“Go, Alphena.”
After Silver left, Nero watched Thera take a deep breath before sterilizing her tools in boiling water. She handed him a tonic “for the pain,” tasting of dirt and bitter flowers.
He felt his strength return, and with it, his hate. “What would your son think of you, aiding the enemy?”
“I am a healer, Nero Geddeont. I heal. Everyone deserves medical treatment, even those I do not like. My son understands that. Besides, have you forgotten who convinced Bayne to stay his killing blow? Roxen saved you as much as I do now.”
Nero ground his teeth. He would not owe his life to Roxen, the pup who had stolen his position as Beta male, or to Roxen's batty mother. Although those in the Beta position did not always ascend to Alpha, that had been Nero’s ambition. He should be Alpha and Silver his Alphena. Instead Bayne had beaten him in both respects. When Nero had refused to serve as Beta under Bayne’s rule, Roxen, Bayne’s former apprentice, was quick to replace him.
Nero tensed as Thera cleaned and bandaged his wounds. Part of him knew Silver had been right. He would not survive without medical attention. But her twisted kindness only made him angrier. Nero watched Thera's movements, doing his best to show no sign of discomfort.
She was not fooled. “It is all right to feel pain, Nero. I will not judge you for that.”
He grimaced. “What will you judge me for then?”
Thera paused, wringing out a cloth. “It is not my place to judge.”
“Yet you do.”
“No one is perfect.” Having treated his most significant wounds, she turned to the superficial injuries.
Nero caught her wrist without warning. He felt her quake, scenting her fear as her maple eyes met his. “You're afraid of me.”
Thera's breathing hastened. “Yes. I, more than most, know what you're capable of.”
Nero did not loosen his grip. “What do you mean?”
She did not reply, averting her gaze.
“You're scared of me, yet you agreed to help me. Even stranger, you let Silver leave us alone. Why?”
Thera gulped. “I told you, I'm a healer. I took a vow to help others. Even men like you.”
Nero's lip twitched. “Men like me?”
Thera answered with silence.
Nero leaned forward, locking his hold. “What do you mean, men like me?”
Thera's eyes thinned to slits. “Callous men who take what they want no matter who gets hurt in the process.”
“That sounds like Bayne, or perhaps your son–”
Thera's snarl cut Nero off. “Do not speak of my son again, Nero Geddeont.”
“Golden boy Roxen. Bayne's right hand. You know he's too soft to be a real leader. You think he showed mercy interceding for me, but it was only weakness.” Rage rose inside him, boiling over. His whole life, Nero had been pushed aside for someone else. Bayne had stolen Silver from him. Roxen had taken his position as Beta male. Yet, despite their greed, the pack loved their leaders. No one cared that Nero was left out. Bayne had made him a lone wolf that day, but the truth was Nero had not been part of the pack or Fenear for a long time.
“Nero, I think you'd better leave.” Thera's voice was tight.
He looked down. His claws had extended, biting into Thera's skin. Her wrist bled more than he would have thought. But then, she was old. How Roxen would wail when he saw dear Mada's injuries.
“Nero, please.” Tears welled in Thera's eyes. She was so afraid. Maybe she had a point. After all, her den was far from the site center. She might try to scream or howl, but he could stop her. Roxen and Bayne had taken everything from him. His love, his position, his pack. Maybe he should take something from them.
Nero released his hold, rising to his feet. “I’m feeling better, Thera. You truly are a master healer.”
She inclined her head, but never took her gaze from him.
“Thank you for your aid.”
“Don't thank me. Just go.” Thera dabbed the blood from her arm.
“I can't. See, I think you're right. No one is perfect. But your son, Silver, and Alpha Bayne haven't learned that yet. They think their actions are always right, and don't understand that their self-serving, noble deeds have consequences.” He advanced, pushing her farther into the den.
Thera did not scream as he had expected. She tried another tactic instead. “Nero, do not do this. I know what you did all those winters ago. Do this now and there will be no help for your soul.”
“You think that deep down I feel guilty about that?” He laughed as his claws and teeth extended into deadly points. “You said it yourself Thera, I'm a callous man who does not care who he hurts to get what he wants.”
Chapter Twenty
Rayna's eyes opened on a familiar face. Kellan hovered over her, his forehead creased. She focused on his concerned gray eyes as her vision adjusted to the bright light.
“She's awake, Violette.”
“She might heal better if you let me do my work.” An old woman shuffled into view, dark eyes burning into Kellan's head. He did not seem to notice.
“There won’t be any permanent damage from that thing?”
“I have successfully removed Monils worn for years, Kellan. She will be fine. Now, hold still, dear.” Violette pushed Kellan aside, producing a gleaming, silver blade.
“What are you doing?” Rayna sat up, leaning away from the knife.
“I said, hold still, child.” Violette’s firm grip pushed Rayna back onto the cot, and she brought the knife to her throat. A scraping noise sounded, and Rayna understood. Violette was removing the Monil. Rayna could not see, but it felt like she carved into the metal band itself instead of sawing through it, the knife point etching the Monil's surface.
“There,” said Violette.
The wolf was back. Rayna heard three heartbeats, smelled the herbs plastered over her wound. Outside the tent, it snowed. Dozens of dogs and people, Mina among them, slept in tents of their own. The black Monil fell to the ground with a thunk, broken in two. A symbol Rayna had never seen glowed white on either side of the fissure that had cracked the horrible device.
“Thank you.” Rayna grasped her throat in relief. “How did you do that?”
“Monils are word magic.” Violette gathered her medicines and tools. “They can be taken off one of two ways: by the same person who put it on, or by the right Heitich word, which unlocks it.”
“How did you know the right word?”
Violette sighed. “You’re a curious one, aren’t you? Monils were made long ago, in sets. We discovered the password for Garrison’s stock years ago when we helped another prisoner.”
“Another Fenearen?”
She shook her head. “No, he was something else.”
“Does your neck hurt? Your stomach?” Kellan asked, kneeling beside her cot and pulling the blanket around her shoulders.
“I feel fine,” she said.
“Make yourself useful and go fetch some water, Kellan.” The healer shooed him away. Apparently glad to be active, Kellan hurried out of the tent.
“Finally got rid of him.” Violette packed the rest of her herbs in vials.
“Thank you for helping me.”
“You're Fenearen. Of course I helped you. You'll need to stay human for the next few days, but after that you'll be good as new. You're fortunate. Much deeper and that cut could have kept you off your feet for weeks.”
It was not fortune that kept her wound superficial, rather Garrison's cruel, but careful, hand. Rayna did not correct Violette. She never wanted to mention the sadistic captain again. Kellan reentered with a large waterskin.
Violette reached for it, but Kellan strode past her. “Here.” He lifted Rayna's head.
“I give up!” Violette growled as she strode from the small tent.
“Thought she'd never leave. ” Kellan smirked, sitting beside her.
“What does that mean?” Rayna straightened on her cot. She felt almost no pain, though she suspected the herbs mask
ed her injury.
He shrugged. “Just that I'm glad you're all right. Why, what did you want it to mean?”
Rayna rolled her eyes. “Are you always this irritating?”
“When I'm not saving your life, yes.”
“Thank you for your help. But I still don't understand how you found us, or why you bothered.”
“I don't know how you talk in Fenear, but here, we still think of you as brothers, or sisters,” he winked, “in arms.”
“You knew what I was the moment we met in Kanton. You tried to get close to me. To protect me?”
“No, not at all.”
“Then why were you so—”
“Friendly?” he suggested.
“I was going to say ridiculous.”
He grinned. “I figured it out later, once I started thinking about why you looked so different. Your eyes give you away.”
“What do you mean?”
“You have the eyes of a wolf. Lonian was being nice earlier when he said Laera growled because of the Monil. She saw the eyes, too, and dogs are not comfortable around wolves.”
“You seem at ease.”
He laughed throatily. “You've got me there.”
“I still don’t understand. You figured out I was Fenearen, realized I was in trouble, and…”
“I was passing south through Kanton, tracking Garrison's movements. We like to know where the snake hides. His preferred pastime is destroying my people, or what's left of us anyway. When I left the inn after I met you, I nearly ran into him heading for Kanton. It's not his usual haunt, so I followed him to see what he was up to. Had I known he was after you, I would’ve warned you, but I didn't know until after you were captured. I rode north for help and went after you.”
Rayna didn't know what to say. Complete strangers had risked their lives for her because she was Fenearen? Kellan seemed to sense her confusion.
“I don't know how much you southerners consider the old alliance between our tribes, but up here, we help Fenearens.”
“Thank you. I'll remember that.”
He inclined his head. “All right, my turn to ask a question. What are you doing up here, Red?”
“Long story.”
“Give me the short version.”
“In short, Fenear is in trouble.”
“War with Maenor, right? That's been ongoing for six hundred years, hasn't it?”
“Yes, but Alvorn is not with us anymore. I left on the brink of an invasion.”
“The water people abandoned you, huh? What about Soulous?”
“They're a peaceful people; their military is nothing to Maenor's. They would not risk their alliance with Alvorn.”
“Cowards.”
Rayna shook her head. “It’s not their fault. Rhael tricked us. Me, most of all. Bayne tried to talk me out of it, but–”
“Bayne Aruthult, he's the Alpha right?”
“Aye, and my uncle.”
If Kellan were surprised, he did not show it. Instead he smiled crookedly.
“What is it?” Rayna asked, annoyed at his expression.
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen winters.” Rayna frowned. “Why?”
“I’m twenty one,” Kellan said.
“How nice for you.”
“Worst years of my life.”
“Why?” Rayna asked, confused.
“Because I hadn't met you.”
His attempt at flirtation did not affect Rayna, other than to irritate her. “That is the most ridiculous–”
He pressed his finger to her lips.“Shh.”
“Kellan,” Rayna growled, jerking away from him.
“Oh, come on. That line has worked before.”
“No. It hasn't. You can't remain civilized for longer than a moment, can you?”
He smirked as he leaned forward, cupping the back of her head. “Sure I can, if civility is what you want. Say the word and I'm gone.”
She inhaled, shocked at his forwardness. Alcohol tinged his breath. She flinched and he abruptly pulled away.
His brow furrowed. “Sorry. I think I misread–”
“KELLAN DANE KEMAR!” Lonian rushed into the tent and yanked Kellan off the cot.
“Lonian! I wasn’t–”
“I don't want to hear it. I told Violette not to leave you in here without supervision.”
Kellan dusted the dirt from his clothes, glaring at Lonian. “I hope my uncle didn't startle you, Red.”
Rayna's face heated with combined embarrassment and vexation. “The only thing that startles me is your immaturity.”
“Aye, keiri.” Lonian placed a hand on her shoulder. “He has no concept of how to treat a lady.”
“I'm not a lady. I'm Fenearen. So,” she glanced at Kellan, “either keep your hands to yourself, or lose them.” Satisfaction calmed Rayna's outrage as Kellan's face paled and Lonian chortled.
Kellan cleared his throat. “Is there something you needed to tell us, Uncle?”
“We're breaking camp. We must move on. Rayna, your friend is already helping with one of the sleds since you two were heading northeast anyway. I would be happy to take you with us, though Violette insists you must ride easy for the next few days. ” He helped her from the cot and led her from the tent with Kellan following.
It was morning and much colder than the day before as they left the warmth of the medical tent. Four of the dozens of Sylrians took down the tent after their exit. Out in the open, Rayna felt the full return of her wolf senses. Dog scent was everywhere, as well as the snow that fell all around. Lonian’s scent hung heavy, clearly a leader’s with its ash base and pine fragrance.
As her eyes adjusted to the icy brilliance, she took in a marvelous sight. Stretching before them, rows of sleds connected to lines of thick-furred, sinewy dogs. As Rayna’s scent hit their responsive noses, the dogs erupted into barks and howls of fury.
“Rude,” Lonian grumbled before yelping a powerful warning. The dogs fell silent, and one trotted to his side. Rayna recognized Laera by her distinctive coat and eyes. The dog's expression was friendlier now. Her two-colored eyes were soft, and her mouth hung open, calm, as she dipped her head to Rayna.
Mina waved from beside one of the closer sleds. Rayna ignored the pain as she hurried toward her friend. Rayna could not contain her joy. Mina sported a fur coat, friendly faces surrounded them, and for the first time since her journey had begun, Rayna relaxed. With the Sylrians' help, she would find Channon much more quickly.
“This should speed us up!” Mina patted the antler frame of the sled.
“Mina, are you all right? You weren’t hurt earlier?”
“I’m fine Rayna, honestly.”
“We were fortunate.”
“You sure were!” Lonian attached Laera to the sled's lead harness. “Some warmer apparel for you.” He wrapped a mink coat around her as she settled beside Mina in the sled. She ached to transform and run with the dogs, but Violette's stern warning to let her wound heal had to be heeded.
Lonian seemed to sense her disappointment. “Soon, keiri.” He followed her gaze over the dogs. “I'm eager to see your transformation myself, but your health comes first.” He stepped behind the sled's handles. “When the time comes and you need to communicate with me while formed, talk to Laera. She's my Crimund.”
Rayna recognized the word from Thera’s tales of Sylrians. The goal of many Sylrians was to find their Crimund, a dog who shared a part of their soul. Rayna understood what Lonian meant. Laera and Lonian could communicate through their thoughts. The way Lonian and Laera looked at each other made sense now. Their bond was greater than she could comprehend.
Kellan called from a sled toward the back, “Everyone get on! We're all packed up!”
Lonian rubbed his hands together before gripping the sled's handles. “Gerach!” At the shout, the same ancient Fenearen word for go, the sleds lurched forward, the dogs yelping and nipping at one another. As the convoy gathered speed, though, the fluid, instinctive na
ture of the dogs took over. Their legs glided across the snow and Rayna could no longer imagine the animals motionless. This was clearly what they lived for. Every part of their beings suited the task, from their curled tails, to their long legs, to their deep chests. Rayna and Mina called out in joy as the tundra sped past them, bringing the northern horizon ever closer.
As days passed into weeks, Rayna knew that if it were not for Channon and Fenear, she would have been happy to journey with the Sylrians and sleep with the comfort of friends and firelight forever. She would not have thought it possible to feel at home anywhere besides Fenear, but the camaraderie of the Sylrians, the barks and growls of the dogs, was so familiar. The Sylrians were a sister tribe to the ancestral Fenearens who had once roamed the northern reaches of Osterna. They could not form like Fenearens, but they had a special relationship with their dogs, who were close descendants of True Wolves.
Even Kellan, whom Rayna had written off as a shameless rake, had begun to grow on her. Despite the raffish exterior he presented at every opportunity, she saw his other side when he offered the younger Sylrians most of his dinner or taught her and Mina how to drive their own sled. A friendship grew between all three of them, and though Kellan regularly tested his boundaries with Rayna, he never crossed them.
Rayna had spent most of the journey riding as a passenger to allow her wound to heal, but Violette’s treatments had worked wonders, and Rayna was eager to stretch her legs once again. Taking wolf form, she leaped from the sled, running parallel to the team of dogs.
You are not like wolves I have met, Laera said as Rayna came to run beside her.
I am a Fenearen, not a True Wolf.
Yes. She scrunched her brow. But you are a wolf. A southern wolf.
I suppose so.
I have only met Ice Wolves.
Rayna understood Laera's confusion. In Fenear, Ice Wolves, the wild wolves who inhabited Osterna's northern reaches and the island of Ulfsmark, had a bad reputation.
Laera shuddered in her harness. They're brutal.
Hex Breaker (The Fenearen Chronicles Book 1) Page 23