Cold Steel

Bee dropped beside the legate, who lay facedown on trampled grass.



“Bee, is he dead?” I demanded.



“I’m not dead.” Amadou sat up with a wince. His fancy cape was shredded. Blood stained his tunic.



Ghastly cries chittered out of the darkness. Huffing heat as of a steam engine chugging stirred the wind. Perhaps my tone was harsh, but I had no patience for ridiculous displays of masculine pride. “Next time you should listen to me, Legate. The spirit world will kill you.”



“Legate?” said Bee gently. “May I help you rise—?”



“I do not need your help.” He shook her off and rose with a grunt of pain.



“You’re just angry that she spoke those truthful words to you which you do not want to hear and aren’t accustomed to hearing,” I retorted, for I could see Bee’s expression twist as she pretended not to be hurt by his curt rejection. “Why were you so stupid as to follow us?”



“To take Beatrice back. You may remain in black Tartarus for all I care.”



Bee gasped, but I forestalled her retort.



“How do you intend to take her back, Legate? You have no idea where we are or what to do here. Your steel won’t cut the creatures here, although you can beat them with the hilt until they eat you. That creature would have killed you just now if Rory and I hadn’t fought it off.”



Rory’s tail lashed in agreement.



“Rory, if there are more creatures gathering out there to kill us, lick your right paw.”



He stared at me with a look I was sure was one of reproach for the inanity of the question. Then he licked his right paw.



“Why are you talking to a monstrous saber-toothed cat as if it can understand you?” asked Amadou Barry. “Where are we? With what magical illusion have you confounded my eyes?”



I ignored him. “Bee, take the head of Queen Anacaona out of the basket.”



“How can a skull help us?” Amadou picked up his sword from the ground and brandished it in what I supposed he thought was a manly way. “You two girls need protection. That’s why we must return to the house and the mansa.”



“In the spirit world, the head of Queen Anacaona is not a skull,” I snapped, really exasperated now. “Please be polite.”



“My apologies for the rude handling, Your Highness,” Bee said in a choked voice as she wrestled open the basket. I could hear how humiliated she was, and how hard she was trying to hide it. “We are hoping your wisdom and experience may aid us.”



I was watching Amadou Barry, astounded that the man was too blind to comprehend that he was no longer in a world where his patrician rank or military training meant anything. When Bee lifted the living head of Queen Anacaona out of the basket, he recoiled a step, then pulled himself up short, staring as the cacica blinked to get her bearings.



His mouth creased downward. “What cruel illusion is this?”



Queen Anacaona said, “Turn that way, Beatrice. There are four creatures running toward us. I suggest we move to a safer domicile.”



“There is no safer domicile, Your Highness,” I replied. “Legate, stay back.”



Naturally the legate moved up alongside me, no doubt to impress Bee. Even injured, he looked as if he knew how to handle himself in a fight. He just didn’t have any weapons that would work here. Bee dug into one of the packs and hefted a hammer.



Snarling, Rory sprang past me into the night. Two wolves dodged past him into the light shed by my sword. With a crosscut to the head, I sliced one hard across the muzzle and sidestepped with a turn to slash up under the belly of the second. Cold steel hit them like poison. They both collapsed. Snarls and growls punctuated a dirty fight farther out. I ran toward the sound to find Rory with his jaws at the throat of a third wolf, clamping down until the beast stopped thrashing and went limp.



“There’s one more,” I said.



Bee shouted a warning.



I bolted back in time to see the fourth wolf leap toward Bee as Amadou Barry jumped between them. I grabbed its tail and yanked it sideways with me as I fell. The animal landed square on top of me, punching the air from my lungs. It twisted, shaking up to its feet as its head swung around to bite my face.



Rory slammed into it, and they went rolling away into the darkness in a crash of noise, followed by a yelp. Rory paced back into view. He looked quite dreadfully powerful, muscles rippling beneath his dark flanks and shoulders. Facing into the darkness, he roared. His challenge shook through air and earth like a living thing. When he paused, the night had fallen as silent as if every creature near enough to hear thought it prudent to rethink its strategy.