Lone Werewolf Duology (bxb)

46. The Wolf Attacks

Volya didn't wake up. He just sped through a gray tunnel to another segment of the ancient memory. He should mention to his team that he was gaining control of the visions. The fast-forward button would come in handy.

Once he could get his bearings again, it was the dead of the night, with only the starlight to see by. An outline of a conical roof pierced the sky: a large round tent covered with felt in the manner of the modern yurts. There was another one next to it, and another. He stood in the middle of a Yamnaya's campsite.

In the dark, Volya could only guess that the shadow blacker than blackness moving in front of him was Akrum's wolf.

The sounds filtered into the dream, an inhuman voice from the tent. It keened a single note of sorrow. Furious cursing, very human, assaulted his ears next. Volya winced, because he'd recognized this voice anywhere. It yelled "Yasuwa!" to turn the tide of the battle. The insults boomed, the screaming went on. A whip whistled through the air and its blow landed on a body. Naktim's body, Volya guessed, sick climbing up his throat, turning his mouth acrid.

"Change, shifter! Change, bitch," the chieftain yelled. "The longer you resist, the more it'll hurt in the end. Change!"

Akrum-as-wolf's shape wavered in the air and flowed into a human. Volya noticed two shapeless lumps by Akrum's feet, reaching approximately to his knees.

Those were... Volya stretched his neck and squinted. Yes, those were the bodies of sentries the chieftain must have posted by his tent.

The streaks of blood didn't disappear with his fur, but fanned out across his chest and arms. Maybe the shamans used their wolf-form to run under the stars, ruminating on the future, but Akrum-as-a-wolf was a killer.

Akrum didn't look like a nice guy in his human form either. His teeth flashed in barely controlled anger as he stepped between the skins covering the entrance to the yurt.

Volya's vision shifted to the insides of the tent.

Fire danced in the pit dug into the dirt floor. In its shifting light, Volya picked up Naktim's prone body. She was still in her werewolf shape. Bleeding welts run through her matted fur, long limbs curled in to protect the softer middle from her assailant. The Yamnaya chieftain must have tortured her for hours to force her to turn back into a human. Volya didn't want to think about the unspeakable things the horse-lord intended to do to her. He was glad she resisted until help arrived.

Volya expected Akrum to pounce on his enemy before the whip swung for another blow, but Akrum tip-toed forward, extending his hand as if to pat the butcher on the shoulder. He didn't do that, of course. He jammed something—maybe a piece of kindling or a thorn—about twice the length of a matchstick and just as thin into the other man's neck. Despite the layers of muscle and roped hair, Akrum's improvised syringe went in completely.

The Yamnaya whirled, slapping at the nuisance with a gnarly hand, trying to rip it out.

The whip spiraled through the air. He would have lashed Akrum, jerked him off his feet, if he hadn't choked on his own scream. The dark eyes rolled up in his head until only the whites showed. The whip fell out of his convulsing fingers. Both hands flew up to free the throat from the invisible strangler, scratching in vain.

Drawing a screeching breath, the Yamnaya stumbled blindly, then crushed like a felled tree.

Ignoring the poisoned man, Akrum dropped to his knees next to the werewolf.

"Scream," he told Naktim with a quiver in his voice, "scream as if he... he's hurting you."

Naktim howled.

To Volya she didn't seem like she had to pretend to be in pain. Convulsions hit her body in waves. She bit back a scream, out of habit, then released it. In agonizing bursts, the shouts of pain continued between the bends of the transformation.

Akrum cradled Naktim's wolf-shaped head in his arms, unafraid of her snapping fangs. The hairy arms twisted at unnatural angles, the spine arched both ways. At some point, Volya expected her rib cage to open like a flower, spilling out heart and lungs.

This horrid scene was nothing like Akrum's graceful shifting, but the twisting led to the werewolf's body squeezing back into a naked human woman. Naktim laid on her side, with a bloodied back. Her braids fell apart into a tangled mass of hair.

"Akrum," she whispered through cracked lips, "I couldn't keep the form any longer. I'm so tired."

"Shhh," Akrum replied. "It had to be done before we made a break for it. Rest now. And scream."

Naktim's sunken eyes hooded. She drew in a shuddering breath and let her muscles relax. "Akrum, no. You must go alone. Give me the satisfaction of slaying Yasuwa and I shall die happy."

So, Yasuwa was the Yamnaya's chieftain's name, not just his battle cry. Yasuwa, a word that meant 'horse'. A 'stallion' even, given how macho he was.

Naktim yelped as Akrum had instructed, but her hand reached for the knife stuffed in Akrum's belt. He gently intercepted it.

"The Spirits have other designs for Yasuwa and you."

She squeezed his fingers. "If I come with you, we'll both perish."

"Scream," Akrum commanded.

She delivered a blood-curdling howl.

"We won't perish," Akrum promised. "Hug my neck, and whatever I do, don't let go."

Naktim struggled to a sitting position, her bloodshot eyes glued to Yasuwa. The giant man stirred.

She screamed again, then coughed. When she spoke, her voice was no more than a hoarse whisper. "What are you planning? And why can't I kill Yasuwa?"

"So he could die exiled and destitute," Akrum explained with a crooked grin.

He caught her hands and lifted them to his face. His chest rose and fell in the sigh of a man plunging from a cliff. He inclined his head to—not kiss, but peck—her palm. "I swear that will be Yasuwa's fate. Now, promise me to hold on no matter what. And, please, scream."

Volya gasped, expecting an exclamation of outrage, but Naktim's fingers caressed Akrum's eyes, nose and cheeks. She almost reached his mouth when the shimmer overtook him. Her nails disappeared in the fur of the wolf's snout.

"I promise," she whispered to the wolf; and then she screamed.