A Dire Situation

The rest of the day was cloudy, a reflection of my mood. Losing a competition was one thing, losing to Cyril was even worse. I tried to distract myself with the scenery. The trees were more often deciduous, their leaves mostly gone. Quick bursts of rain would tumble from the sky, just enough to get you wet and then retreat back into the clouds. It was a long road to Wendarl. We’d be passing over the Amaranthine River around midday.

“I still say your piece should have one,” Vris insisted.

“I agree,” Mizuki said. She paused, then added, “I’m surprised. You mentioned before that you were a scholar of historical art, but not that you were an artist.”

I sucked in a deep breath and let it out. “Yeah, well. I wanted to be an artist but I. . .”

I wasn’t good enough? Didn’t have the right connections? Couldn’t get into art school? All of the above, maybe.

“I couldn’t make it work,” I said. “So, I decided to study art history instead.”

I was making it seem so logical. As if I hadn’t agonized for weeks about what my future was going to look like. Fighting against application deadlines, weighing my options, pricing it all out, crying. Parts of art history were interesting, at times downright fascinating. The issue was that, most days, I wished I was the one doing the art.

“An art historian, how interesting,” Vris said. “Were your parents artists?”

I went cold. The thought of my mother and father made my throat tight. “I'm not going to talk about my parents.”

Vris flushed. “Oh, ah, forgive me, my lady. I didn't mean to offend.”

We fell into an uneasy silence. I wracked my brain to think of a new conversation topic when the elk stuttered to a halt, their ears pricked. Mizuki reached for her waist.

A low growl rippled across the road. Then another.

“Dire wolves,” Mizuki whispered.

I could see shapes moving between the trees, blurs of brown and grey. They were big, bigger than any wolf I’d ever seen. Rowan shuffled beneath me, snuffling in distress.

“Are they going to attack?” My knowledge of wolves was that they rarely tried their chances with people. Dire wolves appeared to be different.

“If they've come this close, then I'm afraid they are,” Mizuki said.

“They must be starving,” Vris said, a hint of sadness in her voice.

“Well I would rather not be dinner,” I said. “I think running would be—”

A dire wolf launched itself at Chamomile. The elk reared, nearly throwing Vris off, and shot forward like a bullet. The dire wolves howled and set off in pursuit. Mizuki dug her heels into Spark’s side and rushed after Chamomile. I urged Rowan to follow.

A trio of dire wolves rushed Chamomile, snarling and snapping. Their fur was matted, they were rail thin, and they ran with all they had. Chamomile bellowed, the whites of her eyes showing.

Mizuki was hot on their heels. She drew a sword from her hip with a neat shing and swung at the nearest dire wolf. The attack went wide but forced the dire wolf to flinch away. The next swing drew blood and the beast decided that the fight was no longer worth it. It was gone in a flash, leaving its two companions behind. Vris clung to Chamomile, her arms wrapped around the elk’s neck for dear life.

“What can I do?” I shouted at Mizuki. I had no weapon and no idea what to do if a predator threw itself at your mount while you were riding it.

“Get next to one and tug on Rowan’s ear,” she shouted back, swinging at the dire wolf on Chamomile’s left.

A weird request. Still, I did as I was told. I pulled Rowan up next to the other dire wolf and tugged Rowan’s left ear. His left rear leg shot out in a swift kick. He wasn’t in the right position for it to hit. The wolf snapped at Rowan, yellow teeth glistening with saliva. Rowan shuddered beneath me and tried to jerk away. I did my best to guide him into the right spot and tugged his ear again. This time, the kick connected with a loud snap. The dire wolf went down and didn’t rise again. The last wolf, recognizing that it was outnumbered, scampered off into the forest. Chamomile pressed on, not slowing down even with the dire wolves gone.

Mizuki reached over and grabbed Chamomile’s reins. She pulled and the female elk finally slowed, sides heaving. I followed suit and pulled Rowan to a stop as Mizuki did the same for Spark. We’d managed to stay on the road during the chase and gone far enough that the Amaranthine River was now in view.

“Jesus,” I said. “You could have warned me you had dire wolves lurking around.” My heart was pounding, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Vris sat up, a little dazed. She patted Chamomile’s neck. “They aren’t usually like that.”

“Vris is correct,” Mizuki said. She was cleaning the blood off her blade, though there wasn’t much. “Dire wolves usually stick to the forests closer to the mountains. It’s odd to see them out here.”

“Is it a sign that the End of Days is approaching?” I asked. It seemed like the sort of thing that would happen: darkness creeping closer and closer to humanity.

Vris and Mizuki stared at me.

“Yes,” Mizuki said. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” I said. “Now, when were you going to tell me you had a sword?” This was the first I had seen of it. The only other time I’d seen her fight, she’d been bare handed.

Mizuki slid her sword back into its scabbard. “Going on a journey such as this without some protection would be foolhardy. I never concealed my sword, I simply didn’t feel that using it was necessary until now.” As if reading my mind, she added, “Menacing Cyril with it would have led to more problems. And even against his hired hands, I wouldn’t have been able to take them all on single handedly. My mistress taught me that you only draw your sword if you intend to spill blood.”

“Fine,” I grumbled, irritated that she was right. “But why wasn’t I given a weapon? Or Vris?”

“Vris has a knife. I imagine she was a little preoccupied and may have forgotten to use it,” Mizuki said matter-of-factly. Vris smiled and rubbed the back of her neck.

Irritation burned my chest. “So I’m the only one who doesn’t get a weapon? Why?”

Mizuki pursed her lips and looked away. “There was an incident in the past. Since then, no Seer is given combat training until they complete their tasks.”

“An incident?” I asked.

“A seer tried to stage a coup,” Mizuki said. “It failed, but ever since it was deemed unnecessary to train seers in that way.”

A coup? Yet more proof that the gods did not select their heroes very carefully. Of course, I probably would have done the same, given enough time.

“We may not even make it to the mountain if I can’t defend myself,” I pointed out.

“And there are going to be times when hunting is the most viable way to obtain food,” Vris said. “A bow, in that case, could be helpful.”

I’d been thinking of learning how to use a sword, but a bow would work just as well.

Mizuki scowled at us. “Very well. Once we arrive in Wendarl, I’ll see what I can do.”

I brightened at the prospect. With that settled, we got the tired elk going once again and made for the Amaranthine River.