at its companion, locking its jaws against the other Wolf ’s throat. The creatures twisted away from her, rolled beneath Ozkar’s plunging feet and slammed against the base of the bluff wall. Confused, Wynter jerked to her knees as the new Wolf – small, sleek and jet black – took on the grizzled might of the one who had tried to strangle her.
On the path behind her, Sólmundr staggered to his feet. He had won his fight against the fifth Wolf, but had been dragged to the ground in the process. Boro was still battling the Loup-Garou that had first attacked his master, and the two animals now collided over the headless body of Sól’s opponent, their feet skittering and slipping about in its pooled blood. The wind whipped ribbons of gore from Sól’s arms as he lifted his sword high above his head. He yelled a command to his dog. Boro leapt back, and the warrior brought his sword slicing down, cleaving the Wolf ’s head from its body. The corpse fell at Sólmundr’s feet with two separate thuds.
‘Stay still, Iseult!’ cried Sólmundr. ‘We with you now!’
He attempted to slap Ozkar aside, while Boro, his hackles raised, crowded impatiently at his heels. Wynter rose to her feet, her dagger in her hand, her eyes on the smaller, black Wolf who still had his teeth locked around the throat of the one remaining Loup-Garou.
The black Wolf ’s lips pulled back from bloody fangs, and his eyes met Wynter’s as he dug in and held firm. Wynter nodded, and the black Wolf shook his head, his teeth digging deep. Blood sprayed up. The Loup-Garou howled in pain. Its fierce claws gouged at the black Wolf ’s belly. Its teeth snapped at his shoulders in an effort to break free.
Wynter advanced in a crouch, her dagger out. Sól, still struggling to pass Ozkar, shouted at her to stay back. At the sound of his voice, the Loup-Garou twisted, and Wynter saw terror rise in its eyes as it took in the blood-soaked warrior and his gigantic warhound.
Desperate, the Loup-Garou slammed the black Wolf against the bluff wall and tried to shake him from its throat. The black Wolf clung tenaciously on, but the Loup-Garou was bigger and stronger, and it once again slammed the black Wolf hard against the bluff. Blood scattered in big drops against the rocky walls. The black Wolf ’s frightened eyes met Wynter’s as the Loup-Garou shook him like a rag, and Wynter knew he could not last much longer.
She reared up and plunged her knife between the Loup-Garou’s shoulders. With a howl, it surged abruptly to its hind legs and shook its entire body, dragging the black Wolf and Wynter with it as it rose. The black Wolf fell away, taking a great chunk of his opponent’s throat with him. Wynter, her hands still clenched around the handle of her knife, felt the Loup-Garou’s muscles ripple beneath her. Then she was clinging to a man, tall and broad-shouldered and unbelievably strong. He flung himself backwards and slammed Wynter against the rocks, knocking the air from her. But it was the last desperate act of a dying man. The strength left his legs almost immediately, and he slid to the ground with a sigh, his throat gaping, his torso scarlet with blood.
Finally able to dodge past the horses, Boro flew for the black Wolf, his teeth bared. The Wolf sped past Wynter, yelping and crying in fear, and Wynter lurched from the rock and flung herself after them. Catching a handful of Boro’s fur, she clung on, trying to slow him down, but her weight made not one whit of difference. The warhound swerved beneath her, trying to get a grip on the black Wolf as it dodged and twisted to avoid his snapping teeth.
Behind her, there was a sing of metal on stone as Sólmundr separated the dead Loup-Garou from his head. Boro swerved beneath her again, doubling back on himself as the black Wolf made another attempt to bolt. Wynter screamed, ‘Sól! Call him off! Call him off!’ Boro’s huge jaws closed on flesh and fur, ripping a scarlet gash in the black Wolf ’s leg.