Zara the Wolf Read online

  "Baron Hillard, this is the woman Zara, who Duke Wetzel sent," my escort said.

  "Zara, is the duke sending troops?" he asked, his eyes bright with excitement. I couldn't imagine him accompanying troops into the mountains. He was not only overweight, but also he didn't look like a man who had ever been active, from what I could see of his arms and legs.

  "I don't know, Baron Hillard. He asked me to look for your niece and nephew and determine if anything could be done—"

  "Done? Send in a hundred cavalry and kill the savages and free them!" he shouted. "What good are you?"

  "You will have to take that up with Duke Wetzel. I'm just following his orders. If you will keep my horse and gear, I'd like to get started."

  "Why are you leaving your horse?"

  "A horse will slow me down and limit where I can go," I said, withholding the urge to add, there are no roads in the mountains you idiot. He sat staring from behind his desk for a long time.

  "See me when you return. I want to know what you find," he said, waving for me to go. Outside, I retrieved my bow and quiver, wolf cap and leggings, and a pack with a week's food supplies. I would live off the land as much as possible; otherwise, I would have to carry a month or more of food, which would be heavy and inconvenient. I left the compound at a slow trot, which I could maintain for six to eight hours at a time. I noticed the Baron was having me followed, for what purpose I couldn't imagine. Ironically, by nightfall their horses wouldn't be fit to continue, as my short rest stops wouldn’t be enough for the horses. I continued through the night in case the soldiers tried to follow me on foot.

  I had no idea where the tribe camped but assumed it would be high into the mountains on ground where they could set up tents or semi-permanent huts. Not knowing, I had to be continuously on the alert for signs of their passing or hunting. Nine days later, I found my first clue, signs of hunting: camp fires and butchered game. Like the hunters, I had killed several small game animals for food. In a few weeks, the scavengers would clean up the remains, which meant the hunters had been here recently, and I was probably not too far from their camp. Now I traveled only at night. I found them three nights later in a small valley. There looked to be close to two hundred. After two more days sneaking around, I had a good feel for the tribe and their activities. The baron's nephew wasn't there. He could have been stolen or traded, but was more likely dead. One of the two slave girls was the right age and matched the description of his niece. That night, I painted a message on a piece of dry wood and laid it next to the stream they visited: trade for slave with warrior, and the location of what I thought would be a frequently visited area about a day away. Two days later, a warrior showed up, accompanied by two other warriors who stayed hidden about five minutes away.

  "Morning, warrior," I said in Ojaza. The man was a typical middle-aged warrior: lean with hard wirily muscles, bronze skin, hawk-like face, and armed with a short sword and dagger. "Call your friends and talk finished."

  "You strange Ojaza warrior. What want?" he said with an accent, but the words were understandable. Apparently, the tribes once had a common language, which had evolved over the years of separation.

  "Trade for girl slave," I said, watching him closely. The tribes were not at war; however, they were not above stealing or taking hostages for ransom.

  "How much? Slaves useful, make good wives."

  "Sometimes. Not strong. Lazy. No talent." A slave wouldn't be considered as good as a woman from the tribe. "A mule on the other hand ... "

  "Mule with metal maybe," he said, testing me. The tribes traded for everything and were good at it. The question would be the usefulness of a slave and the difficulty in replacing her versus what the tribe could get in exchange. Versus my value, I mused as his eyes evaluated me.

  "Four-hands long swords," he said.

  "Two and a mule," I said, knowing he didn't expect twenty.

  "Three and a mule."

  "Three and I pick the girl." Now the hard part came—the exchange. Unless the sun wasn't coming up tomorrow, both sides would envision an ambush by the other side, because they would consider one.

  "Agree. A mule and three hands of long swords and you pick the girl," he said, smiling. I'd wager he was already considering the ambush.

  "How do we ensure an honorable trade?" I asked, wiping the smile from his face.

  "You say Sheqn warrior has no honor." His hand lay on his sword handle.

  "I say the people I talk for have no honor. Sheqn warrior knows that, so ... " I said, implying his tribe had honor but couldn't trust who I worked for.

  "You have honor?" he asked.

  I bared my neck, showing the wolf-head tattoo.

  He stared at it for a long time and then nodded. "You strange, but that Ojaza warrior tattoo. Does Ojaza warrior have honor?" He moved his hand for a better grip on his sword.

  "More than the white men," I said, provoking a genuine laugh.

  "What you suggest, Wolf?"

  "I will bring the mule and three hands of long swords here in a hand-of-hands’ days. You will bring the blonde-haired girl alone. I will leave the mule and take the girl," I said, and a slight smile touched his lips. "The white men have explosives. I will carry some with me. If someone without honor tries to ambush me, the Wolf will kill the girl and will seek revenge with the white man's explosives. Many will die for the dishonor of a few."

  "You are named well. If we see a trap, we will kill the girl and seek revenge."

  I took out an arrow, pricked my finger with the arrowhead, smeared the blood on the tip, and handed it to him. He took one of his arrows and did the same.

  "I'm Ohnee the Viper." He bared his neck to show the head of a viper.

  "Zara the Wolf."

  * * *

  As I made my way down the mountain, I contemplated my agreement. Neither of us fully trusted the other, but we had given what amounted to an oath to the spirits we were named after—which was very bad medicine to break—and we had made sure the other knew the consequences of breaking the oath. It was the best I could do. Now to convince the Baron, I mused.

  Eight days later, I entered Redrock around midday and decided to stop at the Rusty Mug for a hot meal. I had been eating cold meals, both to avoid fires that could give away my position if anyone were following and to make better time. The Pub was full, but I found myself a place at the end of a long table and sat. I got lots of hard looks. Soon a young girl appeared.

  "What can I get you, ma’am?" she asked, smiling.

  "What's the special?"

  "Stew—" she started to say but was interrupted by a big man about halfway down the table.

  "Me," he said, smiling and pointing to his chest.

  "Stew, bread, and water," I said, and she hurried off.

  "Water?" the big guy said it like a bad word.

  "Not a good idea to talk to royalty drunk, is it?" I asked.

  "You?"

  "I'd rather get drunk, but ... " I left the rest for him to fill in.

  "What about?" Another man asked.

  "I think I'd rather go see him drunk than tell you his business." I laughed and got nods of agreement and snorts in response. One thing led to another, and I told them I had been a guard on a caravan and an abbreviated story of the attempted robbery.

  The stew was watery but tasty. I sighed in relief as I left. I had managed to avoid an incident with the big guy, who seemed to be looking for an argument. The last thing I needed was trouble.

  When I reached the gate, the guard held me while a private went to tell the baron I had arrived. An hour later, I was escorted to the baron's study by two guards.

  "What do you have to report?" he said as he would to a servant. Fortunately, I had expected his reaction and felt relaxed.

  "Your nephew is dead, but your niece lives. They will trade her for a mule and fifteen long swords," I said, waiting for his knee-jerk reaction.

  "What? You will show my captain where their camp is located, and he and his troop
will kill the whole village!" he shouted as he stood and came marching around his desk toward me. "We don't barter with savages."

  "Your captain will bring home your niece's head. That's all he will find, unless he has less than five hundred troopers. In that case, the Indians will get more than fifteen swords—and horses instead of a mule."

  "Who do you think you are? You're nothing but a savage—"

  "A savage who is working for Duke Wetzel, not you. I'll return and tell him you don't like his solution," I said quietly. "Oh, their camp is a three-week walk up the mountain. You can't miss it. I'll point out the peak it's under to your captain before I leave. The duke is expecting a report from me."

  "Alright, we'll do it your way," he said after a long silence.

  I could see that Baron Hillard wanted to have me beaten or worse, except the duke had sent me, and the consequences of harming me were unknown. Instead, I could see he planned to follow me and ambush us, and undoubtedly to give his captain orders to see that I died in the fighting.

  I left the office with a headache. I didn't like the tribes, but I had nothing against the Sheqn, and I had given my word. And my good name might prove critical in any future dealings with the tribes. Besides, the tribes would just wipe out the detail Hillard would send and they would kill the girl. How did that benefit anyone? I lay awake most of the night, trying to decide what to do.

  * * *

  The next day, I assembled the necessary ransom and ten sticks of explosives without any trouble, since the Baron had authorized I get whatever I needed. I noticed that the soldiers were preparing to leave, based on the activity going on within the barracks and stables. I estimated around sixty soldiers. I had sixteen days before the meeting, and it would only take eight days to reach the site—eight days to play with. I didn't wait for morning and left as soon as everything was assembled. Instead of heading in the direction of the meeting, I made my way to a point twenty miles to the west, and for the next four days, I climbed high into the mountains. By now, the soldiers were more than a day behind me, because they had to lead their horses and were falling farther behind each hour. Feeling it was going to snow within the next twelve hours, I turned east toward the meeting site. The troopers were lost and confused, and the snow would make it worse. Even if they could track me, they would be several days late to the meeting. I smiled. They would hate Zara the Wolf for losing them, never knowing I had saved their lives.

  * * *

  I arrived a day and a half early and used the time to scout the area. The next day, Ohnee appeared with twenty warriors and the girl, but he did stop them a mile short of the meeting site. When he saw me, he was quick to explain.

  "I brought four hands of warriors in case there was trouble. They are not here for you."

  "I left soldiers," I said while opening both my hands six times. "One day west of here, They are lost, hungry, and think your camp is higher, in those mountains. They should give up in a day or two."

  "I thought maybe you intended to sneak around behind us." He laughed, tossing me the rope attached to the girl's collar.

  "With that bunch of wives?" I said using the term meaning an Indian woman who had never been a warrior.

  He laughed. "You are welcome in our camp, Zara the Wolf," he said turning and trotting off with the mule.

  I released the collar on the girl's neck before speaking. "What's your name?"

  "Shelly," she said hesitantly.

  "Well Shelly, we need to leave in case he changes his mind and decides he can have his ransom and two slaves," I said, taking her hand and beginning a slow trot down a small trail going east rather than south, in case there were warriors waiting on the logical trail down to the valley. I kept moving well into the night, even though I saw no sign of trouble. I stopped around midnight when I knew Shelly couldn't go any farther. I sat back against a tree, and she curled up beside me for warmth and was asleep in seconds. I waited for her to wake, hoping the sleep would revive her strength enough for an all-day fast walk.

  "Here, Shelly. It's not tasty, but it will give you energy," I said, giving her a small bag with trail food. "If things go well today, maybe we can have a hot meal tomorrow."

  She nodded and took the bag and began eating.

  "How did you get captured?" I asked, not sure how the Sheqn had been able to kidnap someone of royalty. They were usually well protected and out of the tribes’s reach.

  "Uncle Hillard asked if we wanted to visit the mines. It sounded exciting so ... Phillip and I said yes. Mother didn't want us to go, but father said it would be safe with Uncle Hillard." She stuffed another handful of food in her mouth and chewed a minute before continuing with tears in her eyes. "Then Phillip decided he wanted to explore the area. Uncle Hillard sent two guards with us, but Phillip wouldn't listen to their warnings about the area not being safe, and they had no authority to make us turn back. We had been out several hours and the sun was beginning to set when the Sheqn attacked us. They killed the guards and dragged us into the foothills."

  "What happened to Phillip?"

  "He kept telling them that Uncle Hillard would send troops and kill all the savages if they didn't let us go. They beat him until he finally stopped. When we reached the camp, he refused to work, so they wouldn't give him food. I tried to share mine with him, but they caught me and beat me. He died a week later. I should have refused to eat ... "

  "No, your brother was brave but stupid," I said. Actually, I thought him an idiot. "I was kidnapped by the Ojaza tribe and made a slave. I escaped. You survived and you escaped. You can't escape if you're dead."

  * * *

  Feeling the Sheqn had kept their word, I hunted game and stopped for a hot meal every other day. By the time we reached the foothills, Shelly looked better, and she was a fountain of questions. I concluded the experience would make her a stronger person.

  When we reached the lower foothills, Baron Hillard's captain found us. He appeared mad at me, but what could he do. I hadn’t agreed to lead them to the meeting. They had secretly followed me.

  "Lady Shelly, are you alright? Where is Lord Phillip?" the captain asked while glaring at me.

  "Yes, Captain Nixsen, thanks to Zara I'm safe. Lord Phillip is dead."

  "We will avenge him, Lady Shelly."

  "Thank you for the thought, captain, but I doubt that," she said and raised a hand to stop him from responding. She and I had discussed the problems an army would have trying to wipe out the tribes, and she had proved perceptive in understanding the issues. The captain found a horse for Shelly, and I declined a halfhearted offer for one. I might be the slowest of the Ojaza, but I could still run a horse to death.

  I reached the compound several hours ahead of the captain's troop and was saddling my horse and inspecting him and my gear when a man dressed like a lower level administrator approached.

  "The baron wants you in his office now," he half shouted.

  "You may tell the baron that his captain will be here within a few hours with Lady Shelly. I'm late for a meeting with Duke Wetzel," I said, swinging up onto Greystone. I didn't think I could survive another meeting with Baron Hillard. It had been easier dealing with Ohnee the Viper. I laughed as I exited the gate and turned toward Calle.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Cheyo Monk

  I took my time on the way back to Calle. Saving Shelly had been very satisfying, if I ignored having to deal with Baron Hillard. Shelly would have been very unlikely to escape and would have spent her life in captivity, bearing Sheqn children.

  I reached the outskirts of the city on the morning of the sixth day and made my way directly to the castle. After explaining the duke had sent me to Redrock and wanted my report when I returned, I was admitted and taken to a private room where I was served sweets and a strong coffee. I walked around admiring the paintings of battle scenes, what looked like people and angels, and portraits. The large room appeared almost empty although it contained four chairs and several small tables. Sometime later, t
he same man came and escorted me to the duke's study. After surrendering my sword and dagger, I was permitted to enter. He waved me to a chair. I bowed to the Cheyo Monk, who sat on the floor against the wall, his head covered by a hood three sizes too big and his body with an oversized robe. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought the Monk was but a bundle of discarded cloth. He nodded in response.

  "Your Grace." I bowed in his direction. "You said you wanted to see me when I returned," I said before sitting.

  "Zara, Baron Hillard thinks you should be arrested and jailed for consorting with the tribes," he said, taking a chair facing me and sitting. That didn't surprise me and was the reason I had left without speaking with him. But apparently, the baron wanted his pound of flesh for thwarting his plans and had sent a messenger to the duke. "Did you consort with the tribes?"

  "I made a deal with a Sheqn warrior—a mule and fifteen long swords for the baron's niece. His nephew refused to work and was starved to death. So, I guess I consorted with the tribe for her release," I said.

  "And I suppose Baron Hillard sent troops to ambush the trade?"

  "Sixty cavalry." I nodded.

  Wetzel laughed. "Which you lost on the mountain."

  "Yes. The Sheqn would have killed the girl and the cavalry eventually."

  "Good work. How much do I owe you?" he asked, head cocked awaiting a response. I thought I could reasonably ask for several gold coins, but I hadn't negotiated a commission, and in fact had been careful not to. I didn't need the money, and having the duke's good will was worth more.

  "Nothing, Your Grace. Saving Lady Shelly was its own reward. She's a bright young girl who will benefit from the experience."

  "Honorable Monk?" Wetzel said as a question to something. I would have sworn I could see the Monk through a blue haze, sitting naked lotus style on a boulder in the middle of a small stream. His legs and one arm were deformed. I too was naked, not just my body but also my mind—and the wolf-spirit I had never seen.