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TIME BEFORE THE WOLF

  R.R. Turock

  Copyright 2012 R.R. Turock

  Special thanks to Victoria

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Part 1: Howl

  Chapter 1: Thanks to the Crown

  Chapter 2: I Learn Slowly

  Chapter 3: Mistake

  Chapter 4: Early Moonrise

  Part 2: Run

  Chapter 5: Bequest of a Prince

  Chapter 6: Eyes to See

  Chapter 7: Friend or Foe?

  Chapter 8: Only One

  Chapter 9: Rights and Wrongs

  Chapter 10: Ends

  Part 3: Hunt

  Chapter 11: Together Forever

  Chapter 12: Help

  Chapter 13: Eternity

  Part 4: Fight

  Chapter 14: Wants, Fears, and Winners

  Chapter 15: Overwhelming Feelings

  Chapter 16: Love and Life-Learned Lessons

  Chapter 17: Forever and Evermore

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Author Notes

  Other Books

  Coming Soon

  Connect with Me

  Prologue

  Once upon a time, a little girl met a wolf…

  The wolf spoke to her, saying, “I have come before and asked this of your grandfather and father before you. Will you take the path of gold that turns to coal or the path of needles that turns to flowers? At the end of the path of gold, they will make a statue of you in your glory…”

  The little girl responded, asking, “What lies at the end of the path of needles?”

  The wolf’s lips spread in a grin. “Me.”

  Part 1: Howl

 

  Chapter 1: Thanks to the Crown

  Sitting cross-legged in the saddle, I leaned on my elbows, sighing loudly. “Karrazard is as beautiful as I remember her.”

  The horizon framed the city—Karrazard—beautifully, making me nostalgic. Father looked over his shoulder from the mare’s saddle. Age wrinkled at the corners of his eyes as he chided me. “We still have at least a full day’s travel to get there, so stop fantasizing.”

  Sighing again, I stood on the saddle, spinning around gracefully, watching the evening sky twirl above me. Malec shook his head, reaching over and patting Father’s shoulder. “She’s truly ‘er pa’s daughter.” Laughing, his head bobbed as he continued. “Ah, we can return home. Ya said ya found an heir, didn’t ya?”

  I interrupted, not looking at them. “Father says it’s confidential. We can’t reveal the heir until the Feast. Isn’t that right, Father?”

  Malec pulled his horse closer to me, querying. “Do ya know who he chose?”

  I leaned down to answer, but Father scoffed loudly. “Do you think I’d tell an irresponsible child like her?” His hands grazed the bag containing his worn, wooden pipe. “No, it will be a surprise for everyone.”

  Sliding back into the fabric saddle, I pouted, arms crossed. “But you taught me the song, so why not the heir?”

  Shaking his head again, Malec took his turn chiding me. “That’s dead man’s knowledge. I'd not go spreading the word about it, Missy. Piper or not, people'd kill to get that information, especially that song.”

  A grin tugged at my lips. I knew that much, but it wasn’t something I wanted to hide. I didn’t want to be ashamed, I wanted to share the song with pride. I bit my lip from mentioning that part. Father kept the song a secret his whole life.

  Even in exile, his special knowledge of the song permitted him to choose the next heir of Karrazard. I turned around in the saddle and leaned back against the mare's neck. The sun was growing dimmer in the west and the night was growing darker. A feeling twanged in my heart.

  Making a fist, I pounded above my heart to be rid of the unsettling feeling. I should feel excited, not terrified, anxious, or paranoid. That was Father’s job. Not mine. I whispered under my breath. “Everything’s going to be alright, right, Father?”

  I felt a handclasp mine. Glancing over, I realized Father had fallen back to pace beside me and now looked straight into my eyes. He whispered back gently. “Are you scared?”

  I smiled brightly, lying. “No. You?”

  He looked ahead, his eyes search the starch air for something on the horizon. “Yes, but fear is just another tool to win. Fear should be an inspiration to do frightening things, not a burden to the brave. Remember that, Piper. Imagine you are a wolf. Wolves simplify everything. You can have the heart of the winner or the loser, and fear is the deciding factor. It determines just how far you will go.”

  Easy for you to say, Father, you’re always brave. I scoffed and pulled my hand away from his, rolling off the horse. Landing on my feet, I played with the reins. Besides, every lesson feels like the last. “No more lessons tonight, Father.”

  His expression tightened into a scowl. Patting the horse, I closed my eyes. Malec tapped my shoulder. “We’ll arrive just in time for the late-day parade. Even the king'll be paradin' through the streets. How about we's put up a show? All the boys‘ve all been itchin’ to perform, and from ya stunt there, so have ya. What do ya say?”

  I shrugged. “Why not? Just a light show, though. I think it would be nice to have some fresh cash for the crew.”

  Malec’s dry lips pressed into a smile. “Atta girl, Missy. I thought ya might agree.”

  I smiled mischievously. “But then explain to me something.”

  Immediately Malec’s expression dropped. “Explain what?”

  Glancing up at the sky one more time, I sighed. “What if Father chooses not to make an appearance on the Feast of Harmony? What would the King do then? Shouldn’t he be afraid of exiling his one and only son?”

  Swallowing, Malec combed through his hair nervously. “There’s many waitin’ to be the next king, Missy. If ya pa doesn’t show up and announce his heir, then one of the two noble family heirs will be king. However, if neither knows the Piper’s song by the Feast, then the crown of the King goes to the next legitimate heir, the Prime Minister, ya see?”

  Waving him off, I scratched my head. “Yeah, no, not really. Don’t worry, it's not like I really care anyway. Once we announce the heir—"

  Father interrupted me harshly. "We? No, Piper. I want you in the crowds, hidden with the rest of the crew when I make the announcement.” Waving his hand with certainty, Father shook his head. “The Prime Minister will be furious after that. I don't want you caught in crossfire."

  Malec nodded wisely, stroking his bristly beard. "He's a'right. The Prime Minister already has a grudge against ya pa, so there’ll likely be some aftamath. The family 'ers are on the Minister's hook, like fish from the river. They'll put up a tough fight too."

  I scowled. "You just don't want to do any work, do you, Malec?"

  Malec paled at the accusation. In his defense, he whined to Father. "Look there, she 'as no respe't for me. I'm practically 'er uncle! Look 'ere girl, who gave ya baths when ya were a small thing? Huh?"

  Scoffing, I turned away. “Don’t remind me. I don’t want any nightmares.”

  Obscured by evening shadows, large, distant silhouette appeared out of nowhere. Like a swarm of bees—with a less attractive sound of grunts and battle cries—the silhouette approached so quickly my warning faltered. Father caught my hand and yanked me to his horse.

  His voice rose to warn the caravan. “Raiders!”

  My mind raced a thousand miles as I mounted his horse after Father, riding away from the group. Malec and the crew angled from us, intending to split the raiders.

  Wait, raiders? So close to the city? Since when had that ever happened? How come I hadn’t seen them earlier? Braiding my fingers tighter together around Father’s
waist, I summoned up the little courage in me to look over my shoulder.

  I blinked several times. I couldn’t believe it. Fear surged my mind even as a buried my face in the safety of Father’s back. The bulk of the raiders were swarming after us. Just the two of us.

  Not even Malec’s ploy to split the group had worked. I feel the exhaustion of the desert air slowing my sweet, show-performing mare. The sound of thundering, arid-weathered hooves pounded closer to us. What do we have that they want? What?

  A heavy, fully muscled, sweaty body crashed into us, pushing all of us off the horse and into the sand. We quickly recovered, jumping sorely to our feet. The raiders trampled in circles around us, forcing us back-to-back, preventing escape.

  Having a closer look at them, I noted the dark clothing and veils. Father carefully unsheathed his heavy iron sword. Swallowing nervously, I spun my twin daggers out of my leg bindings and into hand. Customarily, I juggled or balanced the pair on my fingertips, and on some occasions, I tossed them with well-practiced accuracy at targets, but today I reserved to tightly holding them.

  The raider who had tumbled into us now stood, sword ready, facing Father. Like an alpha wolf going for the throat, the raider charged. Father easily parried the attack with his lighter blade, returning it with a dual swings attack, one swinging emptily at the legs to scare the raider into a lower defense and then slicing up the suddenly unprotected chest. The attacker collapsed backwards as two fresh raiders replaced him.

  Working as a team, the fighters moved simultaneously, unanimously, and symmetrically. Swords clashed and Father spun just barely out of the way. The duo sliced from opposite directions. He stopped one blade as the other slid over Father’s forearm. That was my signal. I scoffed. “It’s time I change.”

  Moving in a fluid motion, I took the vanguard position in front of Father and slipped between the duo. In equal motion, they swung their blades at my legs. Using their shoulders as stilts, I heaved myself up to safety. Maintaining my momentum, I pulled myself around the attacker to my right, hooking my leg over his head with a grappling technique. My weight, not as light as I’d like, overturned him.

  Taking the opportunity, Father reentered the fight, flipping the partner over his shoulder and onto the raiders’ back, out of breath. We returned to being back to back. More confident, I lifted my chin.

  Fatigue licked my lips, leaving me dry and weak. The long day was taking its toll at an unpleasant time. The labored breaths of Father worried me, as the raiders smirk. This was a well-orchestrated fight with well-practiced men, advantageous for them. This time all the men closed on us with their spears.

  Realizing the danger a moment before me, Father pulled me down, covering over me as a human shield. He winced as two spears cleaved his shoulders. His blood drizzled down on my face. Suddenly the raiders backed up. I could hear hollers from Malec and the crew. Father collapsed beside me, cringing in pain. Malec knelt beside us as our circus crew chased off the raiders.

  Grimacing, Malec spoke up. “Ya not mortally wounded, but it could get infected if we don’t have it treated soon. We outta hurry.”

  Father grinned, waving me off. “What’s with such a sour look, Piper? I’m not dead yet. Help me up.”

  I wanted to ask, but my mouth shut tight. Why were they after us? Were they even real raiders? Tucking my shoulder under his arm and Malec doing the same, we pulled Father to his feet. Looking up, I spotted the caravan and up ahead, the city far past that. Patting Father softly, I noted. “Karrazard is as far away as I remember, isn’t it?”