“Would you look at that? Here comes the sun.”
Flinzer motioned a halt, and they all looked up. Some mad artist slashed through the canvas of clouds. Light poured through and illustrated the horizon in strokes of gold. Breathless, Flinzer watched the land revealed in a brilliant band, like the eyes of a veiled woman.
Sunshine shone through emerald pines and set orange bluffs ablaze. It turned the river ice to molten tin and forged the snowbound peaks of the horizon into a line of silver spears. The seven men solemnly beheld the savage land, fully in the moment. They were alive.
But for how long?
Flinzer pushed back at the nagging thought and enjoyed the rapture. Too soon, the clouds closed over, and the land seemed so much more desolate for the light it had lost. Whent’s eyes were wet.
Stung, the hunters snaked down the rusty bluffs toward the riverbank below. Midway down, the ground broke beneath Bluddox. As he fell, quick-thinking Whent grabbed the axe bound to his back. Flinzer and Stripes caught Whent and, together, the three of them pulled the big man back from the brink. His face was white as ice.
“Hate, hate, hate heights,” Bluddox griped. He clasped Whent’s forearms in thanks and gave a grateful nod to Flinzer and Stripes.
Doubly cautious, they picked their way down to the banks of Whitebite Run. Bluddox took a few steps onto the frozen river. It was solid as stone.
“Think she’ll hold us?” Cocker squinted across the course. Whitebite run was a hundred and fifty paces across at its narrowest. Near the median, toothy jags of stone broke through the ice. There were rapids beneath.
“I sure hope so.” Bluddox rubbed the back of his head. Like as not, he would be the one to go under.
Flinzer cock-eyed the crossing and scowled at the shrouded sky. On the opposite shore, the ground rose in a red-orange ridge, the top lined with green-white aspen. Flinzer felt a twinge of premonition. Was it disaster on the wind or cowardice creeping in?
“Hope’s not enough. She’s solid here, but the ice will thin toward the thalweg. Here’s what we do. All of you, go gather wood. Enough for a bonfire. That way, if a man goes in, we can warm him before he freezes.”
The move was prudent; it might be death to get wet. The sound of Bluddox’s heavy axe rang across the frozen river. Soon, they’d built a sizable pile of firewood.
“We’re gonna send Whent out first,” Flinzer ordered.
“Oof.” Whent winced. The others grimaced in sympathy, but he was the smallest and lightest. With a shrug, Whent scampered out onto the ice.
“Hold up! Tie a line to his belt so we can drag him out if he goes under.”
“Good idear, Flinz,” Whent agreed.
“Might be the only one I’ve had all year. Take it easy as you can, Whently. If she starts to crack up, call out right away. We’ll yank you back. If we can’t ford this fucker, we’re going back to town.”
Flinzer met the eyes of each man in turn. They all returned a solemn nod. Everyone understood. If they turned back now, it meant the end of the hunt and the bounty was done. The idea of marching all those leagues to leave empty-handed sat ill with everybody. There was nothing left to do but pray the river was frozen through.
With a catch in his throat, Flinzer watched Whent plumb a path across the ice. The spry Nortan made his way to the middle, slow and deliberate as a crane on the hunt. Ames and Ives held the rope and cheated out onto the ice, ten paces apart to spread out their weight. Whent made it over the median, then slid back in a tenth of the time.
“You were right. At the middle, she’s only two or three inches thick. Big ol’ Bluddox might be too much to bear.”
The hunters turned to the axeman. Bluddox clapped his hands over his barrel-belly.
“By my gluttony undone. Sorry, boys. I won’t drag you down. I can find my own way back to town,” Bluddox offered.
Flinzer gave him a hard look. Though he’d been flighty before, he knew Bluddox didn’t want to slog back alone.
“I’m not for splitting up. We can haul your gear over first. Then, you lie flat. We’ll drag you across. Fan out to spread your weight.”
“The things men do for a hundred ducats,” Bluddox rued.
The sun slipped lower as they set across. With each foggy breath, the temperature dropped another notch. Flinzer’s stomach churned as he watched his men relay across Whitebite Run. The ice popped and twanged, unhappy to have them on its back. Soon, the sun was done, and they made their way by the scant moonlight.
When his turn came, Flinzer was frozen by fear of the black water that rushed beneath the ice. He tarried a touch too long and drew eyes. The questioning looks tipped the fulcrum. He’d rather drown than be shamed before his men. Flinzer shoved one foot in front of the other, out onto the ice.
Wind howled down the pass and caught him unprotected. The ice was thinner than he’d thought. He felt it shift underfoot. His fingertips throbbed under his gloves, and the ice grumbled beneath his boots. As he scraped across, Flinzer flinched at every crackle.
To break through, to be caught in that current, and trapped under the ice, that was true terror. Chilled to the core, Flinzer fumbled and slid to the opposite shore. He could barely refrain from falling to his knees to kiss the frozen dirt. Flinzer expected jeers, at least from Cocker, but the other men were just as shaken.
Only Bluddox was left on the other side. Moonlight knifed through a crack in the clouds, and it all shone silver. Bluddox looked up and made the sign of the Wanderstar. Flinzer had known the man for twelve years. He’d never seen Bluddox so much glance as a temple before. A hundred ducats, indeed.
They sent Ames, Ives, and Whent out with the rope, spaced wide. Bluddox crept out as far as the ice could stomach him, then laid flat and starfished. The rest of the troop set to the rope and heaved against his considerable inertia. With each tug, Flinzer became more convinced it was all a mistake, that Bluddox was about to break through. He held his breath.
A howl broke the night.
Flinzer drew his sword as he spun toward the ridge. The howl was so loud he expected the wolf to be right on top of them. A hundred paces up the rocky slope, a silver beast stood among the aspen, outlined in the low moonlight. Flinzer, Cocker, and Stripes stared up at it, stunned. It was the largest wolf any of them had ever seen.
“Shoot it!” Flinzer hissed.
In a terrible hurry, he sheathed his sword and reached for his bow. Stripes already had an arrow ready and took the shot. His arrow fell short and snapped against a stone. Cocker’s shot went wide. Flinzer aimed high. His shaft thudded into a trunk, three feet above the wolf. Yellow eyes met his in a flash of contempt. Stripes had a second arrow out. Before he could loose, the wolf turned tail and disappeared into the trees.
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As one, the three men started uphill to pursue. An inhuman scream wailed out of the woods and stopped them in their steps. Flinzer’s smallhairs stood. The shriek was like a rusted hinge, backed by the drone of a war horn.
“Did we hit it?” Cocker asked.
Another scream howled out, closer than the first. It was no wolf. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Blades flashed in the moonlight as the three men shouldered bows and drew swords.
“What is it?” Whent called from the river. They were still tugging Bluddox across the ice.
“KEEP PULLING!” Flinzer shouted back, but the roar drowned him out. Screams were all around them. Great shadows galloped between the shining aspen. For a moment, Flinzer thought the entire forest had come alive. The shadows broke from the forest and thundered down the ridge.
Stampede!
“ELK!” Flinzer yelped.
Pandemonium erupted. Droves of elk bounded over the crest and galloped down the slope as the hunters scrambled for shelter. A thousand-pound bull bugled and bore down on them. Flinzer dove and rolled, a hair ahead of the bull’s antlers.
As he tried to find his feet, a hoof clubbed him in the back and knocked him prone. Flinzer crawled on and found Cocker cowering behind a boulder. Ten paces away, Stripes leapt clear of a charging bull but was run over and trampled by a doe. He fell still on the frozen slope, and hooves rained all around him.
Without words, Flinzer and Cocker sprang from behind the boulder to retrieve him, heedless of the stampede. Flinzer grabbed Stripes’ arms. Cocker went for the legs, but a huge bull dipped its head and hooked his backpack with an antler point. The charger whipped the grown man aside like a gnat. Cocker landed on his back with an audible snap, sprang back up, and scrambled over.
Together, they dragged Stripes behind the boulder. They huddled over him as the herd blasted past.
The air churned into a soup of dust and musk. Hoofbeats threatened to rattle their bones apart. Flinzer fully expected to be buried under the living avalanche.
“YOU ALL RIGHT?” Flinzer shouted above the roar. Stripes was unresponsive. Flinzer shook Cocker’s arm. “WHAT BROKE?”
“JUST MY BOW!” Cocker shouted back.
Flinzer couldn’t tell if his own ribs were bruised or cracked. He’d been struck close to the spine. Worried, he curled his toes. They were numb. He hoped it was just the cold. The stampede petered. A few stragglers were left chasing the main herd.
“Oh, shit! The river!”
Flinzer shot to his feet and regretted it at once. He felt like he’d been stabbed in the back. Down in the dust, the herd surged across Whitebite Run. The thin ice shattered beneath the stampede. Undeterred, the elk swam across and bounded up onto the opposite bank.
“IVES! AMES! WHENT! BLUDDOX!” Flinzer called over the roar of the retreating herd.
Two men were trampled into the riverbank, Ames covered Ives with his body. For a moment, Flinzer feared they were both dead, but Ames stirred. Flinzer glanced back at the boulder. Cocker was wide-eyed. Stripes was still out. In the hills above, the silver wolf howled again. Another howl sounded from the west, then one from the south. Surrounded by wolves!
“HELP!” Whent wailed.
Whent was unhurt and still had hold of the rope. He was in danger of being dragged off his feet. Flinzer flew to him, though every step felt like a blade in his back. The rope disappeared into the frothing black rapids. Bluddox was under the ice!
Flinzer grabbed the line and pulled with Whent. There was no give. It felt like they were trying to haul up an anchor.
“COCKER!” Flinzer screamed.
Cocker ran downhill. Together, the three men heaved at the rope with all their strength. It wasn’t enough. Ives and Ames were up on their feet, limping their way over.
“Rope’s caught!”
“Give it slack!”
They played out line and strained with all their strength. Flinzer felt movement, then the line suddenly went slack. The men fell backward. Cocker’s knee rammed into Flinzer’s back, and he howled in pain. The broken rope hung limp in his hand.
The wolves howled again, closer. The men looked at each other, ashen-faced in the moonlight. No one knew what to do. Flinzer threw off his sword belt and bow.
“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” Flinzer cursed as he reeled up the broken line. The wet jute hardened and froze as he tied the broken end around his waist.
“Flinzer—” Cocker cautioned.
Flinzer ignored him and tied a clumsy bowline knot. He still had his gloves on.
“Flinzer, he’s gone,” Whent urged. He put a hand on Flinzer’s elbow. Cocker’s hand tightened on his other arm.
“Hold him!” Cocker ordered.
Flinzer wrenched out of his grip and glared at his men.
“I’m going after him.” Flinzer snarled, trying to stoke fury into courage. Cocker wanted to fight back, but he didn’t have the will. Before the others could stop him, Flinzer climbed down the riverbank.
“Hold the damn rope!” Flinzer called back. Stiff-shouldered and jelly-legged, he loped onto the ice. Flinzer’s breath came in shallow stabs. His heart ached from racing, and he wasn’t even in the drink yet. Weak ice creaked underfoot; black water gurgled in the breach. Flinzer tried to move forward, but his traitor legs refused to carry him another step.
“FLINZER!” Whent screamed.
Flinzer wouldn’t look back. He was certain he’d break and run. More voices joined in warning. Across the river, a shadow swept down the bank. A great white death stood upon the ice. Blue eyes blazed in the moonlight. A wild black mane spilled from beneath a white bearskin hood. It was a giant, near nine feet tall.
Threewolf!
Flinzer and his men froze with fear as the giant threw off his heavy white coat and tugged off his boots. Naked to the waist, Threewolf ran across Whitebite Run. Ten strides out, he broke through and vanished under the black water.
Flinzer skittered back across the ice and scrambled for his sword belt. Whent and Ives readied arrows. Cocker drew his blade. Ames could barely stand. They pointed their weapons at the ice and waited as wolves howled all around them.
A shadow downstream caught Flinzer’s eyes. A sharp blow bulged the ice, a second shattered it. Threewolf broke through and loped up onto the riverbank. He dragged a wide body behind him.
Bluddox!
As they watched, Threewolf lifted Bluddox by one leg and thwacked him on the back like a newborn babe. Bluddox choked and spit up river water. Threewolf laid him down and turned back to the bounty hunters. His eyes caught the moon and glowed.
“You fools. Go home.”
Flinzer flinched at the sound of Threewolf’s voice. It boomed like a kettle drum. His eyes shot to the huge scabbard at Threewolf’s side.
“Lower your bows,” Flinzer ordered Whent and Ives. Their shafts would barely sting the giant.
“What are you?” Flinzer found the courage to ask.
“I am tired,” Threewolf rumbled. The hunters struggled to understand. His accent was strange, and his voice dipped deeper than any man’s. “I warn you, but you do not listen. Here I am! Come and take me!”
Flinzer flinched at his choice of words and recalled his challenge in the badlands. He’d heard!
Threewolf thumped a hand against the sheen of frost on his chest, and the note rang in the night. He was solid as stone. Wolves howled out, and more voices joined them in the distance. Flinzer glanced around and saw shadows on the slope. Not three wolves, but seven! No, nine! More shadows moved in the trees. If battle began, the pack would tear them to ribbons. They should never have come here.
“We’ll go. I’m sorry,” Flinzer pleaded.
“Go and never return. Tell the others. All the men like you. Spread word across the land. I am sick of this slaughter. Whatever Moraney offers, all they will ever collect is death. This is the last of my kindness.” Threewolf motioned to Bluddox. “Warm him soon or he will die.”
At the giant’s feet, Bluddox’s teeth chattered like mad. Threewolf stepped back into the river and disappeared. No one moved until he climbed onto the opposite bank. Then, Whent and Ives rushed up to tent their cloaks over Bluddox.
Flinzer watched their quarry shake himself off and don his furred boots and bearskin coat. As Threewolf put up his hood, he drew back his head and let out an explosive sneeze. The giant shook his head after and grumbled as he disappeared into the trees. Flinzer looked around, the wolves padded away. The big silver was last.
Tail high, the wolf curled his lip and caught Flinzer in his angry, yellow glare. He turned, kicked his hind legs with disdain, and trotted off.
“We need a fire, fast!” Whent called up. Flinzer looked across the river. All the wood they’d chopped was on the wrong side. Threewolf was gone. It was over.
They lost.