Direbound (The Wolves of Ruin #1)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

R eporting to the army recruitment base is the closest I’ve ever been to going inside the castle.

The base is set up right inside the castle’s outer walls, taking up half of a massive courtyard within. I step carefully over icy flagstones, all of them smooth and flat from centuries of feet and hooves and paws.

The permanent army building, which probably houses offices or barracks for officers or something, is a squat, single story wooden structure, flush against the inner courtyard wall. In every direction, huge tents have been erected to create more space to process recruits, each of which sports heavy canvas walls that barely move in the frigid dawn breeze. Each is painted with the royal coat of arms—a snarling direwolf on a shield, a sword crossed with a spear behind it.

The sun is barely peeking over the horizon but the courtyard is already swarmed with other recruits, most looking just as lost as I feel, if not more so.

My ears perk up at the mix of accents around me—familiar drawls from here, the royal city of Sturmfrost, but also spiky, harsh accents from the seven other fiefdoms throughout our country of Nocturna, many that I can’t quite identify.

I’ve never left Sturmfrost, but we studied the geography of Nocturna back when I was in school and the part of me that craves adventure put the names of all the other fiefdoms in a bank and locked them away in my mind. The closest two, the other winter-dwelling fiefdoms, are Rabenfrost and Volkenfrost. And the most famous of all is Grunfall, all the way in the south, nestled into the River Sonnstrom. That’s where many of the battles have taken place over the years.

I pass a young man and woman who look so alike I wonder if they’re siblings; they’re both gaping, open-mouthed, at the inner walls of the castle and the turrets beyond.

Most carry the standard army-issue bag, and I shift uncomfortably, very conscious of the fancy rucksack slung over my shoulder. Some look very worn, and are decorated with patches and pins, perhaps passed down from parents or siblings who also served.

A pang goes through my heart thinking of my father’s military kit. Mother gave it all back to the army to reuse. Said she couldn’t stand the sight of it. I wish I had something of his to carry now.

I find the check-in line and join the end of it, behind a boy who looks like he can’t be more than a few years older than Saela, scrawnier even than the kids from Eastern and Southern. His boots are so thin and worn, I can’t imagine them lasting more than one day’s march.

He senses my eyes on him and turns to scowl at me. I snap my gaze away.

The line inches forward. We finally pass out of the cold air and into one of the long tents, its flaps holding in just enough body heat and cast-off warmth from the smoky outdoor fire pits that a few recruits start shucking off their coats.

I keep mine on. No point getting comfortable, not knowing where we’re going, what’s waiting for us.

The officer at the desk barely looks at me when I finally reach the front of the line. “Name,” he says, tone bored.

“Meryn Cooper.”

He runs a finger down the list in the leather-bound book in front of him, then scrawls something next to my name. “Got you. Back into the courtyard, be ready for more instructions soon.”

The womanbehind me catches my eye at this, looking frightened. I just shrug and move along.

Back outside, snow has started softly falling again, and recruits who must be southerners look increasingly uncomfortable in their thinner jackets. While it’s perpetual winter here in Sturmfrost, the fiefdoms closer to the border are perpetual autumn.

I pull my coat tighter around myself, begrudgingly grateful for all the coin Lee spent on my equipment. Without him, I probably would have used the same ancient coat I’ve been wearing for years, a hand-me-down from my neighbors. I’d be in the same worn-out boots I wear every day, too. The new gear is strange, fancier than I’m used to, but it’s also warm, and I have a feeling that’ll be all I care about soon.

Stepping to the side of the growing group, I scan my surroundings. Imposing walls loom over the barracks and tents, thick as some of the alleyways back in Eastern. Guards pace back and forth at regular intervals, some staring outward, but others clearly directing their attention inward, at us.

An icy chill that has nothing to do with the weather slides down my spine. They’re not just keeping other things out—the walls are keeping us in.

But then, what would I do if I found out only now what we were headed for?

The recruits around me start to quiet, an anticipatory hush, and I turn my attention back to the group. Beyond the milling crowd of young people, I see one of the officers from the tent climbing a wooden platform, waving his arms. He holds a cone-shaped voice amplifier.

When everyone is silent, he puts the amplifier to his mouth and his voice booms out. “Congratulations, recruits! You’ve been chosen to be part of the Bonding Trials.”

A few people near me gasp, and a younger kid to my left mutters, “Bonding? But… that’s not…”

The announcer’s voice cuts him off. “In ten minutes, we’ll begin our hike to Mount Wolfsbane. You’ll be setting up camp there tonight, your first introduction to the army. You’ll each be given a standard issue tent and kit, and a cadet will accompany each group to show you how to set them up.”

Around me, people have covered their faces in their hands; one girl is openly crying.

Guess the rumors about the deaths during the Bonding Trials have reached even the farthest-flung fiefdoms.

“Tomorrow morning at dawn, the Ascent begins, the first of the Trials. You will each be given the greatest privilege our country can give you: the chance to bond with a direwolf. If you do not succeed in bonding…” he pauses, and I hear the words he doesn’t say: If you do not succeed in bonding, and also manage not to die. “The rest of you will be brought back here after the Ascent, to board transport to the front lines, where your training will be conducted.”

A horn blasts, the sound strange and reverberant in the swirling snow. “Head to the tent along the southern wall to grab your gear, and more supplies if you need them,” the officer concludes. “Good luck.”

One woman turns to me, wide eyed and terrified. “I hear that a lot of people die during this, that’s not what I signed up for.” Her voice wavers. “I want to go fight, help at the front—not die on my first day.”

I nod my agreement, although at least this isn’t the first time I’m hearing the news. But being put forward as a Bonded companion to a direwolf? Definitely not what I signed up for.

“Looks like the gear tent is over that way,” I gesture. “Should we go before all the best stuff is taken?”

She falls in step with me. “I’m Alessandra,” she shares, and I give her my name. “Don’t you think they should at least give us training first before… before the Ascent?”

Our conversation is cut off when we reach the flaps of the tent and a team of guards and officers is directing us into different lines.

Those who obviously wear clothes designed to keep them warm are directed into a line to grab their tents and gear packs right away. Others, the ones with threadbare clothing, worn-out shoes—they go into another line, where I glimpse a picked-over table stacked with some outer garments and shoes.

I’m directed toward the line for tents, and I grab my gear in silence—a tent bag that seems impossibly small to contain something that’ll truly protect me from the elements; a pack of rations that looks as hard as rock; a case that rattles, presumably containing my army pot and spoon and firestarter.

The waterskins stink of mildew, and I pass over them, preferring to stick with the one I brought.

Back out in the open air, recruits are being directed out a side gate that was locked earlier. I fall in line, and we skirt around the western edge of the castle. The castle looks different from this side; I realize I’ve only seen it from one angle before. From my quarter, most of what we can see is the massive outer wall and two huge guard towers with meager windows and crenelated walls.

From this angle, we can see beyond those fortifications; more graceful turrets pierce the sky, some with walkways between them or massive stone buildings connecting them. The biggest towers in the center end in pointed roofs, each flying a flag bearing the royal coat of arms. The castle is made from the same gray stone that most of our city is built from, but each wall looks like it’s multiple feet thick.

I smile grimly when I realize what I’m about to see, for the first time:

The famous Bonded City of Sturmfrost.

As we come around the side of the castle, murmurs start as others make the same realization that I have.

In some ways, the area doesn’t look all that different from the city I know so well. The same gray and black stone forms the walls and streets and bridges, the same snow swirls down from the gray sky above.

The snow, though… it’s as if it disappears before it reaches the ground. Nothing’s sticking, no ice, no dirty brown sludge like back home. As if the ground is heated from below, somehow.

And the buildings themselves look strange to me, until I realize—they’re clean, all of them, instead of stained with the soot and dirt that surrounds us in our city. The walls all gleam with countless windows, too; glass so smooth and clear it sparkles like crystal in the early morning sunlight.

Our path doesn’t take us through the Bonded City, just around the side, but I keep my eyes fixed on the place, drinking in the details as I see them; sculpted stone balconies on buildings, some with fancy ironwork rails, some enclosed entirely in glass like giant lanterns.

Statues casually gracing the facades of buildings—the faces of snarling wolves, of impassive men and women, the twisting bodies of other beasts of the forest.

Buildings that look as big as my entire block, but seem to have only one main door—is it possible they house just a single family?

As I stare, a Bonded family comes out the door, wrapped in plush-looking furs. A man is holding a small daughter, who wiggles and laughs, a clear sound like a bell that I can hear from my spot several streets away. Her curtain of brown hair reminds me of Saela and for a moment I stop, transfixed.

The father tosses the daughter into the air, and she screams with delight. Then they both notice us, and soon the daughter is riding on her father’s shoulders as they approach the path we’re on, just on the other side of the low fence dividing the Bonded City from the wilderness. They come toward us until they’re only a block away.

I stare unblinking at the girl. Her face is round, flushed. She watches us with bright curiosity.

She looks like she’s never had to go without a meal, nor fear being snatched by Nabbers.

What makes these people so special, that they get access to all this? Fuck them.

“Move along!” comes a barked order, and I’m shocked into movement again, down the trail as it leads away from the Bonded City and into a dense wall of trees.

The hours pass slowly. I’m at least familiar with the sensation of being on my feet all day, although it’s usually not in the frigid wilderness. But some of the recruits are clearly suffering, either out of shape for a forced march like this one or wearing shoes or clothes that aren’t doing them any favors.

At each gap in the trees, we all squint toward Mount Wolfsbane, but it never seems to be getting much closer.

While we were shopping, Lee mentioned multiple times that it was important to have allies for the Ascent. It was one of the pieces of his advice that I figured I’d ignore. I do just fine on my own, most of the time.

Yet now as I watch Alessandra shiver and stumble, I can’t help but want to help her. I pull a spare sweater from my bag, and encourage her to layer it under her coat.

“Thanks,” she whispers, and smiles at me.

“We have to help each other,” I say, hoping that someone will return the same sort of kindness to me should I need it.

By the time we reach the base of the mountain, my feet are aching from my new boots—which, despite their high quality, still need to be properly worn in. At least they’re warm and dry, which is a big step up from what many of the other recruits are working with. I sling my packs off my shoulders, rubbing my neck with stiff hands.

It takes me a minute to realize that we weren’t the first to arrive.

A group of recruits is already here, tents built. They all seem to know each other, and many are wearing furs just like the ones I saw on the family hours ago, back in the Bonded City.

They’re the children of the Bonded, I realize. The ones who want a Bonding Trial to come, so that they can try for their so-called “birthright,” test their luck against the mountain and the direwolves atop it.

They didn’t have to report to the army recruitment base like the commoners, I guess. Their privileges started before we even arrived.

I make my hands busy with my tent bag, pulling out poles and canvas, but I can’t keep my eyes off the Bonded recruits.

They’re taller than the rest of us, for the most part—I normally tower over most other women but they all have at least an inch or two on me. Their clothes are more colorful than ours, many dyed in jewel tones deeper than I’ve seen on any fabric in the city.

Two of the women look like mirror images of each other—they must be twins. They have luminous golden brown skin and large, dark eyes. Their only difference is their glossy black hair—one wears hers in a plait down her back, while the other sports a chic bob. I watch as they flash hand signals back and forth between them, faces expressive. They’re communicating entirely with their hands, I realize.

A few others gather around one of the fires, joking and jostling each other, and I realize someone is cooking for them—they’ve brought servants with them.

One of the men at the fire turns to look at us, and catches sight of me watching. His expression turns ugly, leering. It isn’t hard to guess what he thinks of us, the common-born recruits.

A big part of me wants to walk over there, pick a fight. But I know I’ll need all my energy for the task tomorrow.

I force myself to look away.

Alessandra calls my name. “This spot looks good, don’t you think?”

It’s flat enough, at least, and partially sheltered from the snow by a thick cover of branches above.

“See how the ground is a little higher here?” Alessandra points. “It should help keep us dry—or drier, at any rate. If the snow turns to rain, it should run off, instead of pooling around our tents.”

“Good thinking,” I agree, and we struggle to put our tents up, starting with hers.

Once it’s up, Alessandra holds a hand out toward me when I grab for mine. “Wait,” she says sharply, and then walks around to the side of the tent, cocking her head.

“I think… it looks like both of us could fit in mine.”

I quirk an eyebrow at her, amused.

“Not like that!” Alessandra’s face turns a deep red, but she keeps talking. “I just mean, it’s already so cold, and the sun is only just going down. It’s going to be freezing tonight. Both our bodies together will produce more body heat for the tent to trap inside. I just think we might be better off,” she finishes weakly.

“No, you’re right,” I say. Alessandra isn’t strong like me, but she’s smart, I’m realizing.

As good an ally as any.

After checking each of the tent pegs one last time to make sure everything is secure, Alessandra and I toss our sleeping bundles inside, then head toward a cookfire that a few of the other common-born recruits have built.

When they see us they wave for us to join them, and Alessandra sits eagerly, but I stay standing another moment, studying their faces.

A lean, younger man—boy, really, there’s barely a hint of beard around his jaw. A strong-looking woman with a head full of braids. As I turn my gaze to the third, he stands as well, then crosses to my side of the fire, extending a hand.

“I’m Henrey.” He’s in his mid-twenties with close-cropped light brown hair and serious blue eyes, and he seems thickly muscular underneath his winter clothes. His voice and stance exude confidence.

“Meryn,” I say, shaking his hand, “and this is Alessandra. How are you all feeling about this?”

“Excited,” Henrey quickly responds, his eyes bright, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Alessandra and I exchange perplexed glances as she takes a seat.

“Did I hear you wrong?” I ask, glancing around at the others huddled around the fire—do they also think this guy sounds unhinged? “Or are you legitimately thrilled to be gambling your life on a climb up a steep and nearly unsurvivable mountain?”

“I’ve been training for this since I was a kid,” he says seriously. “I’m going to become one of the Bonded.”

“This guy is crazy,” I say to Alessandra, dropping down beside her. I almost moan, it feels so good to get off my feet.

“Tell her what you said to us, Henrey,” says the woman with the braids. “About the paths.”

“The recruits from Bonded families will be headed straight up the mountain, racing each other to the top. Killing each other off, even. There are a limited number of wolves and plenty of would-be riders who want to bond. The wolves choose their riders from the group that makes it up first.”

His eyes flash back to me.

“But there’s a way to survive this,” he says, clearly comfortable with an audience. “A longer route, but a safer way up. Once upon a time, everyone used to take it, but with direwolf numbers dwindling, the recruits from Bonded families started to find quicker—and more dangerous—routes. If you don’t want to bond, you can take the slow path to the top.”

Alessandra leans forward eagerly. “And you know the way?”

“I do,” he acknowledges. “But I won’t be taking it.”

Pitching my voice to carry to the rest of the circle, I jerk my head toward Henrey. “There’s a safe route, but he prefers danger, risking his life for some dumb wolf ritual that only the recruits from Bonded families can survive?”

“Who wouldn’t, for the chance to change your family’s fortune for generations?” Henrey’s expression loses its showmanship and I see the real hunger there, just beneath the surface. He glances across the clearing toward the area where the Bonded recruits have gathered, keeping entirely to themselves. “Look at them. Don’t you want your siblings, your parents, your children to be able to live like that?”

I press my lips together. Henrey has a point. What kinds of medicines might they have that we don’t have access to? Things that could maybe help my mother?

My sister, though—I need to get to the front, to find her. She won’t be helped by me rolling around in some fancy furs, playing at being an elite soldier.

And she certainly won’t be helped if I die trying to make it through the Ascent tomorrow.

“What if we do get to the top, but none of the direwolves wants to bond with us?” Alessandra looks pensive, then horrified. “Do they… eat us?”

“The wolves only choose riders who want to be chosen,” I pipe in, repeating information that Lee gave me when he was prepping me on how to survive this. If I get up there and there are still unbonded wolves, all I need to do is repeat mentally that I don’t want to bond and they’ll let me go. Or so he says, anyway.

Everyone looks over at me, clearly surprised by my intel.

“I know a royal messenger,” I say, offering some of the truth. Seems useless to have some information and hoard it to myself when I have the potential to save other people’s lives. “He prepped me on what might happen. The wolves won’t eat us. If we’re not picked, they’ll let us go.”

“Well, they won’t be picking me,” says the woman with the braids. “So I’d like to hear about that longer way up, if you don’t mind.”

We all settle into our makeshift seats, holding our hands and feet closer to the fire to thaw them out, gnawing on our rock hard rations as best we can as we listen to Henrey.

I look around the fire again as he talks, studying each face, taking in the ramshackle hiking gear they’re wearing, the exhaustion painting their faces.

Please , let some of these people survive tomorrow’s test. I know I’ll make it through, but this many lives given in sacrifice to some dumb Trial—it’s such a waste.

Far off, somewhere in the mountains, a direwolf howls.

The sound echoes in my ears like a warning.