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thought the bear had killed it and we were hauling the bodies out, but it wasn’t dead. Bastard reared up and tore Jezel’s throat away. Terrible thing. Terrible. Then it ran. The gods alone know how it managed it. Ripped up by the bear and all.’
‘Not many dogs would turn on their owners that way,’ observed Waylander.
Tit dogs will,’ said a second man, tall and skeletally thin. ‘It’s the training you see, the beatings and the starving and the like. Jezelis. . .was. . .a damn fine trainer. The best.’
‘Thanks for the warning,’ said Waylander.
‘Not at all,’ replied the thin man. ‘You looking for lodgings for the night? I own the inn. We’ve a good room.’
‘Thank you, no. I have no coin.’
The man’s interest died instantly; with a swift smile he moved past Waylander and, followed by the others, strode off in the direction of the town. Waylander transferred his gaze to the hound, which had slumped exhausted to the grass and was now lying on its right side breathing hoarsely, its blood-covered flanks heaving.
Waylander moved slowly down the slope, halting some ten feet from the injured animal. From here he could see that its wounds were many, and its grey flanks carried other, older scars from claw and fang and whip. The hound gazed at him through baleful eyes, but its strength was gone, and when Waylander rose and moved to its side it managed only a weary growl.
‘You can stop that,’ said Waylander, gently stroking the hound’s huge grey head. From the gashes and cuts he could see the dog had attacked the bear at least three times. There was blood seeping from four parallel rips in the hide, the skin peeled back exposing muscle and bone. Judging by the size of the clawmarks, the bear must have been large indeed. Sheathing his knife Waylander examined the injuries. There were muscle tears, but no broken bones that he could find.
Another low growl came from the hound as Waylander eased a flap of skin back into place, and the beast struggled to turn its head, baring its fangs. ‘Lie still,’ ordered the
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man. ‘We’ll see what can be done.’ From a leather pouch at his belt Waylander removed a long needle and a thin length of twine, stitching the largest of the wounds, seeking to stem the flow of blood. At last satisfied he moved to the head, stroking the beast’s ears. ‘You must try to rise,’ he said, keeping his voice low, soothing. ‘I need to see your left side. Come on. Up, boy!’ The hound struggled, but sank back to the earth, tongue lolling from its gaping jaws.
Waylander rose and moved outside to a fallen tree, cutting from it a long strip of bark, which he twisted into a shallow bowl. Nearby was a slender stream and he filled the bowl, carrying it back to the stricken hound, and holding it beneath the creature’s mouth. The hound’s nostrils quivered, and once more it struggled to rise. Waylander pushed his hands beneath the huge shoulders, helping it to its feet. The head drooped, the tongue slowly lapping at the water. ‘Good,’ said Waylander. ‘Good. Finish it now.’ There were four more jagged cuts on the hound’s left side, but these were matted with dirt and clay, which had at least stopped the flow of blood.
Having finished drinking the exhausted hound sank back to the earth, its great head resting on its huge paws. Waylander sat beside the beast, which gazed up at him unblinking, and noted the many scars, old and new, which crisscrossed its flanks and head. The right ear had been ripped away some years before and there was a long, thick scar which ran from the hound’s shoulder to the first joint of its right leg. ‘By the gods, you’re a fighter, boy,’ said the man admiringly. ‘And you’re no youngster. What would you be? Eight? Ten? Well, those cowards made a mistake. You’re not going to die, are you? You won’t give them the satisfaction, will you?’
Reaching into his shirt the man pulled clear a wedge of smoked meat, wrapped in linen. ‘This was to have lasted me another two days,’ said Waylander, ‘but I can live without a meal for a while. I’m not sure that you can.’ Unfolding the linen he took his knife and cut a section of meat which he laid before the hound. The dog merely sniffed at it, then returned its brown gaze to the man. ‘Eat,