Read Online Will Power by A. J. Hartley - Free Book Online Page B

elsewhere, out among the strewn boulders and rocky outcrops beyond the road. I turned to face them, and, as my eyes adjusted a little, I saw a flicker of shapes—no more than shadows—moving quickly. Then one by one I saw pairs of clear green eyes pricking out of the darkness like fireflies.
    I turned awkwardly, scraping against the stone in my haste, and dipped into the little corridor with its curtain of gray wool. “Wolves!” I shouted. “There’s a pack of wolves outside. Or something.”
    “What does ‘or something’ mean?” said Orgos, casually and without getting up.
    “I didn’t get real close!” I shouted back in panic and anger. “They looked like wolves. All right?”
    “Renthrette is trying to sleep,” said Mithos, his eyes on a piece of wood he was whittling with his knife.
    “Are you people deaf or just stupid?” I yelled again. “I said there are . . .”
    “Wolves,” said Orgos. “Yes.”
    “Well?”
    “Well, what?” said Orgos.
    “Well, what are you going to do?” I demanded, body and voice beginning to tremble with exasperation.
    “Nothing,” said Mithos. “Stay here. They’ll be gone by dawn.”
    “Are you out of your tiny minds?” I retorted. “There’s a pack of ravenous, bloodthirsty beasts out there. Wolves, for God’s sake! Listen!”
    They had started to howl, great falling bays that rolled through the night air and trailed into plaintive whines like the music that drifts from a madhouse. A paralyzing chill seeped into my bloodstream and spread throughout my body. I went pale, fumbled for a weapon I didn’t have, and then turned to find Orgos gazing off as in a trance. His black face, glowing softly in the firelight, was transfigured with a strange contentment, an almost spiritual delight in the wolf voices.
    “Is there something wrong with you?” I bawled at him. “Do you find the idea of wolf muzzles poking into your ribcage for the juicy bits somehow amusing? Or is this more of that harmony-with-nature bollocks? They’ll tear your throat out as soon as look at you.”
    “No they won’t,” said Orgos, with a sigh which suggested we’d had this conversation a hundred times. “They almost never attack people unless the winter is unusually hard and nothing else has survived. Not the case here, evidently. Nor would they seek us out in a cave like this, especially when there’s a fire. No wolf that wasn’t desperate for food would consider coming through that curtain. Just relax and enjoy the music.”
    And, as if on cue, a black muzzle sprouting with pale grayish bristle pushed through the woolen hanging at the cave’s mouth. Slowly, guarded and low to the ground, its teeth bared and a low growl emanating from its throat, a great wolf entered.

SCENE V

Sorrail
    It’s a funny thing, but sometimes—not often, you understand, but from time to time—it’s nicer to be wrong than right. This was one of those times. The fact that Mithos froze, reversing the grip on his knife carefully, and Orgos scrambled awkwardly to his feet, eyes flashing to the sword that lay a dozen feet away, really didn’t help at all. We were in a very small space with a wolf whose teeth, at this none-too-comfortable distance, looked like kitchen knives. Moreover, as the shifting of the curtain testified, there were more behind it, and they were coming in.
    The horse went berserk. It had been standing over in the corner, as far from the fire as it could get in relative comfort, but the scent of the wolf induced sudden and total terror and it began to rear and paw the air. It ran to the back of the cavern and then paced to and fro, neighing and shaking its mane, its dark eyes bulging.
    The wolf came on, right into the cave, undaunted by the fire, and there were at least three following it. I glanced around wildly, but there was nothing even resembling a weapon to hand and none of us had bows. We would have to fight at close quarters, with those great jaws snapping at us from all