Tears of the Wolf (Wrath and Weeping #1)

Chapter 26 Brynn

Brynn

Brynn woke up to Guin whining. Snapper woofed, scratching at the door.

Cenric still slept, sprawled across his side of the bed with one arm over Brynn. She knew he had no dreams, but perhaps the nightmares had been kept at bay for tonight. She extricated herself carefully, not wanting to disturb him. She remembered his warning not to go anywhere alone for a while, so she would stay close to the longhouse and well away from the water.

Brynn pulled on her shift and boots, but didn’t bother with her dress or veil. Guin whimpered as she picked her up, licking at Brynn’s face. The puppy had nearly doubled in size over the past weeks and soon she would be too large for Brynn to carry comfortably.

Snapper trotted along, sticking close at her feet.

Dawn had still not broken so the longhouse slept peacefully.

Brynn could hear the geese beginning to stir, but the land was caught in the grey haze of pre-dawn. As a child, Brynn had loved these early moments. Aelfwynn used to wake her, and they would use the time to braid each other’s hair, dress, and prepare for the day before anyone took notice of them. In that stolen hour between first light and sunrise, they had been truly free.

Guin sniffed at the grass, doing her business and trotting in circles. Several of the other dogs including Thorn came leaping from the other side of the house.

They pounced on Guin, tails wagging and tongues lolling.

Guin growled up at Thorn. The bigger dog’s tail stiffened, ears laying back at the insubordination.

Brynn straightened, worried Thorn might bite Guin, but then Snapper knocked Guin over with a paw. Guin scrambled upright again, little teeth bared in indignation. Thorn’s lips curled in warning, but Snapper cocked his head and smacked Guin with a paw again, sending her sprawling.

Brynn didn’t interfere. It was best Guin learned now to get along with the other dogs. She might be as big as them one day, but they would all have to live together.

One of the other dogs trotted up, carrying a bone. For a moment, Brynn feared it might be the remains of that Valdari raider—the one who had been thrown in the river. Then she realized it was a sheep’s foreleg, bits of fur still clinging to one end. It had probably been fed to the dogs as scrap.

Brynn looked down at her hands. She’d killed a man yesterday, but he hadn’t been the first. She had lost count a long time ago.

Songs and poems were written about those who wielded swords. Aelfwynn had also been a great healer and had helped dozens if not hundreds of people, but she was remembered for those she had killed.

History sometimes seemed to be made of stone—the only way to make a mark on it was through violence.

The irony was killing was frightfully easy. Brynn could break bodies effortlessly, but putting them back together was the hard part.

It was much easier to kill a rival thane than to make him your friend. Brynn could have easily killed Olfirth, though perhaps not all his thanes at once. It had taken true skill to make them sit and sup at her table.

Osbeorn had been killed with barely any effort from the man who had hurled him over the wall. Yet not even Brynn’s massive power and skill could bring him back.

Death could be controlled. Life could not.

Why was killing praised when it was the easy way out?

The dogs stopped their play, ears pricked. Thorn let off a low chuffing, ears flicking back and forth.

Brynn went still, listening. A rumbling shook the earth, like the growl of thunder.

Brynn reached out with her power on instinct. She could sense the sleeping figures within the house, the animals in the stable and the village beyond, but something was moving, something alive and massive.

The dyrehund patriarch took off, barking with his tail raised. The rest of the pack followed, Guin scrambling to keep up.

Brynn rose to her feet, chasing after them. She scooped Guin up in her arms and ran around the corner of the longhouse.

A black swarm bore down on the village, and it took a moment for Brynn to realize what she was seeing.

The young aurochs had broken free of their pens and descended on the village in a stampede. They smashed into fences and houses and screams rose over the rumble of their hooves.

Brynn gaped in horror. The animals were too far away and moving too fast for her to do anything.

The cattle ripped through the camp of Hróarr’s men below, smashing through tents like they were nothing.

“Cenric!” Brynn spun around, but her path was blocked by Neirin. What was he doing here? Hadn’t he left with her mother? “Move!” She tried to shove past the sorcerer, but he grabbed her arm. Brynn pulled on ka , ready to fight him to the death, if need be, but magic slammed into her back.

She felt ka forcing its way through her veins and worming through her nerve endings. She dropped Guin and the little dog snarled. Neirin kicked the puppy, and she yelped, flying out of Brynn’s view.

“No!” Brynn reached for the puppy on instinct right before magic engulfed her and she lost control of her jaw. She collapsed, struggling, fighting to draw magic, to cast her own spells, but the hem of a black skirt came into view.

Neirin grabbed Brynn under her arms and dragged her behind the house. The spell held her immobile, the ka tight and forceful. It was the same spell she had used on that Valdari raider to hold him immobile.

Screams and shouts rose from the house and the village below.

Brynn’s mother must have planned the stampede as a distraction. People would be hurt, maybe even killed. The young aurochs that had been intended to feed these families through winter were being used against them.

One of the twins knelt and held something over Brynn’s nose and mouth. They were drugging her.

She’d been distracted and let her guard down for barely a moment and they’d gotten the best of her. She had forgotten Cenric’s warning like an idiot.

Brynn knew the Istovari were against her, but she had never thought they would go this far.

The people down in the village needed her. Hróarr and Vana needed her.

Cenric needed her.

But she had been stupid, and innocent people were paying for it.

“Relax, my dear,” Selene crooned, her voice coming from beside Brynn’s ear. “If you’d just done the right thing, we wouldn’t have to do this.”

Brynn tried to resist, but she couldn’t stop herself from breathing. The cloying scent of the drug found its way into her lungs and the world darkened.