by Jessi Gage
Thirst slaked, Danu fastened the water skin. Only a few of the men, including Verden, remained inside the chamber. With their furrowed brows and the darting glances they shot toward her, they seemed on edge. The distance they kept made it easy for her to speak privately with Anya.
“The men are uncomfortable,” she noted. “They do not like to come near me. Is it because Seona was so standoffish?”
Anya wiped her lips on the back of her wrist after a long drink from her water skin. “’Tis no’ you.” She stretched her legs out in front of her and aggressively kneaded one of them with a wince. “They dinnae like the lifemate scent on me. ’Tis like a mint candle to the gnats. My scent repels them.”
Ah. The lifemate scent. She’d forgotten about that, likely because her human senses were not sharp enough to notice it. But there seemed more to the tension in the mens’ shoulders than avoidance. They had kept their distance from her and Anya all morning, but here in the cavern, they seemed agitated in a way they had not been earlier.
Across the cavern, Verden held his helm under one arm while bending his head with some of his men. They kept their voices too low to be heard and peered around the cavern with narrowed eyes.
“Like a gaggle of hens they are,” Anya muttered with a roll of her eyes. “You’d think they’d be accustomed to my scent by now.” Clearly, Anya thought the men were speaking about them, but Danu was not so sure.
Her body craved rest, but a sense of unease made her loathe to close her eyes. She could not help feeling as if there were something obvious in front of her that she could not see. In her breast, there was an urge to leave this place. Perhaps the men felt it too and were on edge because they could not leave. Their king had commanded them to wait here for his return.
She gasped with realization. An unsettling feeling. A sense that she was missing something obvious. A desire to leave a place. It all made sense now. Someone had cast faerie glamour over this cavern.
“What is it?” Anya asked. “Are you well?”
Danu held up a staying hand for silence while she observed the men more carefully. As they came and went, they never crossed the cavern directly. They always kept to the perimeter, as if avoiding some obstacle. They sensed the glamour too, even if they were unaware of it.
“There is faerie glamour in this place,” she whispered. As an afterthought, in the event Anya did not know the term, she added, “Like the guise Duff uses to hide from Arwan.”
Anya stiffened. “Gravois is here?” she asked.
Danu shook her head. Duff had vowed to remain with Seona until Hyrk’s cell failed. Glamours were not indefinite. Whoever had cast this glamour was nearby or had been not long ago. “Not him, but someone of the Fae.”
Magnus had assured her the caves were long abandoned. What if he was wrong? The Larnians fear them. They claim the surviving rejects from Jilken’s breeding experiments live there.
Not for the first time, Danu considered the offspring of Jilken’s magical breeding experiments. She had been imprisoned, so she had not witnessed the abominable undertaking, but Hyrk had crowed about it.
“Darling, they are magnificent! You should see them. The prize pups are large and strong. Their bloodlust runs deep. Their jaws are powerful. Their hands can tear through rock. On the outside, they appear like your wolfkind, but on the inside, they are ravening wolves ready to tear apart their foes on my command.
“They are so much more than you intended, so much more powerful than your creation. More wolf-like. More Fae. And they can be ours. All you have to do is become my bride, and we will rule them as one.”
“Never.” She forced her voice not to reveal the rage boiling in her breast at this perversion of her creation.
Hyrk went on a tirade at her refusal, shaking the bars of her prison with his screeching. After composing himself, he said, “Have it your way. But know this. Not all those born of my magic and Jilken’s obedience are prize pups. Those who come out of their mothers deformed or weak have been quickly and mercifully disposed of. If you bind yourself to me, no more pups will be discarded. All will be cared for. Continue to deny me and I will ensure those pups suffer before they die.”
She had almost broken. It was not the fault of those children that Hyrk had manipulated their breeding. The thought of those innocents suffering had almost made her agree to Hyrk’s demand. But if she had done so, she would have taken his wicked soul into herself. True, he would have taken her soul into himself as well. Perhaps her goodness would temper his evil. But perhaps his evil would snuff out her goodness. She could not take that chance, could not condemn her people to the rule of a joint deity whose nature she could not predict. Nor could she condemn herself to an eternity of intimate oneness with her enemy.
“As long as you treasure love, I will always be proud of you.”
“I will, Papa. I will treasure love forever and ever.”
Hyrk treasured wickedness and hatred. Union with him could not be her fate. It would not.
Still, her decision haunted her to this day. So many children had been harmed, abandoned, outright killed. Perhaps whoever had cast this glamour had descended from those times. They might be survivors of Hyrk’s mania and cruelty—victims of her choice.
“Are we in danger?” Anya whispered. Her friend’s arm wound through hers, a slight tremble in it.
“I do not think so. But whoever cast this glamour does not wish for us to take any special notice of this cavern.” She studied the rocky wall, noting how her gaze jumped over certain places.
In her goddess form, she could easily identify glamour and decipher it to see what lay underneath. Apparently, she could sense it in human form, but could she see through it? She focused on one such place, a large boulder not far from where she sat. Her human eyes strained to look away, but she forced them to remain. The object was not a boulder. She insisted on seeing the truth, and suddenly, the image of the boulder wavered. It became a rough-hewn, wooden table with a cabinet beneath.
A thrill of success warmed her. Now to see if Anya could decipher the glamour as well. She instructed her friend to do as she had done. When Anya’s grip on her arm tightened, she knew her friend saw the table.
“’Tis like Gravois’ camp,” Anya said with wonder. “Some things, and even some of the other tinkers, are not what they seem. They want the world to see them a certain way, and the magic makes it so.”
“Yes.” Danu let her gaze move past the table and continued to unlock glamour around the cavern. Beside her, Anya did the same.
A cold fireplace appeared where only rock had been. Black shale formed a chimney that rose to a hole someone had carved into the ceiling. The boulders they sat on became a wooden bench, lovingly engraved with the shapes of trees and plants. Folded cloth padded the wooden surface, and the moment Danu saw it, soft cushioning took the place of the hard surface. The center of the cavern became an eating pit set into the floor, explaining why the men avoided that space. On the wall was an elk’s rack that might serve as a place to hang cloaks. A well-maintained, tidy home emerged where only moments ago an abandoned cavern had been.
Suddenly, Anya bolted from the bench. “Travis!” Limping wildly, she rounded the cave and squatted at the far end of the table.
The image wavered and the youngest boy alive came into view. Tears streaked his dirty face, and ropes bound his ankles, and presumably his hands behind his back. Another rope tied him to the table, and a rag had been stuffed in his mouth.
Instantly, Danu dashed to his side. Anya was already cutting at the ropes with a dagger pulled from her dress. Danu pulled the rag from between his chapped lips.
“You heard me!” he whimpered, looking between them. “It took you so long!” He shuddered and sniffled while Anya shifted his small body and sawed at the robes behind his back. “I was shouting and shouting, but you didn’t know I was here. I was so frightened!”
“Och, love, we’re here. We’re here. You’re safe now,” Anya cooed. With Travis freed fro
m his bonds, she gathered him to her chest and smoothed his straggly, blond hair.
Travis sobbed into her shoulder, and Danu could not stop herself from rubbing soothing circles on his back. Someone had tied up the youngest wolfkind and had not wanted him found. Anger darted through her. Like the warrior women of old, she craved blood. Whoever had done this would suffer.
“What in the name of the moon!” Verden clomped to where the three of them huddled together. “Travis? Where did you come from? What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded, as if she and Anya had somehow brought him with them from Glendall.
Anya got to her feet and puffed up her chest, forcing Verden back. “Dinnae fash at him! He’s been captive here and you did naught about it!” She poked her finger in Verden’s chest. Tears ran down her cheeks.
Danu held Travis, and he clung to her, wide-eyed gaze darting between Anya and the commander. “The commander did nothing wrong,” she said with a tug of Anya’s skirts. “The cave is under a glamour,” she said to Verden. “Someone doesn’t want us to know they live here.”
“The Remnant,” Travis said. He sniffed bravely and clamored to his feet. He faced Verden. Fading bruises marred his pale cheeks. “They came from the breeding experiments, and they live here in the caves. They don’t want us to know about them, and I think they’ve gone to the fortress with Vera to collect Braeden. You have to stop them. They’ll hurt the other children.”
Danu’s head spun. She’d been right about who lived here. Worse, it seemed this Remnant was a threat to the children.
Ignoring Anya’s ire, Verden knelt and took Travis by the shoulders. “Tell me everything.”
Chapter 29
Magnus led his army across a snowy plain. In the distance, the gorge was nothing but a black line drawn on the pure-white ground. Once they crossed the gorge and climbed the hill on the other side, they would be able to see the fortress.
In his mind, he rehearsed what he would say to the children. Apology first, then assurance that from now on, they would have a say in their futures. He would provide them opportunities to voice their fears and ideas. He would explain to them why certain laws existed, how the laws protected them all and honored Danu. No longer would they feel so powerless that they considered making an independent future for themselves apart from the safety of Chroina.
They would come home willingly once they understood.
Then he would speak with Danu. He did not know whether he owed her an apology for making her his lifemate or if she would celebrate their union. If she despised him for what he’d done, perhaps Assaph could undo it. If she rejoiced, perhaps they could find a way to be together now and again. After all, legend said she had visited Lachlan. It had happened at the very promontory where he had confronted Hyrk. Surely, if they were mated, she would set aside time to visit him.
He prayed she would forgive him and rejoice over what had been done. The thought of living out his life apart from her left him with a hollow sensation in his chest.
But matters of the heart must be put aside. Every sense he’d honed as a tracker and hunter told him they were being watched. Though he could spot no enemies hiding in the hills, he felt malice in the air. The sound of Hyrk’s laughter as it had echoed through the canyon haunted his memory.
Beneath his armor, Danu’s moonstone heated near to the point of pain. His entire body went on alert. “Be ready,” he said to Riggs.
His second drew his axe, a fearsome-looking double-headed weapon large enough to split a boar in two. “Yes, Sire,” the knight said, and he swept the hills with a wary gaze.
Suddenly, a vision came upon him.
Imposed over the bright winter hills was the great hall he’d seen in his dream last night. The double image disoriented him, and he staggered.
Riggs steadied him with a firm grip on his shoulder. “Sire? Are you well?”
“A vision,” he said, but his voice faded from his hearing. The snow and trees around him faded, as did Riggs. He stood in the fire-lit hall of dark stone. The children were gathered near the end farthest from the twin doors, where a platform had been erected. They all gazed up at Alexander, who sat upon a throne with his arms spread in a gesture of grandeur. His eyes glowed red.
“Here they come,” Alexander said. He grinned, and Magnus recognized the twisted expression. Hyrk was controlling the boy. Red gaze fixed on the heavy timber doors, he said, “Brace yourselves, children. You are about to witness true greatness.”
The children murmured and shifted on their feet. Toward the front of the pack stood Ruben, Craiden, and Julian. The three older boys traded expressions of discomfort.
“My plan is working,” Hyrk said. “They are all here.” The evil laugh following the proclamation echoed in the hall as if it had come from all around.
“We have to stop this,” Ruben said.
“He’s mad,” Craiden said.
“No,” Julian said. “He’s possessed.”
The doors at the front of the hall burst open. Flurries of swirling snow circled a hooded figure in a black cloak. The children huddled together. Behind the figure were more than a dozen larger figures, each cloaked, their features hidden. But Magnus noticed wolf-like snouts protruding from many of the hoods.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” Alexander said, his voice no longer Hyrk’s. His eyes were the silvery-blue he’d inherited from Ari. “We found something of yours and have been keeping it safe for you. Ruben!” Alexander spotted Ruben and motioned him forward. “Go get her pet,
he commanded. “So he may be returned safely to his owner.”
Her? While Magnus watched, the foremost cloaked figure peeled back its hood. A waterfall of hair the bright color of autumn leaves fell around slender shoulders. A woman!
Ruben left the hall at a run, his two friends watching him go.
At the entrance, the woman narrowed her haunting silver eyes. The unique color reminded Magnus of Bantus’s eyes.
“The wolf is not my pet,” she bit out. “He’s my brother.” She flipped a corner of her cloak over her shoulder, revealing a crossbow hanging at her side. A quiver of short arrows hung from her hip. “You weren’t keeping him safe for me. You held him prisoner to get me to come to you. Well. I’m here now.” She raised the weapon and aimed it at Alexander.
Alexander held up his hands. If the news of the wolf being the woman’s brother surprised him, he showed no sign of it. It certainly surprised Magnus. Alexander also showed no fear of the weapon. He smiled disarmingly. “Now, now. We are your new neighbors. We only wanted to introduce ourselves. Come in. Take off your cloaks and enjoy the fires. We are preparing dinner and have plenty to share—”
Ruben burst from a doorway behind the platform and ran to Alexander. Between panting breaths, he said, “The wolf’s...gone...escaped...cage opened.”
“What?” Finally, something had surprised Alexander. “What do you mean escaped? How can a wolf escape? Unless someone freed him.” He glowered at Ruben, who held up his hands in a show of innocence.
“He’s not a wolf,” the woman said, her gaze hard as ice. “And you are not our neighbors. You are trespassers.” Shifting her weapon, she let one of her arrows fly.
Heart in his throat, Magnus tried to run toward Alexander, but his body would not cooperate. All he could do was watch as the arrow hit its mark. Not Alexander, but Ruben.
At Alexander’s side, Ruben lurched, wide-eyed. His hands clawed at his neck. Protruding from his throat was the arrow’s brown fletching. Gaping silently, he stumbled to the floor.
The woman grinned and notched another arrow. She advanced on the children, her cohort following. Hoods peeled back one by one, revealing monstrous faces that appeared half wolf and half man. King Bantus had a face like that, the lower half more of a snout than a wolfkind mouth.
The whites of Alexander’s eyes showed his fear. It seemed he had not expected violence. Foolish lad. “Come, now,” he said in a wavering voice.
“Enough talking,” the w
oman said. “We did not come for conversation. We came for blood.”
“Draw arms!” Alexander shouted. “Protect your ruler!”
The children stared, wide-eyed as the monstrous beings closed around them.
“Fight!” Alexander shrieked.
Several children screamed.
Julian grabbed a tarnished sword from the pile near the fireplace. The weapon’s size and weight required him to use both hands to wield it. Clearly, he had no idea how to fight, but Magnus admired his courage.
Alexander tried to run from the hall, but he didn’t make it far.
Craiden grabbed him. “Stand and fight, you scabby coward! You got us into this, and you’ll damn well help get us out.”
Alexander jerked against Craiden’s hold, and then sagged. A distant stare settled over his features, like he was listening to something no one else could hear.
Craiden tried to shove a sword into his hand, but it only fell to the floor.
Alexander nodded. “Of course,” he muttered. He pulled something from his pocket and lifted his clasped hands over his head. A red glow emanated from his hands and shone through the hall. “I call on the powerful Hyrk, god of darkness! Take physical form and come to our aid!”
The hall went still for a moment as Alexander’s voice echoed unnaturally.
The gemstone floated from his hands and spun in the air, casting shards of blood-red light around the hall. Then, with a whizzing sound, it sped through one of the windows high in the walls.
A bone-rattling screech cut through the hall, coming from outside. A shadow passed over the boys as something very large moved through the sky close to the hall.
Magnus turned to look out the windows. Blocking out the wintry clouds with its giant wingspan was a soaring dragon, the likes of which should only exist in legend. Reddish brown scales and crimson, slitted eyes flashed as, with the sound of wind in sails, the beast swooped low over the fortress then out of sight.
The vision cleared. Magnus gasped a lungful of cold air. “The children,” he said to Riggs. “They’re in danger.” It hadn’t been a dream. None of it had. He knew it with a certainty he couldn’t explain.