Wolf Warrior 01 The Lost Wolf Warrior Read online

  Do not move.

  Roan raised his hand to his head. Her silent orders were obviously causing this pain. Despite the pounding in his head, he kept watching the battle. He wished he could help her, but he respected her orders. He had been in endless battles, and sometimes it was more deadly to help than to stay back.

  The two soldiers seemed befuddled when she closed her eyes, dropped her chin and remained fixed where she was. She appeared serene, ready for a death strike.

  "I give you a chance to flee.” She said softly, “the alternative is certain death."

  It was a merciful move, Roan thought, as he heard her offer ... giving the two soldiers the choice not to charge her. If they walked away she would spare their lives.

  The soldiers turned and looked at each other. Making their decision, they shouted as they advanced, their swords drawn with deadly purpose. Roan held Ian back when he tried to move forward again and they both watched in awe as the woman ducked and absorbed the blow of the first man's sword with the sword in her left hand. Then, still on one knee, she raised her right-handed sword and fatally struck the other charging soldier. While he was going down, she stood, kicked out with her foot directly into the chest of the remaining soldier as her left sword locked with his. He stumbled back, and while he was off balance, her other sword came up, giving him an instant deathblow. Death had come swiftly to all of them; none had suffered. She was true with her aim and somehow, as the battle ended, he sensed she felt regret at having to kill them.

  Now that the fight was over, the woman quickly moved back to her bow, efficiently reloaded it with the quills from a quiver on her side. She whipped her head back and forth, looking around as if she expected more men to emerge from the quiet forest. She looked like a targeted deer, waiting for the hunter's arrow. Purposefully stepping over, she pulled her daggers from the hearts of the dead soldiers. Wiping them, she re-sheathed them in her worn leather boots.

  She circled around, making her way closer to them. Her concentration intense, her head cocked, she growled in observable frustration, as if she couldn't find what she was searching for. She strayed within a sword distance of them, her scent making its way to Roan, sweet like Scottish heather, with a slight spicy fragrance. His eyes followed her well-formed, leather encased body as she moved toward him, her chest heaving, her exposed breasts straining against the top of her vest.

  Suddenly, Roan felt such strong blinding emotions that he caught his breath. Desire, possessiveness, and lust flared within him like an unwanted English rainstorm on a sunlit day. He could picture his naked body poised over hers, burying his penis into her, plunging over and over again. The cries of her orgasm would surround them.

  * * * *

  Serena's concentration at predicting the impending threats in the vicinity was abruptly severed when powerful sensations washed over her like a strong ocean current. Emotions, stronger than any of her senses, assaulted her with a stirring of desire and longing. She saw a flash in her mind, a sensual coupling...

  She wasn't prepared for the vision, and her head swung around, her eyes connecting with the dark-haired man's blue gaze. Her breath caught when she looked deeply into his eyes. They were dark with sexual arousal.

  What was happening?

  Immediately, she was distrustful. The dark haired man had not identified himself, nor had he spoken to her with his mind sense. Serena began to wonder if perhaps she had been wrong in helping these men, perhaps just this once her senses had been mistaken.

  Her warrior instinct told her that these men were now included in the threats around her.

  * * * *

  Roan watched as the woman's eyes made contact with his and he was struck by the perception he saw there, almost as if she could read his sexual thoughts. He sensed her feelings of discontent—most certainly directed at him.

  All of a sudden, she launched herself at him and he heard a familiar noise. It was the smooth well-known whoosh of an arrow letting loose, sailing through the trees and striking upon its target.

  Roan grunted when she struck him hard, pushing him aside as she stepped in front of him. He was so startled by the woman's rapid movement that he stumbled backward. She cried out as the arrow pierced her shoulder, the same arrow that would have struck him, without a doubt, in the heart. Despite her injury, she swiftly swung around and set off running toward her horse. She pointed her bow, targeted the forest, and let go of one shot. A cry was heard from the trees.

  She had hit her target.

  Struggling with the arrow in her shoulder, she hastily re-loaded her bow, and carrying it up, aimed it point blank—toward them.

  Roan was rattled at her distrustful move, first she assisted them, and now she appeared ready to dispose of them.

  What the hell?

  He stepped unhurriedly in front of Ian, to protect him if she chose to shoot. A display of her skills and the ten dead men littering the ground proved they were no match for this deceptively feminine warrior.

  "Slowly place your weapons on the ground and move three steps back,” the woman commanded them.

  Roan watched her with interest. Her only show of weakness was the way she leaned heavily against her unusually large horse. Her aim with the arrow was true and was unwaveringly directed on him and Ian.

  Who was this woman?

  He had never seen, not even in a man, the fighting abilities she had displayed this day. He could not place her accent; it wasn't English, Scottish or even Irish. Roan nodded his head to indicate that Ian should lower his sword. Ian gave him an incredulous glare. Never, in the decade they had been fighting together, had they ever surrendered their weapons. But with her weapon pointing point-blank at them, now was not the time to question her actions.

  "Roan!” Ian protested.

  He barked out the order, “Do it!"

  Still watching the woman, they both lowered their swords and stepped back precisely three steps. With a wave of her bow she directed them again. “Please drop to your knees, with your hands behind your backs."

  Her command was not a request. Again, he indicated they should comply, reassured slightly because he sensed a reluctance from the woman to hurt them. They both lowered themselves to their knees, watching the woman with curiosity. Her grip and aim with the weapon never faltered. At the same time she removed items from a bag attached to her saddle, occasionally studying the two of them to ensure they had not moved.

  She knelt on the dirt next to a large rock, spreading out what appeared to be some sort of medicine bag as she gradually lowered the cross-bow to the ground. Roan became aware that she was in severe pain but was trying not to acknowledge it. He experienced her pain as if it were his own and wished with all his heart the arrow embedded in her flesh had struck him instead of her. She looked pointedly at him.

  "Do not doubt that if you move, or approach me, I will kill you."

  "No. I do not doubt your word."

  "Good. Then do not move."

  The woman placed some sort of leather thong in her mouth and to Roan's amazement, raised one of her swords, swinging it over her shoulder and severed the quill end of the arrow implanted in her back. To his further surprise, she calmly launched herself against a rock, piercing the arrow through the front of her skin. He saw a spasm of pain assault her body, her feet skidding in the dirt, her body jerking as she bit down on the leather, her cry muffled.

  Almost nonchalantly, the woman pulled the remaining arrow shaft out of her shoulder, throwing it with obvious contempt into the dirt. A steady flow of blood began to ooze from her shoulder and he could not believe she was still conscious after such an injury.

  With one hand, she spread some sort of wet herbal concoction on the front of the wound. Using a strip of cloth, she bound it tightly, then re-wrapped the pack and set it next to her. After that apparently painful ritual, she tried to stand, only to sink back down. The loss of blood was finally affecting her. Roan started to rise to aid her but she would not have it. Her hand went just as rapidly
to the bow until Roan crouched back down again.

  "Remain where you are,” she said, her gaze intense. She deliberately scooted back to a larger rock and propped herself against it.

  For a moment she closed her eyes. He assumed she was falling unconscious. He started to stand up again. Immediately, she opened her eyes and brought up the bow.

  "I will not ask again. Please do not make me harm you.” There was a pleading resonance in her voice. Frustrated, Roan descended, grinding his teeth as he went. She closed her eyes again, and Roan felt another sharp pain in his head. This time the pain was so biting that he raised both his hands to his skull. Ian looked at him questioningly, but he did not answer him. He heard her voice. He wasn't sure how, but he heard it as clear as day. She was calling for someone to help her.

  Richard, it is Serena. I need your assistance. Follow Caine. I will be waiting.

  There was a pause. She opened her eyes to check on them. Seeing that they hadn't moved, she closed her eyes again.

  Caine—come to me.

  The voice stopped, and Roan removed his hand from his head. She opened her eyes, observing them closely. She had one leg braced up to keep her back against the boulder. It was a defensive posture, so that an enemy could not come upon her unaware from the rear. He recognized her action for what it was. It was the protective action of a well-trained fighter.

  "Do you have horses?” The blood was now leaking from behind her makeshift bandage, trickling down her shoulder.

  "Yes.” He made a movement with his head. “Just down the trail."

  She shifted slightly. “Retrieve them and your weapons, then leave."

  Roan didn't move. Her voice had grown weaker. Ian started to rise, and Roan's hand halted him. The woman glared at them.

  "I have given you your leave. I am confused as to why you remain? Please take advantage of my offer.” She snarled at them, angry now. The bow she held was steady, and pointed directly at them. When they didn't move, she took aim and let loose an arrow. It landed in front of Ian, within an inch of his knee.

  Roan heard Ian's curse. “Roan! I think it best we follow the lady's orders."

  "Leave!"

  * * * *

  Serena's exclamation came with blinding pain from her shoulder.

  What was the matter with these men?

  She reloaded again, then pointed the crossbow at the men. She could feel her head pounding as she held the bow. Traveling from the Realm in the Scottish Highlands, she was sometimes overwhelmed by what seemed a heaviness of the air. At times it made her lightheaded, almost as if she were breathing too much at once, enriching her blood. She was more familiar with the thinness of the Highland Mountains, the different pressure of the air. Below the Highlands, this change had blessed her with endless energy, making her sword light as a feather and her feet fleet. Her skills knew no boundaries in this setting, however her supernatural strength was finally ebbing. Using a technique taught to her by her father, she inhaled a steadying breath and concentrated on easing it out, continuing in that manner so the blood loss would slow.

  She was hurting and angry now. Her attraction to the dark haired man did not please her, at all.

  What is the matter with me? she wondered.

  How could she let these feelings overwhelm the potential threat they posed?

  "I will kill your friend first, then you, if you do not do as I have asked."

  * * * *

  Roan grimaced as she gave him another pointed glare, a wordless command to leave, and then shifted her bow to Ian.

  Ian threw out another curse. “Roan!"

  He raised his eyebrows at her command. He watched her, wondering how much longer she would last. Her unusual ability to stay conscious made him question where she came from.

  Why did he care?

  Why didn't he just get up and leave as she had requested? But he couldn't; he felt drawn to her in a way he had never known before. Part of him felt so remarkable when she had been near him, and he would be damned if he would sit there and watch her life's blood pour out of her.

  How could she know how much he valued Ian's life?

  Somehow she knew he prized it over his own. He nodded his head to her, conceding her orders, while he plucked their swords off the ground and pulled Ian up with him as he rose. He turned and shoved Ian ahead as they walked away.

  Roan and Ian walked down to where they had tethered their horses.

  "What manner of a woman is that?” Ian asked. “Did ya see how she fought? My eyes have never seen the likes before."

  He turned to Ian as Ian packed up their gear. “I want you to ride to the next town and wait for me there."

  "What foolishness is this? You'll be coming with me!"

  "No, I'm going to go back and save our little warrior friend."

  "Roan I hear ya, that woman could die out here—are you certain you wanna be...” He raised his hand to stay Ian's continued protests.

  "Ian, do as I ask. Do not question me. Rest for a day and, if I do not arrive, ride on to the castle."

  "Ughhh, I..."

  "Ian, do it!"

  "Aye, my lord,” Ian answered sullenly, pulling himself onto his horse. Roan hated reverting to formal terms with his good friend, but in this situation he knew Ian would only follow a direct command.

  "All will be well. I will be all right, Ian.” He tried to reassure him, softening his voice. Ian nodded and jerked the reins around, showing his displeasure at Roan's order. He rode away grudgingly without looking back, grumbling as he went.

  Chapter Two

  Serena closed her eyes in relief at the men's departure. She slowed her breathing and placed herself into a brief healing sleep. Her dreams were vivid, reminding her what had brought her to this moment and this injury. Her brother Richard's voice and their conversation from earlier that day floated into her dream...

  "Why must we part?"

  Serena's eyes warily traversed the small Scottish border town before turning to fall upon her handsome brother.

  "We can search more area apart. Caine will remain for your protection. The next town is south one half day's ride, we will meet there.” She gestured to the gray wolf waiting patiently beside her horse.

  "You will remain, Caine, and protect Richard."

  The wolf barked in response to her command.

  "Serena, I do not like this. I have ill feelings about it."

  Serena sighed as Richard's eyes also touched on every corner of the town. They saw thatched roofs, haphazardly hung wooden merchant signs, stray dogs nuzzling the dust for droppings. The bleak village was a less than impressive sight.

  She winced as he took in the poverty around him. It was so different than the cleanliness of the Realm village.

  "I have the same feeling. Nevertheless, you know we cannot let our senses divert us from our quest. You also understand that the violence and crime outside the Realm decreases and distracts our senses.” He nodded at her calm reassurance.

  "To that I am attentive, Serena. I just do not take any comfort in being, as you say, distracted."

  Serena patted her brother's shoulder, the brother whose features bore such a likeness to her own. Sometimes when her gaze fell upon him, she felt as if she were looking at an exact reflection of herself. Beyond the mind connection they shared, which stemmed from the ancestry of their people, they also had a special bond. A bond that only came with being twins of their likeness.

  "Be easy. Have confidence in my skills,” Serena urged him. “You know I will place myself in no danger, and Caine will protect you with his life. Moreover, as a healer you are much more important to our Realm than a single warrior could ever be. Rest easy and remain focused on sensing Ziem. We must find him. In this quest we cannot fail, or the consequences for our people will be grave."

  Richard was contrite when reminded of the seriousness of their quest. The same quest that had brought them to this small Scottish town.

  "I know,” he raised his arm and clasped her arm encirc
ling it with his hand, his forearm resting against hers. In return, her hand closed on his forearm in the familiar leave-taking of their people, both reciting their ancient Gaelic departing vow, “A'Don ar Cuideachd-ne.” We protect our own.

  "Serena, you will call to Caine if you have need of me! I will follow if he leaves. Do not travel so far that our senses are not linked, because although I am a healer, I can and will use my warrior skills if needed."

  It was a command—a tone that was not common for Richard. As a healer, his manner was customarily gentle.

  "You also take heed, my brother. I will see you in the next town, with good fortune, in no more that one day. Be discreet in your inquiries and keep Caine hidden."

  He nodded, gazing at Caine. Wolves, like the Solarian people, were hunted outside of the Realm, an order from the English King Edward I, given out of the lack of knowledge as to their value.

  Wolves had guarded and assisted the Solarian warriors since the beginning of time; they were the protectors of their people. Now they were persecuted out of ignorance and fear. Serena shook her head in sadness while raising her hand in farewell to Richard. Pulling her reins around, she pressed south on the road to the next village.

  Lost in her own thoughts about her quest and the foreign surroundings, she journeyed for several hours on the wet, muddy Scottish road. The slick, heavy mud caused Greystar's hooves to make a sucking noise as he pulled them up then plodded them back down in a steady, never-ending rhythm, lulling her into quiet contemplation.

  The sound of swords clashing and men yelling jolted her out of her reverie. She closed her eyes to sense where the danger was located. Something strong pulled at her senses, it almost felt like a Solarian Wolf Warrior distress call, yet it was weak and unpracticed, as if done unconsciously. Serena's heart began to race, and she veered Greystar to the right, toward the rocky cliffs from where she sensed the threat had come.