No, it can’t be Arfael; he’s not even human.
They picked up their belongings and marched as quickly as the light would allow. Bre’ach, Arfael, a dragon: Gialyn didn’t think Brea would be in danger, but getting out of these tunnels was a good plan. He marched up front next to Lud and Fran, who both gave him looks of conciliation. Yes, they had heard everything.
The tunnel stretched on – up, down and around; sometimes wide, sometimes not. Gialyn was sick of the sight of it. He yearned for open spaces and a glimpse of the sun. He flinched at every sound, expecting more Kel’madden to jump out from the shadows. None did, thank the gods, but there were plenty of other dangers: crevasses, loose rock, ankle-breaking cracks in the often-slippery ground. There wasn’t enough light for them to walk as fast as they wanted. Gialyn wanted to run. The others were no happier. Although he didn’t think Olam’s mood had anything to do with the tunnels. How can he not want to live a thousand years?
Elspeth lit a new candle as they turned down the narrow tunnel that marked the last section before the cavern – the cavern where a dragon, amongst other things, was waiting for their return. In all the fuss, he had hardly given it a second thought. A dragon! He had to laugh. He could see their faces back home: nobody was going to believe him. Witches, talking wolves, ghostly creatures and thousand-year-old men: dragons weren’t the only thing they would not believe.
Lud led the way down the narrow section of tunnel, followed by Alacin, then Elspeth. Gialyn was second to last, just in front of Fran. He could barely see the light from Elspeth’s candle. He was about to say they should have split the lamps up better when he heard shouts coming from up ahead.
“Is that Brea shouting?” he asked Olam. The older man was two people in front.
“Yes, I think so,” Olam said, speaking over his shoulder
“It must be a patrol. Can we go any faster?” Gialyn pushed up into Olg’s back, who in turn squeezed up against Olam. “What’s going on? Why have we stopped?”
“I don’t know, boy,” Olg said. He sounded annoyed. “What’s the holdup? Can’t you hear that? Get a move on.”
“It’s Lud,” Elspeth’s voice carried from near the front. “He says he’s not moving.”
“How are we supposed to—? Tell the fool to move.”
“What do you think we’ve been doing?” Elspeth replied.
Olg growled as he tried to look over Olam’s shoulder. He couldn’t; Olam was much taller. “Tell him to sit down then, so we can climb over him,” He shouted. And then whispered, “Bloody coward.”
* * *
Brea screamed at Arfael.
Only it wasn’t Arfael anymore; it was the Cinnè’arth, the beast. Holding her injured arm, she limped towards the centre of the cavern. But she knew there was nothing she could do; nothing but watch the two of them try to kill each other. Why didn’t I bring more of the tonic?
Rek let out a blood-curdling roar. Even the feral beast that was once Arfael took note. The dragon flicked his tail, and a rock twice the size of a man’s head hurtled towards the beast. It exploded into a cloud of dust as it smashed into the cavern wall behind where the Cinnè’arth was standing.
The beast waved its hand in front of its face as the dust cloud enveloped it. For a moment, it seemed scared. Diving to the side, the beast hid behind a rock spur, but still peered out at Rek.
Brea gathered herself; she had to help, somehow.
The dead lay everywhere, a dozen Kel’madden bodies strewn all about the cavern. One was hanging from a ledge, halfway up the wall, where the beast had thrown her. Brea hadn’t seen the Kel’madden patrol entering the cavern from the highest tunnel. Before she knew what had happened, the Troopers had thrown a net over Rek and had attacked Arfael and Bre’ach. Then, of course, Arfael had changed into the Cinnè’arth, and things had gone from bad to worse.
She pulled away her ripped sleeve and tested her injured arm. It was already healing. Why did she have to try calming him after he had killed the Kel’madden? She might have known what would happen. Rek had gone mad when the beast attacked her, and now she didn’t know what to do. Bre’ach was unconscious, her blood was useless – there would be no getting close to Arfael, not in his current state. Now it seemed that either the beast or her beloved Rek would die.
“Please calm down, Mr. Arfael,” she pleaded. The tears stung her eyes. Gods, please make him listen.
The beast curled its lip at her and sank deeper into cover.
Rek was having none of it. Prowling like a wolf, he circled the cavern floor for a better view of his prey and let out a thundering burst of fire from his gaping mouth. The beast jumped over the spur and ducked behind a large rock. Crouching in a ball, it pulled its head into its chest, seemingly waiting for the flames to stop. Rek lunged forward, and with a single swipe, sent the large rock toppling along the ground. The beast looked up into the Rek’s hateful eyes. Brea had never seen Rek show such loathing; he did not look like her beloved dragon.
The beast swiped Rek under the chin, just missing his neck. It coiled up its back legs and leapt to a small ledge, ten feet up the cave wall. A brief pause to get his bearings, and it was off again, leaping onto Rek’s back. Instantly Rek ran full speed at the far wall, leapt in the air – as best a twenty-foot dragon could leap – and, putting the beast between himself and the wall, pushed hard against the stone. The beast cried out, but Rek didn’t stop. The dragon groaned with determination, forcing the beast along the wall, scraping it along.
“Don't kill him! Don't kill him, Rek.” Brea found herself on her feet and rushing to the beast’s aide. As it was, she wasn’t sure if being close to Rek would be any safer for her; Rek looked… different, nasty.
She needn’t have worried, though. Rek backed off. Panting, with a scar in the shape of four talons on his flank – she would have to heal that later – Rek sat, eyes glued on the beast, but otherwise, calm. “Oh, my poor boy,” Brea said, stroking Rek’s neck. The scar was bleeding, but not badly. Burn marks cauterised three of the gashes, she noticed. How did it do that? “We’ll get you fixed up, my brave boy, just as soon as we get home.”
She wanted to say, “Why didn’t you stay there? Why did you follow me?” but under the circumstances, she couldn’t bring herself to utter the words. “I hope your father isn’t on his way, my little boy, I don’t think he would stand seeing you like this. He’ll probably blame me; you know what he’s like.” Rek rubbed his cheek against her thigh and made his I’m-sorry-it-wasn’t-my-fault whimper. Laughing, Brea rubbed behind his ear. “It’s too late to go playing the cute little dragon.”
From behind, Brea heard Bre’ach mumbling. “You’re awake, good. I thought we’d have to carry you.”
“Run!” Bre’ach yelled.
Brea turned on her heels and had just enough time to duck. The beast swiped its open claw where her head would have been. She felt Rek push her out of the way, and when she turned, the beast had Rek’s head pinned against the wall, its hands covering his nose and mouth, its leg pushing against the back wall, pinning Rek down.
Rek struggled, frantically trying to push himself away, but the beast held him firm against the wall. Brea could hear her little boy moaning, unable to breath. “No!” she screamed, “No, let him go.”
She felt a hand grab tightly around her wrist. “No, Brea; he will kill you. Stay here.”
“Let me go, Bre’ach. Let me go!”
* * *
For the moment, all was quiet. Gialyn thought the worst; so long as he could hear fighting, they were still alive. The fool Lud was still blocking the way, but Olam had seen a wide spot twenty paces ahead, and they were all heading towards it, albeit slowly. Lud would have something to answer for if they arrived too late to help.
The gap was wide enough for all to stand in a circle. Alacin took out his knives and asked Lud for his long blade.
“And just what am I supposed to do?” Lud asked him.
“You can hide in here for all I care. Can I
have your blade, please?” Alacin held out his hand, but Lud didn’t move.
“It’s gone quiet now, it’s probably finished, whatever it was.” Lud folded his arms and raised his chin. “I’ll follow you, boy, but don’t think I’m going to run head first into a fight with a dragon and that… that… whatever he is.”
“He… is Arfael, and he is our friend,” Elspeth told him. She didn’t sound pleased.
Olam sighed. Turning on his heel, he started along the narrow passage.
“Olam? Olam!” Alacin called.
“I will not stand here talking while my friends may be in trouble. Follow or stay, it is up to you.”
No sooner had he finished, than the shouting and growling started up again. It was Brea’s voice. At least she was not dead, yet, but she sounded terrified. Without thinking, Gialyn followed Olam into the passage.
“Gialyn, wait,” Elspeth called after him.
Gialyn turned his head. Elspeth fell in directly behind, and behind her were Alacin and the others. Lud was last.
Olam didn’t waste any time, and in less than two minutes they were hauling themselves through the final tight squeeze and onto the ledge fifteen feet above the cavern.
Olam was standing with his hands on his head when Gialyn joined him on the shelf overlooking the cavern. Olam was staring down into the cave. The small gap in the ceiling let in enough of the dawn light for Gialyn to see the beast. At least he assumed that thing pinning the dragon against the wall was Arfael. It looked like him, sort of.
Alacin and the others were crowding in behind when Gialyn noticed Brea. She looked up with pleading eyes. “Smash the Shard! I know you’ve got it, I can feel it. He is killing Rek. Smash the Shard, please.”
“Smash it, Alacin,” Gialyn told him.
“I… I can’t. You heard what Tor said; Arfael has to be the one to destroy it, or the dragons will keep following the witch.”
“For a while. It will wear off eventually. Smash the Shard, Alacin. What will Tor do if Arfael kills Rek?”
“He will understand.”
“No, he won’t.” Gialyn reached for his dagger. “For the last time, Alacin, smash the Shard.”
“No, Gialyn, I can’t. Sorry.”
Elspeth delved into Alacin’s pack and pulled out the Shard. Alacin struggled to get it back, but Olam, of all people, restrained him.
“No, you must think of the battle, Elspeth,” Alacin pleaded.
“I am,” Elspeth replied. She looked at Olam. “Can I just smash it? Does it need… uh… magic?”
Olam shrugged. “It is made of stone; it should just break, if you hit it hard enough.”
Elspeth pulled back her arm and threw the Shard at the cavern wall.
* * *
Gialyn opened his eyes. He was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Absently, he patted down his body; it felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach. And that light! Pulses of colour seemed to have exploded one after another, they had been blindingly bright, even though his tightly closed eyes. His ears still rung from the high-pitched scream – he couldn’t think of another way of describing it: the Shard had screamed when Elspeth smashed it. Just before he blacked out, Gialyn was sure he had seen something flying out of the brightly coloured cloud that had filled half of the cavern. He couldn’t be certain, but it looked like a dragon.
Groaning, he sat up. Olam was already on his feet, if shaky. And Elspeth was climbing down the back wall, one handhold at a time. The others were stirring, too.
Opening his mouth, Gialyn rotated his jaw; his ears were still ringing. Slowly, he rolled onto his front and picked himself up. It felt like a bull had trampled him. Looking down into the cavern, he saw the bodies of a dozen Kel’madden. So that’s why Arfael changed into the beast.
Olam was already climbing down. He followed, slowly.
Once on the ground, he helped Elspeth with the last few feet, while Olam gave Brea a hand up. Her dragon was already by her side, looking worse for wear. The poor thing had blood all over its face and neck.
Brea stood and hugged the dragon. “We’ll fix you up, boy, don’t you worry about that; you’ll be as good as new, I promise.”
“What happened here?” Olam asked her.
“Isn’t it obvious?” she said, her face full of scorn –well, it was a stupid question. “I didn’t give the… I didn’t have any more of Arfael’s tonic. And when the Kel’madden found us…”
“As well you didn’t have any. They might have killed you all,” Olg said. He had just made it down and was surveying the area. “We came across a patrol a while ago. They didn’t stop to ask questions. That… whatever it was… probably saved your life.”
Brea just nodded. Gialyn was surprised she wasn’t angry with Arfael.
Speaking of Arfael, where was he?
As if hearing his thoughts, Elspeth asked, “Where is he? Is he dead now? Is that it? The Shard is destroyed and now he is gone?” Tears filled her eyes and she could hardly breathe.
Gialyn looked around the cavern. There was no sign of Arfael anywhere. Where could he have gone? Olam was shaking his head and mumbling something about how it was “not supposed to happen this way.” Then, Gialyn heard a low moan from the far corner of the cavern.
Before he could move to investigate, a man stood up. He had his back to them and was completely naked; he had no shirt, and his breeches had fallen around his ankles. The man pulled them up and turned, still holding onto the oversized garment.
He was, by far, the most striking man Gialyn had ever seen: tall – about a hand taller than he was – with long dark hair down to his shoulders. His body was the image of everything Gialyn had hoped he would become – when he grew out of his “dangly youth,” as his mother called it. Rippling muscles covered the man’s upper body, with barely an ounce of fat. He was, in short, perfect. Gialyn had heard about men who liked other men and, though he had never thought much about it, looking at this man, he could almost understand why.
The image cracked, however, when the man smiled. Four of his teeth were missing.
“Arfael?” Elspeth whispered. She reached out to him, walking in his direction. “Is that you, Arfael?”
“Yes, it is I, my little one. I am glad you are safe.”
Even his voice was beautiful.
A smile the size of the moon creased Elspeth’s face. Putting her hands to her mouth, she began to cry again. “What happened to you?”
“It’s gone, Elspeth. The curse has gone.”
CHAPTER 31
Mott’s Lot: Part Five
“If that foolish mate of yours doesn’t come back soon, Nacole, there will be trouble. Wolves are starving,” Ker said – which was word for word what Surash had told her not twenty minutes earlier.
“He said six days, maybe a week; it’s not even been five yet,” Nacole told Ker, and then whispered to Dras, “I’m sure these two are still scheming.”
Dras laughed. “They’re Wildlings; I would be more surprised if they’re not. It’s our way, you should know that.”
Nacole just nodded; she knew all too well what Wildings were like. They may pretend not to be political, but they could scheme as well as any Rukin when they wanted to, which was more often than not. But that didn’t mean Ker was wrong. Looking down at her pups, she sighed. Yes, they needed food, and quickly.
“We are two miles from the humans’ road,” Ker said. “It’s a miracle we haven’t been spotted. This was a bad idea. We should have stayed in the valley, or at least moved closer to Illeas.
The Wildlings’ way or not, Nacole wished he would pack it in for a few minutes. What did he want her to say? They were all assuming Mott was her mate, which was ridiculous – she knew little more about the Rukin than they did – but still, all eyes looked to her for answers. Yes, they asked because they were hungry, and worried. But why her? Hurry up, Mott.
“We are thousands, Ker,” Dras said, “if a few dozen humans do see us, then what of it? Besides, we must deal with
them sooner or later.”
“Later, I hope,” Ker mumbled. For a moment, the black wolf seemed to settle down, but then, “So that’s it? We are to sit here and wait?” he asked.
“There’s shade and there’s water,” Dras told him. “Do you know this land so well that you can guarantee finding more?”
Ker growled, again. “Their land, our land – what does it matter if we all starve? We have hunted every rabbit, deer and squirrel for leagues in all directions. If he doesn’t come soon, we’ll have to leave.”
Nacole sighed, not because of Ker’s repeated complaints, but because he was right. Her stomach ached for food. If Mott didn’t come back soon, wolves would begin leaving on their own. Some were openly talking about heading south.
She had to change the subject. “You complain about his ways, and yet here you are, talking. It seems you suit yourself, when needs be.”
“Alphas have always talked out loud,” Ker snapped. “You never know who could be listening.”
“Ha, and you call the Rukin a pack of conniving, human-lovers.”
“Enough, you two,” Dras told them. “Argue later, when lives don’t depend on your judgement.”
“My judgement?” Nacole said. What does he mean ‘my judgement’? I’m just waiting for food, same as everyone else.
Dras turned to her. “Yes, Nacole; like it or not, wolves are looking up to you. You have a duty to behave responsibly.”
Ker smiled – and not because he was happy, Nacole thought. “You can be responsible for the food. A role befitting our new… What are you now? Prime? Matriarch? Never mind. Distributing the food can be your job.”
“Oh, it can, can it? And who put you in—” Nacole cut herself off. Of course, Mott put you in charge, didn’t he. Foolish male. “I think the Rukin will be dealing with that, if they ever get here.”
Ker laughed. “So, you admit it. He’s taking a long time.”
“I didn’t say that.”
A Voice in her head shouted, Wolves, many wolves. Goats and cows. West, west.
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