The Castle on the Hill, Ch. 3

A Night for Wolves

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Darkness fell rapidly on the Blackwood. Tall mountains, dense packed trees, and the cascade of mist from the Castle in the Clouds threw the forest into shadows so heavy that night may as well have arrived already. Only the gap in the canopy left by the distance the wide creek forced between the trees gave lie to the illusion. Peering up, Katrine and Paul could still see the blue of the sky and the gold of the late sun against the clouds and treetops, but both of these were darkening quickly.

“I’d give my inheritance for a lantern right about now,” Paul grumbled as they cantered along. “Even a torch might be worth that trade.”

Stelios’ hooves splashed and sloshed through the water. For a blessing, the light was still good enough that the creek shimmered in what little was there. At the very least it helped mark their path, but that might not last for much longer. The gold of the sun grew lesser by the moment, and it took just a few more minutes for the ocean blue of the dusk sky directly above to turn purple. Before much longer that purple would become black, then the only light they’d have would be however much of the moon and stars could peek out past the cloudy skirts and tall spires of the Castle in the Clouds.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” Katrine said. Her hands were pressed against the one Paul held about her waist and she clutched tightly at his sleeve. A damned fool she’d been to do this. She had no torches, no lantern, nor any weapon to speak of on her person. The hour had already drawn late in the day when she’d made her escape attempt, yet not once during her escapade had she stopped to consider just how long it would take her to make this journey on foot. If not for Paul and Stelios…

“At least the moon will provide us with some light.”

Paul’s words cut into her thoughts. She looked up through the gap in the trees. Peeking out along the edge of the flowing clouds, the moon’s waxing, gibbous form shone its bright platinum glow in the dusky purple sky.

“So long as the clouds don’t cover it fully it should help light our path,” Paul continued. “Though I’m not sure what we’ll do if the clouds deepen or the forest becomes more dense.”

Katrine signed and shrunk into herself. Highfather forgive her childish behavior this day. She was a fool to run off as she had, swept up by notions of adventure for which she had little understanding of the consequences. Even now, deep in the dark of the woods as they were, she still didn’t fully grasp the risk she’d taken. The wolves had been largely quiet since they first heard them. At first she thought that a blessing, but every now and then their howls would carry on the breeze as it wove through the trees, a grim reminder of their presence. She might not see or hear them, but they were out there. For all she knew, they could be stalking them right now.

Stelios provided some small comfort in this. While she wasn’t as expert a rider as Paul, Katrine had learned to ride at a young age. Part of that learning involved recognizing when the animals were tense or afraid, important lessons to learn if one didn’t want to be bucked off their backs or trampled in their flight. Stelios showed no signs of being ill at ease. He maintained his canter and listened well to Paul’s commands. If the wolves were hunting them, Katrine imagined Stelios would be aware well before either of them were.

Paul himself provided a grander comfort, and not just for his conversation and reassurances. Katrine hadn’t noticed it when she fled from him back in the vineyards, but when he helped her onto Stelios’ back she finally noticed the basketed swept-hilt rapier that hung at his belt. It had been hidden by his cloak before, at least well enough to escape her notice before and during their brief scuffle. Now it brushed and bounced against her right thigh as she sat side saddle before him. Its golden basket and the spinel set into the base of the hilt glinted in the moonlight that shone down on them from the darkening sky, which had nearly gone black in the last ten minutes.

Katrine wondered if Paul’s sword might be decorative. She didn’t know much about swords or swordsmanship herself. It was a struggle enough for Father to convince Mother that she should be allowed to ply the family’s winemaking trade, much less Grandfather’s alchemy. She could scarce imagine the sort of conniption the noble and traditionalistic Annalise Bertoli-Dunajoux would have if one of her daughters showed a desire to learn to fight like a man. Still, there were a few things she picked up on, including simple details that she caught in passing. A perceptive eye was an important thing to have when it came to the trades she practiced. For winemaking, it quite literally paid to be able to tell at a glance which grapes were suitable for wine and which were best left to till back into the soil or to hang out to dry for sweet raisins. For alchemy, a careful eye was necessary to ensure that proper measurements were recognized, lest a compound become too volatile or an otherwise beneficial tincture become toxic or befouled.

It wasn’t very long at all before that learned perceptiveness became something which Katrine passively applied in her daily life, and in the case of Paul’s sword, she couldn’t help but compare it to those which sat with crossed blades on mountings in their home or the one which Father sometimes carried around the house with him. It differed from the one he used when he or her brothers practiced their dueling. While the shapes of the hilts and blades did match with Paul’s, they featured baskets and sweeping crossguards made of polished steel. The same was true of the arming swords used by their house guards - only when they were directly involved in the pomp of some grand event hosted in her home did they don weapons with decorated scabbards and hilts, and in those cases only the guards with direct involvement ever did that. The rest of the time their armaments were of steel and leather, wholly lacking in any finery beyond the marking of a grapevine sigil, the symbol of her house. Paul must’ve brought the sword with him to impress her family, another piece of finery to fit in with the rest of his apparel.

“You’re staring, Miss Katrine,” he said in a good humored tone.

Katrine felt a touch of warmth rise in her cheeks, suddenly very thankful for the darkness that helped conceal her blush. Paul didn’t notice. Or, if he did, he was polite enough not to say anything. He glanced down, following her gaze as best he could, then patted the golden basket of his sword.

“Wondering about my sword?” he asked.

Katrine nodded. “Yes. It’s decorative, isn’t it?”

His brown eyes lit up with understanding. “Ah, you’re wondering if it’ll be helpful should we run into wolves,” he stated.

Again, Katrine nodded, and he reassured her with a soft smile.

“Fret not. Against an armored opponent or another duelist it may prove too flimsy.” He closed his hand around the hilt and drew it about a quarter its length from the jeweled and filigreed scabbard. The steel of the blade flashed blue in the moonlight. “But it should hold up fine against wolves, though I’d rather we didn’t run into them at all.”

Katrine couldn’t agree more. Even if they just ran into a couple wolves, for it wasn’t at all likely that they’d only find one on its own, the pervasive darkness of the Blackwood would give the beasts the perfect means to surprise them. Paul had proven himself capable so far, but she had no idea how well he could fight, if at all. For all she knew he could be entirely talentless with that rapier, though if that were the case then all it really meant was he was at the same level as she. Not a good thing, considering that would mean they were both all but defenseless.

They continued on in relative quiet for some time. Katrine and Paul both spoke as little as they could, at least until their nerves got the better of them and drove them to speak. Quiet was preferred whenever possible, though, the better to listen for movement in the brush. That’s what they reasoned, anyway, though how capable they’d be of that with the air filled with the babble of the stream and the sloshing of Stelios’ hooves as he trod through it was up for debate. In truth, both youths knew that the sharpened senses of Paul’s courageous horse were their best chance at an early warning.

The night drew on, and as it did the sky above them lightened from that deeper black of night to a paler charcoal gray. However, though the sky itself lightened, the woods around them became much, much darker. Paul stopped Stelios at the dry bank just outside the creek. Then he looked up at the sky through the gaps in the canopy and cursed.

“The clouds are blocking the moon,” he said. “We won’t be able to keep going unless they clear.”

Katrine, who was also watching the almost black clouds, shook her head. “They won’t clear, not unless the wind changes,” she said. “These clouds come from the castle. They never fade, not even during the peak of summer.”

“Then we need to figure out what we’re going to do,” Paul said.

“Could we find shelter?” Katrine asked.

Paul grunted and shook his head. “It’s too dark without a light source. We’ll need to backtrack, see what we can find where the moon gives more light, though even then I’m not sure what we’ll do about Stelios.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Even if we do find shelter somewhere, a nook between boulders or a small cave perhaps, I doubt we’ll find anything large enough for Stelios,” he said. “Besides, I doubt he’d be willing to go underground even if he could fit. It would frighten him.”

Katrine sighed and shook her head. “We can’t leave him outside, whatever we do,” she said. “The wolves would surely come for him.”

“That was my thinking,” Paul said. “But I’m not sure what we can do about that. To my knowledge, the Blackwood has no shacks or cabins we could coax him into. Even if it did, we’re not sure where they…”

Katrine looked back at Paul expectantly, waiting for him to finish speaking his thought. However, instead of his words, they were met with a snort and grumble from Stelios. The strong black horse started to stamp in agitation and when Katrine looked over at him, she saw his ears turning this way and that as he picked up nearby sounds that she couldn’t quite hear.

“We need to go back,” Paul said, keeping his voice low.

Katrine nodded, her eyes scanning the darkened woods around them. Her search was vain. The light was far, far too dim for her to see anything beyond the very vaguest forms of the trees nearest to them. There wasn’t any way she’d be able to see-

Her breath caught in her throat. She reached back, frantically and quietly patting at Paul’s leg.

“What is it?” he whispered, leaning in close to her.

She pointed to their left, keeping her hand close to her shoulder so Paul could see in which direction her extended finger was aimed. For the second time that night he cursed under his breath, a telltale sign that he saw the greenish glint of nearby eyes, too. They watched in frightful silence, the only sounds the huffs of breath that came from all three of them, Stelios’ agitated snorts included.

“We should go back,” Katrine whispered.

“I think so, too. Come, Stelios,” Paul said, his voice also a whisper. He gave a gentle tug of the reins as he spoke, but Stelios grunted and stamped his feet, slowly backing away but doing so entirely of his own accord.

Paul tried to command him again, but the horse whipped his head left, then right. The steel rings that connected his reins to his bridle clattered with dull chimes. The greenish glint of those eyes disappeared then, vanishing with a rustle of leaves. Katrine’s stomach knotted and her heart skipped a beat. What was it? A wolf? If so, she prayed that it was alone. They might be able to kill it or flee from it if it was alone.

The bushes rustled again, and for a third time Paul tried to coax Stelios into turning around so they could leave. The horse wouldn’t listen. His grunts and snorts were becoming more frantic and as his stamping paced him backwards, he also started to shift from side to side. If they couldn’t calm him soon he might buck or bolt.

Katrine leaned forward. She placed a hand on the side of Stelios’ neck and gently stroked. Whispering quiet shushes into his ear, she tried to calm the horse with softly spoken words. All the while, she kept her eyes fixed on the place where she’d last seen that animal gleam. They were still gone, but the rustling hadn’t stopped. Oh, she hoped Stelios would calm himself! If he panicked and ran, then only the Highfather could know what grim fate might befall them!

Suddenly, the green glint of animal eyes returned! It was fast, a flash that existed for only a moment before it once again vanished into the darkness with a rustle! Only this time, the rustle was accompanied with the dull clop of hooves. The animal jolted past them! Running directly in front of Stelios, it was barely visible within the darkness. To Katrine’s startled dismay, the sudden fright caused Stelios to rear. With a yelp from each of them, both she and Paul fell from the saddle to land in the dry soil of the creek’s bank.

“Bloody doe!” Paul barked. He was already on his feet. He gripped Stelios’ reins firm in his white gloved hands and wrestled with the startled horse. Katrine rose and tried to help him, though she was admittedly afraid to get too close to the big animal. With a deep breath and a dry swallow, she forced down her fear and placed both hands on Stelios’ side. Once again, she tried to ease the horse’s panic with softly spoken words and, to his credit, Paul swiftly joined her. After a few tense moments, they succeeded, and Stelios went quiet again.

“Highfather be praised,” Katrine sighed.

“Indeed,” Paul replied, unable to resist a bit of laughter. “I thought for sure we’d be beset by wolves there. Thank the Highfather ‘twas only a frightened deer.”

After taking a brief moment to catch their breath, Paul helped Katrine back onto Stelios and mounted up behind her. This time the horse did as bidden, turning about and heading back down the way they’d come with just a tug of the reins and a few gentle squeezes of Paul’s heels. Katrine wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. She very nearly did so, but as they started back down along the creek she could’ve sworn she heard something.

“Do you hear that?” she whispered, peering over her shoulder at Paul.

He shook his head. “All I hear are Stelios’ hooves.”

Katrine pressed two fingers to his lips and whispered, “Stop. Listen.”

Paul did as he was asked, giving a gentle tug to the reins to stop the horse in his tracks. Then Katrine cupped a hand to her ear, searching out the sound. It came to her a moment before Stelios resumed his nervous grunting; a rustle in nearby bushes that masked the panting of canines.

“Wolves,” she said in a tremulous tone.

Paul didn’t wait to confirm. With a snap of the reins he cried out, “Go, Stelios!”

The horse neighed and his hooves thundered through the darkened wood! Soon they splashed through the stream again. Stelios’ gallop kicked the cold water high, and some of it splashed back on Katrine’s dress, cloak, and feet. The damp chill seeped into the fabric immediately, but she hardly noticed it over the swelling fright that made her heart race!

“Hya!” Paul cried, snapping Stelios’ reins! After just a couple short moments the dark of the Blackwood lightened, though only just a little. The waning moon peeked over the hem of the skirt of clouds above them, once more bathing the stream and the forest in its platinum glow.

The light was of little comfort. Relieved though she was to see their path again, Katrine’s fear multiplied all the further as she started to see eyes reflecting the moonlight. They were joined by the huffs of hard breath, the pads of canine footfalls, and a moment later she saw one of the hungry beasts as it dashed between trees along the bank!

“They’re here!” she cried, and she clung to Paul’s arm on instinct!

“I know!” Paul said, giving another snap of the reins. “Hold tight to Stelios’ mane! I’ll need my sword to fend them off!”

Despite the terror that gripped her, Katrine was still of sound enough mind to do as he said. She shifted in her seat, centering herself as best she could with Paul’s help. Then she leaned forward and took a firm hold of Stelios’ black mane. The tufts of long hair she gripped in her fists  whipped in the air as they rode on, tickling at her cheeks and forcing her to squint so they wouldn’t irritate her eyes.

If the horse minded, he was too taken by concern for his own survival to show it. Paul gave another solid snap to the reins, then shifted them so he once more held them one-handed. Then he drew his rapier. The blade hissed free of its scabbard. Its steel edge glinted like blue fire in the moonlight.

Suddenly, a bark, and the gnash of teeth! Stelios reared! His front hooves wheeled as he kicked and Katrine screamed! She hugged herself tight against the horse’s neck but felt herself slipping! She cried out, calling Paul’s name, but was answered only with a shrill yelp from below before Stelios was moving again!

Katrine opened her eyes. She hadn’t realized she’d even closed them in that moment. Looking down at Paul’s sword, she saw its tip stained with something dark that glistened like the water of the stream. “Is that…?” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the words.

“Aye, but I only wounded it,” Paul answered. “Damn it all! It’s only a matter of time before we’re run down if we can’t find someplace to hide!”

Katrine might’ve cried then. She could feel the tears starting to well in her eyes. She wanted to bemoan her stupidity and beg Paul’s forgiveness for dragging him into this. Not that such an apology would hold much value now that the wolves were bearing down on them. She wouldn’t get the chance, though. Mere seconds after Paul voiced his worries, three more wolves emerged from the woods to the front of them, cutting off their path with fangs bared and hackles raised.

Stelios reared once again, more sudden and more forceful than the last time. With startled cries, both Katrine and Paul fell from his saddle. They splashed in the cold water of the creek. Katrine spat and coughed. She crawled forward slowly, her head spinning and throbbing. Had she struck it? She must’ve. She could think of no other reason it’d feel that way. Vaguely, she could hear Stelios’ panicked whinnying and stomping and the sounds of many feet sloshing in the water. Ahead of her, she thought she heard someone’s voice. Paul’s, surely. It came from one of the spots where the water sloshed and she thought she heard it say, “Have at you!”

Pain ripped through her ankle! Screaming, she kicked backwards, connecting with nothing! She kicked again and again, over and over, but though her third attempt thumped against the wolf that clutched her ankle in its teeth it wasn’t nearly enough to make the thing let go. So this was it, then. This was how she’d die, eaten by wolves after chasing a stupid and childish dream! What an accursed fool she was, especially to so unfairly drag Paul into all of this. As she fought in vain, her thoughts turned to her family. Father. Her sisters and brothers.

Mother.

How awful to put them through all of this, to leave them with the shame and grief of knowing that it was immaturity, stubbornness, and idiocy that ultimately got her killed. She started to cry, even as she began to accept this fate. If only it hadn’t come at such steep cost.

The wolf yelped, and its teeth released! Whimpering against the pain, Katrine crawled forwards and opened her eyes. Had Paul killed it? No, he was still in front of her, pulling his rapier out from the collar of a dead wolf. Then who, or what, had killed it?

A heavy twang sounded from the woods and she saw something dark and thin slice through the moonlit night! It connected with one of the wolves assailing Stelios, made it yelp and scramble back as it sank deep into its flank. Another projectile followed after it, and then a third, and a fourth, and Katrine finally realized what they were.

Arrows! She watched in astonishment as they flew from the forest, finding their marks one after another! She was so taken aback by this that when Paul knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms, it gave her a start.

“What’s happening?” she asked him, not sure what else to say.

“I don’t know, but it seems we lucked into a rescue,” he said. Then, leaning forward, he scooped her up into his arms and hoisted her out of the stream.

Sharp pain stabbed through Katrine’s wounded ankle. It felt like she’d been stabbed by burning knives! She cried out through grit teeth, then whimpered as she draped her arms over Paul’s shoulders. Together, they faced the still panicking Stelios as he bucked and stomped, his shrill whinnying echoing through the chilly night despite the wolves having fled.

“We’ll have to wait until he calms on his own this time,” Paul huffed, and Katrine saw him wince as he spoke.

“Are you hurt?” she asked.

“Nothing serious,” he said. “One of them bit my hand. I’m ashamed to say that of the two of us, you got the worse treatment.”

Katrine’s lips pressed into a thin line. Her heart felt heavy, and she turned her head away from him. “You shouldn’t feel ashamed,” she said. However, though she was about to continue, fully ready to admonish herself aloud for her rashness today, the sounds of boots crunching through fallen autumn leaves drew both of their gazes.

Katrine gasped, her breath caught in her throat. Bathed in the light of a small hip lantern, a red-hooded stranger emerged from the trees with a bow of yew held in hand.