Free The Gray Wolf Throne by Cinda Williams Chima Page B

that often enough, most recently from her teachers at oden’s Ford.

    “Aye, but because you’re small, they’ll underestimate you.
    And that’s not a bad thing, in these dangerous times. keep ’em guessing, is my advice, and you’ll survive in the capital.” raisa smiled, knowing she was being paid a compliment.
    “Thank you, Captain. But first, i have to survive the afternoon.”

    “Look you, if there’s trouble, you lay down on that horse and ride for the notch and don’t look back. i’ll follow after as soon as i can.”

    right. Just like the rest of the triple.

    in response, raisa set her heels hard in Switcher’s sides. The startled mare tossed her head and stumbled forward, out of the grove of trees and back onto the trail.
    68

    o L D e n e M i e S

    The brief winter’s day was failing when they passed the treeline. Long blue shadows extended before them as the sun declined behind the west wall. out of cover of the trees, the wind daggered right through raisa. She leaned forward, as if by doing so she could urge the mare along faster. Byrne took the lead most of the time, breaking trail. on this last long push to the top, they simply made all the speed they could.

    As they neared the notch, the snow cover dwindled, scoured away by the relentless wind. The sun plunged behind the west wall. The stone escarpment flamed momentarily, then night fell with the suddenness of the high country.

    Finally, there was no more trail above them, only a long steep slope behind them. on either side, great granite slabs framed Marisa pines pass. At its narrowest, it was no wider than a horse trail. it was said that, years ago, a small band of Demonai warriors had held a thousand southern soldiers in the pass.

    “wait here,” Byrne ordered. raisa did as she was told, while Byrne rode on at a quick walk to scout the pass ahead. raisa shivered, even though the great stones blocked the rising wind.
    Moments later, Byrne returned, appearing nearly silently out of the gloom. “Come on.”

    They rode ahead slowly, single file, through the narrow waist of the pass. raisa squinted up at the sheer walls on either side, the slice of sky between. Beyond, the way broadened into what would be a lovely alpine meadow in summertime, now hidden under a shroud of snow. The moon was already rising. As it cleared the mountains to the east, the meadow was flooded with a silver brilliance, as cold and pure and unforgiving as any breath of mountain air. She felt the prickle of magic all around her.
    69

    T H e G r Ay wo L F T H ro n e

    They were home.

    Somewhere behind her, a wolf howled, its voice raking up gooseflesh on the back of her neck. Ahead and to the right, its packmate answered, its voice a cold, heartless note in the dark.

    raisa’s heart began to hammer.

    Byrne was just ahead and to the right, horse and rider a dark silhouette against the shield of the moon. He half turned to face her, as if to inquire what the matter was.

    And then she heard it, like a bad memory from the night before, the sound of crossbows, the thwack of bolts hitting home.
    Byrne’s body shuddered with the impact of multiple blows. The gelding reared nervously, shaking his head, then screamed as he, too, was struck. Byrne clung for an instant like a thistle to his back, then toppled sideways from the saddle.

    “Byrne!” raisa’s scream reverberated in the small canyon.
    Heedless of the volleys of arrows that hissed past her and clattered against rock, she spurred Switcher forward to where her captain lay on his back in the snow. Sliding from the saddle, she knelt next to him, lifting his head. His body bristled with shafts, and one transfixed his throat. He tried to speak, but produced only a gush of blood. Lifting one arm, he weakly waved her off.
    only the confusion and the wildly plunging horses had saved her thus far.

    Someone grabbed her by the hair and yanked her upright.
    A gauntleted arm circled her waist and dragged her off her