It was dark out on the plains as Kari moved farther and farther from the stable square’s lighted outer archway. Her eyes stayed sharp, and she was able to follow the fast-moving, black-furred form of Sharyn, though with the werewolf running on all fours, Kari lagged behind. Kari’s night vision was strong as a rir, but the enhancement bestowed upon her by the priest of Garra Ktarra was incredible.
Out on the plains at night, with no star- or moonlight coming through the storm clouds, Kari wouldn’t have been much less blind than a human. With the priest’s blessing, though, she wondered if she was seeing as well as a brys. The landscape was shaded in greys, but it was bright enough that she could see Sharyn speeding through the long grass. Sharyn was moving fast and had the black fur to disappear into the night, but it mattered little.
Kari wouldn’t even still be running if Zalkar’s power wasn’t flowing through her. She should have been exhausted after being shocked with lightning, engaging in a vicious, high-speed sword fight that left her with a split lower jaw, and then dealing with the after-effects of a constant adrenaline burn. Zalkar’s power seemed to have no such limit, and her strides were long and consistent as she sped across the grassy lands to the west of the city.
I guess now I know why Sharyn was able to keep up with me so easily running through the city that night, she thought. But then is she truly a ranger, or is that just the cover for her activities as a werewolf?
While it was true some werewolves and other lycanthropes served the Beast, Kari didn’t expect that meant they were necessarily friendly or welcome among the ranger networks of the Sandur Jungle or Ceritan Forest. Part of her was willing to give Sharyn the benefit of the doubt; she did help with the overall mission to stop Turillia. But that didn’t dispel Kari’s anger over killing the succubus when Kari had her bound, a helpless prisoner. Turillia wouldn’t have been talkative, but the Order had ways of making demons give them the information they needed.
All of that was wasted. Kari nearly stopped and turned back toward the city. Emma was now the only piece of the puzzle she still had access to. The demonhunter kept her head down and continued running. If anyone could convince Emma to come in willingly or slip the manacles on her by sleight of hand, it was Eli. Emma would defend herself if Kari or Deirdre tried to capture her, and the mallasti had said so herself. Kari had a feeling Emma would be long gone when she returned to the city, and she had little doubt the mallasti would’ve found some way to escape even if Kari had stayed behind to apprehend her personally. Kari put her trust in Eli, but at the same time, she knew not to hold him responsible if he failed.
Kari refocused her thoughts on Sharyn. The black werewolf sped toward a copse in the distance, one of the few pockets of trees between Barcon and the great forest to the west. With her enhanced night vision, Kari could see firelight within the copse. She slowed down; Sharyn was leading her to the rest of the pack. Kari had no idea how many werewolves she might encounter there. There’d been eight at the cemetery, and though one had been killed, that still left at least eight with Sharyn added to their number. There was no telling how many others there might be.
Kari slowed to a walk, but she continued on toward the copse undeterred. Would the pack attack her on sight, or at Sharyn’s direction? They’d had the opportunity to kill Kari in the cemetery, but it had been Sharyn who convinced them to leave Kari be and vacate the city. Sharyn had seemed to save Kari’s life, but now her gesture seemed less philanthropic, and more self-serving: She had kept Kari alive to get the succubus into the snare. Was that good or bad? Kari didn’t know what to expect from the werewolves at this point, Sharyn least of all.
Lightning flashed from the north, and a distant, rolling thunder followed several seconds after. The storm was moving away, and the rain began to let up as Kari made her final approach. She didn’t see anything moving within, but she’d seen Sharyn enter the copse. There was a campfire burning at the center, though from the outer edge, it didn’t appear anyone was tending to it. The sound of the rain through the trees prevented Kari from hearing anything out of the ordinary, and so she paced side to side, looking for any sign of werewolves.
After a minute, she supposed it was possible Sharyn had urged the pack to move farther west. If they were heading to the jungle, Kari had no intention of following them that far. She wanted to confront Sharyn, ask the woman why she’d killed Turillia when she was bound and helpless, and find out her intentions toward Sherman, but those questions weren’t worth any more risk than having followed Sharyn this far. To follow the werewolves to the southern jungle would put Kari’s life in more danger than the answers were worth. As aggravated as Kari was, she was more concerned with the safety of her young paladin friend. Sherman had been kissing Sharyn when Kari found them; had Sharyn turned Sherman into a werewolf?
Zalkar’s symbol was no longer glowing on her chest. Kari’s Blood Oath was fulfilled to the Unyielding’s satisfaction, but that meant she hadn’t run here under Zalkar’s power. Was she still capable of calling upon that power after the Oath’s fulfillment?
She pushed the thoughts aside. The absence of a Blood Oath made confronting a pack of werewolves so much more dangerous, and Kari hesitated to approach the campfire. If there were eight or more werewolves and they meant her harm, there was little chance of returning home. She thought of Grakin and her son, but then she thought of her conversation with Devin. For a moment, she felt trapped between her duty to her family and to the rest of the world.
Kari sighed through her nose and set her feet on the muddy path that led to the campfire. It was strange but not surprising to see sets of both human and wolf tracks in the mud, and Kari worked to keep her breathing steady, preparing to be pounced upon at any moment. She left her scimitars in their sheaths to give the impression she had come to talk, not fight. If they attacked her, she would defend herself, but with their size, strength, and numbers, would it make much difference?
Then again, she thought, Turillia had claimed a hand from one and killed another when faced with more than one at a time.
The thought of Turillia made Kari reach up to her wounded chin. The bleeding had stopped, but the cut was deep, and had nearly cloven her lower jaw completely. Even while she touched her wound, Kari was aware of movement among the trees. There were definitely a few werewolves skulking about, and the sound of the rain filtering down through the trees didn’t do enough to mask their movements. Kari’s ears twitched as she tried to hear over the sounds of the distant thunder, the light pattering of rain upon leaves, and the gentle crackle of the campfire ahead, trying to stay alert for any sound of a charging werewolf.
That sound never came, though, and Kari reached the campfire, aware of the presence of werewolves but satisfied they were not moving to attack—yet. Kari glanced around the clearing and squatted down briefly. She drew one of her scimitars and stoked the fire. It was gaining more of a hold on the stacked logs now that the rain was tapering off, but it would be some time before it was of any real use.
Kari replaced her blade and then warmed and dried her hands in front of the fire. She glanced to her left when she heard a rustle of movement and caught the brief reflection of firelight in a pair of golden eyes before the beast slid back out of sight. Were the werewolves waiting for the signal from their pack-leader to attack?