Love is Fear

by Caroline Hanson

  “The wolves are dependent upon my magic. They abandoned the mortal world and came with us hoping to start anew. Fey magic and sustenance kept them alive. But now my kingdom is so weak that there is not enough energy to keep them awake. It is as though my entire world is hibernating.”

  She reached across the wolf and touched Cer’s hand in sympathy. He met her halfway, his warm hand clasping hers. The contact was hot. As though they were two electrical wires sparking off of each other. Val tried to let go, pull away from him, but he gripped her tighter.

  “Your power is based in life, instinct and emotion. My magic comes from life as well. So our power feeds each other, you see? We can give it to the wolves, and it will bring them back to us.”

  Val wanted to ask lots of questions, but the words wouldn’t come out. She couldn’t speak or move, her focus narrowing down to the small contact with his hand. Her flesh was inconsequential, merely a container for her energy. The real her was a calm pool of power.

  Cerdewellyn was the waterfall, pouring his own energy into her, breaking the still surface inside of her and churning her magic around, forcing it to overflow and spill outwards.

  Her magic suddenly made sense. It was a revelation. Val knew, on an atomic level, what separated her from a normal human. It crystallized in her in a way it never had before.

  He pushed her hand down onto the wolf’s back and the damn burst, power flowing from him, swirling in her and then out again, down into the wolf. Its coat was soft. An almost odd texture, like it wasn’t quite hair, but had the smoothness of skin as well.

  The animal called out to her, not in words but in emotion. The wolf spoke to her soundlessly, and she wanted to listen, like a song she had once loved and then not heard for years. She wouldn’t try to move away again.

  Cerdewellyn let go of her hand and stood, walking around her and the wolves slowly. Then he lifted her up into his arms, shifting her down between the two furred bodies, snuggling her close and tight between them.

  Sweat slid down her temple, and she wanted him to both stop and continue running his power through her. Cerdewellyn’s energy was overwhelming.

  Stop fighting and the hurt will go away. He said, and she didn’t know if he said it aloud or if she heard his voice in her head.

  He was right, she was fighting it, trying to control the influx of energy from Cerdewellyn, rationing it out to the wolves. She needed to be open, let it pass through her instead of trying to control it.

  She relaxed, stopped clenching her muscles and let the energy rush over her instead. The moment she did, the pain disappeared. The wolf was with her, his mind and thoughts close enough to touch.

  “My wolf…my wolf I call you,” Cer said.

  Why is it his wolf, she wondered. What did that mean? The animal tried to tell her, offering up the story in pictures, memories, scents and feelings. Willing to let her see the memory of how the wolf became bound to Cerdewellyn.

  Snippets of the wolf’s past rushed by her, like riding in a speeding car and looking out a window. A village. A hut. A fire. A woman in homespun garb. A baby. A pup. Wolves around a fire. The vision slowed down, rotated around her like the world was spinning. It slowed and finally stopped. She could smell the forest as the wolf did, hear people speaking through the wolf’s ears…feel the wolf’s fear.

  She and the wolf were one. She knew his name— Ajax. That he had a wife and children and that he did not expect to survive the night.

  Ajax padded into the dark night. He could hear the paws of other Wolves beside him as they went towards the glowing orange light. A clearing had been made, and a fire was shifting in the wind, the flames flickering high.

  Friends and family were here, the children more subdued than usual as everyone waited anxiously around the fire. The women chanted, and those that were of breeding-age were stripped naked, dancing around the fire while the young girls and the old women made a circle, hands clasped, heads bent as they invoked Cerdewellyn’s name and begged him to come to them.

  The fire blazed, and a black shape appeared inside the flames. As if someone had been burned at the stake and was now being rebuilt from the inside out. The flames parted as he solidified. The wolf’s heart stuttered at the awesome display of power.

  He is strong enough to keep us safe, Ajax thought.

  Cerdewellyn was in the fire, whole and unblemished. As he stepped out of the flames, the women scattered, giving him a wide berth.

  The wolves leader dropped down onto one knee. “My Liege. We have summoned you here in order to seek your protection. The horde is near. Villages in all directions have been wiped out. Will you shield us?”

  Ajax heard the fire crackle, saw the women shuffle, all of them waiting with baited breath to know if Cerdewellyn would save them. And at what price.

  “I will take you from here and claim you as my own,” Cerdewellynsaid. Cerdew8But you must bind you and all of your people to me. Know that you are given my name and shall work for my will alone from this day forth. Do you accept?”

  Their leader licked his lips and made eye contact—not with the men but the women. Were they willing to offer their children up to Cerdewellyn? Safety in exchange for binding to the Fey King? The women nodded, clutching the children tight. Cerdewellyn or death.

  Their leader opened his mouth, ready to agree when Cerdewellyn spoke, “I hear them—the horde. He has come. Does Lucas know you have called me? For his vengeance will be twice as harsh for those that remain.”

  “He will kill us all anyway, should we still be here by the time he arrives. It makes no difference.”

  Cerdewellyn laughed. “The difference is in the means of execution. The length of time it takes to die and the horrors he can make one endure before he finishes playing with you and yours. I demand the binding first. It is the only way to take you through the fire. He is close now. Be quick.”

  Ajax turned and looked into the dark beyond. He couldn’t see the vampires coming, but could smell blood and death upon the wind. His leader sent the strongest wolves into the night to meet the horde, trying to delay them until the women and children were safe. Howls rent the air as Ajax and his brothers dashed into the night.

  The smell of decay and iron grew. Rot and corruption coming closer.

  The vampires stalked down the streets, dipping into houses, searching everywhere for the villagers. At the head of them all was their Dark Lord. He didn’t stop and he didn’t hesitate, but moved steadily forward, not looking for those that hid but for the group.

  His hair was dark, coated in blood. Ajax had been told that the blackness was not the Dark Lord’s natural color. That his hair changed from the brightest gold to the dark of the dead when he went to war. The blood stained him and he gloried in it—kept it to inspire fear into the hearts of his prey.

  The face of an angel and the soul of the devil.

  He wore armor. An armor so black it absorbed the light and a cape of pelts that billowed out behind him. His steel shoes rang through the night, a chime of death approaching with each step. His sword was out, the blade dull with gore. And in his other hand was an axe, the head massive and weighted so that it could break through an opponent’s shield from a distance— taking any advantage away before the fight began.

  For Lucas, the Dark Lord, fighting was not about honor, conquest or faith. It was not even about the heartless joy one could find in proving one’s strength against another. His purpose was carnage. How many dead in how short a period of time. That was what spread his name in dreaded whispers from village to village. No mercy. No pity. No desire beyond unending slaughter. Ajax growled and felt his hackles rise.

  He knew the moment his leader bound them to Cerdewellyn. The cool, detached strength of the Fey, filled his mind like a tangible shadow. The wolf’s natural blood lust and urge to rush forward and attack Lucas receded slightly. The calm intellect of Cerdewellyn tempering the beasts’ basest instincts.

  Ajax knew he only needed to bide his time, delay the hord
e so that their loved ones could get to Cerdewellyn’s realm. They would all walk into the fire, a portal to the Fey realm. The children first, walking into the fire and vanishing to the Land of Fey. Then the women. Stay in the shadows, do not encounter the horde.

  One of the wolves snapped. Emotion overcoming him, and he rushed forward, out of the forest’s safety, charging Lucas, unable to control his animal instincts. A vampire ran up beside the wolf, appearing out of nowhere, pulling the wolf down to the ground. They wrestled, the vampire laughing as it tried to sink its teeth into the wolf’s neck. The wolf snarled, foam gleaming from its maw as they fought.

  The vampire screamed as the wolf burrowed into its chest cavity. Lucas continued forward, ignoring his subject’s desperate cries, focused only on locating the villagers. He passed the outermost edge of the village. Moving silently towards the forest, as though he could hear the villager’s hearts beating in fear.

  Return to me, Ajax heard Cerdewellyn say. And it sounded like the wind sighing.

  Cerdewellyn’s call was impossible to ignore, and Ajax heard whines of fury in the air as the wolves tried to disobey and follow their bloodlust. They did not want to go back. Did not want to escape. Calm rationality slipped away from Ajax as the wolf’s rage unfurled inside of him. The Dark Lord would pay for his sins.

  A few of the Wolves turned, running back to Cerdewellyn, not strong enough to resist his call now that the pack was bound to him. But Ajax held out, waiting a moment longer, desperately wanting to attack Lucas. He moved a paw forward, then stumbled as blinding pain ripped through his skull.

  Cerdewellyn’s commands coiled inside of him, contracting tighter, the pain growing, and he knew it would only get worse until he obeyed. With a furious howl Ajax turned, sprinting through the forest as fast as he could. The pain disappeared and he felt a gladness inside of him, pleasure at obeying Cerdewellyn’s will.

  Cerdewellyn urged Ajax into the flames, and he ran straight towards it, felt the heat of the blaze on his muzzle, the blinding light of the fire searing his eyes as he stepped close. Fear made him want to stop but Cerdewellyn urged him onwards and Ajax gave in, kept running, closing his eyes at the last moment and prayed to survive the flames. Not to God. Not anymore. Now they prayed to Cerdewellyn.

  Chapter 38

  Lucas saw Cerdewellyn’s castle up ahead and stopped running, slowly approaching the edge of the tree line that gave way to a cleared area before the high castle walls. It was beyond aggravating that he could not teleport himself from location to location. Another manifestation of his weakness in the Fey realm. The castle walls were thirty-feet high and, if he had to guess, four-feet thick.

  He crouched low to the ground, staying hidden for a moment and examining everything around him. Closing his eyes, he listened intently, blade out and ready. The snap of a twig, a rustle of an animal, the steps of a man as he tried to approach undetected.

  Nothing.

  This was nothing like the land he had heard of. Centuries of encounters both mysterious and fantastical, told that deadly and seductive creatures lurked around every corner.

  But this place had an air of emptiness, a loneliness so complete that, if he had emotions, he might have wept for the sense of loss around him.

  Desolation.

  This was a failed civilization. Everything gone. But for whatever reason, Cerdewellyn had managed to survive.

  That was going to change.

  Valerie was here because of Lucas’ mistakes. He’d tasted her, felt the gentlest hints of emotion, and decided he wanted things that were beyond him. Things that turned a man weak and made a vampire an easy target.

  He could not afford to be vulnerable. She was his only weakness. So what did Cerdewellyn do? He took her. Cer had been out of the game for 500 years, back for less than twenty-four hours, and already he knew Lucas’ weakness and had exploited it, reducing his strength and power by bringing him here.

  Lucas felt a pang, almost like a splinter of emotion at the thought of what the future needed to hold. Get Valerie out of here. And no more blood. He would never drink her blood again. If he had not been so desirous of it and her, he would not have left her alone in that wood back in Roanoke. And she wouldn’t have bled on the ground, allowing Cer a way to control her.

  If Lucas had not imbibed her blood, he would not have cared about seeing her with Jack. Would not have orchestrated Jack’s appearance to judge their relationship—because sharing her would have meant nothing to him.

  But he had drunk her blood, and it had made him careless. She had called him a monster, compared him to one of the vilest men on Earth, felt her revulsion ring through his body like a pike slamming into armor—painful and crushing. He was now useless and susceptible to sentimentality.

  Pathetic.

  He was not a man. He would never be a man. Happiness, family, the simple pleasure of a summer day. And in truth he could not even remember what that had been like. He had put all of them in danger for a ridiculous quest.

  Never mind. The mistake was done. He would go in, get Valerie out and they would start again. He was a vampire, a murderer. Unconscionable. He would embrace that, and she would obey or else.

  No more compromising.

  Lucas looked at the top left turret of the castle, which was at least a hundred feet in the air. Lightning struck the roof repeatedly, clouds churning like an angry sea. They were gray and unnatural. That was the portal back to the mortal world, and it was only accessible via the roof. Plus, he would have to find Cerdewellyn and sever his link to Valerie before she could leave. Cer would not want to let her go. Centuries of hatred for Lucas would be focused on her as part of his revenge.

  At least, that is what I would have done.

  Cer thought to control him? Lucas knew what he would do to Cerdewellyn. He remembered. There were means of torture that universally broke people. Those were boring. It was not the common things—splitting a tongue, removing an eye, or slicing off a penis that caused bone-deep terror.

  No, he wanted Cerdewellyn to be so afraid that he would piss himself with fear. Lucas was going to find him, rip his stomach open with his bare hands, take out the Fey’s heart and eat it before his very eyes. And if that wasn’t enough to make Cerdewellyn release Valerie, he would become creative.

  Satisfied that no one was lurking nearby to attack him, he made his way around the castle, looking for the entrance. He walked further, further, until he returned to the spot where he had started. There was no entry.

  Of course there was a way in. Illusion. He could not see the entrance, but it had to be there. He walked up to the wall, checking above him periodically to make sure no one would attack him. It was habit. Never walk below an enemy’s walls. Sliding his hand along the stone, he searched for the slightest difference in texture, temperature or sound, looking for any variation to show where the illusion ended—ideally a big hole that he would be able to walk through with ease.

  He was conscious of time ticking by as he circled the castle walls again. He was back where he had started—again. Lucas stepped backwards slowly, surveying everything around him. He scrubbed his hand across his jaw as he contemplated another way to approach this.

  This was easy. It had to be. There was an entrance. Somewhere. He went back to the tree line and stared at the wall, looking for patterns in the rock. There were none. He looked for any places where the color was too uniform. Nothing. No well-worn paths that led the way. Nothing.

  He looked at the sky and was shocked to see that it was almost dark. How long had he been here? He’d arrived at noon, had walked around for no more than 30 minutes, yet it was almost nighttime. He swore. This was what happened in Fey. He was at Cerdewellyn’s mercy. All these spells, all this glamour and illusion, time out of balance.

  Someone was coming. He pulled himself up into the boughs of a tree and out of sight, hiding his sword so there would be no glint to give his location away as he waited for them to come into sight.

  Jack. Rachel. He ju
mped down and both of them whirled.

  “What are you doing?” Rachel asked, surprised by his sudden appearance.

  “There is no way in,” Lucas growled. “I cannot find it.”

  Jack looked at him like he was an idiot. Perhaps the day would come when Lucas would kill him anyway. Despite his promise to Valerie. It would improve his mood.

  “It’s right there,” Jack said, pointing directly behind Lucas.

  “Truly? You see the way in?” Lucas asked.

  Jack nodded.

  “And you?” Lucas asked, looking at Rachel.

  “Nope. He’s human. Fey glamour is harder to work on humans than it is on Others.”

  “Why? That doesn’t seem very likely,” Jack muttered, clearly disbelieving humans could have any advantages. Until this moment, Lucas would have agreed.

  Rachel shrugged. “Don’t know. It’s one of the very few advantages humans have. Be happy about it.”

  Lucas turned and saw nothing. “I have touched every section of this wall and looked everywhere. If you see it, lead us. But first we must discuss the plan. We go inside. We find Valerie and Cerdewellyn. I will convince Cerdewellyn to allow Valerie to leave, and then we will depart from this beleaguered land and never return.”

  “I like that plan. Its beauty is its simplicity,” Rachel said, looking around unhappily. “Man, this place has got some seriously bad mojo.”

  Lucas addressed Jack. “I want her out. I want us all out of here. Take direction or be left behind. Do you understand? Now go.” Lucas nodded towards where Jack had pointed.

  Every thought Jack had was on his face, painfullypredictable. So earnest and passionate as he looked daggers at Lucas. Such a fool. He may as well have said: Give me the chance. Just one chance to kill you and I will take it.

  Was it this…passion that drew Val to Jack? Or perhaps it was his simplicity. Jack wanted to kill Marion, but his desire to kill Lucas was almost equal in its intensity. Perhaps it was even worse, because Jack was a man now and might actually be able to prevent Valerie coming to harm. Jack must know there was nothing he could have done to forestall Marion. It had been vaguely difficult for him to stop Marion. Although he preferred to think that apathy on his part was what caused the trouble.