They were being assisted with magic. Roane felt it in the air. It was covering all of them and it was a problem. It’d be a problem in the future as well. He wasn’t sure where the magic came from, but he knew it was there and he knew it was protecting and helping them to go at an unnaturally faster pace.
He and Bastion were running, sprinting from tree to tree, when suddenly they felt a shift in the air. Both vampires froze as one, looking like statues now.
“Do you see anything?” he asked Bastion in his head.
Bastion leaned forward and his nostrils flared. He closed his eyes and smelled the air, like a wolf would do. Roane knew the answer was nothing before Bastion thought to him, “No. Whoever it is, is beyond the next ridge.”
He edged farther. Instead of their break-neck speed, he and Bastion snuck ahead, keeping to the trees for camouflage. They were going at a snail’s pace now. He wanted to see whoever or whatever it was before they saw them, and as they cleared the hill, both froze in place. A wolf scout was thirty feet in front of them, resting against a tree. Its head was down with closed eyes, and the wolf panted for a moment. In and out. It sounded like it was struggling for breath, but that was from the speed the group was traveling at. Even the wolves were tired.
Roane thought to Bastion, “Hold. The wolf will move forward.”
Bastion didn’t move an inch, but he replied, “The wolf will keep moving ahead of us. We’re stuck behind him.”
Roane grimaced. There was no way around it. If the wolf didn’t move down, but kept going straight ahead of them, he knew Bastion was right. A confrontation was imminent. He was about to signal Bastion to move around when a wolf’s howl filled the air. The wolf in front of them immediately responded. His eyes opened and his head fell back. A long howl ripped from deep in its throat and the two vampires shared a look. From the intensity of closeness of this howl, both knew they wouldn’t forget the sound. It was haunting, sounding from a deep sorrow.
As the wolf finished, he lumbered forward. His head went back down, and he took two quick breaths before bounding ahead.
“He’s keeping to the same path.”
Roane nodded, knowing what Bastion meant. They had to kill the wolf. Giving him the signal, Bastion took off to the left as Roane sprinted forward. Instead of going upward, Bastion would circle around the wolf, coming from below. The wolf would sense Roane’s presence and prepare for an attack, assuming a second opponent, if there were one, would circle up and out of the army’s territory.
That would be his death then.
But before Bastion could go far, the wolf ripped through the foliage, coming straight at them. Roane felt the wolf’s surprise. He had doubled back, not knowing what he’d find, and before he could call for help, both of them were on the wolf.
As Roane impaled the wolf, drawing his sword and shoving it deep into his enemy’s chest, a sadness filled him. He had come to know that creatures such as this one followed orders. That was their only reason for its death. If he had be
en born or turned by the Christane bloodline, his blood wouldn’t have been spilled on the ground that morning. But this wolf hadn’t been and because of that one fact, Roane reached in and yanked out its heart.
The sword harmed him, but it wouldn’t kill him. His own touch delivered that fatal blow and as he stood there, with the heart still beating in his grasp, he said a small prayer honoring its
death. Bastion was beside him, and without saying a word, both knew what had to be done. One by one, they took the heart and spread its blood all over them. It would aid in their travels and they could move at a faster rate. They would smell as one of their enemy’s own, which would turn an invisible eye to them. The wolves wouldn’t be looking at their own.
Once they were done, both completely covered in its blood, Roane put the heart back. It was his way of paying homage to the wolf, giving back its heart. After that, knowing they only had limited time before they realized one of their own was dead, Roane and Bastion sprinted ahead. This time, they could move farther down the hill. They didn’t need to travel along the highest tip of the ridge. The wolves were scouting the mountains, and their noses would allow them camouflage.
It was time they made up their lost time.
As they ran forward, weaving around trees and giving every wolf ahead of them a wide berth, Roane glanced down. The army had changed their positioning. The Mother Wolf was in the middle of her men, along with Romah guards behind her.
They were nearing his army. They wouldn’t risk leaving their leader in the back. It was too vulnerable of a position. She was more guarded this way and for a brief second, Roane knew he could fly down and rip her heart out, as he had one of her brethren just now. It would be a suicide killing, but for the briefest of moments, he considered it. It would be a harsh blow to this army, one that could assist in their victory, but Bastion reached back and grabbed Roane. He pulled him forward with him, and as he did, the moment was gone.
Roane knew he’d have to find an opening later. He couldn’t regret that moment.
Roane and Bastion were nearing their camp. Roane could sense his own men and knowing it was safer, they began killing the wolves and any Romah guards they came upon as they made their way out of enemy territory, closing the gap into their own. They still needed to cover twenty miles, but once they came upon the last of the Romah scouts, and let their bodies fall to the ground behind them, they slowed their pace. They still kept to a brisk speed, but this was their resting time. Once they hit their encampment, he knew their army would have to pick up its own speed to stay ahead of their enemy.
They cleared a tree line, and he sensed an attack from behind. Roane twisted around, his sword drawn before he realized the body hurdling at him was a Christane wolf.
“Halt!” a voice cried out in a commanding tone.
The wolf couldn’t, but Roane tucked his sword down and ducked, evading the wolf’s attack. It hit the ground where he had been standing, but rolled once and was immediately on its feet and rounding to attack again.
“Stop.” Roane held a hand out, showing his Hunter hand symbol. “I’m one of yours.”
“It’s the Hunter.” The same voice from before materialized out of a foliage. It was Christian. He lifted his head, sniffing the air, and he frowned at Roane. “You reek.”
“Your rival’s blood.” As he spoke, Roane signaled to Bastion to keep ahead. Once the other vampire took off, with instructions to ready the rest of their men to move forward at a faster rate, Roane fell in step with Christian. The other wolf moved back to its hidden post, ready to attack anyone else that followed them. Roane said, “It camouflaged us the last few miles. I sent Bastion ahead. The group needs to go faster.”
“Roane—”