Wolf Blood by N. M. Browne Read Free Book Online Page B

Gwyn; that honour was mine. The Chief’s cries remind me of Gwyn’s torment. I find my helmet in the dirt and pull it hard down over my ears to block them out.
    In my memory Gwyn will always be hale and fit and mocking me. ‘Cariad, I tell you, good though you are, you’ll never match a man in the killing ground.’ How wrong he was.
    There’s no shame in shedding tears for the lost but I don’t want Morcant to see me cry so I blunder after the pony, whispering the words my father used on his chariot horses. The wolf is still alert, sniffing the air and listening intently. He paws the ground impatient to be off. Morcant doesn’t have to tell me that he thinks someone else is coming.
    I haven’t ridden for too long so my vault on to the beast’s back is so clumsy I almost fall off backwards. Thankfully Morcant doesn’t see this graceless manoeuvre as he is still gathering up our gear and collecting our spent spears like a good soldier. His lodged in the chest of one of our enemies, mine in the Chief’s eye. The Chief howls like a beast as the spear is withdrawn and that sets the pony off again. Unfortunately his scream will carry a long way, a beacon to any of his allies still alive.
    Morcant jogs after me towards the bank of the river, swollen with meltwater and white with foam. I don’t try to speak over its roar but point across to the other bank. The pony bucks and rears. I have to keep stroking the warm flesh of its neck and whispering Da’s magic into its ears to keep it from bolting. When we plunge into the freezing water, I am blinded by a numbing spray of icy needles. It takes my breath away. I close my eyes. I yell prayers to the goddess of the water. I have to trust to her grace and the instincts of the pony to see me across. I glimpse Morcant as he wades after me, flinching as he enters the river. Such cold could kill him.
    I strain to hear sounds of pursuit but I can’t hear anything but screaming above the roaring water. I think it might be in my head. Surely the Chief will be dead by now. It is my right and duty to avenge those the Chief harmed. I’ve done what had to be done. I say it over and over.
    Morcant is blue with cold when we reach the steep bank at the river’s other side. I can hear his teeth chattering as he hauls himself out. I wish I’d thought to strip the Chief of his fine, fur-lined cloak. I would have nothing of his, but there is no reason why Morcant couldn’t have benefited from our victory.
    Morcant glares at me and I remember to look away as he wipes himself dry and dresses himself as quickly as he can in dry clothes from his pack. I hear the distinctive bark of Bric across the river and the Chief’s scream. I was wrong – he is still alive.
    When Morcant is fully clothed, we head for the deep wood, where two people and a pony might lose themselves.
    ‘Do you think there are more of them to track us?’ Morcant asks. They are the first words either of us has spoken since the skirmish.
    I shrug. ‘I’m surprised anyone survived the massacre. He might get help from other Parisi tribes.’
    Morcant is impatient.
    ‘I can guess as well as you can. You’re a seeress – can’t you foresee it?’
    I try to answer him but I am already tumbling into the darkness.
    ‘Trista!’ Morcant’s voice is sharp. It brings me back to the moment. Thank all the gods I was only gone for an instant. The pony tosses its head and skitters out of Morcant’s way as he tries to come closer to me.
    ‘What happened? I thought you were going to fall off!’
    I am slick with sweat and my heart is racing with the shock of his voice calling me back.
    ‘I was having a vision – nothing that helps us. Something I have been seeing since childhood.’ His look is questioning; even the wolf, looking at me with one paw raised as if to run, is curious. ‘I keep seeing a man imprisoned. He is no one I know . . .’ It’s too difficult to explain. I have visions all the time and most of them make