Wolf Captured by Jane Lindskold

leapt at Shelby. Her iron bar caught him across the middle and he bent around the solid length, gasping for air. She jerked the bar free and brought the weight of it across Shelby’s upper back. With a yell of pain and surprise, he went down.
    Derian had recovered from Shelby’s blow and was moving to secure Rarby. Rarby, however, had recovered from his shock and came around, catching Derian a solid fist into the gut. Derian came up from this, head-butting the other man in the hollow between his ribs. They grappled with each other, neither gaining ground, the heavy chain clanking beneath their feet.
    Blind Seer had secured Harjeedian by the simple expedient of sitting on him and panting into his face. He didn’t need language to make the threat any more clear. The man lay still and when a clatter of boots on the upper deck announced that others had heard the commotions, Harjeedian shouted:
    “Don’t come near the hatch. We’ll handle it.”
    This hostage taking works both ways, Firekeeper thought grimly, securing Shelby’s hands with a scrap of canvas torn from a meat sack. I wonder how they like it?
    Rarby had paused when Harjeedian had yelled, and in that moment Derian knocked him cold with a blow that left him shaking his hand and blowing on the fingers. Firekeeper noted that Derian had a loose link from the iron chain in his fist and smiled at her fried’s initiative. He must have worked it loose while she removed the bars from Blind Seer’s cage.
    “We have you,” she said to the two who remained conscious. “Shelby, give me shirt.”
    Shelby’s protest faded into silence when Blind Seer growled. His shirt was cotton with a long tail, and covered Firekeeper to the middle of her thighs. She borrowed Shelby’s belt so the fabric wouldn’t flap about, noting the sheathed knife with satisfaction. She had hated to be unarmed.
    “Now we go above and take others. Derian, tie Rarby. I go up with Shelby and show the others we win.”
    “And Harjeedian?” Derian asked.
    “Blind Seer watch for now. Then you tie.”
    Shelby cursed as she shoved him toward the ladder, but it was empty defiance. Whether Rarby was his brother or some other relation, they had him, and Harjeedian was clearly master of this expedition.
    “Tell them,” Firekeeper said as they climbed, “to put down all weapons or we kill others.”
    Shelby did so, adding of his own initiative, “They’re right mad and the wolf is loose. Back off, mates.”
    There were three other sailors there, and they did as they were told. At Firekeeper’s command, they tossed the weapons they held into a heap on the deck and stood over near the wheel.
    “Make sure boat sail right,” she said. “Or else.”
    Even though she was out of the stifling hold, her head was swimming. It was easier to fight the nausea if she kept her focus close and didn’t look about. She longed for Derian to come up and take over the onerous task of communication. Blind Seer first, though. He would make most words unnecessary.
    She called down, “Can you come to me, sweet hunter? Has Derian secured the men?”
    “I come,” the wolf replied. “Give me room. ”
    Had the ladder not been at an angle, Blind Seer might have had some difficulty, but they had used such things before and he had practiced until all but the most acute angles were within his ability.
    When his enormous grey head emerged above the deck, the three sailors took an involuntary step back. Firekeeper realized that they might not have seen the wolf conscious—if at all. Only Harjeedian, Rarby, and Shelby had been evident when they were captured.
    “Check, sweet hunter, ” Firekeeper said, allowing her hand to trail through the wolf’s thick fur. “See if there are others still hiding and that these have put away all their weapons. ”
    The wolf reported back shortly.
    “No others to sight or scent, ” he said. “Those men still carry knives, but they are sheathed.”
    Firekeeper looked at the three