and insects from his throat. David coughed up dirt and blood and bile and crawling things as his airways cleared, then lay on his side in the snow. The tears froze on his cheeks, and his teeth were chattering.
Roland knelt by his side. “David,” he said. “Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”
Tell me. Tell me.
Roland touched his hand to David’s face, and David felt himself recoil. Roland, too, registered his response, for instantly he withdrew his hand and moved away from the boy.
“I want to go home,” David whispered. “That’s all. I just want to go home.”
And he curled into himself upon the snow and cried until he had no tears left to shed.
XXIII. Of the March of the Wolves
DAVID SAT on Scylla’s back. Roland was not riding with him but once more led the horse by her reins along the road. There was an unspoken tension between Roland and David, and while the boy was able to recognize both Roland’s hurt and its source, he could not find a way to connect the two with an apology. The Crooked Man had hinted at something about the relationship between Roland and the lost Raphael that David felt might be true, but he was less convinced by the implication that Roland now had similar feelings for David himself. Deep down, he was certain that it was false; Roland had shown him nothing but kindness, and if there had been any ulterior motive to his actions, it would have revealed itself long before now. He was sorry that he had recoiled from Roland’s touch of solicitude, but to make the admission would have forced him to acknowledge that, even for just the blink of an eye, the Crooked Man’s words had found their mark.
It had taken David a long time to recover himself. His throat hurt when he spoke, and he could still taste dirt in his mouth even after he had washed it out with icy water from the stream. It was only after riding in silence for a long time that he was able to tell Roland of what had taken place beneath the ground.
“And that is all he asked of you?” said Roland, when David had repeated to him most of what had been uttered. “He wanted you to tell him your half brother’s name?”
David nodded. “He told me I could go back home if I did.”
“Do you believe him?”
David thought about the question. “Yes,” he said. “I think he could show me the way, if he wanted to.”
“Then you must decide for yourself what to do. Remember, though, that nothing comes without cost. The villagers learned that as they sifted through the remains of their homes. There is a price to be paid for everything, and it is a good idea to find out that price before you make the agreement. Your friend the Woodsman called this fellow a trickster, and if that is what he is, then nothing he says is entirely to be trusted. Be careful in striking a bargain with him and listen closely to his words, for he will say less than he means and conceal more than he reveals.”
Roland did not look back at David as he spoke, and these were the last words that they exchanged for many miles. When they stopped to rest that night, they sat at opposite sides of the small fire Roland had made, and they ate in silence. Roland had removed the saddle from Scylla’s back and placed it against a tree, far from the spot where he had laid out David’s blanket.
“You can rest easy,” he said. “I am not tired, and I will keep watch on the forest while you sleep.”
David thanked him. He lay down and closed his eyes, but he could not fall asleep. He thought of wolves and Loups, of his father and Rose and Georgie, of his lost mother and the offer that the Crooked Man had made. He wanted to leave this place. If all that was required was to share Georgie’s name with the Crooked Man, then perhaps that was what he should do. But the Crooked Man would not come back now that Roland was keeping watch, and David felt his anger at Roland begin to grow. Roland was using him: his promise of protection and of guidance to the king’s castle had come at too great a price. David was being dragged along on a quest for a man whom he had never met, a man for whom only Roland had feelings, and those feelings, if the Crooked Man was to be believed, were not natural. There were names for men like Roland where David came from. They were among the worst names that a man could be called. David had always been warned to keep away from such people, and now here he was keeping company with one of them in a strange land. Well, soon their ways would part. Roland reckoned that they would reach the castle the following day, and there they would finally learn the truth of Raphael’s fate. After that, Roland would lead him to the king, and then their arrangement would be over.
While David slept, and Roland brooded, the man named Fletcher knelt at the walls of his village, his bow in his hand, a quiver of arrows by his side. Others crouched alongside him, their faces lit by torches once again, just as they had been when they prepared to face the Beast. They gazed out at the forest before them, for even in the darkness it was clear to them that it was no longer empty and still. Shapes moved through the trees, thousands upon thousands of them. They padded on all fours, gray and white and black, but among them were those that walked on two legs, dressed like men but with faces that bore traces of the animals they once were.
Fletcher shivered. This, then, was the wolf army of which he had heard. He had never seen so many animals moving as one before, not even when he had looked to the late summer skies and witnessed the migration of birds. Yet they were now more than animals. They moved with a purpose beyond merely the desire to hunt or breed. With the Loups at their head to impose discipline and plan the campaign, they represented a fusion of all that was most terrifying about men and wolves. The king’s forces would not be strong enough to defeat them on a field of battle.
One of the Loups emerged from the pack and stood at the edge of the forest, staring at the men hunched behind the defenses of their little village. He was more finely dressed than the others, and even from this distance Fletcher could tell that he seemed more human than the others, although he could not yet be mistaken for a man.
Leroi: the wolf who would be king.
During the long wait for the coming of the Beast, Roland had shared with Fletcher what he knew of the wolves and the Loups, and how David had bested them. Although Fletcher wished the soldier and the boy only health and happiness, he was very glad that they were no longer within the walls of the village.
Leroi knows, thought Fletcher. He knows they were here, and if he suspected they were still with us, he would attack with the full fury of his army.
Fletcher raised himself to his feet and stared across the open ground to the place where Leroi stood.
“What are you doing?” whispered someone from close by.
“I will not cower before an animal,” said Fletcher. “I will not give that
Leroi nodded, as though in understanding of Fletcher’s gesture, then slowly drew a clawed finger across his throat. He would be back once the king was dealt with, and they would see how brave Fletcher and the others truly were. Then Leroi turned away to rejoin the pack, leaving the men to watch impotently as the great wolf army passed through the woods on its way to seize the kingdom.
XXIV. Of the Fortress of Thorns
DAVID AWOKE the next morning to find Roland gone. The fire was dead, and Scylla was no longer tethered to her tree. David rose and stood where the horse’s tracks disappeared into the forest. He felt concern at first, then a kind of relief, followed by anger at Roland for abandoning him without even a word of good-bye, and, finally, the first twinge of fear. Suddenly, the prospect of confronting the Crooked Man alone again was not so appealing, and the possibility of the wolves coming across him was less appealing yet. He drank from his canteen. His hand was shaking. It caused him to spill water over his shirt. He wiped at it and caught the jagged end of a fingernail on the coarse material. A thread unraveled, and as he tried to free it, his nail tore still further, causing him to yelp in pain. He threw the canteen at the nearest tree in a fit of rage, then sat down hard on the ground and buried his head in his hands.
“And what purpose did that serve?” said Roland’s voice.
