood-edged eyes stared upward, dulled with pain and exhaustion, seeing nothing.
'Speak, man! Tell us who did this!' Mika implored, closing his ears to the disapproving murmur of the shaman.
Slowly, the man's eyes focused, taking in the trees above him and the circle of anxious faces. He turned his mutilated face toward Mika and strained to speak, but only a dry croak emerged from his broken mouth.
Mika lifted the man's head, trying to ignore the thick, warm blood that smeared against his arm, and tipped a skin full of honeyed ale to the ravaged lips.
The man drank greedily, then sank back.
'Kobolds,' he said in a wavering voice. 'We were… coming from Yecha. They struck as we were fording the river Fler… Hundreds of them. You must send help.'
The men crowded around him murmured loudly at the man's message, and the word
A disbelieving frown creased Mika's broad brow and he stared down into the man's blood-smeared eyes, probing out the truth.
'Kobolds?' he asked dubiously. 'Why would kobolds dare to attack a caravan while it was under the protection of the Tiger Nomads? Kobolds are stupid, but they do not go to their death so senselessly.'
'No Tigers,' said the man, his voice sinking to a whisper. 'A rider came… when we were in sight of the river. Said they were needed back in Yecha-a crisis. Said you Wolf Nomads would pick us up… as soon as we crossed the river… Left a guard, then most left us. Kobolds attacked when we were midstream… heavy losses. You… must help or all will die. The princess… so beautiful… The kingdom, great wealth, all depends on her safety. I promised the king I would protect her… I rode. I… promised to bring help.'
'Princess? What princess? What kingdom? What wealth?' asked Mika-oba, suddenly interested in the man's welfare.
'Great wealth… so beautiful… the princess…' muttered the man. For a moment, his eyes glimmered, and he seemed to see Mika-oba clearly for one brief second. His eyes burned feverishly and he said loudly and clearly for all to hear: 'You! You must go. You must save her. I pass her safekeeping on to you!' and then his eyes glazed and he fell back against Mika's arm.
The crowd gasped at the man's words, and Mika felt their eyes focused on his back. 'He's sick, doesn't know what he's saying. Raving. Delirious. Anyone can see that,' Mika said quickly, cursing his dumb bad luck.
'I don't think so,' said Whituk with a nasty smirk. 'He was very clear. Said what he had to. Certainly placed his mission in the right hands. Found the best man, all right.'
'I don't think he meant me
Veltran emerged from his state of trance, sorrowfully crossed the man's hands on his chest and spoke softly. 'Rest easy, friend. We will ride to the aid of your party. Some of our men must be there already. They will turn the tide of the battle. Kobolds are no match for men of the Wolf Clan.'
'All dead,' whispered the man, his eyes no longer seeing. 'They came… and they are dead. You must send… more… help.' His arm slid from his chest and fell slackly to the ground.
Whituk moved to help, but Mika knew that the man was beyond them now and had joined the spirits of his ancestors. He rose slowly, his mind churning, and his eyes met the steady gaze of the chief. Enor was grim.
'It cannot be,' said Enor, his bronze face a sickly shade of yellow. 'I sent twenty of our best men. The Guildsman said a strong party was needed, and I sent the best. They could not be dead. The man has to be wrong…'
But his voice was thick with dread and Mika-oba was touched by a cold chill, as he recalled those who had left without him. Hansa, bold and cunning and friend of his childhood, as well as Gunnar and Hondred and Belo and Haj. The best of the young men of the clan. Had he not chosen to frolic with Celia, he himself would have been among them. He shut his mind to the small voice of his conscience that recalled how unlikely that would be, since he always chose to frolic.
Relief flooded through him, vying with anger and grief, as he realized that even if they were dead, he was still alive.
'We must all go,' said Enor-oba, son of the chief and Celia's brother. 'The death of this man is a blot on the honor of the Wolf Clan. We must ride to the river and hope that we are in time to avenge the caravan.' Enor-oba gave Mika-oba a sneer, confident he had upstaged him in the bravado department.
That was just like his dull-witted boyhood rival, his mouth racing ahead of his brain. And yet… Mika toyed with the idea of riding along, prompted no doubt by the mention of a beautiful princess and great wealth, as well as the conviction that any kobolds, should they really exist, would be long gone by the time he got there. Before he could decide if the risk was worth the reward, his father spoke.
'You cannot go, Mika-oba. Your place is here with the clan,' Veltran said, climbing to his feet wearily, his face pinched with fatigue.
'We must pray for guidance and say the words that will keep the clan from danger. Others will go. Others will fight. I need you here to help me. You have much to learn before you are able to take my place.'
Left to his own devices, Mika would undoubtedly have recalled the ferocity of kobolds and found some way to wriggle out of the confrontation, but forbidden by his father, the mission took on new appeal; the danger receded.
The image of the unknown princess took shape in Mika's mind. He pictured long, black flowing tresses, a delicate figure, a wealthy and grateful father, and a few cowardly kobolds hiding in the rocks. Surely the messenger had exaggerated. And even if he had not, surely the Wolf Nomads had defeated them before they themselves were killed.
Mika turned to his father and said loudly for the benefit of the others, 'Veltran, honored father, I hear your words and the wisdom they hold, but I would serve the clan best if you would let me go.'
Celia sighed in an admiring fashion and stroked his arm lightly. His father started to speak, but Mika-oba, now fully committed to folly by Celia's touch and his own greedy instincts, held up his hand to forestall his words.
'Father, we sent the best of our men to meet that caravan. They are the future of the Wolf Nomads. If they are in danger, so is the entire clan. They must be rescued. I am the best bowman of those who remain, and the best fighter in hand-to-hand combat. I know that I must take my place at your side in the future and I will do so, but let me go now and Whituk will help you say the prayers and pray for guidance.'
