Dragon Clan #7: Shell’s Story

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Camilla in danger? During his sleep, the wolf had ranged far ahead to where Shell intended to travel and must have come across her scent again. He imagined that the wolf found more of the red leaves within the green ones. But how did it know of danger? And what kind?

The wolf was far ahead, nearly a full day’s walk from them. He tried to formulate a question of what the wolf perceived as a danger. In return, he understood the wolf had found her scent many times, always heading due west and had never communicated anything similar.

Now the wolf followed her scent again, and she had abruptly turned to travel north instead of west. For Shell that did not indicate danger, simply a change in course. A mountain in her path, a river too wide to wade across, or even a settlement she wanted to skirt around would all account for her changing direction.

The wolf repeated, danger. It went on to communicate there were two men now with her. Again, that didn’t mean danger. The wolf grew irritated and frustrated at Shell’s lack of understanding. It sent another impression, one of Camilla’s old scents, the other her new scent. The wolf managed to turn a single red leaf into flaming orange.

Shell understood. The wolf followed red leaves, which were her scent, but now the red had changed to orange, which meant she was scared and the wolf detected the fear in what it smelled. He was on his feet, estimating the remaining light in the day.

If they waited, they couldn’t reach where she departed her trail by this time tomorrow. Who knew how far away she would be, then? If he stood any chance of catching up, he needed to leave now.

“We need to go.”

Henry looked at him as if puzzled, then making up his mind, said, “I’ll get my things.”

No questions. No argument. They started out within minutes. Shell pictured the trek ahead and realized that rushing to where she turned north was not required. He didn’t have to follow her footsteps. He formed a triangle in his mind. She followed one leg of the triangle until she turned north. He could cut across country to intercept Camilla, taking the long leg of the triangle cutting off a good portion of the trip.

The mind of the wolf understood the concept instantly. It ran after Camilla, chasing the scent. Shell knew where the wolf was, and the direction, so he adjusted their direction to reach a place ahead of it and intercept the wolf. He said to Henry while pointing at a white-peaked mountain, “We need to go there.”

Henry didn’t object, ask why they needed to change directions, or question the need for the sudden departure. He simply accepted and tried to keep up.

Instead of following an easy path along the river at the lowest point in the valley, they trudged across at a shallow place and trudged up the other side. When they reached the summit, Shell pointed again, and they went down the other side, then into a forest thick with tall trees and a tangle of paths and trails.

Shell led them from one path to a trail and through underbrush so thick they almost swam through the tangle of vines. Henry never once asked why they were doing it.

The slight touch of the mini-dragon tingled, which didn’t surprise him at all. The stories all told the same thing. When Dragon Clan was in danger, dragons often appeared. That gave substance to the stories of Dragon Clan calling down dragons for help.

It remained at a distance, and dusk turned into first dark, the dragon’s touch faded as it found a place to roost. The wolf kept moving. Shell continued long as possible, then pulled to a stop.

“We’ll have to spend the night here.”

“Is someone chasing us?”

“No, a friend of mine might be up ahead, and need help.”

Henry gave him an odd look, one of disbelief. But he held off asking more as he unrolled his blankets and crawled between them. He was asleep before Shell had his single, large blanket unrolled. As usual, Shell spread it out and laid on half while pulling the other half over him.

Just two ways of doing the same thing, he thought. But the blankets Henry owned were far cleaner than they had been, even if tattered with more than one hole large enough to put a fist through showed their condition.

Unexpectedly, Shell also fell asleep quickly. He awoke in the predawn from the mental touch of the wolf and shook Henry. They chewed on venison strips while waiting for enough light to continue. The location of the wolf had shifted more to the right and Shell adjusted their projected path when the wolf again touched his mind.

Shell pictured three people sleeping around a dying fire. The wolf was close enough to see them, and Camilla was alive. He asked the wolf to let him know when they woke but had no way of knowing if the animal understood, so he asked the wolf to let him know when they moved again. Realizing the wolf still might not understand the concept, he told it to stay in sight.

If the wolf followed them, he would know the whereabouts of the wolf and know the answers by default. He had a flash of understanding of the frustration the wolf had when it had been trying to explain the danger to him. Impressions are not words. They are vague and undefined.

“As time goes on, we’ll understand each other better,” he said aloud.

“Huh?”

Startled, Shell said, “We’ll know each other better as time goes on.”

“I like you, and thanks for all the help, but you are a little strange.”

“I’ve heard that before. Don’t let it worry you. Time for us to go.”

Shell took the lead again and ahead spotted two large mountains, but a gap existed between them that he hoped would carry them through. If it didn’t, they were going to have to backtrack a half day and circle one of the mountains. The wolf couldn’t help him decide to try the pass or circle around to save more time.

The wolf had never been there before, but misunderstood Shell and started to run to the far side of the pass to find if the gap went through. It would save time to know, but there was another consideration, Camilla’s safety. Shell said, go back. Stay with the girl.

The wolf spun and returned.

Shell asked, is she still scared?

An orange leaf formed in his mind. He could ask simple questions and receive limited responses, but the orange leaf indicated the intelligence of the wolf was far greater than he had believed. The wolf didn’t have language or at least no verbal language. It understood, though, most of what Shell communicated and devised clever answers.

Shell said, muttering softly to make sure there was no misunderstanding, attack them if they attempt to hurt her. Kill them.

Moments later, he received an image in return of two dead men with throats torn out lying on the ground and a girl standing beside them. That satisfied Shell that the wolf understood his directions.

As the morning progressed, he became more hopeful the split between the two mountains would be a shortcut to where the wolf waited and watched. By mid-day, he knew he’d made the right decision, and the wolf’s position grew nearer.

Camilla and the two men had been on the move most of the morning, but they moved slowly and under the watchful eyes of the wolf that they had no idea stalked them. Meanwhile, Shell and Henry had cut across the landscape, and as they exited the pass, they were slightly ahead of the other three, but daylight was fading.

The wolf sent the impression they were stopping again, this time at a hut built in the forest, a hunting cabin if Shell understood the message correctly. The wolf told him the scent of the two captors was strongest near the cabin. They had spent a lot of time there, probably their home.

The wolf sent another mental image. It was a bright red leaf turning angry orange, and ending in a vibrant yellow. Camilla’s fear had increased.

“We have to hurry,” Shell said to Henry. The wolf was close, barely over the next hill.

As tired as they were, both jogged up the long slope of the forested hillside, thankful it was not any steeper. Shell felt the nearness of the wolf, increasing with every step, every labored breath. Then a shot of pure, bright yellow flamed in his mind.

Shell heard the first of the screams split the quiet of the forest, and they were not in his mind. Camilla had screamed long and loud. It was followed by another scream that abruptly ended. After the briefest of looks had flashed between Shell and Henry, they sprinted the rest of the way up the hillside and over the top.

The hut stood directly in front of them, centered in a small clearing. It was made of logs long ago, now weathered and rotted with age. A small path led into the forest at the far side. In the center of the clearing, Camilla lay on the ground, straining and struggling to tear free of her bonds, looking like she was hurting herself in the attempts. She twisted, pulled, and squirmed to move away from the wolf.

In the clearing were two men, both laying still, and the fresh blood covering their torsos stained them red. Shell raced into the clearing, his knife already drawn. He sliced the ropes around Camilla’s ankles with a single slash, and then freed her wrists.

She leaped to her feet, eyes wide and terrified, as she held her arms in front of herself in a protective posture. She screamed, “Watch out!”

Shell spun, knife held ready to fend off whatever danger lurked. The wolf stood at the edge of the clearing, blood dripping from her fur, mouth, and chin. Shell looked past the wolf trying to find the danger, as he mentally screamed at the wolf, where’s the danger?

An image of the wolf resolved in his mind.

Henry said, “I think she’s scared of your dog.”

“His dog?” Camilla screamed, backing away from all of them, but her eyes were on the wolf. That’s no dog!”

“It’s mine,” Shell said, admitting the truth for the first time.

“T-that beast just killed those men. It ripped their throats out.”

Not knowing what he should say, he allowed the words spill out. “I told her to do that if those two hurt you. It’s my fault. The wolf just did what I asked.”

Camilla was shaking, as her eyes remained locked on the wolf, probably not hearing or understanding half of what he said. Shell looked at the two dead men and noted their throats had been ripped out as he’d asked. They were dead, and there were no others in the cabin. He put his knife away, approached the wolf and knelt on one knee in front of her. The amber eyes steadily watched him, never blinking.

Shell gently placed an arm around the wolf’s neck and pulled her closer to him. In a soft voice intended for the others to hear as well, he said, “Thank you.”

The wolf raised a paw and placed it on Shell’s shoulder. They stayed like that for a short while, communicating as two friends in a way no one else could hear or understand. Shell provided a mental image of the wolf exploring the area around the cabin. She turned and entered the deep shadows under the trees and disappeared.

Knowing he had a lot of explaining to do, he stood and faced the other two. Both seemed ready to flee if he so much as sneezed. They needed time to understand the wolf had saved Camilla’s life. The carnage of two dead men was the price paid for her. They were shaken, scared, and hadn’t had time to rationalize it, especially with the men still in sight. He would bury them soon but needed to make sure all were safe. “I’ll go search the cabin.”

He cautiously threw open the plank door, half in fear that there still might be someone else inside, even if the wolf said no. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to call the wolf back into the clearing and upset them again. If she showed itself, Camilla and Henry would probably take off for Fleming, and he didn’t know if he could catch up with them.

No one was in the cabin. However, it was full of other things. There were piles of assorted clothing, a table laden with knives, two swords, and at least six or seven blankets tossed around the room. But it was the boots and shoes that told the story. More than twenty shoes of different sizes and fashion lay together in a pile. Some were men’s. Others women’s. Large, small, almost new, others so old they were ragged. None looked like they would fit either of the dead men.

Henry said, from right behind him, “What is this place?”

Camilla still stood in the yard in the same place, as if her legs didn’t work. She said, “They kill and steal.”

“Why do they kill?” Henry asked, his voice hushed and hoarse.

“They like to. And they want the women. But most of all, they talked about torture; what they did to people. They laughed about it. When their enjoyment was over, they killed them and laughed some more.”

Henry said, “And they wanted to steal? That’s why they did this?”

“No,” she said. “They liked to torture and kill. The stealing was just taking what’s left over.” She turned and took a couple of tentative steps towards the cabin.

“You probably don’t want to look in here,” Shell said.

She came to stand at his side, anyhow. He watched her eyes, and for any sign of weakness or that she might collapse at the devastation inside. She said, speaking to nobody in particular, “So many blankets and shirts everywhere. That table is full of knives and nothing else.”

He watched her eyes alight on the shoes and her knees went weak. Shell grabbed and steadied her before she fell, then half-carried her to the far end of the meadow and gently sat her down on the grass. He went to the first dead man and searched him for any clues of his identity. Inside his waistband, he found a knife with a gold jeweled hilt, a red ruby at the butt, a row of smaller ones set in the handle.

The other man wore a knife plain as the other was gaudy, but at least as expensive. The blade bore the unmistakable marks of quality workmanship, not a pit or spot of rust on the metal. The plain blackwood handle fit him perfectly, but he placed it on the ground with the other knife as he continued searching their bodies. Finding nothing else of interest, he said, “Henry, give me a hand dragging these two off into the bushes.”

Henry said, pulling one foot as Shell took the other. “Let’s take them way out there. I don’t want them close to here.”

When they had dragged both men far from the hut, they returned, Henry went to the stream with the bucket and splashed the water to wash the blood from the grass. It took him three trips. Camilla stood on wobbly legs and waved off any help. Shell was not sure what to do for her but expected she would let him know if she wanted, or needed him.

She said, “I’m kind of weak. I haven’t eaten in three days, not that I could eat something now, I’m just explaining why I’m like this.”

“I see,” Shell said, ignoring her lie about why she was weak, and understanding why she said it. Coming so close to death had to tear at her mind, and then seeing the lives ripped from her attackers by a wolf and thinking she was going to be killed next, must have terrified her. Instead of being critical, he wondered how he would have fared in similar circumstances. He would not have done as well. Not even close.

She turned to Henry with a limp smile. “We haven’t met. I hope Shell didn’t do that to your face. It looks awful.”

“Henry,” he said, sounding proud of the name as he used it for the first time to introduce himself. “He saved me.” Then he turned to Shell and continued in a dull voice, “We have lots to talk about.”

Shell smiled weakly as he reached out and touched the mind of the wolf for comfort. It had already made a complete circle around the cabin but avoided one area. The wolf passed the information to Shell that the stench of rotting flesh was too much in one place for the sensitive nose of the wolf. The stench lay to the east, where a gully cut through the ground, and probably ran deep with snowmelt in the spring.

But Shell now knew where the bodies that had worn the shoes were located, victims from months or years ago. He fought an impulse to try and fit the proper shoes on each corpse, but understood in advance, there was no way to tell, even if his nose and eyes allowed him to get within a hundred steps of the place.

He said, “It’s getting dark. Why don’t we build a fire here in the yard and leave early in the morning?”

“Can’t we leave?” Henry asked.

Shell shook his head. There were too many unanswered questions, too many things to learn. Beside the dead in the gulley, there were the friends, associates, and relatives of them that needed answers.

Camilla said, “You two build a fire. I have things to do.”

Shell raised his eyebrows at her, not sure what she meant.

“Inside the cabin may be articles that will help identify the poor people those two killed. We might be able to find something and use it to locate the families, or at least, some of them.”

“What sort of things?” Shell asked.

“Letters, diaries, names engraved on blades, and things like that. We owe it to the survivors to at least try.”

“Call out if you need me,” Shell said, sensing that she wanted to do the chore alone, and puzzled by it. Did she just need a few minutes alone, or was she trying to find a reason for the actions of the two men? A way to understand the depravity? Did she hope to resolve it for the families, as she said? Or for her, almost another victim. Probably the idea that she had almost died here made her more empathetic with those who had. She wanted to help them because she had almost been one of them.

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. He intended to stay out of her way so she could work her way through the emotions that filled her. Shell also realized he needed some time alone. The odd looks and unasked questions about the wolf from both Henry and Camilla were going to have to be faced soon. He didn’t’ have all the answers, and didn’t know how much to share, especially with Henry present.

Camilla was Dragon Clan, and she should know all, even about the wolf bonding. She would understand at least a portion of what happened, more than the boy. Henry was a different story. But Henry couldn’t be shut out completely. Henry didn’t know about the red dragon because he’d been unconscious when it attacked the farmers and house so that part of the story could be skipped. The actions of the wolf might be explained away, but it would take a tall story, and Henry would not believe it the wolf was a dog, and probably hadn’t from the beginning. He could perhaps tell Henry that he’d found and raised the wolf from a pup and they were used to working together.

That story almost worked. It didn’t explain why he had started running at the end of the trip, just before finding the cabin that stood behind him. How had he known of the danger to Camilla? How could he explain he knew they were trying to catch up with her? But maybe he could add to the truth, and skimp on details.

His mind selected details and tried to fill in answers, no matter how poor they sounded. What if Shell explained that the wolf had howled, and Shell heard it. That was the signal so he would know to hurry. Perhaps the howls were so far away that Henry hadn’t heard them, but Shell was used to listening for them, and his ears always listened for the wolf. The story was weak, maybe wouldn’t be believed, but it might work if he refined it.

Glancing at the cabin showed a candle or lantern now provided light inside. He saw Camilla hunched over something, then moving from one place to another as she examined the contents. She cleared off a small table and placed it near the door and sat something upon it.

Turning away, Shell found a pile of firewood large enough for three nights, and Henry hurrying to find more. The boy wouldn’t meet his eye. He shifted thoughts to reach out and sense the wolf that was nearing the end of the second concentric ring around the cabin. She again avoided the area where the bodies were tossed and found nothing but a small overgrown road or lane leading west, probably leading to the nearest town or village.

Camilla strode from the cabin, a book held in her hand. She said, “Point me to where you moved the two dead men.”

“You don’t want to go near them.”

“I don’t want to, but will. Where are they?”

Shell pointed.

She followed the drag marks and headed into the forest. He wondered if he should go too, and quickly decided that for now, he needed to stay away from her. Her eyes had flashed, her mouth was set, and she walked like a general at the head of an army, back straight, shoulders square, head up.

He’d seen his mother act similarly during hard times, and because of her actions she now sat at the head of the council, respected by all, and probably feared by some. Camilla surrounded herself with the same sort of reserved confidence as his mother, defying anyone to get between her and the goal.

It wouldn’t be him. A shovel stood against the side of the cabin, a handle with a thick wooden blade. Shell carried it to a place not too close the pile of firewood and scooped out a shallow hole, so the coals and embers didn’t escape and burn down the forest. He set to making a fire, and when he looked up, Camilla had returned, her face pale on the last glow of the day.

She walked to him and nodded her approval at the woodpile and fire pit as she handed him two sheets of paper. “Do those look like the two men?”

The drawings captured the main features of both, but he had no idea of why she’d drawn them. “Yes, very detailed and you’ve managed to catch their likenesses. I’d know them from your picture.”

She nodded, then pointed to the sketch in his right hand. “That one has scars on his forehead and cheek, so he was easy. The other has a nose too big, but if anyone has seen them, they will recognize my drawings, I think. Can you put them in your backpack and make sure they stay dry?”

“I have an oil-skin case for tinder that will keep them.”

She turned and walked to the cabin again, just as Henry came up behind him. Henry said, “She scares me.”

“Me too. But she almost died and is emotional. We’ll give her some time.” He tossed more wood on the fire, placing a few larger pieces on top so they’d burn longer and he wouldn’t have to watch it as closely.

Henry said, his tone flat and even, “Lucky for her your wolf knew when and who to attack.”

Shell turned around to respond, choosing his words carefully, but Henry was walking away gathering more firewood they didn’t need, as he stooped to pick up another branch. Shell turned back to the cabin and watched Camilla from a distance, feeling lost to both of them.

She placed another item on the small table outside and went back to her searching. He wondered at that but decided to let her remain inside if she wished, undisturbed. As darkness overcame them, Henry unrolled a blanket and sat near him, both watching her move from place to place inside.

She had started just inside the door to her right and methodically worked her way around the room, touching and examining everything slowly and with care. Now and then she carried an item to the small table. The cabin was not large, and she had almost finished, when she pulled to a stop, looking up.

“What’s she doing? Henry hissed.

“Don’t know.”

As if she’d heard their private conversation, Camilla turned and motioned as she called, “Come here.”

They looked at each other. She hadn’t specified who should go, so they both leaped to their feet and rushed inside where she stood, pointing. “What’s that look like?”

Following her pointing finger, Shell saw a bump on the center beam of the cabin, far too high to reach, but odd in its placement. The color matched the wood of the beam, but a smooth curve against the rough-hewn beam looked odd.

Henry eagerly pulled the single chair from the corner and stood on the seat while reaching up. At fourteen, this was more of a game, and the grin on his face said he was enjoying it. He slid what appeared to be a wooden bowl nearer to the edge. If it had been pushed a few inches further back, in what was probably its normal resting place, she would not have seen it hidden up there. Only the careless placement revealed the lip of the bowl, larger than Henry’s hand, and he lifted it as if it was very heavy.

When he lowered the bowl by handing it to Shell, the coins inside almost spilled over the side. It was full of coins of every size, color, and metal. Camilla lifted one and read the name stamped on the back, “Demaria.”

Shell found one and read, “Arunta.”

“I’ve never heard of those places,” Henry said. “But look at the pretty woman’s face on this silver one.”

They sorted through the coins, wondering and speculating on the origins, values, and why there were so many different and unusual coins, and from unheard of places. Camilla said, “Travelers. They carry money from their homelands. They have to buy food and supplies while they travel so they carry fat purses.”

Shell wondered if any of the strange names were from across the grasslands where Quester had lived. He said, “The mountain pass, we came through is the link from east to west, I guess. How are we going to return all this? We don’t even know who the people were.”

“Or how long those two have been killing and stealing,” Henry said. “They might have been doing it for years.”

Camilla tossed more of the coins back into the bowl after briefly examining them. She said, “The three of us need to sit and talk. About a lot of things.”

Henry said, “I’ve never seen coins like these, but I haven’t seen many. This is a fortune.”

Shell said, “One of those gold coins would buy your farm. In fact, I sold your farm for a few like those silver ones, and your share of the future crops.”

“That’s so strange to me. A flat, little circle of metal can be traded for a farm or house,” Henry ended with a shrug. “They buy food for a winter. Can you imagine how much that whole bowl will buy?”