indeed.
Charra spun to the new the threat. Ancel took several steps back while he faced the other wolves on his side. With Charra providing protection to the rear, he stood a chance.
Breaths laboring heavily, the wounded wolf eased to the ground. One of the others whined. A bark answered from those Charra occupied. The wolf in front of Ancel loped over to its counterpart, sniffed, gave one plaintive moan then a growl like distant thunder.
Ancel’s heart thumped at the sound.
With a sudden lurch, the wolf spun to face him and bounded forward. At the same time, snarls issued from behind him, followed by Charra’s barking roar. Out of the corner of his eye, Ancel saw the other wolf on his flank lunge.
He met the first animal head on as it soared through the air. Sidestepping at the last moment, he sliced.
Silversteel met fur. Flesh parted. Blood spurted.
A whimper ensued as the beast dropped to the ground. Ancel was already turning to face the flanking one, throwing his cloak up for protection.
As the second wolf crashed into him, he tried to drop to one side and roll. Pain lanced up his arm. The wolf had its jaws locked on, and even through the fur-lined cloak, his pelts, and leather armor beneath, the crushing power of those canines bore down on him.
He hit the ground hard, the wolf atop him worrying at his arm. A snarl made Ancel glance up. Its fur matted with blood, the wounded wolf had risen to its feet and limped over, jaws spread in a rictus. Golden brown eyes stared into Ancel’s own.
Ancel tried to bring his sword up, but it was trapped beneath him. An eternity passed between one heartbeat and the next. The wolf’s shoulder muscles bunched. A torrent of panic cut through him like an icy gust in a storm.
With desperation came the voices of his new power—the voices from his nightmares. The heartbeats stretched. The world stilled.
“What is ours is yours.” It was the whisper of death yet somehow tantalizing.
The wolf kicked its legs as it sprang.
“Use us as you will.” The goading speech of a fierce gale rushing by a mountain.
Canine jaws spread, fangs sharp and white.
“You must not die here.” This voice was the gurgle of a brook before it became a river.
Other voices rose, beseeching, commanding, filling him with promises. They crowded his head, tried to consume his being. Some competed with each other.
Behind them all, he sensed a greater power still. It felt as if it spanned deeper and wider than the world.
Ancel’s mouth dried. Fear so strong he tasted it made him cry out.
The wolf was completing its leap, eyes so close he picked out the pupils’ patterns, open jaws so near, he felt the heat of its breath. Slobber struck his face.
Yelling at the top of his lungs, Ancel suffused himself within the Eye. The speakers cut off with a howl. In the same instant, he reached out for his power.
The wolf jerked, whined once, and then pitched over. An arrow jutted from its neck.
A second later, the one tearing at his arm gave a matching cry and fell dead. Blood spurted from a similar wound.
Stopped midway before he embraced his power, Ancel kicked the beast off him and rolled over. Less than fifteen feet away, his father controlled his horse between his legs. The hood of his fur jacket thrown back, Stefan held his oversized, black longbow in one hand. Stefan nocked another arrow and aimed toward Charra. Ancel’s gaze followed his father’s aim.
Four dead wolves lay in the snow, but five more had joined the fray. Blood covered Charra’s bone hackles in dripping rivulets.
The bowstring twanged; another wolf fell. The others turned tail and darted toward the woods.
Heart still racing, his breathing labored, Ancel scrambled to his feet, his sword held out before him.
“In Ilumni’s name, didn’t I warn you about coming in here alone?” Stefan bellowed, bow trained on the fleeing animals.
Ancel lowered his weapon as he turned to meet his father’s furious glare. “Yes, Da.” He
Charra spun to the new the threat. Ancel took several steps back while he faced the other wolves on his side. With Charra providing protection to the rear, he stood a chance.
Breaths laboring heavily, the wounded wolf eased to the ground. One of the others whined. A bark answered from those Charra occupied. The wolf in front of Ancel loped over to its counterpart, sniffed, gave one plaintive moan then a growl like distant thunder.
Ancel’s heart thumped at the sound.
With a sudden lurch, the wolf spun to face him and bounded forward. At the same time, snarls issued from behind him, followed by Charra’s barking roar. Out of the corner of his eye, Ancel saw the other wolf on his flank lunge.
He met the first animal head on as it soared through the air. Sidestepping at the last moment, he sliced.
Silversteel met fur. Flesh parted. Blood spurted.
A whimper ensued as the beast dropped to the ground. Ancel was already turning to face the flanking one, throwing his cloak up for protection.
As the second wolf crashed into him, he tried to drop to one side and roll. Pain lanced up his arm. The wolf had its jaws locked on, and even through the fur-lined cloak, his pelts, and leather armor beneath, the crushing power of those canines bore down on him.
He hit the ground hard, the wolf atop him worrying at his arm. A snarl made Ancel glance up. Its fur matted with blood, the wounded wolf had risen to its feet and limped over, jaws spread in a rictus. Golden brown eyes stared into Ancel’s own.
Ancel tried to bring his sword up, but it was trapped beneath him. An eternity passed between one heartbeat and the next. The wolf’s shoulder muscles bunched. A torrent of panic cut through him like an icy gust in a storm.
With desperation came the voices of his new power—the voices from his nightmares. The heartbeats stretched. The world stilled.
“What is ours is yours.” It was the whisper of death yet somehow tantalizing.
The wolf kicked its legs as it sprang.
“Use us as you will.” The goading speech of a fierce gale rushing by a mountain.
Canine jaws spread, fangs sharp and white.
“You must not die here.” This voice was the gurgle of a brook before it became a river.
Other voices rose, beseeching, commanding, filling him with promises. They crowded his head, tried to consume his being. Some competed with each other.
Behind them all, he sensed a greater power still. It felt as if it spanned deeper and wider than the world.
Ancel’s mouth dried. Fear so strong he tasted it made him cry out.
The wolf was completing its leap, eyes so close he picked out the pupils’ patterns, open jaws so near, he felt the heat of its breath. Slobber struck his face.
Yelling at the top of his lungs, Ancel suffused himself within the Eye. The speakers cut off with a howl. In the same instant, he reached out for his power.
The wolf jerked, whined once, and then pitched over. An arrow jutted from its neck.
A second later, the one tearing at his arm gave a matching cry and fell dead. Blood spurted from a similar wound.
Stopped midway before he embraced his power, Ancel kicked the beast off him and rolled over. Less than fifteen feet away, his father controlled his horse between his legs. The hood of his fur jacket thrown back, Stefan held his oversized, black longbow in one hand. Stefan nocked another arrow and aimed toward Charra. Ancel’s gaze followed his father’s aim.
Four dead wolves lay in the snow, but five more had joined the fray. Blood covered Charra’s bone hackles in dripping rivulets.
The bowstring twanged; another wolf fell. The others turned tail and darted toward the woods.
Heart still racing, his breathing labored, Ancel scrambled to his feet, his sword held out before him.
“In Ilumni’s name, didn’t I warn you about coming in here alone?” Stefan bellowed, bow trained on the fleeing animals.
Ancel lowered his weapon as he turned to meet his father’s furious glare. “Yes, Da.” He
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