Jondalar tried to intercede, but Attaroa's Wolf Women had surrounded him, and their spear points were pushed to his chest, stomach, and back so hard that they had pierced the skin and drawn blood. Before he knew it, his hands were tied behind his back, as Attaroa knocked Ayla down, straddled her, and raised a dagger to her throat, without a hint of the drunkenness she had shown before.
She had planned it all along, Jondalar realized. While they had been talking, trying to think of ways to blunt Attaroa's power, she had been planning to kill them. He felt so stupid, he should have known. He had sworn to himself he would protect Ayla. Instead he was watching helplessly, full of fear for her, while the woman he loved tried to fight off her attacker. That was why everyone feared Attaroa. She killed without hesitation or remorse.
Ayla had been taken completely by surprise. She'd had no time to reach for a knife or a sling, or anything, and she was not experienced in fighting with people. She had never fought anyone in her life. But Attaroa was on top of her, with a sharp dagger in her hand, trying to kill her. Ayla grabbed the headwoman's wrist and struggled to hold her arm away. Ayla was strong, but Attaroa was both strong and cunning, and she was pushing down, against Ayla's resistance, forcing the sharp tip toward Ayla's throat.
Instinctively, Ayla rolled over at the last moment, but the dagger grazed her neck, leaving a line of red welling up, before the weapon was plunged halfway into the ground. And Ayla was still pinned by the woman whose demented anger added to her strength. Attaroa yanked the dagger out of the ground, then hit the blond woman, stunning her, straddled her once again, and pulled back to plunge her dagger down.
33
Jondalar closed his eyes, unable to watch the violent final moment of Ayla's life. His own life would have no meaning to him when she was gone… So why was he standing there afraid of threatening spears when he didn't care if he lived or died? His hands were tied, but his legs weren't. He could run over there and maybe knock Attaroa away.
He heard a commotion near the gate of the Holding at the instant he decided to ignore the sharp spears and try to help Ayla. The noise from the Holding distracted his guards as he unexpectedly lurched forward, pushed aside their spears, and ran toward the two women struggling on the ground.
Suddenly a dark blur dashed past the watching people, brushed against his leg, and leaped at Attaroa. The momentum of the attack knocked the headwoman backward as sharp fangs clamped around her throat, tearing through the skin. The headwoman found herself on her back on the ground, trying to fight off a fury of snarling teeth and fur. She managed to make a stab into the heavy, furry body before she dropped the dagger, but it only evoked a deadly snarl and a tighter grip of the viselike jaws pressing together in a stranglehold that cut off her air.
Attaroa tried to scream as she felt darkness overcoming her, but at that moment a sharp canine tooth severed an artery, and the sound that emerged was a horrible, suffocating gurgle. Then, the tall, handsome woman fell limp and fought no more. Still snarling, Wolf shook her, making sure there was no more resistance.
"Wolf!" Ayla cried, overcoming her shock and sitting up. "Oh, Wolf."
As the wolf let go, blood spurted from the severed artery and sprayed him. He crept toward Ayla with his tail tucked between his legs, whining apologetically, asking for her approval. The woman had told him to stay in hiding, and he knew he had acted against her wishes. When he saw the attack and understood that she was in danger, he had sprung to her defense, but now he wasn't sure how his misbehavior would be received. More than anything, he hated being scolded by this woman.
Ayla opened her arms and reached for him. Quick to realize that he had acted correctly and was forgiven for his transgression, he rushed to her with joy. She hugged him, burying her face in his fur, while tears of relief ran from her eyes.
"Wolf, you saved my life," she sobbed. He licked her, staining her face with Attaroa's warm, wet blood that was still on his muzzle.
The people of the Camp backed away from the scene, staring open-mouthed with incomprehension and wonder at the blond woman who was holding in her arms a large wolf that had just killed another woman in a furious assault. She had addressed the animal with the Mamutoi word for wolf, but it was similar to their own name for the meat-eating hunter, and they knew she was talking to him, just as though he could understand her, the same way she talked to the horses.
No wonder this stranger had shown no fear of Attaroa. Her magic was so powerful that she could not only make horses do her bidding, she could command wolves! The man had not shown concern either, they realized, when they saw him drop to his knees beside the woman and the wolf. He had even ignored the spears of the Wolf Women, who had also stepped back a few paces and stood gaping. Suddenly they saw a man behind Jondalar, and he had a knife! Where did the knife come from?
"Let me cut these cords for you, Jondalar," Ebulan said, slashing the bindings.
Jondalar glanced around as he felt his hands come free. Other men were mixed through the crowd, and more were coming from the direction of the Holding. "Who let you out?"
"You did," Ebulan said.
"What do you mean? I was tied up."
"But you gave us the knives… and the courage to try," Ebulan said. "Ardemun sneaked up behind the guard at the gate and hit her with his staff. Then we cut the cords that kept the gate closed up. Everyone was watching the fight, and then the wolf came…" His voice trailed off and he shook his head as he watched the woman and the wolf.
Jondalar didn't notice that the man was too overcome to continue. Something else was more important. "Are you all right, Ayla? Did she hurt you?" he said, taking both the woman and the wolf in his arms. The animal turned from licking Ayla to licking him.
"A little scratch on the neck. It's nothing," she said, clinging to the man and the excited wolf, "and I think Wolf was cut, but it doesn't seem to bother him."
"I would never have let you come back here if I'd thought she would try to kill you, Ayla, right here at the feast. But I should have known. I was stupid not to realize how dangerous she was," he said, holding her close.
"No, you're not stupid. It didn't even occur to me that she would try to attack me, and I didn't know how to defend myself. If it hadn't been for Wolf…" They both looked at the animal, full of gratitude.
"I have to admit, there have been times on this Journey when I wanted to leave Wolf behind, Ayla. I thought he was an extra burden, making our travels more difficult. When I found that you had gone to look for him after crossing the Sister, I was so angry. The thought that you had put yourself in jeopardy for this animal upset me."
Jondalar took the wolf's head in both his hands and looked him straight in the eyes. "Wolf, I promise, I will never leave you behind. I would risk my life to save yours, you glorious, furious beast," the man said, roughing his fur and rubbing behind his ears.
Wolf licked Jondalar's neck and face, and with his jaws, he grasped the exposed and trusting throat and jaw of the man, and held it gently, showing his affection. Wolf felt nearly as strongly about Jondalar as he did about Ayla, and he growled contentedly at the attention and approval he was getting from both of his humans.
But the people who were watching made sounds of wonder and awe to see the man expose his vulnerable throat to the animal. They had watched that same wolf grab the throat of Attaroa with those powerful jaws and kill her, and to them Jondalar's action bespoke magic, unimaginable control over the spirits of animals.