The slopes rang with the screeching yowls of the gnolls and the horrible yapping of the hyenas. Mika could tell when they succeeded in cornering and ultimately dragging down some hapless human by the terrible cries of the victims. Wolf howls cascaded down the slopes periodically before they too ended abruptly, and Mika knew that wolves and nomads were dying.
He tried to close his ears to the horrible cries, knowing that people he knew and cared about were being killed. He said a prayer to the Great Wolf Mother that Hornsbuck was not among them and asked for guidance in setting his own course.
Several times, unable to bear the anguished cries, he had pulled the grey up hard, on the point of turning and riding to help, only to realize that it was useless. There was no way of telling where the battle was being fought, and by the time he found it, it would be too late. His misguided chivalry would only serve to endanger the princess, as well as himself. His mouth was set in grim concentration as he raced into the oncoming night, shying from every dark shadow as though it sheltered the enemy.
There seemed to be safety in no direction; the gnolls were closing in on him rapidly. Their ominous tramping could now be heard flanking him on either side.
Now the earth rose steeply on Mika's right, forcing him lower on the steep ridge. Mika knew that it would be death should they descend farther, and he pushed the horses on, fighting them at every turn, causing them to skitter and plunge across dangerous slopes they would never have attempted of their own volition in daylight.
The moon, tiny sliver that it was, rose over a cruel landscape. The trees were below them now, and a cold wind keened harshly across a barren vista of sharp rocks and sheer drops.
They rode along a narrow path, no real trail, but an eroded watercourse that flowed from the crest of the peak. The land was steeply pitched on either side, bare stone that caused the horses' hooves to clatter loudly, reverberating in the confines of the narrow defile.
Mika cursed to himself, wishing he had time to dismount and muffle the horses' hooves with cloth, fearful that the enemy would hear them. As though in answer to his fears, there came a demonic laugh, followed by the familiar cackling yap. Hyenas!
Looking behind him, Mika saw large round eyes glowing yellow in the cold moonlight. Their long sharp canines, so well adapted for ripping and tearing, gleamed white through the froth of spittle that drooled from their open mouths. Their backs humped forward between their shoulder blades, and their backsides sloped away into insignificant hindquarters that were shorter and far less powerful than their front legs.
The lead hyena spotted its quarry and stopped short. Lowering its massive bear-like head till it nearly touched the ground, it uttered a low mournful howl that was echoed by its three foul companions. The howling grew louder and louder as the pitch rose till it seemed to fill the narrow defile, bouncing from one side to the other. Then it broke off and became a demented cackle that caused the hair to rise all over Mika's body.
The grey reared, neighing hysterically, and lunged forward, nearly toppling Mika from the saddle. Mika gripped the pommel and hung on as the grey thundered up the trail, dragging the roan behind him.
The hyenas broke into their strange gait, moving the legs on one side of their bodies in opposition to the legs on the other side. Strange it might have been, and reminiscent of the gnolls' own shambling gait, but it got them where they wanted to go, and fast.
If it had been a matter of speed only, the hyenas might have caught them, but ironically their fearful din spurred the horses on. Mika added his cries to those of the hyenas and beat both horses with the flat of his sword. He had no desire to die in the jaws of such low creatures. Even Tam ran like the wind beside the horses; there was no honor in fighting carrion-eaters such as these.
The horses were breathing hard now, froth blowing from their nostrils, but they were breaking from the hyenas, pulling away steadily.
The peak was before them now, the saddle clearly outlined against the star-filled sky. Mika urged the horses on, driving them cruelly. Later, there would be time to rest. Later.
Then, clearly outlined against the starry sky, two hump-backed figures appeared on the ridge and stood waiting, one swinging a sharp-edged, double-headed axe and the other a four-foot-long two-handed sword. Gnolls.
Mika's heart sank like a plummeting rock as he pulled the grey up hard. But the grey wasn't having any of it. Head down, driven beyond fear into a fear-induced madness, he seized the bit between his large yellow teeth and, ignoring Mika's command, galloped on.
It didn't matter in the slightest that two large gnolls, each standing seven foot tall and weighing at least three hundred pounds, stood directly in his path. The grey did not discern that they were covered with shaggy hair and had low jutting brows. Nor did he care that they had massive jaws filled with sharp teeth that inspired fear in the most reckless of men. None of that mattered to the grey, for they were dressed in leather tunics and had man-like shapes. To the grey, they appeared as humans. Big humans.
What did matter was that the grey was being pursued by hyenas. The grey understood hyenas and still bore scars on one flank from a hyena attack suffered when he was a mere colt still running free on the plains. He had survived, but many of his band had not. The stink of urine, blood, and carrion clung to the hyenas and filled the grey's nostrils, reminding him of that day of death so long ago. He ran from them with the fear of madness, and it mattered not that man-things stood in his way.
Screaming his fear of the hyenas and his hatred of humans, the grey put down his head and charged.
The gnolls were startled. Clearly, they did not expect such a thing to happen. Nothing ever attacked them by choice! The gnoll on the left narrowed its eyes and lowered its sword, bracing the hilt against its body. The gnoll on the right appeared slightly less certain, but following its companion's lead, planted its feet firmly on the rocky trail and raised its battle axe above its head.
"No! No! Stop!" screamed Mika, yanking on the reins in desperation. But the grey ignored him and barreled into the gnolls at full speed.
The gnoll that stood directly in front of them was crushed beneath the grey's hooves, its hard skull splitting like an overripe yarpick fruit, its squat body mangled beyond gnoll-mother recognition. But not before it had driven its sword into the grey's chest.
Even now, impaled on the awful blade, the grey wreaked death, unleashing his old hatred of man on the second man-thing that stood there, still holding the battle axe overhead, too stunned to move. That small hesitation was the gnoll's undoing, for the grey lashed out with one sharp-edged unshod hoof and opened the leather-clad figure from breastbone to navel.
The gnoll looked down, unbelieving, as its intestines slid out of its belly in slow, sinuous, slimy loops. It dropped its arms, the axe forgotten, and tried to replace its guts, stuffing them back into a cavity that now seemed too small to hold them.
The gnoll stared down, its eyes wide with pain and disbelief, and for a second, its eyes met Mika's. Mika almost felt sorry for the creature, but then it no longer mattered, for the grey, feeling the cold steel twisting in his vitals, stumbled and went down, driving the sword still further into his body. But as he did, he carried the gnoll with him, its face crushed between his strong square teeth.
Mika had no time to be thankful for the death of the gnolls, for hard on his heels came the pursuing hyenas. The roan reared and screamed, and the salty stink of blood, both horse and gnoll, lay pungent on the cold night air,
Mika clung to the reins that dangled from the roan's bridle as he disengaged himself from the dying grey. He was thankful that the grey had not fallen on his side and pinned him beneath his great weight. He was certain that the grey would have done so, had he thought of it, carrying his diabolic hatred of man beyond him into death.
Mika scrambled to his feet and tugged the roan's head down as he attempted to mount, but the roan reared hysterically, screaming in fear and clawing out with his sharp hooves, refusing to be calmed as the hyenas slunk closer. The princess was dangling securely, still asleep, blithely ignorant of what was going on around her. Mika shoved her forward and swung behind her on the roan's back. He gave the horse a vicious kick. Still he reared and bucked but did not move forward.
Tam leaped in front of the hyenas, positioning himself in front of Mika, shielding the roan from the hyenas. Mika fought to bring the horse under control, hoping that the four predators would not be too much for Tam to handle.
Tam dropped his head and raised his dewlaps, exposing his black gums lined with sharp teeth, capable of killing even a hyena. He stalked forward on stiff legs, emitting a harsh, deep, guttural growl full of menace that would have sent a lesser creature running in fear for its life.
But hyenas feared little and certainly not a lone wolf. Spitting out their own eerie cries that prefaced a clash, their short bear-like faces with upturned blunt noses seemed to grin in appreciation of the feast to come. Their ungainly bodies leaned forward in hump-backed anticipation. Their spotted, mangy fur and leering expression gave them a comedic look, but as they spread out around Tam and began to circle, Mika was in no way inclined to laughter.
Their actions caused Tam to circle as well, but no matter which way he turned, one of them was always at his back. If he advanced, jaws snapping ferociously, the hyena behind him slashed out with razor-sharp teeth.
They harried Tam back and forth between them, cutting, slashing, nipping, biting. And always when he attacked, they were not there, sliding away from him like ghosts. Had he been able to grasp one, he would have found himself holding nothing but loose folds of skin that swung loosely in his jaws. This worked to the hyenas' advantage, for while the wolf was futily biting excess skin, the hyena would twist around and seize the wolf in its powerful jaws. This was the beginning of the end, for the hyena's jaws were extremely strong, and once they bit down, they seldom let go. While he held on, his companions would rip the victim to shreds before it even realized its desperate plight.
Tam was bleeding from a dozen wounds before Mika succeeded in bullying the roan through the circle of vicious hyenas. "Go, Tam, go!" he hollered, leaning down and lashing his sword at the hyenas.
Tam turned and ran, leaping over the carcass of the grey and the mangled gnolls. Mika skewered one of the hyenas on his sword, then flung it, still yapping, into the midst of its companions.
Another of the hyenas leaped for the soft unprotected swell of the roan's belly, but Mika swung and sliced its head off neatly. Hot blood spurted from the stump of the thick neck, drenching his leg and the roan's side. The two remaining hyenas were momentarily distracted by their fallen comrades, which they tore into with ravenous hunger. Mika kicked the roan harder as they plummeted over the peak, the shrill shrieking of the hyenas loud in his ears, as he caromed down the opposite side of the ridge. The hyenas were left behind, feasting on their own dead and wounded.
Mika gulped as the pale moonlight illuminated the sheer slopes below them, throwing the sharp upthrust boulders, the smooth sliding scree, and abrupt cliffs into contrasts of black and white. Tam, torn and bleeding profusely, teetered on the edge and looked up at Mika with stricken eyes before plunging downward.
The roan quivered beneath Mika as he tried to steer him across a deceptively smooth expanse of gravel that appeared safer than the alternative, a rocky stretch of ground strewn with fist-sized stones. A sudden nameless intuition caused him to drop the reins, allowing the roan his head, allowing him to make his own choices.
The roan swerved at the last moment, avoiding the smooth talus, choosing instead, the rocky ledge above it. As he jumped, the weight of his impact dislodged a small stone which fell onto the gravel below. Instantly, the whole mass started to slide, moving faster and faster, picking up speed and sweeping everything in its path before it as it thundered down the dark slope.
Mika had only a moment to view the catastrophe before the roan leaped again, plunging down the ridge from one tenuous bit of safe footing to the next. Had Mika not given the roan its head, they too would now be at the foot of the slope, buried beneath tons of rock arid gravel.
Mika shuddered and held onto the pommel tightly. Tam raced to keep up with them, blood streaming darkly from a multitude of wounds. Mika could see that Tam was tiring, but there was nothing he could do. Their only hope was to keep going until they reached the bottom.
Because of their great speed and the extreme steepness of the incline, they reached the bottom in a fraction of the time that it had taken them to climb its opposite side.
The bottom was a wide ravine that held a goodly amount of water and was shielded by a dense overhang of spruce trees.
The roan came to a stop on the far bank and stood, all four legs outstretched, braced stiff-kneed, head down, and blew great sobbing breaths, flecked with white foam. His sides heaved with effort, and his body was drenched with sweat.
Mika dismounted and leaned against the exhausted horse, his own legs and thighs quivering with the tension of having gripped the horse so tightly. Together they slowly brought their breathing and their emotions under control. Mika patted the horse and rested his forehead against his neck. He stroked him and murmured softly, "Good horse. You're the best."
Still moving slowly on rubbery legs that scarcely felt capable of supporting him, Mika searched for something to use to rub the horse down. Time was valuable and danger was still near, but the horse would surely founder unless he took the time to cool him down.
But he could find nothing. His cloak was gone, ripped from his shoulders somehow, somewhere. His leather clothing was too hard and too stiff to be of use, and his bedroll was still tied behind the grey's saddle.
Sighing deeply and shrugging philosophically, Mika ripped the princess's silk gown off at the knee. "Excuse me, Your Highness, I need part of your gown to wipe the horse down. You don't mind, do you?" he asked as an afterthought, his hand resting casually on her upturned buttock. She was oblivious, of course.
"There, Tam. You're a witness," Mika said to the wolf curled up on the ground, licking his wounds. "I asked her and she didn't say anything, so I guess it's all right."
The silk made a fine horse-cloth, and Mika stroked and wiped the weary animal clean with handfuls of moss, then dried it thoroughly with the soft silk cloth.
The roan nodded his head up and down, contented and reassured by the gentle rhythmic movements, then rested his head on Mika's shoulder and groaned deeply. Mika was taken aback, used as he was to the ornery nastiness of the grey. Startled, he stroked the velvety smoothness of the roan's muzzle, and he breathed softly in his ear.
Once the roan had cooled off, Mika led him to the stream and allowed him to drink briefly. Then he tied him to a low branch and left him to rest.
He thought about removing the princess from the horse's back, but decided that since she was still under a spell, and evidently not aware of any discomfort, he had best tend to Tam's and his own needs first.
Fortunately, the medicine bag still hung from his shoulder. He was glad that he had decided to keep it on his person. Opening the mouth of the bag, he carefully placed the contents on the edge of the mossy bank and studied them.
There was the book, bound in leather, its thick pages frayed and worn, a small bone pipe, and a dried twist of wolfsbane. There were a number of vials filled with healing potions and unguents, and several horns stoppered with wax plugs that contained medicinal salves. There was his father's ceremonial wolf cloak, a variety of other useful items, and a small sack of the dried meats and vegetables that Hary had given to him.
Mika picked up the antelope horn of healing salve and the sweat-stained silk cloth and turned his attention to Tam.
Tam whined plaintively as Mika examined his wounds. Though none of the wounds were immediately life threatening, Tam's thick pelt was ripped and torn in at least a dozen places from his head to his tail, and a number of the wounds extended deep into the flesh itself. Infection, if not loss of blood, could cause the wolf a slow, lingering death. The wounds had bled freely and that was good, for the dead flesh that gathered in the jaws and teeth of the hyenas was rotting and putrid and could cause disease and death even if the bites healed over.
Mika knew that he needed to clean the wounds thoroughly and then dress them with healing salve or Tam could sicken and die.
First, it was necessary to find shelter, for even though there were no gnolls in sight, it was best to remain hidden.
As their hiding place Mika chose an ancient blue spruce that towered high above him. He crawled under the broad skirt of the tree and found that, as he had hoped, there was ample room beneath its branches. Over the years, the lowest limbs had died and broken off, leaving a comfortable cavern. The fragrant branches draped around him like a living tent.
As he was moving the wolf, who allowed himself to be picked up like a small cub, Mika noted a stout witch hazel bush and remembered that the leaves made a fine cleansing lotion. After he built a small fire next to the base of the trunk, he stripped several handfuls of leaves from the bush, then looked around for something that would function as a container. There was nothing. Nothing at all.
Determined, his gaze fell on his own leather boot, not exactly the best recourse, but one did with what one had. He quickly crushed the leaves between two rocks and dumped the pungent grey-green mess into his boot, then filled it to the ankle with water from the stream, allowing the leather to remain in the stream until it was saturated both inside and out.
When the boot had absorbed as much water as it could, Mika propped it over the fire with a tripod of green sticks. While he waited for the water to heat, he washed the strip of sweat-stained silk in the stream.
The water soon came to a rolling boil, and Mika let it stew until the air was thick with the sharp fragrance of the medicinal leaves before he removed the boot from the fire.
"Well, old boy, this won't do much for my boot. I just hope you don't suffer any ill effects. My brother always said my feet could be used as lethal weapons. Phew! It certainly smells strong enough."
Mika's tone was jovial and confident, but inside, he was aching. Thoughts of Veltran-oba suddenly filled his mind. He remembered their friendly banter with a sense of acute loss and wished that his brother were here with him now.
Tam looked away and growled, licking his lips constantly, nervously, as the sharp aroma filled his nostrils. He looked at Mika out of the corner of his eye and his head moved stiffly, his dewlaps twitching.
"Calm down, boy," Mika said soothingly as he stroked the wolf between his ears and scratched his throat. "You know I wouldn't do anything to up» et you unless it were necessary. \bu have to trust me. We've been together too long for you to start doubting me now."
The words, the tone, or both seemed to soothe the wolf, but Mika wanted to be certain he wouldn't snap in fear or pain. He rummaged about in his supplies and filled the tiny bone pipe with crushed wolfsbane and lit it. Trying not to inhale, he cupped his hand behind the wolfs head and blew the smoke directly into Tam's nostrils. After several puffs, Tam's agitated heartbeat slowed and his pupils dilated. He was as ready as he would ever be.
Dipping the silk cloth in the hot liquid, Mika began swabbing out the wolfs wounds with the hot herbal brew. Soon Tam's pelt was streaming with the fragrant fluid which pooled beneath him on the needle-strewn ground.
Mika worked quickly, packing the clean wounds with the thick healing salves and stitching the jagged edges of skin together in the worst instances, while keeping the wolf calm with his voice.
Tam began to move restlessly, showing signs of recovering from the effects of the wolfsbane. Mika hastily filled the pipe again and, taking a deep pull of the narcotic smoke, blew it into the wolfs nostrils. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to hold the smoke in his mouth and had no sooner exhaled the last of the smoke than he felt the familiar warm lassitude spread throughout his own body. Shrugging mentally, he took another pull on the pipe and blew it more or less in Tam's general direction. Just to make sure the wolf was really out, he loaded the pipe again. However,
Tam seemed to be sleeping, so he was forced to smoke it all himself.
It took him a minute to think of what he was supposed to be doing. Then he remembered. Sighing heavily, he turned the wolf over and began cleaning the wounds on the other side. One of the hyenas had seized Tam's tail in its teeth and in the struggle had pulled the flesh as well as the skin away from the vertebrae for the length of a finger joint. The flesh on either side was already swollen and discolored.
Tam was still sleeping, but Mika felt nauseous looking at the mangled flesh and felt the need to fortify himself. "Only a puff," he murmured as he relit the pipe.
Eyes blinking dreamily, he put down the pipe with exaggerated caution and once more bent to the onerous task.
"Ugh!" he said with a shudder as he rinsed the horrible wound with the cleansing liquid. "Now I know why I didn't want to do this for the rest of my life!" But still, he felt grateful that he had learned the skill, for without it, his friend would surely have died.
At last the awful injury was cleaned and the worst of the mutilated flesh trimmed away with his knife. Mika packed the remainder of the salve around the wound. There was a great deal of flesh still exposed, and Mika knew that it had to be covered or it would attract insects that would lay their eggs in the flesh. Mika sighed and smiled, then wrapped the pink silk cloth round and round the wolfs tail and tied it in a knot. Tam would not be pleased and would do his best to remove it, but with luck it would stay until a scab had formed.
Mika leaned against the rough trunk of the spruce, the branches coming down on all sides of them like a living wall, shutting out the outside world. The small fire had warmed the space, and he was tired and his head still ached. He stared into the fire and blinked. His eyelids drooped, then closed, and he drifted off into a deep and dreamless sleep.