“How touching,” the red-haired man said. He looked beyond Taliesin and his slanted yellow eyes filled with rage as he shouted at the Wolfmen behind her. “Can’t you pick Ringerike off the floor, you idiots? Cut it out if you must. Don’t stop. You act as if you have never seen a ghost before. There are ghosts at every battlefield we’ve visited. Stay here and get the job done. Don’t stop until you have the sword.”
“It burns to touch it,” a soldier said. “It’s made of silver and gold.”
“Do I care?” The red-haired man lifted his bloody hand and a claw grew out of his index finger. He stepping forward, slid the claw across Taliesin’s chest, and hooked it between her breasts. His wolfish face turned human, for a second, revealing a sharp faced man, and then turned into a beast. “Who am I?” he asked. “Have you guessed?”
“You must be Master Phelon,” Taliesin said.
Phelon nodded. “I know who you are, Raven Mistress,” he said, in a snide voice. “Pity you made such a commotion and alerted us to your whereabouts; Duke de Boron almost got away with his little plan. Almost. Instead of asking a bunch of silly questions, I simply tore off his head and set fire to the docks. The ships are leaving without one Garridan knight having stepped foot on dry land. The captains know I’ll burn their ships if they try to come any closer. When Prince Sertorius and Master Xander arrive, I’ll do the same thing to them I did to Duke de Boron. But I have other plans for you...”
Taliesin was dragged kicking and screaming out of the chamber. Phelon whistled and walked beside her as they crossed the bloody walkway. She glanced at the courtyard below. Garridan knights, soldiers, and servants lay dead on the cobblestones. Blood covered the courtyard and filled the fountain where bodies lay over the sides; everywhere she looked, giant wolves ran about and searched for survivors. Fearing for the lives of her friends more than what was going to happen to her, Taliesin fell silent and allowed the monsters to descend the narrow stairs. They went through a corridor and reached a larger, wider staircase that led into the grand hall. The once-beautiful chamber looked like a slaughterhouse. The noblemen and courtiers she’d seen earlier had been gutted, and Wolfmen sat at the tables and feasted on their flesh. The stained-glass windows had been broken, and the two ash thrones reduced to splinters. Phelon kept walking and whistling, never slowing, and led them through a maze of corridors and descended another flight of stairs into the lower levels of the castle.
“I have a surprise for you,” Phelon said, in a cheery voice. “I think you’re going to like it, Raven girl. I’ve gone to a lot of trouble arranging things for this evening’s entertainment, so I hope you’re in the mood.” He spun and walked three steps backwards, showing off his agility. “You know, boys, I really don’t think she needs to be in that dress. Tear it off so it won’t get wet.” Phelon turned to the sound of ripping material and jumped down to the next level.
Taliesin, her arms and chest scratched from the Wolfmen’s claws, was left wearing only her undergarments; a thin shift and panties. “It doesn’t matter what you do to me,” she said, hearing a quiver in her voice. “Ringerike will never be yours. Fifty men can try to pick it up and will fail. Only someone born with magic can lift the sword,” she said, “and only a sha’tar is able to call forth its full powers. Kill me and Ringerike is useless to you.”
A dead jailor was lying on the ground at the dungeon door with a heavy ring of keys forced down his throat. The heavy iron door lay open. Phelon led the way into a large chamber with an arched ceiling and four corridors that led in each direction. Voices could be heard calling in the dark. Only one corridor, lined with stones covered by a thick, green mold, was lit, and torches cast shadows upon the closed cell doors they walked past. The dank odor of unwashed bodies and filth was ripe in the air. Taliesin was dragged past iron doors coated with green slime, each containing an occupant who cried out and begged for mercy. She heard the sound of the sea as waves crashed hard against a thick sea wall. They were below sea level, and through the brine and grime, she was able to distinguish between the odors of rotting fish and dead Garridan soldiers left twisted and mangled on the floor. The rocks grew slippery under their feet and seawater pooled in crevices; soon they were walking in an inch of dingy, dark water.
Phelon lifted his hand, halting the procession, and came to Taliesin. His wolf head morphed and he appeared human, looking no more than twenty years old with a scruff of red hair along his narrow jaw. “I lay in bed this morning, imaging what to do with you,” he said, his grin cruel. “Winged horses. Nice touch. One of my men saw you arrive before dawn. When we went to the stables, we didn’t find any horses with wings, so we killed the stable boys and had breakfast. But you see, I couldn’t quite understand why the last of the Raven Clan would come to this place. You could have gone anywhere, yet you came to the one place you knew everyone was going to meet. I’m a thinking man. I just bet you thought Prince Sertorius and the Knights of Chaos arrived first.” His eyes lowered to her breasts as he slid his tongue along his lower lip. “What a happy reunion that would have been; two childhood friends together after so many years apart. Only problem is Sertorius didn’t arrive first. That slug of a duke should have sent you away the moment you arrived, but of course, that’s not what happened, is it? I wouldn’t count on Sir Roland Brisbane arriving in time, either.”
“One day I will kill you,” Taliesin said, “for what you did to my clan.”
“That was my father, not me. I also seriously doubt you’ll get a chance to kill me, for my little surprise has everything to do with another kind of happy reunion.” Phelon’s eyes opened wide, and he stepped away and placed his hand over his heart. “What? You look surprised. Don’t you think I know you’re one of us? I ordered Wolfgar to turn you. Normally, it’s my father who does the turning. I do, on rarer occasions, though I would have loved to sink my fangs into your flesh, Raven girl.” He spun around. “We’re almost there. Bring her along, boys.”
Turning another corner, Taliesin saw sunlight high above from a barred window, and beneath it was a slimy staircase that led five steps down and ended on an iron grate that covered a large drain. The grate was covered with seaweed and several starfish clung to the dungeon wall at water level. A swell of water rolled from the drain and poured into the small space, covered the staircase and the grate, and then rushed out. The smell from the drain was foul and Taliesin turned her head. The corridor below was short, with just two cells built along the sea wall; only one door was open. Phelon came to a halt at the open door and scratched behind his ear, like a dog after a flea. “We’re here,” he said. “I can’t wait for you to see who is inside waiting to say hello.”
The two Wolfmen shoved Taliesin inside and she slipped on the wet stones and fell to her hands and knees. Looking up, she found herself in a large prison cell, with a narrow window high above that let in sunlight and a submerged grate below. Chained to the sea wall were Hawk, Wren, Jaelle, and Rook, all shouting her name and talking over one another as Taliesin ran to them. Phelon laughed as she jerked on the manacles that connected Hawk’s wrists and ankles to the wall, but she wasn’t strong enough to break them. Jaelle and Wren had also been stripped of their clothes and were clad in only their undergarments, which were wet and clung to their bodies. Hawk and Rook were both bare-chested. Lash marks covered their chests and arms, and blood dripped from the wounds into the pool of water at their feet.
“The duke’s daughter?” Taliesin asked, glancing at Hawk.
“I don’t know where she is,” Hawk said. “They killed nearly everyone.”
Water surged in and rose to their ankles. A tiny eel washed in. One of the Wolfmen walked over and stomped it flat with the heel of his boot.
“What do you think of your surprise, Taliesin?” Phelon asked.
“I think you’re a monster,” Taliesin said.
Laughing, Phelon approached Wren and slid his hand across her breasts. The girl sobbed and turned her head aside. “Good, solid, Raven stock,” he said.
“The Raven Master certainly knew how to pick his clan members. He liked them young and shapely and without prejudice. We even have a gypsy here. By Ragnal, I’d have liked to have spent an hour alone with her, but the tide is coming in and the rest of us should be getting topside to await our guests of honor.”
“Phelon…. please…. Surely, we can make a deal,” Taliesin said, desperate to prevent what was about to happen. The red-haired man turned with a swift jerk of his shoulders, walked through the water with resolute strides, and caught her jaw as Hawk shouted curses.
“Deals? We’re way beyond making deals, Raven girl,” Phelon replied. “You might have beguiled the duke, but I’m not going to let you bewitch me. I know a little about sha’tars, having been around for the last three hundred years, and I can assure you a witch can’t cast a spell if she doesn’t have a tongue. But wait, even if I rip it out of your head, it will just grow back now, won’t it? At least I hope it will, since that’s the whole point of this reunion.”
The other two Wolfmen laughed and walked to wait at the door, drawing their swords and keeping their eyes on Taliesin. Taliesin heard the door to the adjacent cell open and heard men cry out in panic and fear. More Wolfmen could be heard, laughing outside the cell and slapping about other prisoners.
Hawk pulled at his chains. “I’ll kill you,” he shouted. “Every last one of you!”
“Oh, dear. Someone talked,” Phelon said, releasing Taliesin. He walked to Hawk and punched him in the stomach. “I really don’t enjoy having to explain myself, but I will this one time since we’ve only just met. In three hours, the tide will come in and all of you will drown.” He smiled when Jaelle gasped. “She doesn’t like the idea of drowning. I thought not.”
“Rot,” Taliesin said, under her breath.
Phelon ignored her. “Bring in the two Eagle Clan envoys,” he said, clapping his hands. “I want to try a little experiment.” The guards left and returned with two pale-skinned men in rich robes of gold and silver, herded before them with spears. The two Eagle Clan envoys had been beaten severely; one could barely walk and his friend had to hold him up. “I told you idiots not to rough them up. Poor Ethon can hardly walk, and Orell looks terrified. Put them over there,” he said, pointing at the far wall.
The one called ‘Ethon’ had a triangular beard, tattoos covering his neck as well as the left side of his face, and was taller than his companion. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Rook and whispered to Orell, who was bald, short, had one arm longer than the other, and wore gold earrings from his earlobes. Orell glanced at Rook and his eyes widened in recognition, drawing Phelon’s attention to the young Raven. The Wolf heir whipped out his knife, pointed it at Rook, laughed coldly, and proceeded to clean beneath his fingernails.
“It’s them,” Wren cried out. “The two men I told you about!”
“Shut up,” Hawk said, angrily.
“But it’s them!”
“I told you to shut up, sister.”
Phelon looked up and appeared undecided if he wanted to discipline Hawk or Wren for talking or wanted to find out why the Eagle envoys had a special interest in Rook. Taliesin wondered who Rook had been to solicit so much attention from the envoys. Rook had lived in a palace, and his father had been high-ranking, but he allowed another man to harm Rook when he was a child. But who was his father? She said nothing; it wasn’t the time and place, and felt her heart start racing when Phelon selected Wren to torment. He walked to the chained girl, pressed his face against her breasts, and laughed when she screamed. Rook cursed and fought against the iron manacles.
The two Eagle envoys were thrown against the wall and slid into the water. Both kept their attention on Rook and whispered together, but Phelon was too occupied groping a hysterical Wren to care what they did. At a nod from Phelon, one of the Wolfmen who had brought in the Eagle envoys, drew his sword, walked over, and stabbed the crippled man’s stomach. Ethon slumped against the wall, supported by Orell, who immediately started to beg for mercy.
“Who is the boy?” Phelon said, pulling aside her undergarment to reveal Wren’s breast. “This one is pregnant. Did anyone know? Hasn’t been that long, but a Wolfman can always tell. The girl is pregnant with the mystery boy’s child. Someone answer me, I am growing impatient. You recognized the boy, Orell. Since Ethon is injured and can’t speak, you tell me and I won’t have my men cut open your belly.”
“We have a truce,” Orell said, in a desperate plea. “Lord Arundel and Chief Lykus pledged neither side will harm the other. You broke that truce when you stabbed Ethon. He’s dying, you fool. What does it matter who the boy is? He’s a Raven. He’s no one.”
“Well, if that’s the case, then I have been bad.” Phelon walked to stand next to Taliesin and took her arm, but smiled wide at the Eagle envoy. “Had de Boron accepted my offer and just given me the sha’tar and Ringerike, then none of you would be where you’re at. None of this is my fault. I don’t like hurting people. I really don’t. Had you and your brother stayed on your ship, instead of sneaking ashore with Garridan troops, I wouldn’t have had to hurt anyone. You could have sailed away, Orell, and gone off to rescue your besieged King, but that’s not what you did. No, you came ashore with the intention of killing me. Now, just answer the question. Who is the boy and what does he mean to you, and tell me quick before I take this dagger and pluck out your eye?”
“You’re evil and cruel,” Jaelle said. “My father will hunt you if you kill us.”
Phelon sighed. “I’m surrounded by people who claim to be important when really all of you are expendable, except Taliesin. And of course, maybe the boy. Tell me who his father is, and I may let him go.”
“Don’t,” Rook shouted. “Don’t tell him a thing, Master Orell.”
Phelon waved his dagger in the air. “Somebody better talk.” He squeezed Taliesin’s arm and placed the knife against her throat, drawing blood. The little bit of pain caused her to panic, and she pulled at her arm, trying to break free; knowing it was futile, but desperate to try anything. Phelon held the dagger aside, and with a pull, slammed her against his body, showing just how strong he really was. His grip tightened until she started to whimper. “Well,” he shouted. “Out with it Orell, or I’ll blind this poor Raven girl!”
“Duke Fakar,” Orell said, in a rush. “He’s Anwar, the eldest son of Duke Fakar.” Orell hushed his brother, Ethon, who grumbled in protest, but the truth was out. Orell cringed when Phelon dragged Taliesin over and glared at him. “I’m telling the truth, Master Phelon. There was an incident at the palace; no one is sure what happened, but the boy ran away and was never seen or heard from again. The duke searched for him, so did our clan, but we didn’t know Anwar was still alive until now. Surely, you must realize Duke Fakar will pay any ransom you ask if you return his son to him. Let me broker the deal, and we can put this behind us.”
“You mustn’t bargain with him,” Ethon said, in a raspy voice. “Orell, stop it. You are shaming both of us and our people.”
“Please, Phelon,” Orell shouted. “Release me and the duke’s son, and I’ll make certain you are well paid in gold or jewels or whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?” Phelon asked. He smelled of unwashed dog as he pressed his face against Taliesin’s, and she desperately wanted to bite him. Her temper was boiling—she wanted to sink her teeth into his neck, rip out his jugular, and then kill his men. He sensed her aroused state, chuckled, and licked the side of her face. “Welcome to the dark side, sister.”
Taliesin closed her eyes. “I won’t turn,” she whispered. “I won’t do it.”
Rook shouted. “Release me, Phelon, and I’ll make certain you are paid. I’ll do whatever you ask,” he said, in a panic, “but don’t harm anyone else.”
“But Taliesin is going to turn Wolfen, and that’s the whole point.” Phelon dragged Taliesin to her friends and kicked Rook in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He hung his head, sputtering and gasping, and tried to catch his breath. Whe
n Hawk opened his mouth to speak, Phelon released Taliesin and grabbed a fistful of Hawk’s hair. Taliesin wrapped her arms around Phelon and tried to pull him away as he slammed Hawk’s head against the stone wall. “I really don’t like being interrupted. Nor do I like to be bribed. I don’t care about the duke’s runaway son any more than I care about the Shan’s gypsy daughter. I only care about watching Taliesin turn into a wolf and eat you. That’s what I want! Is that so much to ask?”
“Leave him alone,” Taliesin growled. She felt her fingernails digging into Phelon’s chest, scraping against his armor, and felt a consuming desire to rip him apart. One push from Phelon sent her tumbling to the floor. The Wolf heir lifted his dagger, went to Ethon, and with a vicious blow, slit open his throat. Blood shot across the room and struck Taliesin’s face, getting into her eyes and into her mouth. She spat out the blood and wiped it from her eyes, but the blood was already absorbed on her tongue, and she felt a wildness consume her. With a snarl, she rushed toward Phelon, jumped onto his back, and sank her teeth into his ear. She yanked on the ear and ripped it from his head, and as he screamed, she tried to push him to the ground.
Phelon easily knocked her aside and sprang on top of her, his human head vanishing and turning into a beast’s; it was monstrous to look at, with a long muzzle and large fangs. As Taliesin struck his face and shoulders and pounded him with all her might, he let out a snarl and sank his fangs into her shoulder. A scream burst from her lips. He silenced her by shoving his wolf tongue into her mouth and wiggled it about, until she bit off the tip, and he jerked it out.
Laughing and spitting blood, Phelon motioned his men forward. Taliesin lunged at the closest and scratched his cheek open, but five men managed to drag her to the wall and place manacles around her wrists and ankles. Orell was right beside her, covered in blood and cringing beside his dead brother, too frightened to move. Phelon and his men left the cell once she was shackled, closing and locking the door behind them. Phelon peered through the barred window, his face again human and dribbling blood from the side of his lips. Taliesin screamed and shouted, trying to break free, but it was impossible. She stopped struggling and stared at the door, catching Phelon’s gaze.
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