Wolfsbane Winter Read online

  Brise gave a soft laugh and patted Deryn’s shoulder. “No. That would be a bit of a hard question to answer from here—even for me.”

  The miners’ campsite was in the wilderness, with no proper road leading to it, but over the course of the year the supply wagon had left a trail that would be easy to follow, except this was not the route the strangers were taking.

  Deryn frowned. “They’re heading south of the mine. If they keep on that path, they’ll bypass it altogether.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “So have they got no interest in the mine?”

  “That’s another question that’s a bit hard to answer from up here, but I suspect…”

  “What?”

  Brise shook her head. “There’s no point guessing. Let’s go find out.”

  She set off, moving more directly and faster than on her ascent of the hillside, but making no more noise.

  Deryn kept close behind, stepping in Brise’s footsteps. All her senses were on such a keen edge it felt as if they were outside her skin, yet it was hard to hear anything over her heartbeat booming in her ears. For the second time in an hour Deryn’s stomach tightened in a knot, but in a very different way and for a very different reason. She was good in the wilderness. She knew it. Otherwise Brise would not have taken her as foster daughter and apprentice. Deryn just hoped, when it came to a crisis point, she would be good enough.

  Brise motioned for them to stop in the cover of a dense clump of undergrowth. The spot overlooked a shallow gully, with a stream cascading over a rocky bed. Deryn had barely slipped into place beside her foster mother when she caught the sound of horses, getting closer. She quickly checked to ensure that the bush was concealing all of her and then peered through a gap in the leaves.

  In single file, nine horsemen rode by, following the line of the stream. The riders were dirty and disheveled. Clearly they had been on the road for a while. Their clothes and gear were old and of poor quality, except for their weapons, which were in prominent display. There was no mistaking where the group had spent whatever money they had scraped together. The arsenal was quite excessive for any threat from wild animals, and the leader was not wearing the badge of the marshal’s men, which left only one conclusion.

  Deryn waited until the sound of horses had faded before speaking. “Outlaws.”

  “I fear so.”

  “Do you think they’re here to steal the miners’ gold?”

  “It’s hard to see what else they’d be after.”

  “How’d they know where the mine is?”

  “Maybe we’ll get the chance to ask them.”

  Deryn chewed her lip. “There’s only nine of them. We outnumber them, if you add in the miners.”

  “The miners have paid us to defend them. They shouldn’t have to defend themselves.”

  “They will, though, won’t they, rather than lose their gold?”

  “That’s not the point.” Brise pursed her lips. “And anyway, this gang might be on their way to hook up with others.” She stared thoughtfully at the point where the riders had vanished into the forest. “Go back to the camp. Tell Faren what we’ve seen and get the camp organized for defense. I’m going to track the gang and see if I can find out anything more.”

  Deryn ducked her head to hide her disappointment and irritation. She’s treating me like a kid again, sending me out of danger’s way. The thought rankled, but any temptation to plead her case was immediately countered by knowledge that Brise was right. The other Iron Wolves needed to be made aware of what was happening, and acting like a sulking toddler would not be a good way to impress Brise with her maturity.

  Deryn nodded sharply. “Right. I’ll see you back at camp.”

  *

  Deryn peered over the top of the hastily erected barricade. The logs had been cut ready for use as mine supports, and it had been the work of minutes to turn them into a very solid wall around the entrance to the main shaft. To her left, a couple of miners were whispering to each other as they also stood watch. Deryn ignored them, keeping her attention fixed on the deserted scene before her.

  Virtually nothing of the camp remained in view. They had dismantled everything they could and carried it into the mine. One of the miners was currently leading the horses far away up the mountain, in the hope that the outlaws would not think them worth pursuing. Only the supply wagon was left. Its loss would be a nuisance for the miners, but it would not present much in the way of spoils, should the outlaws settle for looting what they could under cover of night and then leaving.

  The stretch of grass looked peaceful in the sunlight. At the far edge of the clearing, the river looped around the base of a rock face before disappearing into the woods. The only movements were branches, swaying in the breeze, and the water, cascading over rocks. On either side, the precipitous valley walls were impassable on horseback, but it was unsafe to assume that any attack would come along the rough track beside the river. The outlaws could easily scramble down the hillside. The trees would conceal their approach, although the broken slopes would not offer a promising start for a coordinated attempt at storming the barricade.

  Abruptly, the background chatter of birdsong faltered and was replaced by scattered chirps of alarm. Someone was approaching. Deryn scoured the valley for the first sign as to who. A flash of white showed between the branches at a height of about eight feet, which was right for a mounted rider. However, the motion was wrong, swaying from side to side, and Deryn was not surprised that the figure who eventually stepped clear of the trees was on foot. The white cloth was a grubby shirt, tied to the end of a stick.

  The man holding it was tall and powerfully built. Corded muscle bunched in his arm as he waved the makeshift flag above his head. His heavy jaw was covered in black stubble. A broken nose and a studded leather jerkin completed the look of a fighter, but was he a warrior or a street brawler? At his side was a second figure, smaller and paler in complexion, a woman with the sharp eyes and light tread of a scout.

  “Faren. Someone’s here. They want to parley,” Deryn called.

  The two miners broke off their muttered conversation. Presumably, they had been too busy talking to keep watch and had not spotted the outlaws’ arrival.

  Faren emerged from the darkness of the mine, his arms folded across his broad chest. He was fifty or so, easily the oldest of the Iron Wolves. His age explained why he no longer rode the Misery Trail, but he was still tough and his experience made him the unquestioned leader of the mercenary guards. Deryn trusted him totally. Even so, she would have been happier if Brise were there. Deryn caught her lip in her teeth. Why had Brise not yet returned? Surely nothing could have gone wrong.

  A knot of miners clustered behind Faren. Their faces revealed nervousness, contrasting markedly with the impassive confidence of the senior mercenary.

  “What do you want?” Faren shouted the challenge.

  The tall man planted his feet square on the ground and smiled. “Don’t be silly. We want your gold, of course.”

  “At the risk of sounding even sillier, I’d point out that we’re a well-armed band of Iron Wolves, and we’re in a strong defensive position. The miners are just as keen as us to stop you getting their gold. I’m sure they’ll lend a hand, or a pickaxe, if needed. So unless you’ve got a good-sized army to call on, I don’t rate your chances.”

  “I don’t need an army. I’ve got something better.”

  The man handed his flag to his companion, then reached over his shoulder and pulled a black tube from the pack on his back. The tube was the length of his arm and three or so inches across. A bar protruded from a collar at the midway point. The man cradled the tube in his arms while gripping the bar.

  “Let me introduce myself. My name is Martez. And I’m an Iron Wolf too.” He paused and tugged on his ear. “Except I’ve sorta retired, ever since last year when I rode the Trail with the worst bunch of useless assholes I’ve ever had the bad luck to meet. Their own mothers must ha
ve been glad to see the back of them. As for the journey, you name it, and it went wrong. We were way overdue on the way back. Luckily, the weather held out for us, and I thought we were gonna make it. And then, four days from Oakan, a blizzard popped up on the horizon. I was about ready to stick my head between my legs and kiss my ass good-bye.” Martez laughed loudly, but little humor underlay his tone.

  “No fucking clue where we were. The scout had gotten us lost. Then we saw some ruins. I’d never seen them before, and I’ve done the Trail enough times. Everyone else was too scared to go in. But the sky was turning black and there was a shitload of snow coming. I reckoned nothing in the ruins could kill me any worse than the blizzard. So I gave the rest of the party a one-finger farewell and hightailed it in.”

  Deryn glanced at Faren. The senior mercenary had his lips set in a firm line, clearly waiting for Martez to finish his story before responding.

  “It must have been a nice little town for the Ancients, back in the Age of Wonders, but the demons had hit it hard, and there weren’t much left to see. I didn’t wander in too far. Didn’t want to bang into a windigo nest. I just dived down the first set of stairs I found, into a cellar. Then the storm hit and the snow started to follow me in. I left my horse by the entrance and moved further along. That’s when it got creepy. The ceiling lit up and the place warmed a tad. I just found a little corner where nothing could sneak up behind me and settled down to wait out the storm. I had supplies. I was snug. My horse would get hungry, but there was nothing I could do about it. The rest of the party—they had no chance. No big loss.” Martez shrugged.

  “The storm lasted three days. After the first day, I got bored and since nothing had tried to hurt me, I poked around a bit. That’s where I found this.” Martez gestured with the black tube. “And I guess you’re wondering what it is. Let me show you.”

  At one side of the clearing, a lone tree stood a short way clear of the surrounding forest. The young pine was little more than a sapling, too slender to be of use for mine supports and not enough of an obstacle to justify the effort of cutting it down. Martez held his black tube at shoulder height and pointed one end at the tree. Deryn did not see what else he did, but suddenly, a beam of blue light shot from the tube, accompanied by a rush of air. For an instant, the tree appeared to swell, as if from absorbing the light, and then it burst into flames.

  Several miners yelled in panic. Deryn felt her guts turn to ice as she watched fire engulf the sapling. Heat washed over her face, carrying black ash and glowing red sparks.

  Still, Faren showed no reaction. His voice was impassive when he spoke. “You’ve got one of the demon’s magic wands from the Age of Chaos.”

  Martez lowered the tube. “Yup. That’s what I’ve got, and now I want your gold as well. But I’m a reasonable man. I’m going to give you tonight to think it over. When I come back at noon tomorrow, I want every one of you waiting for me out here, with all your weapons and your gold lying on the ground. We’ll take the gold and check round to make sure you haven’t missed any. You can pick up your weapons after we’ve gone.” He took a step back and smiled. “See you tomorrow.” Martez turned and sauntered away, with his silent companion at his heel.

  The miners immediately erupted in barrage of curses, but Faren waited until the two outlaws were out of sight before saying calmly, “I don’t think so, sonny-jim.”

  To Deryn’s relief, Brise slipped from the cover of the forest and vaulted over the barricade.

  “You caught all that?” Faren asked her.

  “Yup.”

  “Anything else you can tell us?”

  “They’ve set up camp about a mile and a half away, to the east.”

  “How many?”

  “Just the nine.”

  “Just!” The miner’s voice was a high-pitched shriek. “With that wand, what else do they need?”

  “Shit.” Another miner chimed in. “After all our work here, they’re gonna take…” Her voice faded in despair.

  “No, they’re not,” Faren said decisively. “Well, you can hand over your gold if you want. But there’s no way we Wolves are laying down our weapons.”

  “But you saw it. He can burn us all. I don’t want to be—”

  “Most likely he can’t.” Faren interrupted the miner’s rant. “I’ve seen these demon wands before. They can be nasty, or they can be all show. Martez has had the wand for a year. He’ll have worked out how to make it seem more dangerous than it really is. You can bet we’ve seen the very worst it can do.”

  “How much worse does it need to be?” Dace barged his way to the front. He was the most assertive of the miners and always ready to appoint himself spokesman.

  “The only thing we know is that it can set fire to trees. It might have no effect on living flesh.”

  “Is that likely?”

  “Who knows what sort of magic is in the wand? One thing you can be sure of, though, if that thing could burn us all, he’d have done it. He wouldn’t have mucked about telling us stories first.”

  “We can’t risk it.” Dace was now standing toe-to-toe with Faren.

  “The risk is in doing what he said. If the wand was as powerful as he’s trying to make out, he wouldn’t need us to lay down our weapons. The only reason he told us to do it is because we outnumber his band and he wants us defenseless so he can slit our throats.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I’d say it was a sure bet. Either way, I’m not gonna put myself at the mercy of renegade scum like him.”

  “You can’t—”

  This time, Brise interrupted. “Faren’s right. The Iron Wolves don’t like renegades. Martez won’t let us take our story back to Oakan. He’d be a marked man.”

  Dace still looked ready to argue. Faren ignored him. “Brise, you were telling us what you’d seen. What else?”

  “The gang stopped the other side of that ridge, just below the skyline.” Brise pointed. “The woman who was here with Martez headed off on her own. She has to be their scout. I thought about taking her out, but reckoned we needed information more, so I let her go and stayed watching the others. After a half hour she was back. I couldn’t hear what she said, but they weren’t happy.”

  “She saw we were putting up defenses, so she knew we’d spotted them.”

  Brise nodded. “That’s my guess too. They moved their camp down to the small lake in the valley, out on one of the islands in the marsh.”

  “Easily defended?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “No. It’s a good sign. It means they’re worried about us attacking them, which proves their magic wand doesn’t make them invincible.” Faren added the last point with a sideways glance at Dace.

  “I guess that’s the positive way of looking at it.” Brise gave a rueful smile. “Once they were all sorted on the island, Martez and the scout set out again. He was clearly the gang leader, so this time I followed. He spent a few minutes studying the camp from up on the hillside, before making the big show with his white flag, coming in to parley.”

  “You agree it was all bullshit about not killing us if we let him take the gold?”

  “Oh yes. He wouldn’t have admitted being a renegade if he’d any intention of us living long enough to tell the rest of the Wolves.” Brise frowned. “A bit stupid on his part, because it lets us know for sure that he’s bluffing.”

  “He couldn’t keep it a secret.” The speaker was Shea. “I recognized him. He was in Oakan at the same time as me, hanging out in the Wolves’ Den. He claimed he was looking for work too. I guess he was just looking for tips on where to find miners he could rob.”

  Faren rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I wonder if that explains how he knew where we are. Any idea who he talked to?”

  There was no need for Shea to answer. One miner’s face held an expression of unease bordering on nausea, far too blatant for anyone to miss.

  “You spoke to him?” Faren challenged.

  The miner licked his lips.
“Yeah. A bit. Like Shea said, he was in Oakan, making out like he was an Iron Wolf looking for work. We just chatted.” He glared around defensively. “I was supposed to be hiring more guards. How could I do that without talking to them?”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I don’t remember it all. We just chatted one evening in the tavern. Talking about all sorts. He seemed friendly. Bought me a drink.”

  “Only the one?”

  “Well…” The miner swallowed and stared at the ground.

  Faren gave a sigh of exasperation. “Fucking fantastic. So Martez knows how many Wolves are here, how our supplies stand, and probably what your granny’s name is too.”

  “If it’s so obvious he’s going to kill us, why did he waste his breath talking?” Dace still wanted to argue.

  Brise shrugged. “An excuse to study our defenses close up, I’d guess. Maybe buying himself time as well. He’s hoping we’ll wait to see what happens at noon tomorrow before we make our own plans. And that’s one thing we don’t want to do. I’ve got one more thing to report. That wand of his, Martez made a big thing of laying it out in the sun as soon as they’d made camp.”

  Judging by the smile on Brise’s face, this was good news. The significance was lost on Deryn and the miners, but not Faren. He clenched his hand in a fist and punched the air. “Yes!”

  “What?”

  “Does it matter?” Several voices muttered questions.

  Faren answered. “A lot of the demons’ magic draws on the power of the sun. This wand must do the same. Martez had to let the wand soak up sunrays until it held enough power for his display. I bet he couldn’t have set fire to a second tree. He didn’t turn the wand on the barricade, and us standing behind it, because the hour the wand had gotten didn’t capture enough sunrays to burn through heavy timber.”

  Deryn looked at the burning tree. Already the flames were dying, and now that she was over the initial shock, she could see the wand had set fire to the pine needles and a few twigs, but it had not touched the trunk of the young tree. Nor had the flames spread to others nearby.