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RUN WITH THE WOLVES

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Contents

Chapter 1. Attack of the Pack............................1Chapter 2. Captives of Varakov...........................21Chapter 3. Woodrow's Retreat.............................40Chapter 4. Lord Victor...................................64Chapter 5. The River Crossing............................89Chapter 6. The Feast.....................................113Chapter 7. One Last Guest................................137Chapter 8. Man and Wolf..................................155Chapter 9. Sanctuary.....................................180Chapter 10. The Great Forest..............................199Chapter 11. The Multinationals............................219Chapter 12. Port Lupus....................................236Chapter 13. Duties to the Kingdom.........................259Chapter 14. Courts and Cargoes............................283Chapter 15. Discussions...................................307Chapter 16. The Gathering of the Pack.....................336Chapter 17. The Transformation............................360

Chapter One

There's no light quite like moon light There's no night quite like a full moon night There's no sight quite like the Pack's plight And there's no bite quite like a wolf's bite

July 23, 1461 Medinia

"Willie, c'mon out here!"

The barn doors opened and a tousle-haired youth appeared, still holding the pitchfork he'd been using to clean out the horse stalls. Willie was of average height, but strongly built for his age, which he didn't know exactly, although he did know he was at least sixteen and maybe seventeen. The most noticeable thing about his appearance was a pair of sparkling hazel eyes that showed a youthful intelligence. He gave a hopeful grin to the stocky man perched on the heavily laden wagon in front of him.

Jacob Smythe was a middle-aged freeman farmer whose land nestled beneath the Euralene Mountains along the western border of Medinia, and Willie was a serf who worked for the Smythes in return for his room and board and a small wage. He'd been abandoned at the nearby monastery when he was still a young child, and the small order of monks who raised him for a time had placed him with the Smythe family when he was about eleven years old.

The Smythes had taken on the responsibility of his care for an agreed-upon period of indentured service, and Willie had spent the last half dozen years learning the routines of farming and raising livestock. He'd been reared along with their children, and the Smythes treated him almost as one of the family. He was expected to work hard, although no harder than they did themselves.

"Help me tie off the wagon, Willie," the farmer directed.

The youth pulled the tarp tight over the baskets of strawberries and other produce and then carefully secured the ropes Jacob passed down to him.

"Are you sure I can't go with you, Mr. Smythe?" Willie asked, for the third time that morning.

The farmer gave him a rueful smile and another shake of the head. He understood the youth's anxious appeals. The summer market was a huge event in the distant village. There'd be stalls and corrals of prized animals, music and dancing in the evenings, and a host of food and festivities, all of which made it the place a young man dreamed of being after the labour of harvesting the spring and early summer crops.

Perhaps in late September, after the fruit trees were picked, he'd take him along to the Medinian army post for the fall market. Everything occurred in its season, and the fall festival would be an even bigger treat, especially if the caravans came down through the pass again this year. Not that this was a certainty. The fighting still brewed in the lengthy war over the fertile river valley that separated Medinia from Skoland, the neighbouring kingdom to the north.

The Kolenko River flowed down from its source in the Euralene Mountains, cut through the centre of the disputed valley, and then emptied into a long, narrow lake that surrounded a single small island. Some three miles later, the river resumed its course and continued to divide the valley separating the two kingdoms. From there it flowed on into the inhospitable wilderness to a distant inland sea.

Simple geography dictated that each kingdom ought to possess half the rich valley lands, since the Kolenko River and its lake formed a natural border between the two nations. Nevertheless, in Jacob Smythe's view, greed usually prevailed over common sense, and the result of that failing was that both kingdoms claimed ownership and control of the entire valley and its fertile soil. Over the years, some terrible wars had been fought between the two kingdoms, and the river lands had become known to many as the Valley of Blood.

King Renaud of Medinia was a determined ruler, and he'd waged three such wars with the equally intractable King Verdonk of Skoland during their coinciding reigns. The first war had been fought in the early years of their respective rules. It lasted for only a year, but there had been a great loss of lives on both sides, and neither side could claim a conclusive victory. The second war had broken out a few years after that, lasted for more than six terrible years, and was followed by another brief period of troubled peace before hostilities had broken out once more. The current war was now entering its fourth bloody year, with still no decisive victory for either side.

In all, there had been almost a decade of skirmishes, raids, and full-scale battles. Control of the valley had changed hands numerous times, and war had become a way of life, as had the loss of lives on both sides.

At long last, however, there was talk of a peace accord being negotiated, with possibly a royal marriage to seal it. The rumour circulated that the two feuding kings, now older and perhaps a little wiser, had concluded that the endless war was only depleting the treasuries of both kingdoms. Complete harvests were being lost, crops going unplanted or being burned to deny them to the enemy. The losses in manpower and the materials expended to fight the war were more than sole ownership of the river valley lands could compensate for. Gossip had it that the two rulers had begun a dialogue through their ambassadors. Peace was its ultimate goal, and the suggestion of a marriage between the two royal houses had already been broached.

Life on a farm near the mountains went largely untouched by these concerns, however, and Jacob Smythe was more than content to leave it that way. They had enough concerns of their own. The remote frontier farms had to fence in most of the foothill pastures where their livestock grazed and keep a vigilant watch. The farmers were ever leery of the forest and mountains, and with good reason. The mountains were home to numerous predators. Bears, wild boars, mountain lions, and fierce wolf packs were a real concern, more so than the war. There were other strange creatures up there, as well. Or so it was said. Many a child living in the westernmost regions of both Medinia and Skoland had trouble going to sleep at night after hearing tales of mountain ogres and various other demons recounted around the family hearth.

Climbing down from the first wagon, Jacob waited while Willie tied off the second. The farmer thought back to the old...