“Because the first werewolf was a female. A woman cursed by a witch who gave her the mercy of turning into a wolf whenever she pleased, but forcing upon her the will to hunt for others under the full moon to turn them.
“Her heartstring runs through that blade, protecting any female that holds it, whether it be a human or werewolf because any human can still be turned. She demanded that the blade was made as her last dying wish so that a woman could have some form of protection against the only predator that mattered all those centuries ago.
“If a werewolf were to do her harm, their entire bloodline would be cursed forever unless another female wielder were to kill the originally cursed wolf.”
Red mulled over the new information that might just keep her alive. She had never heard of those stories, but werewolves were such isolated creatures.
That and the fact that most, if not all, had been tricked into trapping themselves in the Forbidden Wastes centuries before.
“Has anyone ever been cursed?” she asked, hoping that she would not have to try and face a cursed wolf pack.
“One pack leader bit the last woman that possessed the sword. That was centuries ago, but his pups are still born with a horrible sickness that lasts their entire lifetime.”
“A long life indeed since werewolves are virtually immortal.”
Canis nodded once toward Red, his eyes somber as if he were ashamed of the other pack leader’s actions.
When Red turned her head away from the saddened gaze, she took in the rest of the wolf pack that had surrounded them during their conversation. No other sounds cut through the forest, the creatures either scared away by Canis or his impressive pack of massive wolves.
A smaller female wolf moved close to Canis. “Mulgan shouldn’t bother you anymore. This land doesn’t belong to him any more than it belongs to the rest of the creatures that roam these parts.”
“Thank you,” Red stated, inclining her head toward the female. “Do you know the fastest way to get to Perancis?”
The female gave a nod. “We can take you as far as the border. Even with that sword, you are not completely safe in these lands.”
“Thank you,” Red whispered in awe as Canis lifted his great muzzle and let out a piercing howl. The pack howled in unison, each wolf creating their own unique call that rang through the trees.
When their call had ceased, the head of the pack began to lead the way through the forest, a protective circle forming around Red as she followed. Her prayers of getting out of the woods alive had been answered. But she knew that getting out alive and getting out safely would not necessarily be tied together in her thinning surplus of odd luck.
~~~
“I cannot believe you lost her,” Gretel Norton grumbled, shoving her brother into the nearest tree. She tried to readjust her dripping pack to fit more comfortably across her back. The bag was twice as heavy after being dragged through the Pricker River.
Hansel grunted in response—a heartfelt apology not likely to come from him. His soaked clothes clung to his muscles as he moved, the fabric starting to chafe against his cold skin. “If we had followed my plan, we wouldn’t have been in this mess.”
Gretel ran a hand through her hair, trying to untangle the dripping mess. Her face scrunched up in disgust when she found a twig twisted in one of her braids. She threw it at her brother. “Kidnapping her in the middle of the night was too risky of a plan. Where would we have taken her in the dark?”
“That was only if we couldn’t reason with her to join us,” Hansel Norton countered, easily catching the stick before tossing it aside. He was the only one wise enough to know when to mess with his sister. And it was not the time to do so.
“What are we supposed to do now? We had orders.”
“Someone on the inside will get to her eventually.”
Gretel let out a barking laugh, the sound turning into a growl as she picked another stick out of her hair. “That is, if she survived, you mean.”
“She somehow made it out of the palace alive,” Hansel responded calmly. He reached toward his sister, his fingers expertly combing through the braids tangled at the back of her head. “If she managed that on her own, I don’t doubt that she would be able to survive the Pricker River.”
“He’s still going to be pissed,” Gretel Norton stated, her pace slowing so that her brother could do his work without interruption. Her hands fell to her sides in defeat, allowing her brother full access to her hair. “We’re never going to be allowed on another mission. Ever.”
Hansel let out a huff. “Please, Robyn would never let you stay inside the rebel compound for that long. He’s not willing to risk everyone’s life just to punish you.”
“It’ll be scouting duty, then. He’s going to make us guard the compound.”
“On the night shift too,” Hansel Norton joked, his fingers combing through the last of the knots in his sister’s hair. “With the orc.”
Gretel Norton shoved her brother into another tree. “If I have to work with that beast, I’ll kill Robyn myself,” she snorted, grabbing one of her twin hatchets in preparation for her brother’s retaliation. She parried against the feeble daggers her brother attacked with.
“I guess that leaves the oaf to me then, huh?” Hansel retorted, dodging around a tree to avoid losing an ear to Gretel’s swinging blade. “Why do you always get the easy opponents?”
“Because”—Gretel danced around the tree, blade hitting against blade as she faced her brother—“I’m older. I get to call the shots.”
“Not for long.”
The Norton twins continued in their battle around the forest, their concerns about Red drifting away. It was only when the sun started to set that the siblings decided to return to their duties. To their real jobs. To the rebel base.
~~~
Dranac Gnorw threw back his third pint of stale ale in an hour. He slammed the glass down on the chipped bar, the mug sticking to the unwashed wood. He waved his hand at the tired bartender, the centaur promptly ignoring him to talk to a pair of giggling waitresses.
Bryce Clayden winced as he watched Dranac wave for the bartender again. He delicately sipped from his mug, his swallow shaky as he forced the watered down drink into his parched throat. “Should we try to find a room at the inn?” he asked, desperately trying to divert Dranac’s energy elsewhere.
“Have you seen this place?” Dranac Gnorw retorted, his words slurring together. “It’s a friggin’ dump. A dump I tell you!”
The bartender finally turned his attention toward the two boys after sensing Dranac’s negative attention, his lips turned down in a scowl. Bryce Clayden tried to wave him away, profusely apologizing for his leader, but the centaur was determined.
“You got a problem over here, buddy?” the bartender asked, his large body leaning against the bar in front of Dranac. He let out a huff, his nostrils flaring as he watched Dranac start to slip off his stool.
Bryce jolted forwards, his arms wrapping around Dranac Gnorw’s shoulders as he tried to nonchalantly pull him back onto the stool. “Not a problem at all, sir. My friend over here just, uhh, he just, uhh, lost his girl and he’s pretty upset over it.”
“I can’t believe I lost her,” Dranac groaned, some of Bryce’s words registering in his muddled mind. Dranac Gnorw bolted from his stool, his feet tripping over each other as he tried to find the door. “I can’t believe I lost her!”
Bryce Clayden pulled Dranac back by the collar of his tunic, his own shoulders raising in an apologetic shrug. The centaur whinnied in response, probably used to witnessing heartbroken travelers drink their sorrows away. The bartender trotted away, deciding that it was more worth it to talk to the waitresses still standing at the other end of the bar.
Bryce ran after Dranac Gnorw, his mind whirling as he tried to figure out what to do to calm his leader. “We should find a room and wait for Red there,” he suggested, hoping to get a bed for himself so he would not have to sleep on the ground for another ni
ght.
Five days had passed since the pair had arrived at the Golden Tavern. Dranac had insisted that Red was going to meet them, but Bryce doubted that she had even made it to Britton’s side of the Pricker River. He did not tell Dranac that, though, fearing that his added doubt would send his leader over the edge.
Dranac Gnorw stumbled around the rickety cobblestone path, mumbling as he walked. “W-we… we need to find her. We need to find Red, Bryson.”
“It’s Bryce, actually,” Bryce corrected shyly. He grabbed onto Dranac Gnorw’s sleeve, pulling him back onto the path that made its way toward the nearest town. “We need to get back to the Rogue Manor.”
Dranac grabbed onto Bryce Clayden’s collar, his heavier weight pulling down the smaller boy as Dranac leaned forwards. “We can’t… we can’t go back until we find her.”
Dranac slipped away, his mutterings growing more desperate the more his drunk mind thought about Red. He stumbled along the path, following the town drunk’s example as he shouted about. Travelers visiting the tavern’s rundown inn giggled and whispered as Dranac Gnorw repeatedly embarrassed himself for the third evening in a row.
Bryce Clayden chased after him. He caught Dranac before he ran into a young married couple oblivious to anything that did not involve each other. He decided that it was time to change tactics.
“You know what,” Bryce stated thoughtfully, “I think Red actually said to meet her at the Rogue Manor. Yes, I distinctly remember her telling us to return to the Rogue Manor once we made it past the river.”
Dranac Gnorw threw himself at the other boy, his arms wrapping around Bryce’s slim shoulders. “Really?” He scratched at his head. “I I don’t remember her saying that.”
“I swear by the Maker she told us to head to the Rogue Manor,” Bryce reassured, raising his hand in a silent vow. He smiled at himself, proud that his trick actually worked. All he needed was to get Dranac sober, and then he could do his best to force him the rest of the way back to Perancis.
“By the Maker!” Dranac Gnorw exclaimed. He threw his hands up in the air, the rest of his body sloppily twirling round in circles. “You-you’re absolutely right. She did say to meet her at the Mogue Ranor, err, the”—Dranac scrunched his face up in concentration—“the Ro-rogue Manor.”
Bryce Clayden clapped Dranac on the back, tossing him his pack as he shouldered his own. He sighed in relief, finally ready to get back to the Kingdom Rogues. He nodded to Dranac Gnorw, stating, “Let’s get going, she’s probably halfway there by now.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dranac agreed. He staggered toward Bryce, but his glazed eyes caught onto the light in the tavern. His stumbling trajectory changed course, his boots mindlessly guiding him. “Let me ju-just have one more… one more drink before we go. T-to give us luck on our journey!”
Bryce Clayden tried to protest, but Dranac was determined. He trudged after his leader, looking out for another good spot to camp for the night. Bryce cursed at himself, but he was hopeful that his plan would be able to convince Dranac in the morning.
Chapter 9
“We are being followed,” Canis growled, the raven fur on his back shooting up in distress. He stopped dead in his tracks, his thick tail stiffening in the air. Canis tilted his large snout up, his nose scrunching as he sniffed at the still air.
The rest of the Phantom Wolf Pack followed their alpha male’s example—a dozen snouts rising to try to catch the scent of their pursuer. Even the littlest pups paused in their wrestling to sniff out what might be hidden deeper in the forest.
Red stood just behind Canis, her toned-down senses not noticing anything that might be amiss. She swiftly palmed two daggers, not doubting the skills of a dozen werewolves. Red tried to keep her feet from shifting against the dry soil, but she had yet to master the predatory stillness that Canis’s pack naturally possessed.
“It’s time to go,” Canis announced quietly, his expert nose falling short from finding any threatening scent.
Red jogged to catch up with the alpha male, her short legs barely managing to move quickly enough to match his large strides. She winced at each crunch that her footsteps created, the crackle of twigs and fragile rocks breaking under each fall of her foot. “Is there someone in here that would want to follow us? Or attack us?”
Canis rolled his glowing eyes before focusing ahead again. “No one would dare to attack the Phantom Wolf Pack,” he returned dryly. His footsteps picked up their speed, the movement meant to shut Red up.
Red did not follow the male’s cues, however, as she picked up her pace to match his strides. “That’s understandable,” she agreed, “so I guess I’m trying to ask if anything in there would attack me.” She pointed into the black forest, at the trees and rocks shrouded in a fog that made the landscape look like one of her cloudy nightmares.
The female to the left of Canis laughed, her muzzle turning up into a very sharp grin. She eyed Red past Canis’s back, her lime green eyes alight with amusement. “You’re too small to be a worthy prey to most of the creatures in here,” she assured confidently.
“You’d only be good as an appetizer,” another wolf piped up from the back of the group.
A growl deep within Canis’s throat sounded, the giggles from his pack immediately falling silent. He let out a huff, his nostrils flaring as he turned to look at Red again. “You’re not worth the trouble. Most travelers that come through here are not as well armed as you are. They do not put up much of a fight when they perish.”
“And they all do,” Red added. “Perish, I mean.”
Canis did not look at the assassin as he nodded, his large tail lowering at the confession. “They are some of the only prey that we come by. Everything that roams through these lands is poisoned. Only there to kill us off when creatures grow desperate with boredom.”
“What do you eat when there are no travelers?” Red asked curiously, hoping that she was not overstepping her boundaries with the alpha male.
“The magic over these lands keeps us from going hungry. What we find to eat on our own is only to increase our strength,” Canis explained. “That is also why nothing grows here. The plants and rocks are not real. Everything in these woods, except the creatures that roam through it, is dead.”
Red had guessed that on her own, but she was glad to have the strange magic of the Forbidden Wastes explained. Not much was known about the Forbidden Wastes besides the fact that it acted as a prison for the creatures forced into it. Despite its borders being open to outside travelers, there was no way for anything trapped inside to escape.
It was all strange magic. The form not commonly practiced amongst those who were Maker-Blessed.
Only the seven rulers were known to possess the twisted magic, having it granted to them upon their coronation. When humans believed that every other creature was Destroyer-Cursed, the power had been thrown about carelessly. But Cathal’s current rulers had used it sparingly, if at all, since they had come into power.
It had been eleven years since a creature had been imprisoned in the Forbidden Wastes. And Queen Briar Rose had received support from all seven kingdoms when she finally made the decision to banish the faerie that had almost torn her kingdom apart.
“We are in here,” Canis started, guessing what Red’s next question would be, “because our genes force us to hunt and turn others to join our pack. The full moon used to be our prison.” Canis paused to look at the trees around him, his excellent eyesight barely able to see past the lifeless canopy. “It holds no power over us in here.”
“Are you still able to turn people while in here?” Red implored, the alpha male only feeding her tiny tidbits to sate her starved curiosity. She looked around at the rest of the pack, but she had no way to determine if any of them had been turned while traveling through the forest as mere humans.
“The king who tricked us into coming inside this prison stole that ability from us. The urge, the need, is still there. But even if we come across a human during the full moon, we
cannot turn them.”
Red reached out, gently placing her hand on Canis’s hunched shoulders. The alpha male tensed under her touch, but he did not step away from the brush of her fingers over his thick pelt. “And there’s no way to escape?”
“Everyone who has tried has been unsuccessful or killed before they could get through,” a male behind Red stated, his mint eyes watching her hand like a dragon watching its hoard of gold. “Based on what we know, only one of the seven rulers can release us. And the ancient treaties state that they have to receive permission from all seven kingdoms before that can happen.”
“I’m sorry,” Red whispered, her hand falling away, the warmth from Canis’s fur fading away as the pack continued its walk in silence. “I really am.”
Canis nodded, his eyes solemn as he looked into the forest ahead. He slowed his pace, allowing Red to keep up with his strides more easily. “We must be silent now,” he whispered, his ears perking up as they reached an even darker part of the forest. “If we were not being followed before, we surely will be once we enter in there.”
The alpha male looked toward an expanse of trees that were entirely hidden within a dense fog—it looked as though a cloud had been pulled from the sky and set neatly on the ground. It would have been an amazing site in any other forest, but it only made the Forbidden Wastes more terrifying than before.
Red redrew her daggers, the blades cool against her clammy hands. “What’s in there?” Red asked, not knowing if she truly wanted to know the answer. She tried to peer into the dense smog, but the shiver that snaked its way down her back made her look away.
Canis let out a puff of breath, the closest noise to a laugh coming from him. “It’s better that you don’t know.” He nudged her arm with his hip, beckoning for her to hold onto his pelt again. “Some of the creatures in there can only feed on you if you are aware that they are there.”
Red reluctantly tucked one of the knives back into her belt, but she grabbed onto the alpha male. His soft fur was comforting to the touch, his massive size providing protection from the treacherous woods.
Cloak of Darkness (The Destroyer-Blessed Saga Book 1) Page 13