The Princess and the Bear - Mette Ivie Harrison [70]
He took a tottering step. Then steeled himself and took another.
“They trust me,” he said, half in wonder, half in despair. “I may do whatever I wish with their magic. They give me free rein.”
The hound was not surprised. She, too, trusted Richon to the end of her life and beyond.
But she turned back to the animals one more time and saw that the bodies, held lifeless but untouched by death, had changed. They had begun to melt into the ground, overcome by the unmagic now that their magic had been taken up by Richon.
In a few hours’ time there would be nothing left to mark this spot except a vast field of cold death. The animals would be erased entirely, as the cat man must have intended from the beginning.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Richon
RICHON COULD HEAR the sounds of the battle at the border of Elolira and Nolira as soon as he stepped out of the ancient forest and the hound changed into human form at his side. It had been more than two weeks since he had passed back through the gap into his own time, and he had been preparing for this all that time. Even so, it seemed to take him by surprise.
The clanging of swords, the cries of death, the rearing of horses as they trampled foot soldiers. And the call of generals who were far back from the actual fighting. It was familiar and yet Richon had never been so afraid. He had never cared so much about the outcome.
“You should stay back,” he said to Chala. “Here, where it is safe.” He nodded to the edge of the forest.
“Safe?” said Chala. “When I have faced the unmagic time and time again already?”
“But this is different,” said Richon. “You will not be fighting with magic here.”
“No, I will not. Give me a sword,” said Chala, nodding to the sack he carried. “I will fight with that.”
“You?” said Richon.
She stared him down. “Do you forget that I was a princess once, and that the princess had a father who was a warrior first and foremost?”
“But surely he did not train you,” said Richon.
“No,” said Chala. “He did not. But that does not mean I did not train. It was in secret, but it was one of the few things that I liked about having a human body even then. A hound has no way to manipulate a weapon—and no need to do it, either.
“But I liked the strength that I felt when I swung a sword. It was the one way that I could be in a hunt without having to make an excuse to leave for the forest.”
Richon was tempted to give her a sword just to satisfy his desire to see her holding it, fire in her eyes, her breath coming swift and deep in her chest. A human woman with a hound’s heart.
“Did King Helm ever allow you to battle on the field—with men?” asked Richon.
“No,” admitted Chala.
Richon nodded. “Because a woman would not be allowed in any army.”
“Why not?” asked Chala. “If she is good enough, would they not welcome another warrior on their side? It would be foolish not to.”
Richon thought of all the reasons that he might give for this. The rules he had learned from boyhood. That a woman, no matter how strong, is not as strong as a man. That the male warriors would be distracted at the sight of a woman. That a woman in an army would cause the men to compete among themselves for her attention. That a woman simply did not belong on the battlefield—that her place was inside the walls of a palace, wearing fine clothes and drinking good wine while the men outside decided what flag she would swear allegiance to.
“Think of the last time you left me behind,” said Chala. “And if you would do that again.”
Richon burned at the memory. Chala had let him wound her very badly, and then had done what she wished to do anyway.
If he tried to do the same here, he did not doubt it would have the same outcome.
“If you do not wish me to be a woman in battle gear, I will be a hound. A bitch hound who hunts at the side of her mate,” said Chala bluntly.
“You are not a bitch hound,