“Um, now that you mention it, I don't think I ever really wondered about that. They're dreaming about the place?”
“They are. We think that the dreams are sent by the forces of Light. Even thought the dark gods have barred the lords of Justice from entering this dimension, they can't completely seal them off in the Void. Dreams are one way that the Light can try to aid us.”
“Huh. That's interesting,” Aiden said softly. “I've never had a dream like that. Malcolm and I came here from the original Nottinghill, near Ottawa in Canada. Of course, you already knew that,” he added as he glanced at Tamara.
“I did. You two are among the very few survivors from that old town.”
“Yeah, we know,” Malcolm said, his voice heavy with regret. “So many of them were lost. We might have been too, were it not for this...curse.”
He reached up to his throat and grasped the pendant that hung there on a silver chain.
“Curse?”
Aiden stroked his own pendant. Both pieces of jewelry appeared to be small tubes made of clear crystal filled with a dark liquid, sealed in a silver housing. They seemed to be glowing a bit in the sunlight that beamed in through the room's one large window.
“Mal, this curse, as you call it, has saved our lives more than once. Our powers of regeneration, our reflexes in battle, all are a direct result of our condition.”
Tamara sat back in her seat and crossed her legs. She adjusted her robes gracefully and stared at the warriors.
“Your pendants, yes. If I didn't know the story, I would never have believed in lycanthropy. I still just have to take your word for it, really. I wonder what the others would say if they knew that the two of you were werewolves?”
“Potential werewolves,” Aiden corrected her as Malcolm released his pendant and stared at the mage.
“Simon O'Toole and our late friend, Clara, created these pendants to block the disease after we were bitten,” Aiden continued. “It was either try that or let them kill us.”
“I never knew that it had gone that far. Would they have actually done that?” Tamara asked incredulously.
“We told them that if they didn't kill us, we would do it ourselves,” Malcolm said evenly. “Werewolves are nothing like you might imagine them to be. Even the ones that we used to see in old horror movies are tame compared to the real thing.”
Aiden sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“It's true, you know,” he said to Tamara. “You think that Mal is strong, don't you?”
“Yes, of course. Malcolm is the strongest man that I've ever met,” she replied, and then grinned at Aiden. “Followed closely by yourself.”
Aiden didn't return her smile.
“Well, the men that we are now would be torn apart by the werewolves we would become. Were it not for these magical talismans around our necks, those monsters could quite possibly tear down this entire castle.”
Tamara gasped and Malcolm nodded in affirmation.
“Aiden's right,” he said. “Werewolves are primal, uncontrollable, brutal. The one that attacked us so many years ago flung us around as if we were children. We had to fill it full of arrows from a distance and then kill it with blessed silver swords. And even then, we barely came out of the battle alive. We're very lucky that the damned things seem to be rare. I've never heard of anyone else having had run-in with one. Have you?”
“No, I have not.”
There was a knock on the open door and the three of them looked over to see a young, red-headed woman standing there, wearing the white uniform of the kitchen staff.
“Sorry to interrupt you,” she said tentatively.
Tamara sat up a bit and smiled at her.
“Hello Angela. Don't worry, you aren't interrupting. What can I do for you?”
The young woman made a gesture to someone behind her and another white-clad worker walked past her and into the room, carrying a tray with a large ceramic pot and several cups on it.
“Mario thought that you might like something to drink after the meeting,” Angela said as the man set the tray down on a side table. “So I grabbed Paul and asked him to give me a hand.”
“Who's Mario?” Malcolm asked curiously.
“He's the new head chef,” Tamara told him. “Our last one stepped down a little while ago. Bad back, or so she said. Personally I think that she just wanted to spend more time with her new husband, but whatever. So how are you two and Mr. Mazzanti getting along?” she asked, looking at Angela and Paul.
The man only shrugged silently as he moved back to the doorway. Angela rolled her eyes at him.
“Paul's not much of a talker, I'm afraid,” she said apologetically. “We're all getting along fine. Mario is amazing, actually. He was the head chef at some swanky café in Marseilles, back before the Night of Burning. Or so he says. Considering the fact that he can cook just about anything, I definitely believe him. Anyway, enjoy the tea. It's a new chamomile blend that Chef came up with.”
“Thank you both,” Tamara told the workers.
Malcolm and Aiden added their thanks as well.
“You're welcome,” Angela said, while Paul just nodded.
They hurried off and Tamara stood up and began pouring the tea.
“Do either of you take honey?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Both of us do,” Malcolm said with a chuckle. “One thing that we share is a sweet tooth.”
Aiden grinned.
“That's true. I think that, if we could, we'd just eat dessert three times a day.”
“That would be terribly unhealthy, you know,” Tamara said as she carried over two cups of tea and handed them to the men.
“Thanks,” Aiden said as he accepted the cup. “And yeah, I know that. But a guy can dream, can't he?”
“You'd get fat,” Malcolm teased him as he sipped his tea. “Mm, this is really good!”
Tamara sat down again with her own cup of tea and tasted it.
“Oh, you're right; this new blend is amazing. I'll have to drop by the kitchen later and give my compliments to Mario. Now then, let's get down to business, shall we?”
Chapter 3
“So what's going on, Tamara?” Malcolm asked as he sipped his tea. “I thought that we covered everything during the meeting.”
“Not quite everything, no,” she replied. “My brother and I have had an idea, a rather unique idea actually, and we wanted to discuss it with both of you before presenting it to the full council.”
Both warriors were intrigued and Aiden leaned forward on the couch to look closely at the mage.
“Why us? We're just grunts, Tamara. We're weapons, that all.”
“Yeah, just point us at a target and let us go,” Malcolm agreed. “Heck, we aren't even magic-users.”
“I beg to differ,” Tamara told them. “As you just mentioned a few minutes ago, both of you are infused with magic. Besides your Change, of course, which all of us have gone through, you carry the lycanthropy talent within your very blood.”
“Talent?”
Malcolm laughed harshly.
“It's not a talent, Tamara, it's a curse. Didn't you listen to what we just told you about it?”
The mage watched him steadily as she drank some tea. Then she set down her cup and folded her hands on her lap.
“You are mistaken,” she said flatly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said that you are wrong.”
Aiden frowned in confusion, while Malcolm seemed to be at a loss for words.
“How can we be wrong?” Aiden asked slowly. “Tamara, we're the ones who were bitten! I assure you that we both know that, without these talismans, we'd turn into monsters at the next full moon.”
“Yes, I know you would. I am not arguing about the effect, just about the cause. Now hear me out.”
Both men nodded in unison and the mage smiled at them.
“Good. This whole subject of your, um, condition, was brought up by Chao a few weeks ago.”
&n
bsp; “Chao? He knows about our curse? How?”
“I assure you that neither Sebastian nor I told him. Chao claimed that one of the beings that he summons, the sprite named Ellas, informed him of your affliction.”
Aiden groaned and Malcolm snorted in irritation.
“Ellas,” he grumbled. “Yeah, we remember her.”
“Well, she seems to have developed a bit of a fascination with us and our settlement here and has snooped around magically. She can scry, apparently, and has poked and prodded at all of us with her magic. And you two were particular targets of hers. Or so Chao says.”
“Why us?”
“Why not? Ellas is a nosy little thing and, let's face it, you lads aren't exactly ordinary, now are you? Amazing fighters, excellent leaders, selflessly brave...”
“Stop it, Tamara. You'll make me blush,” Malcolm said with a broad grin.
“I doubt it,” Aiden said sarcastically.
Before they could start arguing, Tamara held up her hands with a smile.
“Let's not get off topic, gentlemen. The point is, Ellas discovered something that she passed on to Chao, who in turn told me.”
“Which is?”
“Which is the fact that the werewolf that attacked you didn't pass on a curse, or an infection. Rather, it was some kind of magical spell.”
The warriors were confused by the mage's statement.
“Explain what you mean, please,” Aiden told her.
Tamara sighed and hesitated a moment, collecting her thoughts.
“Okay, think of it like this,” she began. “Mages like myself, my brother, Sylvie and the rest, all have a kind of talent. We manipulate magic in certain ways by using spells. Simon O'Toole was a wizard who used the power in other ways. Chao is a summoner and bends the magic to his will in yet another, totally different way. You see? The power, the source, is the same, but the ways that it is used are different.”
“But you and Simon also used a lot of the same spells,” Malcolm pointed out.
“True. There are commonalities between all of us. I've also taught Chao a few spells, like Magic Mouth and Shield, and he's been able to pick them up fairly easily. But he cannot cast Lightning or Gate spells, and I certainly cannot summon magical creatures. So our talents may overlap, but they are still different in many ways. Ellas believes that your condition is magical as well. When you were bitten, the werewolf passed along its talent to you, by using magic.”
“No offense, Tamara, but that's ridiculous,” Aiden scoffed. “Call it what you will; disease, curse, talent or whatever. But what Malcolm and I have doesn't make us anything like you and the other magic-users. We can't cast spells.”
“How do you know?” she asked simply.
Malcolm and Aiden were caught flat-footed again.
“What?”
“How do you know that you can't cast spells?” Tamara asked them patiently. “Have you ever tried? Listen, this is what Ellas passed on to Chao. Let's see if I can explain this correctly. She said, and I quote, 'they already use magic; they simply don't know that they are doing it'.”
Malcolm stood up abruptly, walked over to the side table and began making himself another cup of tea.
“What did she mean?” he asked Tamara.
“The sprite claims that your skills with weapons and tactics, and your extraordinary physical strength, are actually the results of a magical spell that was cast upon you by your werewolf attacker. It added power to the Changes that you already went through years ago. Oh, not intentionally, I suppose,” she added as she noticed Malcolm's dark look. “But when you were bitten by that monster, its power infected you with a spell the same way that it would have if it had been a disease. Which it wasn't.”
Malcolm added a large dollop of honey to his tea and returned to the couch and sat down. He sipped the sweet liquid quietly and listened as Aiden took up the conversation.
“Then I don't see what the big deal is,” the smaller man told Tamara. “If a spell acts in the same way as a disease would, what does it matter one way or another? We're still stuck wearing these pendants because, if we don't, we will change into werewolves under a full moon and attack others indiscriminately. So, no offense, but who cares?”
Tamara looked a little irritated by Aiden's question.
“You should care,” she said pointedly. “Both of you. Because Ellas says that you could learn to actually use this power instead of remaining victims of it. Imagine if you could control your lycanthropy. What if you could harness that power and morph into werewolves when you chose to, rather than waiting for a full moon? What if you did not turn into mindless beasts, but retained your own identities and could use that ferocity against our enemies? Wouldn't that free you of the fears that you've had to live with for so long?”
Both men appeared to be stunned by the prospect. Tamara watched as they simultaneously touched their pendants, even though they were not looking at each other. Obviously this new information had caught them totally off-guard.
“And Ellas is sure that she's right about this?” Aiden asked anxiously.
“You'll have to ask Chao that question,” Tamara replied. “I didn't get too deeply into it with him. I thought that you two should be the ones to investigate the whole thing further. If you're interested, that is.”
“If we're interested?”
Malcolm stared at her, wide-eyed, and then smiled broadly.
“Of course we're interested!” he exclaimed. “I'm trying not to get my hopes up here, and I'm sure that Aiden is as well, but if this is true, then our lives would change dramatically.”
“To live without the constant, nagging fear every time a full moon rolls around,” Aiden said softly. “That would be a blessing. I'm always afraid that, this time, the enchantment on my talisman is going to fail, or that I'll rip the thing off my neck while I'm sleeping. To be able to rid myself of that fear would be an enormous relief.”
Malcolm looked at his partner in surprise.
“You worry about stuff like that? Why haven't you ever told me?”
“Because you already worry about everyone else around here, you big clod,” Aiden said affectionately. “The last thing you need is to take on the burden of my concerns as well. But if Ellas could tell Chao how we can control this curse or spell or whatever it is, we'll be free of it, forever.”
“We have to speak with him,” Malcolm asserted as he stood up again. “Right now.”
Aiden quickly joined him, but Tamara stared up at the two men towering over her and held up her hands.
“Whoa now, boys,” she exclaimed. “Slow down. You can't go barging into Chao's quarters like a couple of bulls in a china shop. You know what he's like, especially since his brother passed away. He's reticent to speak, nervous, easily frightened, and he needs to be treated gently. Diplomacy, gentlemen, is what is needed right now, not unbridled enthusiasm. Do you understand?”
The pair looked down at her for a moment and then Aiden let out a long breath and nodded heavily.
“You're right, of course. If we barrel into Chao's rooms like a pair of over-sized puppies, he may become upset and refuse to speak to either of us.”
Malcolm looked truculent, but under Tamara's even stare he agreed reluctantly.
“Yeah. Yeah, you're both right. Sorry, I was a little excited by the prospect of getting a hand on this curse that we've been under for so long. But Chao is a gentle soul and needs to be treated with care. Aiden, I think that I should leave this in your hands. I'll just muck it up if I'm the one to talk to him about this, at least initially.”
Aiden looked at him in surprise.
“Seriously? You're going to step back and let me handle this?” he asked. “That's so unlike you.”
Tamara grinned at Malcolm's uncomfortable expression.
“Maybe so,” the big man admitted. “I'm all for going into every situation guns blazing, but this calls for finesse and that's never been my strong suit. You, on the other hand, can talk to anyone and p
ut them at their ease. It's a gift that I've never had and that's not likely to change any time soon. So go for it.”
“Wise,” Tamara said. “A very wise decision, Malcolm. I'm sure that, once Aiden breaks the ice and learns the details from Chao, he'll be happy to speak with both of you about it.”
“Let's hope so. Thanks for the tea, Tamara, and the information,” Aiden told her. “We'll let you know what happens with Chao.”
Aiden decided to wait a while before visiting Chao. It would allow the retiring man some time to relax after the long meeting. He knew that the summoner was still recovering from over-exerting himself in the battle with the dragons and that he could probably use some rest.
In the meantime, both Aiden and Malcolm returned to their quarters to discuss what they had learned from Tamara. They were very excited by the prospect of being able to control the condition that had loomed over their lives for so many years, but Malcolm was less able to contain himself than his partner was and began getting impatient soon after they got home.
“Do you know what this means?” he asked Aiden excitedly.
They were standing in their bedroom and Aiden was going through their closet, looking for something to wear when he went to visit Chao. He seemed not to hear Malcolm's question.
The bedroom featured a vaulted stone ceiling and high walls covered with oak paneling. There were several paintings of battle scenes hanging on the walls and two large clothes cabinets, one for each man, as well as the closet. A towering window let in sunlight that brightly illuminated the room. In the center of the bedroom was a king-sized four-poster bed covered with a beautiful quilt that was stitched with many brightly colored leaves. All in all, the room felt very cozy.
“Should I go for a more somber look, maybe?” Aiden asked as he held up a dark gray shirt. “Or maybe a brighter, more cheerful look?”
“Whatever. I doubt that Chao will care.”
“Hmm.”
Malcolm irritably watched Aiden searching through the clothes for another moment and then walked past him to stand at the window and stare outside. Their bedroom overlooked the courtyard and Malcolm could see the main gate from where he was standing.
The Werewolves of Nottinghill Page 3