Leaving the manor grounds, Erik urged Raven northward, ever northward, his heart burning with a cold and bitter rage.
“Please, please, please . . .” Just that one word, repeating over and over again.
Please don’t let me be too late.
Please don’t let Charmion take her hatred for me out on Kristine and the babe.
If anything happened to Kristine, he would never forgive himself.
He lifted his left hand, the long black claws hidden beneath a leather glove. If anything had happened to Kristine, he would rip Charmion’s heart from her body.
As the morning wore on, dark clouds gathered overhead, blanketing the sun. Lightning slashed through the lowering skies. He heard the low roar of distant thunder.
Raven snorted and tossed his head.
A blinding flash of lightning sizzled across the skies, unleashing a torrent of icy rain. Erik huddled deeper into his heavy cloak. Driven by an ever-growing sense of urgency, he bypassed the shelter of a small town he passed along the way.
An hour later, he reined the stallion to a halt, giving the big horse a much-needed rest.
Dismounting, Erik patted the weary horse on the neck, then paced back and forth for a few minutes to stretch his legs. Taking shelter under a tree, he braced one shoulder against the trunk and closed his eyes.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself surrounded by a half dozen men brandishing weapons. They wore the drab clothes of peasants.
“We’re here fer yer money, yer lordship,” said the man standing directly in front of Erik. He wore a ragged cloak, a dingy white shirt, trousers in need of mending, and a black top hat cocked at a rakish angle. It added a rather incongruous note to the rest of his attire.
“And yer horse,” added a tall, skinny lad with a mouthful of rotten teeth. “’Tis as fine a piece of horseflesh as ever I’ve seen.”
Pushing away from the tree, Erik lowered the hood of his cloak. The men gaped at him when they saw the mask.
“Looks like he’s one of us!” exclaimed a short, stocky man wearing a tattered jacket, and a stocking cap.
A few of the men laughed nervously.
“Why the mask?” Rotten Teeth asked.
“That’s my business.”
“I’m afraid not, yer lordship,” Top Hat replied. “Take it off.”
Erik shook his head. “No.” He tensed as the man in front of him cocked his pistol. The other men did likewise.
“Take it off.”
“No.”
“Stubborn, ain’t he?” Stocking Cap said. He drew a knife from inside his shabby jacket and ran his thumb over the blade. “I could maybe persuade him for ya.”
Top Hat nodded. “Have at him, Harry.”
Harry grinned, exposing a row of crooked yellow teeth. Tossing the blade from hand to hand, he swaggered forward.
Erik took a step backward. He should just take the mask off, he thought. No doubt the sight of his face would scare the devil out of them, but he could not bring himself to do it.
“The mask,” Harry said, pointing at it with the tip of his knife. “Take it off and show us what yer hiding.”
Erik reached into his pocket and withdrew his purse. “Take the money.”
“We will,” Top Hat said. “Have no fear of that.”
“All in good time,” Harry said. Grinning, he reached for a corner of the mask.
Rage boiled up inside Erik. It spilled out in a growl as his hands closed around Harry’s throat. Lifting the man off his feet, he hurled him away as if he weighed nothing at all.
Top Hat yelled, “Kill him!” and fired his pistol.
Erik reeled backward, his hand clutching his right shoulder. The other men fired their weapons as well. One ball struck him in the left arm, another struck him low in the left side. With a roar of pain and rage, he lunged forward, but the men scattered like chickens before a fox.
He saw one of the men spring onto Raven’s back. Leaning out of the saddle, the man grabbed Harry’s arm and swung him up behind him in the saddle, and then they were gone.
Soaked to the skin, his wounds bleeding profusely, Erik sank to his knees.
“Kristine.” He murmured her name as darkness descended on him. “Kristine . . .”
He woke slowly, frowning into the darkness, his nostrils filling with a sharp feral odor and the scent of smoke. He started to sit up, only to fall back as pain splintered through his arm, side, and shoulder. A low whine sounded to his right and when he turned his head, he saw a huge gray wolf sitting beside him, pink tongue lolling out of the side of its mouth. Moving just his eyes, Erik glanced to his left. A black wolf sat near his feet; another slept curled up at the side of the black wolf.
“Don’t be afraid.”
He turned toward the voice with a start and saw a woman kneeling beside a small fire near the back of the cave. “Who are you?”