I meant to get this chapter done a lot earlier. Even before the New Year. Then life got in the way, as it tends to do. Now I'm glad I can call it finished before the end of January - if barely so. I'm not entirely satisfied with it this time. In the end I decided to let it loose on the world and see where it leads me next. To Joana who taught me a lot and still does. I hope you enjoy it.
"After her!" Grimrun's harsh voice bellowed in a rage. His words still seemed resonate in Joana's head when their sound had already been swallowed up by the general ruckus. "Bring her to me! And find me that wolf!"
Joana ran and stumbled half-blind down the dark street. Bright shapes were still dancing in front of her eyes from the flash of whatever alchemical trickery Berengar had hurled at their enemy. The noise of the fight was dying down behind her as she covered more ground. But so far there were no footsteps to be heard in pursuit.
Her thoughts, like the houses she passed, were a blur: That had been her enemy right there! And she was running away. Again! But she also remembered the groping spider legs inside her mind, the hold he had somehow had on her. It had cost her all her strength to make her body move again and obey her will. His might was daunting even when he had been focused on Berengar, not her. It was a presence that was still palpable now. Still, all she had done so far and all she could do now seemed to be flee and flee again. How could such an enemy be overcome?
Thick clouds were hiding moon and stars. Some of the shadows were black as pitch. She had followed the road straight on along the town wall and came to the crossing with main road. The gate was on her right - but it was closed and bolted. Two guards in vests of hard leather sat huddled in their cloaks around a small fire next to the ramparts. They were armed with swords and a pair of long spears leaned nearby. Apart from them the street was deserted. They watched her approach with obvious suspicion until Joana skidded to a stop in front of them.
"Your sorcerer, Gramps", she panted, "he's in trouble. There's people want to kill him." She pointed in the direction she had come. A slowly rising cloud of smoke hung over the town around the bend where the house must be. A flickering reddish glow, which did not bode well, outlined it against the dark sky from below. Occasional flashes of brightness flared up like contained lightning. A few shouts still echoed but most of the noise of the fight was out of earshot - or had died down. A lone dog still barked and fell abruptly silent. Joana swore under her breath. Vucara, where as she? The only comforting thought for now was that Grimrun's men had also been looking for her. She must have kept out of sight.
"Sorcerer business." The man made a hasty warding sign. There was unease in his voice. "Doesn't concern us."
"There's almost a score men with torches wanting to kill a single, harmless, half-witted old man", Joana gasped incredulously, "on your watch! How's that not your concern?!"
"What's dun's dun with the approval of the elders", grumbled the other man with a sidelong glance at his companion. He spit something he had been chewing on into the fire which hissed and crackled in response. "Prob'ly ridding Tramir of a dangerous madman. Go 'ome."
"How can the elders approve of this", Joana protested with mounting frustration. "To drag a man out of his house in the middle of the night, killing him without trial by the Thing. Is there no law in this town?"
"The elders are the law", the man growled with a hint of threat in his voice, "if you're un'appy with their decision you can bring up the issue at the next Thing. Until then get lost."
Joana ground her teeth. "A fine pair of guards you are."
"We do our job", the guard returned thrusting out his bearded chin, "we might ask what a young woman is doing outside at this time o' the night, dressed like a man, running around as if you'd lost your mind and makin' wild accusations. That'd be our job."
She could have slapped herself. Over the fight and the run and the obvious indifference of these men she had completely forgotten her disguise. Her cloak was on her hiding her figure but she had left her helmet behind in Berengar's hut. And her voice was shrill like that of an excited girl. The conversation had taken a turn for the worse. And now she noticed the approach of rapid footsteps from the direction she had come. There was no need to look around.
"There, that's 'er", a voice shouted.
Joana managed a smile. In her sweetest, girly voice she said: "I think I need to go now."
"You stay right 'ere", the guard growled and made to rise to his feet.
He never finished his motion. With a single step Joana was next to fire and kicked the burning cinders right into his face. A shower of sparks and burning ashes rained down on the little camp. Within a moment a dozen flames had blossomed on the guard's cloak. With a howl he threw himself on the ground, clapping his hands over his face. The other guard had dodged aside but was scrambling to his feet. Not losing another moment Joana turned her back on them and ran toward the town center. A single glance down the way she had come told her there were three of them and they were gaining fast.
Down the main street she sprinted. Curses and shouts could be heard behind but still the street ahead was deserted. At the first corner she turned in and followed a narrow lane between two long houses. As she came out between them Joana stumbled over some stacked baskets and nearly fell. Something wooden clattered noisily to ground. Nearby a dog began barking loudly. Joana stifled a curse. She ran zigzagging between dark houses and some in which light was still burning. Several times there was shouting behind her. She bumped painfully into a few more unknown things in the dark. Still, she refused to slow down, praying they would not bring dogs. Finally, when she felt that a good few houses and crossings separated her from her pursuers, she sank to the ground in a dark corner between two houses. Her sides stung and she felt close to being sick. A long while passed as she tried desperately to keep her panting quiet.
At some point she thought she heard hushed voices nearby. Scrambling backward further into the shadows she ended up behind a pile of wood. Just at that moment the light of a torch fell into the farm yard. Joana pulled up her legs trying to make herself as small as possible. They were talking quietly but she could make out no words. Only once it seemed one of them was giving a call like for a lost cat. The girl dared not breathe. After what had seemed like an eternity they passed down the lane and light and voices faded away.
Joana breathed again - very carefully. Her heart was still (or again) pounding like a smith's hammer. It sounded at least that loud to her. Where to go now? The wisest choice was probably to remain in her hiding place until dawn. The risk of bumping into one of Grimrun's henchmen at night was too great. And now she had even lost Vucara.
A wave of despair swept over her. Maybe this foe was beyond her. Maybe the best course was just to surrender and hope he would spare her life. Were those her thoughts? How about the recollection of a ruined village several days' journey from where she was and a row of low mounds of earth? Her callused hands still remembered the labour. The screams still rang in her ears and cold iron flashed in the firelight before her mind's eye. If she gave herself up those spectres would go on haunting her for the rest of her days. Even now they clamoured for justice. Or was that her own pride and defiance? Her anger returned but she was too exhausted for resolve. She would need more than that. She would need a plan. But now she could hardly think straight.
Clenching her fists Joana tried to stop her hands from shaking and keep herself from nervously transplanting her mother's ring from one finger onto the other. It was becoming a bad habit. One day she'd loose it and never forgive herself for it.
With her treasure firmly jammed onto her middle finger she got to her feet and staggered further behind the house. Behind it, under an overhanging part of the low thatched roof, firewood had been stacked for the coming cold season. Here she wrapped herself in her cloak but closed one hand about the hilt of her dagger. Then, leaning against the slope of the piled up logs and the wall of the house, she allowed herself to relax a little. Next to her, beyond the sheltering roof, big drops of rain began to fall.
She was standing atop green hill. It was bitterly cold as a chill wind blew over her. Surrounding her stood tall, silent stones. Great pillars of grown rock they were that formed a ring of spikes around the flat hilltop like a crown on a bald king's head. This was when Joana realised it was not at all a hilltop but a plateau overhung by cliff. In front the ground dropped away to unfathomable depths shrouded in mist. Behind gaped the huge entrance to a cave. The passage it opened into was lost in twilight. Sharp stone needles hung down from this looming lip, growing out of the living rock infinitely slowly as water dripped from them one hollow splosh at a time. Joana was standing in the wide open maw of a tremendous beast of stone. The ring of pillars loomed up like broken molars while the sharp fangs at the ceiling seemed ready to close down on her. The girl shivered.
As Joana turned surveying her surroundings in wonder and growing foreboding there came a sound - the first she had heard in this place except the moaning of the wind. It was a scraping of something huge and hard being dragged lightly over rocks. Then she saw movement. What she had taken for a rocky fold of the mountain began to turn and slide forward. A ridge of sharp spines came into view and what had looked like broken boulders faded into oblong, pointed, overlapping scales. They glinted rusty in the low sun. Joana staggered back but the movement was all around her now. The coils of a great body came undone.
Suddenly right before her the beast's head reared up until it towered above her high as a tree. Its maw was large enough to swallow a cow whole and lined with sharp teeth. A wide crest flared around the neck on strong spines. Smoke or vapours curled from its wide nostrils. A malevolent gaze bent down on Joana out of eyes that gleamed with the light of smoldering coals. The monster opened its mouth and bellowed forth a challenge that shook the massive rocks around her.
Joana drew her bow. The motion was as one long practiced. It happened without thinking. She was wearing a coat of mail whose scales shone bright in the sun as she moved. Her yew bow was in her hand and a quiver of fine arrows suspended from the belt at her left hip. In one sweep she knocked an arrow to the string and let fly. Before it had even struck its target she already reached for a new one. Like a great serpent the monster's head shot down at her, jaws open wide. With a crunch the teeth came together where Joana had stood. She had rolled behind one of the standing stones and loosed the arrow on the creature's neck. The monster snapped at her curling its huge neck around the stone but Joana was not there anymore. Again and again she let fly and no arrow missed its mark. Yet each of them bounced off the monster's scaly neck and tumbled back to the ground in shattered splinters.
With another mighty roar the creature now bounded fully onto the plateau outside the cave. The long neck was followed by a pair of squat legs that angled outward from its body. Each talon on its feet was as long as the blade of a sword. The monster gave an angry snarl that Joana could feel in the pit of her stomach. She tossed the bow aside. From its place strapped to her back she drew her spear. The sharp edge of its slender point gleamed as if by its own light. For a moment they faced each other: the monster whose forefeet now rested nearly in the middle of the circle of stones and the girl in shining armour taking shelter behind a stone on the opposite side of the ring. The monster's chest swelled in a deep breath. Joana tensed.
A stream of fire sprang roaring from the creature's maw. It bathed Joana's world in searing heat even as she dived out of harm's way. She tumbled to the ground, rolled, nimbly regained her feet. Even here, yards to the side, she felt as if trapped in a smith's furnace. Forward she charged with a loud cry of her own, holding the spear firmly in both hands, pointed ahead like the prow of a boat. The wyrm snapped at her but she ducked sideways. Then she was under it. Right between its taloned feet she stormed and drove the spear with all her strength into its chest.
The spear head connected with the dragon's scales but it went no further. With a sharp crack the shaft snapped below the head and bounced out of her hands. The dragon reared up and before Joana could retreat she was lifted off her feet by a sweep of its great paw. She was airborne for a several heartbeats. Then her flight was stopped abruptly by one of the standing stones. All wind and much consciousness were knocked out of her. She slid to the ground in a daze but before she could even collapse the dragon was upon her. It pinned her, standing back to the stone, immobile between its long talons like in a living cage. The dragon's head loomed above her while the smoldering gaze seemed to bore through the backs of her eyeballs right into her very soul. Then the dragon laughed. The sound was like thunder, like the rumble of an earthquake. When it spoke its voice rang out like the deep grinding of rocks in a landslide.
"Thy arrows fit not between my scales. And thy spear cannot pierce my hide. Mighty warriors beyond count have I devoured. My age is measured in ages of the world. I am invincible."
It seemed to sneer down at her triumphantly.
"Now thou, too, art mine."
It drew another breath. An irrepressible wrath boiled up in Joana's heart then - anger at her failure, fury at her helplessness, rage at the sheer arrogance of the monster's claim. She screamed up at the dragon's face.
"Never!"
A wave of recollection washed over her that moment and she knew what her enemy was. And suddenly it was her own voice that seemed to make the very ground beneath her tremble.
"You do not rule my fate! Fafnr!"
The blaze appeared to die in the dragon's maw. Even the glow of the fiery eyes faded. It uttered a terrible shriek. Its tail thrashed, its body writhed. The standing stones tumbled and a crack echoed through the cavern. One of the sharp fangs of rock broke off the ceiling and came hurtling down. It struck the dragon in the back of its neck and slammed its body down. Before the long head hit the ground the tip of the rock needle had dug its way out of the underside of the neck dripping black with the creature's blood. As the grip of its foot slackened the dragon's head came to rest next to the stone Joana had been pinned against. The great eye of the monster still stared at her with - was that spite or was it awe? Dark blood ran from its jaws and pooled under it on the rocks. Its breaths came flat and gurgled in its throat. Joana still stood rooted to the spot, paralysed by the dreadful creature's demise.
"The word-" Its voice was still deep but now had turned hollow like the echo of a vast cavern. "The word is mightier than-"
Joana had not intended to sleep. Now she awoke startled and bewildered. The last words of her dream still rang in her mind. It had been so real! The creature's hot breath still lingered on her face and her back still ached from slamming into the standing stone.
Then as her senses cleared she found her back ached from cowering against the pile of logs. The gurgling turned into the sound of rain rushing down. The hot breath belonged to a canine face that was staring at her out of eyes that gleamed pale in the dark. The girl gave a start and tried to scramble away. It was Vucara's worried voice that gave her pause.
"It is I", she said quickly and soothingly, "do not be alarmed. I tracked you here but you did not wake even when I licked you. I feared you were dead."
Joana sank back against the logs with a sigh. She felt light-headed from the fright. It had been dangerous to let her guard down so completely. She did not know if the owners of the house would be so friendly if they found her. Her exhaustion and the pitter-patter of rain drops had apparently got the better of her in the end. Then forgetting all respect she slung her arms around the wolf's neck. Vucara let it happen.
"You can't imagine how glad I am to see you, Vucara", she whispered into the fur.
Vucara seemed to smile slyly when the girl asked her what had happened back at Berengar's hut.
"Let us say the dogs of this settlement were reminded that it was a Speaker they faced this day and now remember who their allegiance belongs to."
Then Joana told her companion of her conversation with old Berengar. His claims who and what their enemy was. At that Vucara fell silent.
"Whether your opponent this night was or was not a creature such as you name I cannot say. But I did sense a mighty presence there." After a pause she added: "Are you certain you still wish to continue pursuing him? If you do it may well be the death of you."
Vucara was repeating her own thoughts. Joana still did not know the answer. Or did she? The vengeful ghosts of the past urged her on against all caution while the living - including herself - merely fuelled her doubt. Being stuck inbetween angered her. "How could I not", she snapped gesturing wildly, "my mother and my friends and all their families lie dead. Murdered by a band of cowards in the night. Slaughtered like animals!" She hesitated at the last word but with words came memories that burnt like fire in her heart. "You've seen what they did to them. Their screams and dead faces haunt my dreams every night. Their spirits cry for revenge and I have done nothing so far! Except run away. At every point, wherever I turn, enemies chase me and leave me no peace. I don't even know why! But this Grimrun-" She spat out the name with a grimace. "-he knows the answers. He hunts me for a reason. I swear, if I can I will wring them out of him." She shook her fist in the dark. "And if he is responsible then, by all the gods, I will-" She ranted herself to silence. The sound of hatred and bitterness in her own voice startled her more than she had expected. "He must die", she finished the sentence much more quietly.
Vucara's eyes seemed to glow like amber in the night as the wolf studied her from her resting position just under the eaves of the roof.
"If our opponent be what that man says it be then we truly face a great evil. It would make a just cause and maybe the stuff of legends. Still, even that creature's death will not bring your mother back nor your friends nor any of their families", she warned.
"Only through its death I will find peace, Vucara. From their cries - and from those that hunt me-"
Vucara interrupted her. Something she did not do often.
"Understand me, Speaker. I do not doubt that this opponent deserves to be brought down. I merely caution you to do it for the right reason. Anything less will only bring you more sorrow."
Joana's shoulders sagged. Why was this so important to her companion?
"I don't know if I can give you that kind of reason", she answered with a tired shrug, "I just know - justice or no justice, evil or not - in the end I'll be too tired to run any further. And then they still get me and have their way."
"How about your father? Why not return to him and ask his help? Surely he would want to protect you."
Joana shook her head sadly. "Yes, but he won't help", she replied. "He wouldn't even allow me to seek help elsewhere. The grief has broken him. Now the fear of loosing me, too, paralyses him. He'd make me stay and I'd be even less safe. No, we are ... alone in this."
"I will stand by your side, Speaker." Vucara's voice was matter-of-fact. She was not uttering a vow but merely stating the obvious. "And fear not, a just cause will find allies along the way. You may even find them in places you would never expect."
Suddenly Joana smiled into the black of the night. She had certainly never expected to share this journey with a wolf. It felt like the sagas of old already.The wolf remained serious.
"Few of us these days receive the chance to honour the tradition of being the companion of a Speaker. Fewer yet even remember it."
There was more. Joana could almost smell it. It mystified her.
"Why are you really doing this", she mused while studying her companion's eyes in the darkness. There was not much to see but depending on the angle at which you looked they seemed to give off an amber glow. The two of them could converse easily enough but there was no way she could get a handle on what the wolf was thinking. When Vucara made no reply she continued: "Murmarn said something before we left, didn't he? He said something about undoing what was already history. Undo what?"
Vucara lifted her head a little. Their gazes met. The wolf was first to look away. She stared off into the night as she spoke.
"It is a great shame we carry, my kind and I, and have been for long ages. Though it happened long ago and far away, where winters are always dark and cold and summers don't see a sunset, it burdens us here just as much. Some say it is for this reason that the old trust between your kind and mine is crumbling and why you made dogs no more than your servants when in the past you used to name your sons and daughters after us."
"We still do that", Joana objected remembering the blacksmith in Kremitz was called Adalwulf.
"You also hunt us and slaughter whole packs with all the cubs." There was no reproach in Vucara's voice, only a vague sadness and resignation.
Joana drew a quick breath but her voice faltered. There was no denying Vucara was right. They had seen proof only the previous day. Words failed her.
"It is the way it is, Speaker", Vucara went on gently, "this is not your burden to bear. You have enough already. Here, I have brought you something you may need in your struggle."
She bowed her head and lifted something long, rigid and slender between her teeth. When the girl closed her hand around it she felt the texture of wood but embedded at one end there was a hard, cold tip of iron. A spear.
"You proved great courage when you hurled this at an opponent of such power", Vucara intoned, "he did not expect this from you and payed in blood for his mistake. It still clings to the end of your weapon. That may prove useful."
Joana held the simple weapon in grim satisfaction. She had struck him then. But who knew if she would get such a chance again?
The wolf interrupted her thoughts: "Rest now, Speaker. The night will last only a little longer and you will need your strength again when the sun rises. I will keep watch over you."
Presently Joana nodded though she was still not sure her companion understood the gesture. Hugging her spear she settled back against the stacked wood. An owl hooted. Somewhere nearby a large animal stirred. Far off she believed she could hear indistinct voices. Still, with Vucara by her side the night around her did not seem quite as menacing.
The sky was rose-coloured when Joana awoke. A tender, almost fragrant light bathed her surroundings. The rain had ceased and the clouds had torn open. Everything was wet and the air smelled clean. She felt stiff and groggy as if she had hardly slept at all and, she discovered, an uncomfortable puddle had formed around her sitting form. This time at least she remembered no disturbing dreams.
Her companion was resting her head on her fore-paws with her eyes closed but she looked up immediately when the girl stirred.
Better to leave before the owners of the house woke up to stop her or ask questions. Joana rose and stretched. She could almost feel various bones in her back slip back into place. Then the two of them quietly made their way around the house which turned out to be one of the thatched long houses with a barn or stable next to it. They encountered nobody but the girl could feel eyes on her from behind the blinds nonetheless. Eyes wide with awe or terror. Had they heard two voices in the night while now they could only spot one speaker? After the fighting the day before Joana was glad they let her be.
At this time only few people were in the streets of Tramir. Here a woman tossed a bucket of water into the street, there a worker was plodding off to his daily labour, tools bouncing on his shoulder. The town was sleepily dragging itself out of bed. Nobody seemed in a hurry.
They made their way around cautiously flitting between buildings. The ground was soaked and large puddles dotted the surface of the roads. Every step made a belching sound. Joana feared they would run into the men that had chased her last night. Would they have given up the search by now? What with the gates closed and guarded they could be sure that she was still in town. They should not linger for long but there was one place Joana was still drawn to.
By the time they reached Berengar's hut the sun had emerged from behind the horizon and hovered just above the ramparts. They had made a detour to avoid the gate and the main street. Now they came upon the site from the opposite direction Joana had fled the night before. Only the hut had ceased to exist. Where it had huddled against the ramparts only a pile of charred wood remained. A foul smell lingered in the air even where Joana was standing in the shadow of another house. Vucara snorted disapprovingly. Joana was nothing short of dismayed. Gazing upon the blacked ruins left no more room for doubt as to Berengar's fate. The desperate hope she had been clinging to all morning, that Berengar had prevailed and somehow fended off the attackers, was now dashed. Two armed men with scarves wrapped around mouth and nose flanked the rubble but did not look too happy about it even at a distance.
The girl slumped against the wood and clay wall leaning heavily on her spear. A bird chirped nearby as if in defiance to the unhappy scene.
"Did you see what happened to him", she asked continuing to stare across the street. She had not dared to ask the night before.
The wolf hesitated. "He disappeared into a cloud of foul vapours where we could not follow. When several of the dogs were down we broke off our attack. We ... did not see him emerge again."
Joana nodded darkly. The old man's demise filled her with more helpless anger. At the same time she felt close to tears and ready to scream.
"He did not deserve this, Vucara." She clenched her fists around the shaft of the spear until her knuckles stood out brightly white. There was nothing and nobody to thrust it at.
"He was a strange old man maybe but he was kind and generous. He never asked for anything in return."
"What do we do now, Speaker?"
Joana had not heard. "He showed me kindness and I brought him nothing but bad luck. The worst kind. The same goes for mother. And even for you." She heaved a heavy sigh.
"You are not to blame", Vucara intoned with a note of strictness now. "We all stood by you for different reasons but we all chose to do so ourselves. It was our decision to make. This human man surely knew what helping you would mean. I certainly do. I never had any doubt - now that I know what we face even less so."
"Alefa had doubts", the girl replied darkly, "maybe he was right."
"You doubt yourself", Vucara intoned, "nobody else does. What is life but a series of choices that you can only make the best of? If you now loose faith in yourself and those choices you've made then your opponents have already won."
Joana nodded more mechanically than out of conviction. The bird was still chirping excitedly. She spotted it, a slender blackbird, perched on the post of a fence. It fluttered its wings and ruffled its feathers when her gaze met its pearly, black eye.
"Sing your happy song somewhere else", she said to it darkly. "This is no place for merrymaking."
The bird hesitated a moment but then went on with renewed vigour. Joana frowned. She made a menacing step in its direction, even stamped her foot but the blackbird merely hopped away a pace and continued. Vucara watched their peculiar dance as if watching rabbits. Only when Joana gave the fence a frustrated kick she made an almost dog-like yelp. Joana froze. The wolf's fur was bristling.
"Would you hurt that poor creature that cannot fly for your own sorrow's sake?"
"Cannot-" She watched the bird hop and flutter its wings ineffectually. Suddenly a distant howl broke the morning's quiet. It was indistinct but clearly full of pain - and not human. It was followed by a great clammour of voices. Joana's blood went cold from one moment to the next. Vucara gave a muffled whine. They stared at each other with wide eyes. The bird was forgotten. The clamour surged again like waves lapping at a far-off shore. And again. Sometimes they thought they could hear more howls over the din. Like one being they started running.
Towards the center of town they hurried. Their foreboding grew as the voices grew more distinct. Voices shouting in fierce excitement, cheering some spectacle. As she followed the noise toward its source other people rushed past her in the same direction. She tried to call out to some of them but they continued on without turning. Finally, by several twisting lanes they came upon the large square on which the tavern also lay. A sizable crowd had assembled there staring at something taking place with the tavern as its backdrop. Above the shouts and exclamations from the crowd she could hear a man's voice shouting from the front. The howls had been silenced.
"I have a bad feeling about this", Vucara murmured. "It smells of death."
For the first time apprehension was clear in her voice. But Joana was already pushing through towards the front. The sight that greeted her when she reached there was enough to make her stomach lurch. Vucara gave a snarl behind her that if she had been human would have been called a sob. Sleek, grey bodies dangled from their necks from a scaffold that had apparently been hastily pulled up outside the inn. They looked mangled even without looking too closely. Blood and fluids had congealed under them, collecting in puddles mixed with clear rain water. Some was dripping from various openings. Their fur was matted and sticky. Eyes squeezed shut or dully staring into nowhere. Joana desperately tried to imagine them being wind chimes of a shaman or fish hung out to dry. Anything, just not wolves.
The man shouting in front was the inn keeper from the day before. He had obviously worked himself up into a fury. In his right hand he was brandishing a heavy club. More similarly armed men were standing about the scaffolding.
"-will not go on", he bellowed shaking his meaty fist at the carcasses. "We will no longer let them threaten our women and children? We will no longer let them prey on our livestock! I tell you, no longer!" There were grim cheers of agreement. "They've had what they deserve. We've cowered before their teeth and claws, before their evil eyes, long enough. Now let them cringe at the very sight of a man! Let them fear our clubs and axes and spears!" He shook his club triumphantly. Joana noticed the dried blood sticking to the weapons in the men's fists. A sickening image came together all by itself before her mind's eye. She recoiled in horror. The pain. The blows. The jeering onlookers. She fought down the urge to gag. They had come too late.
"Let us make our lands safe", demanded the speaker, "we tolerate no robbers and that's all they are!"
One of hanging bodies twitched and the innkeeper dramatically raised his club, took a step in its direction.
"STOP!"
The fat man froze. His chest had suddenly sprouted the shaft of a spear. As if time had become the same sticky mass that clung to the wolves pelts the man's eyes unfocused, the club dropped from his hand and he slowly keeled over. The mud greeted his fall with a smacking sound. A roar went through the crowd. The people nearest to her drew back. Her dagger in hand Joana stepped forward onto the stage the innkeeper had just vacated. For now his accomplices seemed reluctant to approach her. Instead they formed a wide circle.
"Get back!" She was screaming so loudly her throat hurt. She did it once more. Indeed the other men retreated a few steps. Casting them vicious glances she approached the stuggling body. A whine escaped its mouth.
"What have you done?!" Tears blurred her vision now. Her hand sought the broken body yet dared not touch it.
"Forgive me", Joana whispered in True Speech. "Forgive me, I came too late."
The body twitched again.
"Kill her", came Vucara's toneless voice. Then more clearly: "To let her die with a little dignity is the only thing you can do for her."
Joana nodded numbly. With a trembling hand she felt the chest for the place the heart had to be. Holding her breath she aimed the blade, squeezed her eyes shut and pushed forward. There was not much resistance. It just went in. When she opened her eyes the body was still, its eyes dull.
Only now she noticed that silence had fallen around her.
"How can you want this", she screamed at the muted crowd, pointing an accusing finger at the lifeless bodies. She was trembling. "They were our brothers and sisters once! Our children bear their names. They used to mean our strength, our speed, our wit and our courage! And now we publicly butcher them? Leave them hanging like the lowliest of criminals? Have you all gone mad?!"
Somewhere a bird chirped. Then behind her a pair of hands started clapping slowly. Nobody else joined in. The crowd remained silent. Joana spun around. A figure in robes as dark as oaken bark was standing in the doorway of the inn. The shadow of his hood concealed his face. Only a pair of eyes sparkled cunningly out of the cavern. He stepped forward into the open but still no light fell on his features.
"You!" The exclamation was a breathless gasp. Two steps and Joana was beside the body of the fallen innkeeper. With a twist and a yank she recovered the spear. She turned on her opponent then. A fire seemed to burn in her chest.
"Murderer!" The word rose from her chest like a roar of a lion.
"Sieze her!"
She made to charge the few steps that separated them, spear clutched firmly in both hands. Time seemed to slow again. A man appeared on her right holding a club. She side-stepped and was out of his reach. Another pace and she was almost within range. Grimrun had not budged. She let out a furious cry and thrust the spear forward. Something heavy collided with her, knocking her down. Joana fell heavily on her side, the wind out of her. The man that had rammed into her came to a halt with his feet planted on both sides of her body. Grimrun had stumbled back a pace at the last moment and his hood had slipped.
That bald head. The hawk nose. She could see the face again lit up by the fires of burning houses. For a heart beat she just stared at him and he at her. Was that fright on his face?
Without thinking she drove her foot upward between the man's legs. It was a trick the healer of Kremitz had let her in on once - just in case, she had said, Joana should ever have trouble with a man. The healer was dead now. This here was trouble. A tight-throated gasp escaped the big man's lips. Clutching his nether regions he folded forward but she rolled out from under him before he hit the ground. She snatched up her spear and with a snarl dove toward her nemesis. Grimrun tried to retreat another pace but his back was against the wall of the inn.
This time several pairs of arms materialised around her. A strong hand grabbed her spear arm and broke her grip on the weapon. It tumbled in front of Grimrun's feet. So close.
"Sieze her! Hold her, damn you!" This time there was fear in his voice. The little tremors made Joana's blood boil.
"Murderer! Gods damn you!" Her voice cracked at the strain.
He had regained his composure as he readjusted his hood. This time the men had secured their hold on the furiously struggling girl. Tears of frustration were streaming down her cheeks as she raged and screamed and threw curses at him. Murderer, again and again. He regarded her coldly. Then in a quick motion he slapped his hand across her face. There was a ring on his finger and it dug into her skin as he drew it across her cheek. She could feel warmth trickling forth from the place but she could feel no pain. Still, it silenced her. A smirk stretched his lips.
"A bold accusation from one who has just wrenched a spear from the chest of our beloved innkeeper." His voice rose over the square like the harsh and triumphant caw of a carrion bird over a fresh carcass. Quietly he added in her direction: "I'm glad you have come to show us all who is the murderer here."
He had been waiting. The realisation hit Joana worse than the slap in the face. And she had walked right into his open arms.
To one of the men he hissed: "Find the wolf. It must be around still. Bring it here. Dead." The man nodded grimly and withdrew.
To the crowd Grimrun continued in his loud croak: "And is it any wonder what she has done." He made a dramatic pause. "I give you the monster Berengar's apprentice."
Howls and shouts broke from the crowd now. Curses and derisions swept over her. Cheers at Grimrun's victory. The sorcerer's voice could just be made out above the noise.
"His apprentice, his follower and who knows what else."
That brought forth an uproar even louder.
"Take her away!"
Her captors marched her around but now the men hesitated. Joana looked up and saw why. Newcomers had entered the square. Three men on horseback wearing travelling cloaks, swords strapped to the saddles, two carrying spears. The other man's cloak was richly adorned. They rode through the crowd and people made way, falling quiet around them.
"Who are you and what is your business here", demanded Grimrun.
Then the leader threw back the hood of his cloak. He revealed a flood of hair that shone with a hint of gold in the morning sun. A braided beard. A piercing gaze. Joana had seen the face before. The rider's voice rang out loud and clear like a trumpet call.
"Toben, son of Baldrik. Who are you and what is your business here? What is the reason for this gathering?"
Joana could see the gleaming cracks under the hood narrow. Grimrun's jaws were working.
Then, having made up his mind, he gave a little bow and parted his lips into a wolfish smile.
"Your humble servant, my lord Toben", he intoned. "This girl here is accused of murder and other more uncouth crimes. Be not troubled, my lord, we will deal with her accordingly."
"Liar! Treacherous snake!" Joana seethed.
The prince brought his horse about right in the path of the girl's captors and swung himself out of the saddle. Recognition showed in his gaze at last and for a moment his eyes widened.
"Hold it", he exclaimed. "I know this girl. She is the daughter of the king's loyal servant, a man of impeccable honour. Bring forth your accusations and we can surely prove them false."
Joana could see the prince trying to make sense of the scene. He had noticed the dead wolves, the innekeeper's corpse, the bloodied spear. Then his gaze came to rest on her. There was a questioning intensity in these eyes that Joana now noticed were green with the colour of pine needles. The people were pressing around but the noise had died down to a hum. Everyone was trying to catch a glimpse of this "lord". Behind him Toben's two bodyguards remained on their horses and surveyed the square attentively.
Grimrun had evidently regained his confidence when he said: "My lord must be gravely mistaken. This cannot be an honourable man's daughter. Dressed like a man, a homeless vagabond on the road, accompanied by wild animals. And as to my - our - accusations: That poor man there is proof already. Did she not stab him in front of our very eyes?"
There were shouts and murmurs of agreement from the nearby folks. Toben's features remained unmoved like a mask but the questions in his gaze grew in urgency. Is this true, they demanded. And: What has really happened here?
"I see a dead man", he returned cooly, "I see not how this came to happen or why."
"What reason may there be? And what does it matter? It was a heinous crime committed in cold blood." Grimrun was speaking to the crowd as much as to Prince Toben. He was not giving up his stage.
"You-" Joana had no more curses left for the man. None of them came near what she felt. She twisted around in her captors' grip and launched a gob of spit that landed on Grimrun's robe.
"You are the murderer! What about my mother and all the village of Kremitz? What about Berengar? What about these poor creatures? The monster is you, zmeu!"
She could not make out his face but this time there was a perceptible pause before Grimrun replied. Then he was suddenly right next to her, one hand painfully squeezing her neck.
"Silence, girl", he hissed. "Noone can make sense of your babbling." Then she felt his fingernail, sharp as a talon, dig into her skin, breaking it. When she realised he was drawing something Joana pulled her shoulders up, trying to twist out of his grip. At the same time she felt his will bend down on her like a muffling blancket. The words were seeping out of her. But there were still others.
Between grinding teeth she pressed forth each word in True Speech: "You - have - no - power - over - me. I - will - kill - you!"
His gleaming eyes widened under his hood. Then his voice came loud and, she imagined, a little shrill.
"Enough! I'll have no more of this mockery. Take her away. We'll deal with her later."
Toben did not move. He had watched closely. Stricken dumb as she was Joana tried to catch his gaze again but he had focused on Grimrun.
"She is a free woman and will be treated with dignity until her guilt is proven. The case needs be discussed before the Thing. I shall speak on her behalf."
She could hear Grimrun smirk again when he spoke in his false, submissive tone.
"As my lord wishes. The law shall be served."
Toben stepped aside and let the men march Joana off past the grumbling crowd. Just when she thought he would simply turn away from her he gave a brief, hardly perceptible nod.
... to be continued ...
"After her!" Grimrun's harsh voice bellowed in a rage. His words still seemed resonate in Joana's head when their sound had already been swallowed up by the general ruckus. "Bring her to me! And find me that wolf!"
Joana ran and stumbled half-blind down the dark street. Bright shapes were still dancing in front of her eyes from the flash of whatever alchemical trickery Berengar had hurled at their enemy. The noise of the fight was dying down behind her as she covered more ground. But so far there were no footsteps to be heard in pursuit.
Her thoughts, like the houses she passed, were a blur: That had been her enemy right there! And she was running away. Again! But she also remembered the groping spider legs inside her mind, the hold he had somehow had on her. It had cost her all her strength to make her body move again and obey her will. His might was daunting even when he had been focused on Berengar, not her. It was a presence that was still palpable now. Still, all she had done so far and all she could do now seemed to be flee and flee again. How could such an enemy be overcome?
Thick clouds were hiding moon and stars. Some of the shadows were black as pitch. She had followed the road straight on along the town wall and came to the crossing with main road. The gate was on her right - but it was closed and bolted. Two guards in vests of hard leather sat huddled in their cloaks around a small fire next to the ramparts. They were armed with swords and a pair of long spears leaned nearby. Apart from them the street was deserted. They watched her approach with obvious suspicion until Joana skidded to a stop in front of them.
"Your sorcerer, Gramps", she panted, "he's in trouble. There's people want to kill him." She pointed in the direction she had come. A slowly rising cloud of smoke hung over the town around the bend where the house must be. A flickering reddish glow, which did not bode well, outlined it against the dark sky from below. Occasional flashes of brightness flared up like contained lightning. A few shouts still echoed but most of the noise of the fight was out of earshot - or had died down. A lone dog still barked and fell abruptly silent. Joana swore under her breath. Vucara, where as she? The only comforting thought for now was that Grimrun's men had also been looking for her. She must have kept out of sight.
"Sorcerer business." The man made a hasty warding sign. There was unease in his voice. "Doesn't concern us."
"There's almost a score men with torches wanting to kill a single, harmless, half-witted old man", Joana gasped incredulously, "on your watch! How's that not your concern?!"
"What's dun's dun with the approval of the elders", grumbled the other man with a sidelong glance at his companion. He spit something he had been chewing on into the fire which hissed and crackled in response. "Prob'ly ridding Tramir of a dangerous madman. Go 'ome."
"How can the elders approve of this", Joana protested with mounting frustration. "To drag a man out of his house in the middle of the night, killing him without trial by the Thing. Is there no law in this town?"
"The elders are the law", the man growled with a hint of threat in his voice, "if you're un'appy with their decision you can bring up the issue at the next Thing. Until then get lost."
Joana ground her teeth. "A fine pair of guards you are."
"We do our job", the guard returned thrusting out his bearded chin, "we might ask what a young woman is doing outside at this time o' the night, dressed like a man, running around as if you'd lost your mind and makin' wild accusations. That'd be our job."
She could have slapped herself. Over the fight and the run and the obvious indifference of these men she had completely forgotten her disguise. Her cloak was on her hiding her figure but she had left her helmet behind in Berengar's hut. And her voice was shrill like that of an excited girl. The conversation had taken a turn for the worse. And now she noticed the approach of rapid footsteps from the direction she had come. There was no need to look around.
"There, that's 'er", a voice shouted.
Joana managed a smile. In her sweetest, girly voice she said: "I think I need to go now."
"You stay right 'ere", the guard growled and made to rise to his feet.
He never finished his motion. With a single step Joana was next to fire and kicked the burning cinders right into his face. A shower of sparks and burning ashes rained down on the little camp. Within a moment a dozen flames had blossomed on the guard's cloak. With a howl he threw himself on the ground, clapping his hands over his face. The other guard had dodged aside but was scrambling to his feet. Not losing another moment Joana turned her back on them and ran toward the town center. A single glance down the way she had come told her there were three of them and they were gaining fast.
Down the main street she sprinted. Curses and shouts could be heard behind but still the street ahead was deserted. At the first corner she turned in and followed a narrow lane between two long houses. As she came out between them Joana stumbled over some stacked baskets and nearly fell. Something wooden clattered noisily to ground. Nearby a dog began barking loudly. Joana stifled a curse. She ran zigzagging between dark houses and some in which light was still burning. Several times there was shouting behind her. She bumped painfully into a few more unknown things in the dark. Still, she refused to slow down, praying they would not bring dogs. Finally, when she felt that a good few houses and crossings separated her from her pursuers, she sank to the ground in a dark corner between two houses. Her sides stung and she felt close to being sick. A long while passed as she tried desperately to keep her panting quiet.
At some point she thought she heard hushed voices nearby. Scrambling backward further into the shadows she ended up behind a pile of wood. Just at that moment the light of a torch fell into the farm yard. Joana pulled up her legs trying to make herself as small as possible. They were talking quietly but she could make out no words. Only once it seemed one of them was giving a call like for a lost cat. The girl dared not breathe. After what had seemed like an eternity they passed down the lane and light and voices faded away.
Joana breathed again - very carefully. Her heart was still (or again) pounding like a smith's hammer. It sounded at least that loud to her. Where to go now? The wisest choice was probably to remain in her hiding place until dawn. The risk of bumping into one of Grimrun's henchmen at night was too great. And now she had even lost Vucara.
A wave of despair swept over her. Maybe this foe was beyond her. Maybe the best course was just to surrender and hope he would spare her life. Were those her thoughts? How about the recollection of a ruined village several days' journey from where she was and a row of low mounds of earth? Her callused hands still remembered the labour. The screams still rang in her ears and cold iron flashed in the firelight before her mind's eye. If she gave herself up those spectres would go on haunting her for the rest of her days. Even now they clamoured for justice. Or was that her own pride and defiance? Her anger returned but she was too exhausted for resolve. She would need more than that. She would need a plan. But now she could hardly think straight.
Clenching her fists Joana tried to stop her hands from shaking and keep herself from nervously transplanting her mother's ring from one finger onto the other. It was becoming a bad habit. One day she'd loose it and never forgive herself for it.
With her treasure firmly jammed onto her middle finger she got to her feet and staggered further behind the house. Behind it, under an overhanging part of the low thatched roof, firewood had been stacked for the coming cold season. Here she wrapped herself in her cloak but closed one hand about the hilt of her dagger. Then, leaning against the slope of the piled up logs and the wall of the house, she allowed herself to relax a little. Next to her, beyond the sheltering roof, big drops of rain began to fall.
She was standing atop green hill. It was bitterly cold as a chill wind blew over her. Surrounding her stood tall, silent stones. Great pillars of grown rock they were that formed a ring of spikes around the flat hilltop like a crown on a bald king's head. This was when Joana realised it was not at all a hilltop but a plateau overhung by cliff. In front the ground dropped away to unfathomable depths shrouded in mist. Behind gaped the huge entrance to a cave. The passage it opened into was lost in twilight. Sharp stone needles hung down from this looming lip, growing out of the living rock infinitely slowly as water dripped from them one hollow splosh at a time. Joana was standing in the wide open maw of a tremendous beast of stone. The ring of pillars loomed up like broken molars while the sharp fangs at the ceiling seemed ready to close down on her. The girl shivered.
As Joana turned surveying her surroundings in wonder and growing foreboding there came a sound - the first she had heard in this place except the moaning of the wind. It was a scraping of something huge and hard being dragged lightly over rocks. Then she saw movement. What she had taken for a rocky fold of the mountain began to turn and slide forward. A ridge of sharp spines came into view and what had looked like broken boulders faded into oblong, pointed, overlapping scales. They glinted rusty in the low sun. Joana staggered back but the movement was all around her now. The coils of a great body came undone.
Suddenly right before her the beast's head reared up until it towered above her high as a tree. Its maw was large enough to swallow a cow whole and lined with sharp teeth. A wide crest flared around the neck on strong spines. Smoke or vapours curled from its wide nostrils. A malevolent gaze bent down on Joana out of eyes that gleamed with the light of smoldering coals. The monster opened its mouth and bellowed forth a challenge that shook the massive rocks around her.
Joana drew her bow. The motion was as one long practiced. It happened without thinking. She was wearing a coat of mail whose scales shone bright in the sun as she moved. Her yew bow was in her hand and a quiver of fine arrows suspended from the belt at her left hip. In one sweep she knocked an arrow to the string and let fly. Before it had even struck its target she already reached for a new one. Like a great serpent the monster's head shot down at her, jaws open wide. With a crunch the teeth came together where Joana had stood. She had rolled behind one of the standing stones and loosed the arrow on the creature's neck. The monster snapped at her curling its huge neck around the stone but Joana was not there anymore. Again and again she let fly and no arrow missed its mark. Yet each of them bounced off the monster's scaly neck and tumbled back to the ground in shattered splinters.
With another mighty roar the creature now bounded fully onto the plateau outside the cave. The long neck was followed by a pair of squat legs that angled outward from its body. Each talon on its feet was as long as the blade of a sword. The monster gave an angry snarl that Joana could feel in the pit of her stomach. She tossed the bow aside. From its place strapped to her back she drew her spear. The sharp edge of its slender point gleamed as if by its own light. For a moment they faced each other: the monster whose forefeet now rested nearly in the middle of the circle of stones and the girl in shining armour taking shelter behind a stone on the opposite side of the ring. The monster's chest swelled in a deep breath. Joana tensed.
A stream of fire sprang roaring from the creature's maw. It bathed Joana's world in searing heat even as she dived out of harm's way. She tumbled to the ground, rolled, nimbly regained her feet. Even here, yards to the side, she felt as if trapped in a smith's furnace. Forward she charged with a loud cry of her own, holding the spear firmly in both hands, pointed ahead like the prow of a boat. The wyrm snapped at her but she ducked sideways. Then she was under it. Right between its taloned feet she stormed and drove the spear with all her strength into its chest.
The spear head connected with the dragon's scales but it went no further. With a sharp crack the shaft snapped below the head and bounced out of her hands. The dragon reared up and before Joana could retreat she was lifted off her feet by a sweep of its great paw. She was airborne for a several heartbeats. Then her flight was stopped abruptly by one of the standing stones. All wind and much consciousness were knocked out of her. She slid to the ground in a daze but before she could even collapse the dragon was upon her. It pinned her, standing back to the stone, immobile between its long talons like in a living cage. The dragon's head loomed above her while the smoldering gaze seemed to bore through the backs of her eyeballs right into her very soul. Then the dragon laughed. The sound was like thunder, like the rumble of an earthquake. When it spoke its voice rang out like the deep grinding of rocks in a landslide.
"Thy arrows fit not between my scales. And thy spear cannot pierce my hide. Mighty warriors beyond count have I devoured. My age is measured in ages of the world. I am invincible."
It seemed to sneer down at her triumphantly.
"Now thou, too, art mine."
It drew another breath. An irrepressible wrath boiled up in Joana's heart then - anger at her failure, fury at her helplessness, rage at the sheer arrogance of the monster's claim. She screamed up at the dragon's face.
"Never!"
A wave of recollection washed over her that moment and she knew what her enemy was. And suddenly it was her own voice that seemed to make the very ground beneath her tremble.
"You do not rule my fate! Fafnr!"
The blaze appeared to die in the dragon's maw. Even the glow of the fiery eyes faded. It uttered a terrible shriek. Its tail thrashed, its body writhed. The standing stones tumbled and a crack echoed through the cavern. One of the sharp fangs of rock broke off the ceiling and came hurtling down. It struck the dragon in the back of its neck and slammed its body down. Before the long head hit the ground the tip of the rock needle had dug its way out of the underside of the neck dripping black with the creature's blood. As the grip of its foot slackened the dragon's head came to rest next to the stone Joana had been pinned against. The great eye of the monster still stared at her with - was that spite or was it awe? Dark blood ran from its jaws and pooled under it on the rocks. Its breaths came flat and gurgled in its throat. Joana still stood rooted to the spot, paralysed by the dreadful creature's demise.
"The word-" Its voice was still deep but now had turned hollow like the echo of a vast cavern. "The word is mightier than-"
Joana had not intended to sleep. Now she awoke startled and bewildered. The last words of her dream still rang in her mind. It had been so real! The creature's hot breath still lingered on her face and her back still ached from slamming into the standing stone.
Then as her senses cleared she found her back ached from cowering against the pile of logs. The gurgling turned into the sound of rain rushing down. The hot breath belonged to a canine face that was staring at her out of eyes that gleamed pale in the dark. The girl gave a start and tried to scramble away. It was Vucara's worried voice that gave her pause.
"It is I", she said quickly and soothingly, "do not be alarmed. I tracked you here but you did not wake even when I licked you. I feared you were dead."
Joana sank back against the logs with a sigh. She felt light-headed from the fright. It had been dangerous to let her guard down so completely. She did not know if the owners of the house would be so friendly if they found her. Her exhaustion and the pitter-patter of rain drops had apparently got the better of her in the end. Then forgetting all respect she slung her arms around the wolf's neck. Vucara let it happen.
"You can't imagine how glad I am to see you, Vucara", she whispered into the fur.
Vucara seemed to smile slyly when the girl asked her what had happened back at Berengar's hut.
"Let us say the dogs of this settlement were reminded that it was a Speaker they faced this day and now remember who their allegiance belongs to."
Then Joana told her companion of her conversation with old Berengar. His claims who and what their enemy was. At that Vucara fell silent.
"Whether your opponent this night was or was not a creature such as you name I cannot say. But I did sense a mighty presence there." After a pause she added: "Are you certain you still wish to continue pursuing him? If you do it may well be the death of you."
Vucara was repeating her own thoughts. Joana still did not know the answer. Or did she? The vengeful ghosts of the past urged her on against all caution while the living - including herself - merely fuelled her doubt. Being stuck inbetween angered her. "How could I not", she snapped gesturing wildly, "my mother and my friends and all their families lie dead. Murdered by a band of cowards in the night. Slaughtered like animals!" She hesitated at the last word but with words came memories that burnt like fire in her heart. "You've seen what they did to them. Their screams and dead faces haunt my dreams every night. Their spirits cry for revenge and I have done nothing so far! Except run away. At every point, wherever I turn, enemies chase me and leave me no peace. I don't even know why! But this Grimrun-" She spat out the name with a grimace. "-he knows the answers. He hunts me for a reason. I swear, if I can I will wring them out of him." She shook her fist in the dark. "And if he is responsible then, by all the gods, I will-" She ranted herself to silence. The sound of hatred and bitterness in her own voice startled her more than she had expected. "He must die", she finished the sentence much more quietly.
Vucara's eyes seemed to glow like amber in the night as the wolf studied her from her resting position just under the eaves of the roof.
"If our opponent be what that man says it be then we truly face a great evil. It would make a just cause and maybe the stuff of legends. Still, even that creature's death will not bring your mother back nor your friends nor any of their families", she warned.
"Only through its death I will find peace, Vucara. From their cries - and from those that hunt me-"
Vucara interrupted her. Something she did not do often.
"Understand me, Speaker. I do not doubt that this opponent deserves to be brought down. I merely caution you to do it for the right reason. Anything less will only bring you more sorrow."
Joana's shoulders sagged. Why was this so important to her companion?
"I don't know if I can give you that kind of reason", she answered with a tired shrug, "I just know - justice or no justice, evil or not - in the end I'll be too tired to run any further. And then they still get me and have their way."
"How about your father? Why not return to him and ask his help? Surely he would want to protect you."
Joana shook her head sadly. "Yes, but he won't help", she replied. "He wouldn't even allow me to seek help elsewhere. The grief has broken him. Now the fear of loosing me, too, paralyses him. He'd make me stay and I'd be even less safe. No, we are ... alone in this."
"I will stand by your side, Speaker." Vucara's voice was matter-of-fact. She was not uttering a vow but merely stating the obvious. "And fear not, a just cause will find allies along the way. You may even find them in places you would never expect."
Suddenly Joana smiled into the black of the night. She had certainly never expected to share this journey with a wolf. It felt like the sagas of old already.The wolf remained serious.
"Few of us these days receive the chance to honour the tradition of being the companion of a Speaker. Fewer yet even remember it."
There was more. Joana could almost smell it. It mystified her.
"Why are you really doing this", she mused while studying her companion's eyes in the darkness. There was not much to see but depending on the angle at which you looked they seemed to give off an amber glow. The two of them could converse easily enough but there was no way she could get a handle on what the wolf was thinking. When Vucara made no reply she continued: "Murmarn said something before we left, didn't he? He said something about undoing what was already history. Undo what?"
Vucara lifted her head a little. Their gazes met. The wolf was first to look away. She stared off into the night as she spoke.
"It is a great shame we carry, my kind and I, and have been for long ages. Though it happened long ago and far away, where winters are always dark and cold and summers don't see a sunset, it burdens us here just as much. Some say it is for this reason that the old trust between your kind and mine is crumbling and why you made dogs no more than your servants when in the past you used to name your sons and daughters after us."
"We still do that", Joana objected remembering the blacksmith in Kremitz was called Adalwulf.
"You also hunt us and slaughter whole packs with all the cubs." There was no reproach in Vucara's voice, only a vague sadness and resignation.
Joana drew a quick breath but her voice faltered. There was no denying Vucara was right. They had seen proof only the previous day. Words failed her.
"It is the way it is, Speaker", Vucara went on gently, "this is not your burden to bear. You have enough already. Here, I have brought you something you may need in your struggle."
She bowed her head and lifted something long, rigid and slender between her teeth. When the girl closed her hand around it she felt the texture of wood but embedded at one end there was a hard, cold tip of iron. A spear.
"You proved great courage when you hurled this at an opponent of such power", Vucara intoned, "he did not expect this from you and payed in blood for his mistake. It still clings to the end of your weapon. That may prove useful."
Joana held the simple weapon in grim satisfaction. She had struck him then. But who knew if she would get such a chance again?
The wolf interrupted her thoughts: "Rest now, Speaker. The night will last only a little longer and you will need your strength again when the sun rises. I will keep watch over you."
Presently Joana nodded though she was still not sure her companion understood the gesture. Hugging her spear she settled back against the stacked wood. An owl hooted. Somewhere nearby a large animal stirred. Far off she believed she could hear indistinct voices. Still, with Vucara by her side the night around her did not seem quite as menacing.
The sky was rose-coloured when Joana awoke. A tender, almost fragrant light bathed her surroundings. The rain had ceased and the clouds had torn open. Everything was wet and the air smelled clean. She felt stiff and groggy as if she had hardly slept at all and, she discovered, an uncomfortable puddle had formed around her sitting form. This time at least she remembered no disturbing dreams.
Her companion was resting her head on her fore-paws with her eyes closed but she looked up immediately when the girl stirred.
Better to leave before the owners of the house woke up to stop her or ask questions. Joana rose and stretched. She could almost feel various bones in her back slip back into place. Then the two of them quietly made their way around the house which turned out to be one of the thatched long houses with a barn or stable next to it. They encountered nobody but the girl could feel eyes on her from behind the blinds nonetheless. Eyes wide with awe or terror. Had they heard two voices in the night while now they could only spot one speaker? After the fighting the day before Joana was glad they let her be.
At this time only few people were in the streets of Tramir. Here a woman tossed a bucket of water into the street, there a worker was plodding off to his daily labour, tools bouncing on his shoulder. The town was sleepily dragging itself out of bed. Nobody seemed in a hurry.
They made their way around cautiously flitting between buildings. The ground was soaked and large puddles dotted the surface of the roads. Every step made a belching sound. Joana feared they would run into the men that had chased her last night. Would they have given up the search by now? What with the gates closed and guarded they could be sure that she was still in town. They should not linger for long but there was one place Joana was still drawn to.
By the time they reached Berengar's hut the sun had emerged from behind the horizon and hovered just above the ramparts. They had made a detour to avoid the gate and the main street. Now they came upon the site from the opposite direction Joana had fled the night before. Only the hut had ceased to exist. Where it had huddled against the ramparts only a pile of charred wood remained. A foul smell lingered in the air even where Joana was standing in the shadow of another house. Vucara snorted disapprovingly. Joana was nothing short of dismayed. Gazing upon the blacked ruins left no more room for doubt as to Berengar's fate. The desperate hope she had been clinging to all morning, that Berengar had prevailed and somehow fended off the attackers, was now dashed. Two armed men with scarves wrapped around mouth and nose flanked the rubble but did not look too happy about it even at a distance.
The girl slumped against the wood and clay wall leaning heavily on her spear. A bird chirped nearby as if in defiance to the unhappy scene.
"Did you see what happened to him", she asked continuing to stare across the street. She had not dared to ask the night before.
The wolf hesitated. "He disappeared into a cloud of foul vapours where we could not follow. When several of the dogs were down we broke off our attack. We ... did not see him emerge again."
Joana nodded darkly. The old man's demise filled her with more helpless anger. At the same time she felt close to tears and ready to scream.
"He did not deserve this, Vucara." She clenched her fists around the shaft of the spear until her knuckles stood out brightly white. There was nothing and nobody to thrust it at.
"He was a strange old man maybe but he was kind and generous. He never asked for anything in return."
"What do we do now, Speaker?"
Joana had not heard. "He showed me kindness and I brought him nothing but bad luck. The worst kind. The same goes for mother. And even for you." She heaved a heavy sigh.
"You are not to blame", Vucara intoned with a note of strictness now. "We all stood by you for different reasons but we all chose to do so ourselves. It was our decision to make. This human man surely knew what helping you would mean. I certainly do. I never had any doubt - now that I know what we face even less so."
"Alefa had doubts", the girl replied darkly, "maybe he was right."
"You doubt yourself", Vucara intoned, "nobody else does. What is life but a series of choices that you can only make the best of? If you now loose faith in yourself and those choices you've made then your opponents have already won."
Joana nodded more mechanically than out of conviction. The bird was still chirping excitedly. She spotted it, a slender blackbird, perched on the post of a fence. It fluttered its wings and ruffled its feathers when her gaze met its pearly, black eye.
"Sing your happy song somewhere else", she said to it darkly. "This is no place for merrymaking."
The bird hesitated a moment but then went on with renewed vigour. Joana frowned. She made a menacing step in its direction, even stamped her foot but the blackbird merely hopped away a pace and continued. Vucara watched their peculiar dance as if watching rabbits. Only when Joana gave the fence a frustrated kick she made an almost dog-like yelp. Joana froze. The wolf's fur was bristling.
"Would you hurt that poor creature that cannot fly for your own sorrow's sake?"
"Cannot-" She watched the bird hop and flutter its wings ineffectually. Suddenly a distant howl broke the morning's quiet. It was indistinct but clearly full of pain - and not human. It was followed by a great clammour of voices. Joana's blood went cold from one moment to the next. Vucara gave a muffled whine. They stared at each other with wide eyes. The bird was forgotten. The clamour surged again like waves lapping at a far-off shore. And again. Sometimes they thought they could hear more howls over the din. Like one being they started running.
Towards the center of town they hurried. Their foreboding grew as the voices grew more distinct. Voices shouting in fierce excitement, cheering some spectacle. As she followed the noise toward its source other people rushed past her in the same direction. She tried to call out to some of them but they continued on without turning. Finally, by several twisting lanes they came upon the large square on which the tavern also lay. A sizable crowd had assembled there staring at something taking place with the tavern as its backdrop. Above the shouts and exclamations from the crowd she could hear a man's voice shouting from the front. The howls had been silenced.
"I have a bad feeling about this", Vucara murmured. "It smells of death."
For the first time apprehension was clear in her voice. But Joana was already pushing through towards the front. The sight that greeted her when she reached there was enough to make her stomach lurch. Vucara gave a snarl behind her that if she had been human would have been called a sob. Sleek, grey bodies dangled from their necks from a scaffold that had apparently been hastily pulled up outside the inn. They looked mangled even without looking too closely. Blood and fluids had congealed under them, collecting in puddles mixed with clear rain water. Some was dripping from various openings. Their fur was matted and sticky. Eyes squeezed shut or dully staring into nowhere. Joana desperately tried to imagine them being wind chimes of a shaman or fish hung out to dry. Anything, just not wolves.
The man shouting in front was the inn keeper from the day before. He had obviously worked himself up into a fury. In his right hand he was brandishing a heavy club. More similarly armed men were standing about the scaffolding.
"-will not go on", he bellowed shaking his meaty fist at the carcasses. "We will no longer let them threaten our women and children? We will no longer let them prey on our livestock! I tell you, no longer!" There were grim cheers of agreement. "They've had what they deserve. We've cowered before their teeth and claws, before their evil eyes, long enough. Now let them cringe at the very sight of a man! Let them fear our clubs and axes and spears!" He shook his club triumphantly. Joana noticed the dried blood sticking to the weapons in the men's fists. A sickening image came together all by itself before her mind's eye. She recoiled in horror. The pain. The blows. The jeering onlookers. She fought down the urge to gag. They had come too late.
"Let us make our lands safe", demanded the speaker, "we tolerate no robbers and that's all they are!"
One of hanging bodies twitched and the innkeeper dramatically raised his club, took a step in its direction.
"STOP!"
The fat man froze. His chest had suddenly sprouted the shaft of a spear. As if time had become the same sticky mass that clung to the wolves pelts the man's eyes unfocused, the club dropped from his hand and he slowly keeled over. The mud greeted his fall with a smacking sound. A roar went through the crowd. The people nearest to her drew back. Her dagger in hand Joana stepped forward onto the stage the innkeeper had just vacated. For now his accomplices seemed reluctant to approach her. Instead they formed a wide circle.
"Get back!" She was screaming so loudly her throat hurt. She did it once more. Indeed the other men retreated a few steps. Casting them vicious glances she approached the stuggling body. A whine escaped its mouth.
"What have you done?!" Tears blurred her vision now. Her hand sought the broken body yet dared not touch it.
"Forgive me", Joana whispered in True Speech. "Forgive me, I came too late."
The body twitched again.
"Kill her", came Vucara's toneless voice. Then more clearly: "To let her die with a little dignity is the only thing you can do for her."
Joana nodded numbly. With a trembling hand she felt the chest for the place the heart had to be. Holding her breath she aimed the blade, squeezed her eyes shut and pushed forward. There was not much resistance. It just went in. When she opened her eyes the body was still, its eyes dull.
Only now she noticed that silence had fallen around her.
"How can you want this", she screamed at the muted crowd, pointing an accusing finger at the lifeless bodies. She was trembling. "They were our brothers and sisters once! Our children bear their names. They used to mean our strength, our speed, our wit and our courage! And now we publicly butcher them? Leave them hanging like the lowliest of criminals? Have you all gone mad?!"
Somewhere a bird chirped. Then behind her a pair of hands started clapping slowly. Nobody else joined in. The crowd remained silent. Joana spun around. A figure in robes as dark as oaken bark was standing in the doorway of the inn. The shadow of his hood concealed his face. Only a pair of eyes sparkled cunningly out of the cavern. He stepped forward into the open but still no light fell on his features.
"You!" The exclamation was a breathless gasp. Two steps and Joana was beside the body of the fallen innkeeper. With a twist and a yank she recovered the spear. She turned on her opponent then. A fire seemed to burn in her chest.
"Murderer!" The word rose from her chest like a roar of a lion.
"Sieze her!"
She made to charge the few steps that separated them, spear clutched firmly in both hands. Time seemed to slow again. A man appeared on her right holding a club. She side-stepped and was out of his reach. Another pace and she was almost within range. Grimrun had not budged. She let out a furious cry and thrust the spear forward. Something heavy collided with her, knocking her down. Joana fell heavily on her side, the wind out of her. The man that had rammed into her came to a halt with his feet planted on both sides of her body. Grimrun had stumbled back a pace at the last moment and his hood had slipped.
That bald head. The hawk nose. She could see the face again lit up by the fires of burning houses. For a heart beat she just stared at him and he at her. Was that fright on his face?
Without thinking she drove her foot upward between the man's legs. It was a trick the healer of Kremitz had let her in on once - just in case, she had said, Joana should ever have trouble with a man. The healer was dead now. This here was trouble. A tight-throated gasp escaped the big man's lips. Clutching his nether regions he folded forward but she rolled out from under him before he hit the ground. She snatched up her spear and with a snarl dove toward her nemesis. Grimrun tried to retreat another pace but his back was against the wall of the inn.
This time several pairs of arms materialised around her. A strong hand grabbed her spear arm and broke her grip on the weapon. It tumbled in front of Grimrun's feet. So close.
"Sieze her! Hold her, damn you!" This time there was fear in his voice. The little tremors made Joana's blood boil.
"Murderer! Gods damn you!" Her voice cracked at the strain.
He had regained his composure as he readjusted his hood. This time the men had secured their hold on the furiously struggling girl. Tears of frustration were streaming down her cheeks as she raged and screamed and threw curses at him. Murderer, again and again. He regarded her coldly. Then in a quick motion he slapped his hand across her face. There was a ring on his finger and it dug into her skin as he drew it across her cheek. She could feel warmth trickling forth from the place but she could feel no pain. Still, it silenced her. A smirk stretched his lips.
"A bold accusation from one who has just wrenched a spear from the chest of our beloved innkeeper." His voice rose over the square like the harsh and triumphant caw of a carrion bird over a fresh carcass. Quietly he added in her direction: "I'm glad you have come to show us all who is the murderer here."
He had been waiting. The realisation hit Joana worse than the slap in the face. And she had walked right into his open arms.
To one of the men he hissed: "Find the wolf. It must be around still. Bring it here. Dead." The man nodded grimly and withdrew.
To the crowd Grimrun continued in his loud croak: "And is it any wonder what she has done." He made a dramatic pause. "I give you the monster Berengar's apprentice."
Howls and shouts broke from the crowd now. Curses and derisions swept over her. Cheers at Grimrun's victory. The sorcerer's voice could just be made out above the noise.
"His apprentice, his follower and who knows what else."
That brought forth an uproar even louder.
"Take her away!"
Her captors marched her around but now the men hesitated. Joana looked up and saw why. Newcomers had entered the square. Three men on horseback wearing travelling cloaks, swords strapped to the saddles, two carrying spears. The other man's cloak was richly adorned. They rode through the crowd and people made way, falling quiet around them.
"Who are you and what is your business here", demanded Grimrun.
Then the leader threw back the hood of his cloak. He revealed a flood of hair that shone with a hint of gold in the morning sun. A braided beard. A piercing gaze. Joana had seen the face before. The rider's voice rang out loud and clear like a trumpet call.
"Toben, son of Baldrik. Who are you and what is your business here? What is the reason for this gathering?"
Joana could see the gleaming cracks under the hood narrow. Grimrun's jaws were working.
Then, having made up his mind, he gave a little bow and parted his lips into a wolfish smile.
"Your humble servant, my lord Toben", he intoned. "This girl here is accused of murder and other more uncouth crimes. Be not troubled, my lord, we will deal with her accordingly."
"Liar! Treacherous snake!" Joana seethed.
The prince brought his horse about right in the path of the girl's captors and swung himself out of the saddle. Recognition showed in his gaze at last and for a moment his eyes widened.
"Hold it", he exclaimed. "I know this girl. She is the daughter of the king's loyal servant, a man of impeccable honour. Bring forth your accusations and we can surely prove them false."
Joana could see the prince trying to make sense of the scene. He had noticed the dead wolves, the innekeeper's corpse, the bloodied spear. Then his gaze came to rest on her. There was a questioning intensity in these eyes that Joana now noticed were green with the colour of pine needles. The people were pressing around but the noise had died down to a hum. Everyone was trying to catch a glimpse of this "lord". Behind him Toben's two bodyguards remained on their horses and surveyed the square attentively.
Grimrun had evidently regained his confidence when he said: "My lord must be gravely mistaken. This cannot be an honourable man's daughter. Dressed like a man, a homeless vagabond on the road, accompanied by wild animals. And as to my - our - accusations: That poor man there is proof already. Did she not stab him in front of our very eyes?"
There were shouts and murmurs of agreement from the nearby folks. Toben's features remained unmoved like a mask but the questions in his gaze grew in urgency. Is this true, they demanded. And: What has really happened here?
"I see a dead man", he returned cooly, "I see not how this came to happen or why."
"What reason may there be? And what does it matter? It was a heinous crime committed in cold blood." Grimrun was speaking to the crowd as much as to Prince Toben. He was not giving up his stage.
"You-" Joana had no more curses left for the man. None of them came near what she felt. She twisted around in her captors' grip and launched a gob of spit that landed on Grimrun's robe.
"You are the murderer! What about my mother and all the village of Kremitz? What about Berengar? What about these poor creatures? The monster is you, zmeu!"
She could not make out his face but this time there was a perceptible pause before Grimrun replied. Then he was suddenly right next to her, one hand painfully squeezing her neck.
"Silence, girl", he hissed. "Noone can make sense of your babbling." Then she felt his fingernail, sharp as a talon, dig into her skin, breaking it. When she realised he was drawing something Joana pulled her shoulders up, trying to twist out of his grip. At the same time she felt his will bend down on her like a muffling blancket. The words were seeping out of her. But there were still others.
Between grinding teeth she pressed forth each word in True Speech: "You - have - no - power - over - me. I - will - kill - you!"
His gleaming eyes widened under his hood. Then his voice came loud and, she imagined, a little shrill.
"Enough! I'll have no more of this mockery. Take her away. We'll deal with her later."
Toben did not move. He had watched closely. Stricken dumb as she was Joana tried to catch his gaze again but he had focused on Grimrun.
"She is a free woman and will be treated with dignity until her guilt is proven. The case needs be discussed before the Thing. I shall speak on her behalf."
She could hear Grimrun smirk again when he spoke in his false, submissive tone.
"As my lord wishes. The law shall be served."
Toben stepped aside and let the men march Joana off past the grumbling crowd. Just when she thought he would simply turn away from her he gave a brief, hardly perceptible nod.
... to be continued ...
