The remains of her army were witness to her submission. I bade her to recline on the dirt turned to mud by the blood of her army, and put my blood-coated right foot on her throat.
"I, Princess Perla, submit to Princess Luna and acknowledge her as my alpha and protector."
As I hugged her, I whispered, "What was that addition at the end, 'alpha and protector?'"
"You'll see, dear. Welcome to the family."
Epilogue
The next few hours were much too busy to wonder at Perla’s remarks. Her remaining retinue gathered up the wounded and the remains of the dead and carted them off. Perla made a gesture and her silk finery was suddenly restored, no trace of blood or gore besmirched her royal form.
My pack, still in wolf form but now fully recovered, had gathered close. The touch of their rough fur felt better than mink, and my presence was a comfort to them. The stinging air of this werewolf-hating world made the pack irritable.
The fairies refused to touch the bodies that still had my iron arrows in them.
“Princess Luna,” asked Perla, “could you please remove this toxic material from the field of battle?
“Of course, Perla,” I responded. That comment, using Perla’s name with no honorific, caused many pointy ears to perk up. But no lightning came from the clear sky to fry the upstart werewolf bitch.
I directed my pack to retrieve the shafts. As they shot away at werewolf speed, heading unerringly to the spots where the arrows had landed, I realized I was showing off a bit too much.
“How swiftly they move. And they follow your thoughts?” asked Perla. “How convenient. How far away can you communicate with your pack?”
Mason had stepped up close to me, now that I wasn’t surrounded by wolves. He handed me fresh clothing and responded. “She called her nearest packmates from another world, mother. I would say her range is unlimited.”
As I dressed, another retinue of soldiers arrived. These were dressed in Ruby red and Alexandrite indigo.
Perla had a calculating look in her eyes. “Reinforcements have arrived.”
“Too little, too late, mother,” said Mason as my pack returned and dropped the deadly shafts at my feet. They then took position around Mason and I, facing outward. Teeth, snarls, and bad attitudes. I love my pack.
I was busy wiping down the steel arrows with a discarded white silk favor from one of Perla’s dead soldiers. I checked the last arrow for straightness, then nocked it in my bow.
I smiled and tested the draw of my iron bow. Suddenly, there were no soldiers near Perla.
“Reinforcements?” I asked.
Mason crossed his arms and stared at his mother. Naomi reached out with two hands and plucked a knife and a whetstone from thin air. She smiled as she stroked the blade against the stone.
“To aid in retrieving the wounded and to bury the dead,” said Perla. “Nothing more.”
I released the tension on my bowstring and brought the bow to rest position. “That’s nice. Now I won’t have to call up my reinforcements.”
“You have more of these mon—” At my glare, she halted. “You have more of these doughty fighters?”
“Oh, yes, mother,” said Mason. “Luna has a large family. You could call them an army.”
“But I didn’t call them here, this time,” I said. “To be honest, they’re harder to control than my pack. If they cut loose here, I don’t know if I could ever get them to stop killing.”
“It’s a good thing that I arranged this truce,” said Perla with no trace of irony.
“It’s a good thing I agreed to this truce you requested,” I responded. “Speaking of which, I think you should cancel that contract with the Assassins’ Guild.”
“It wasn’t I who set the contract with the Guild, nor can I cancel it,” said Perla. “In fact, I have had to counter several attempts on my life.”
“Then who the hell is responsible?” My hands itched to draw the bow. “Is that why you asked for my protection?”
Perla nodded and smiled, like a poker player laying down a Royal Flush. “The contract originated with the Winter Queen.”
“Who the hell is that?”
“The Queen of Air and Darkness,” said Naomi. Was that a quaver of fear in her voice?
“Grandmother?” asked Mason.
Lycan Legacy - Progeny
LYCAN LEGACY - PROGENY
Veronica Singer
To those who walk on two feet, but hunt on four.
Text copyright © 2020 Veronica Singer
All Rights Reserved
Fantastic Cover Design by:
[email protected]
Created with Vellum
1
I stepped through the portal into the dark forest. My heavily-callused feet moved silently on the grass. Instinct made avoiding leaves and sticks automatic.
Although the forest was sweltering, leaving Earth behind gave me a chill. This moonless world was deeply disturbing to a werewolf; it set my teeth on edge.
Here below the canopy, the starlight could not reach us. The only light source was the intermittent flashing of some firefly-like insects and the subdued glow of phosphorescent moss on the tree trunks. Not enough to use for normal sight. Instead, I depended on werewolf senses: enhanced night vision bordering on infrared, ears that could isolate the footfall of the quietest predator, and a nose that would put a bloodhound to shame. I hoped it would be enough for this mission.
One twin kicked, causing a gurgle in my stomach. I projected calming thoughts and rubbed the tender spot on my belly to quiet him down. Mason noticed the gesture and raised an eyebrow in query. He had some kind of light-amplifying spell to allow him to see in this gloom. I wished I could do the same, but controlling light was still a long way from my level of magic.
"I know what you're thinking," I whispered. "That a pregnant werewolf shouldn’t be going on a mission like this."
He nodded and murmured, "I can still take care of this for you. For us." His face hardened and his voice became resolute. "Drop a mountain on them and this will all be over."
I shuddered at the image and shook my head. "No, there are too many innocent people in the way. Even if they are all fairies. I need to do this my way."
We had already been over this argument many times. Mason couldn't match my stealth, senses, and strength; this had to be a covert mission. For the same reasons, I couldn't bring my pack. One slip of my control and they would turn into ravening monsters. And I refused to ask our kitsune colleague for help; her queen might forbid this act of war, or word might leak out.
This needed to be a bullseye mission—only one victim. Victim? Well, he was responsible for sending a never-ending stream of assassins to kill me and my unborn children. Couldn't really call him a victim; he was more of a target. Victims would be anyone who got in my way.
"Could you squeeze the portal down to a pinpoint, please?" I asked. "The scent from our world is different enough to alert predators." Mason had created the portal in an underground tunnel. No light from our world would come through, but smells could cross over. A perfect location for a portal, lightless and congruent to this section of Fae. One reason we had bought an abandoned mine in Nevada.
Mason gestured, more elaborately than usual because of not being able to speak a spell, and the portal squeezed down. I breathed easier as the scent of Earth wafted away. There were monsters in this jungle that would love a chance to rampage through Las Vegas.
Mason bent over and placed a wooden box on the ground. It was over a yard long and about half a yard wide. He popped it open and picked up my bow. He stood with a tiny grunt; the bow was solid iron and weighed nearly fifty pounds.
I took the bow and strung it, using the same steel cable used for winches. A thinner cable was braided down the length of the larger cable, looping out at mid-point to create a nock for my arrows.
Specially created arrows, with steel shafts and razor-sharp tips. Iron and steel were anathema to almost all the creat
ures of Fae. Bringing these here were in violation of fae accords.
Engraved on each fluke of the arrowhead were tiny mystical symbols. Mason had spent days making these weapons. He called them a backup plan.
At Mason's nod, I nocked the first arrow and aimed at the stars. Mason corrected my aim by a few inches, stepped back, and wriggled his fingers in a headache-inducing gesture.
He halted, then pointed at me to do my part. I gathered magic and magnetism and focused them both on the steel missile. There are thirteen words for vengeance in the Fae language—each word a prayer, each word a curse. As the bolt left the bow, I whispered the first of those words, naming that arrow.
The thwack of the cable, louder than a gunshot, was a shock. My heart skipped a beat at the sound, then I realized Mason had set up one of his sound-dampening fields around our clearing.
The arrow went through the canopy as if it was fog. Even the plants here avoided the touch of iron.
Twelve more times I shot at the night sky, following Mason's direction, a baker's dozen of deadly missiles loosed in Fae. I expected to hear the arrows land some distance away. Even the strongest bow powered by werewolf muscles couldn't send those heavy shafts over one-half mile.
But Mason's glyphs and spells, combined with my magic and magnetism, did their job. The arrows never came down.
I was breathing hard when we finished. I unstrung the bow and Mason silently replaced it in the wooden case.
Even with his sound-absorbing field in place, Mason kept his voice low. "Do you have everything?"
I patted my trick handbag, made from the remains of the invisibility suit that Fae assassins wear, and nodded. "I've got the climbing gear and all the equipment."
I pulled my gloves from the bag and put them on. Supple leather, made from the skin of a Nemean lion, they were strong enough to withstand the damage a werewolf could inflict. The gloves had a slit at the fingertips, allowing me to use my claws. On each knuckle was affixed an iron cap which made my punches deadly for all but the most powerful fae creatures. The fairies would consider bringing these gloves and those arrows into their world a war crime.
Protected by the gloves, I pulled out my final weapon, the one I had taken from the latest assassin the Guild had sent. A simple dagger, it looked nearly harmless. But it was pure silver, deadly to werewolves. Engraved on the blade were glyphs which hardened the soft metal, making it even more lethal. If they complained of war crimes, I would remind them of who had started this.
I slid the deadly blade back into the bag and nodded to Mason. He stepped close and hugged me, his long arms barely encircling my body because of my belly. He breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of my hair, then whispered, "You don't have to do this. We can find another way."
"This is the way," I said. I squeezed him hard. "I know if I really need you, you'll come running."
"If they hurt you, I'll raze the city to the ground."
"Don't worry, I'll be in and out before anyone notices," I said.
One more long hug, Mason's stubbled cheek caressing mine, then I pushed away.
"You stay here and guard the portal," I said. "I'll send a signal when I need to return." I stroked the moonstone amulet he had crafted for me, the amulet that linked us together. It wasn’t as good as a wolf-pack link, but we could exchange simple messages.
Mason touched the amulet, adding more power to the moonstone. The stone contained centuries of lunar energy, energy that allowed me to use nearly all of my werewolf strengths in this moonless fairy land.
I hated leaving him here, but the night was waning. Time to get going.
At the edge of the clearing, I took a long sniff, marking this location in my feral mind-mate's memory. On Earth, I would use the moon to navigate. On this benighted world, I had to use other senses. Luckily, my previous experience here meant I could use other means to navigate. I headed toward the city. Two miles through thick forest should take about one hour.
My clothes, washed in distilled water to eliminate any scent but mine, were made of soft black cotton. They made no noise as I slid through the forest. I was on high alert; there were creatures here that would consider a pregnant werewolf a tasty midnight snack. Some of them had human-level intelligence.
A twig snapped at my right rear. My wolf shied towards our left. Between one step and the next, I examined that area. Something in the pattern of the fireflies was strange. It was as if they were frozen in the air. As I watched, several fireflies flew into that zone, but their zig-zag flitting jerked to a halt at the edge.
I pulled my wolf back from the danger and turned to my rear. "I will not let you herd me into a slow-time zone," I announced to the night.
"My prey is smarter than it looks," came a purring voice from the darkness. Even knowing its direction from the sound it made, I couldn’t see this predator. Neither normal vision nor infrared, nor even hearing, could pinpoint the creature, and wherever it was, it was too far away for even my sensitive nose.
Two of the glowing dots that represented fireflies winked out and came back on in unison. Not unusual—the damned things were always blinking on and off like bad Christmas tree lights—but these two flashed on and off at the same time, were always the same distance apart, and were coming closer.
I stroked the trick bag at my side; I had some surprises in here for fairy creatures. I had made the bag from the uniform of a Fae assassin, which made it invisible to normal vision. So where did you think they got the material to make their stealth uniforms?
The twin fireflies glided closer. Nearly four feet off the ground, the lights were spaced about a foot apart. My subconscious projected the size of a creature with those measurements and retreated. Okay. Maybe it's a tiny scavenger with two fireflies glued one foot apart to a stick, trying to freak me out and rush me into that slow-time zone.
The thought was calming.
Then the creature smiled. It was a strange sight, to see only those tiny pinprick eyes above a fang-filled mouth large enough to rip my head off in one bite—to see that, and nothing else.
Should I call Mason? That would blow the mission, but might save my life. Finally, the creature was close enough to smell. Feline, female, with just the tiniest hint of…
“We don't have to fight," I said, rubbing my belly. "We have a lot in common."
"I have nothing in common with a packless canine with the stink of iron and deceit about her." But she stopped her advance.
"Well," I said in my most soothing voice, "we're both mothers; we're both out hunting while our mates are back home; and I'd venture to say neither of us has any love for fairies or the Assassin's Guild."
"The Guild hunted my brother—skinned him alive to use his pelt for crafting those ridiculous suits they wear." The great invisible cat spat in anger. I turned slightly so that the invisible bag I carried was behind my back.
"They've been hunting me and mine, too," I said with the same anger. "They stooped to using a forbidden metal to attack me."
The glowing eyes lowered a bit. Although there was no sound, it seemed the cat had settled to the ground. I realized I could no longer see the fireflies behind the creature, but it was still nearly imperceptible. At least there was an outline. The outline wasn't comforting, though. The darker-than-dark silhouette was larger than I’d expected.
The glowing eyes seemed to focus on my gloves, either to reprove me for bringing a ‘forbidden metal’ into the fairy world or to gauge how dangerous these could be.
"Perhaps we could come to an accommodation," sniffed the feline. "As we seem to have a mutual goal of harassing the Assassin's Guild."
"Perhaps," I responded without letting my guard down. "What sort of accommodation would you be interested in pursuing?" I squeezed my fists in the gloves, causing the leather to squeal slightly.
Now that the feline monster was more visible, subtle stripes of dark gray against a midnight coat appeared, like a black and gray tiger. Or something from an old book with black-and-white illust
rations.
"Speaking as a mother, I would be inclined to allow passage through my forest to someone who planned bedevilment of my enemies," offered the feline.
The old-fashioned phrase, along with the fading feline outline, sparked a memory. "Do you perhaps have an acquaintance with a little girl named Alice?" I asked. "Short, blond, with a blue frock?"
"No," replied the monster, dashing my hopes. Then she continued, "The only Alice I know of was a dark-haired little brat who got lost in these woods some time ago. Bossy little bitch."
"Oh! That's her!" I lowered my voice to a conspiratorial level. "I never liked her myself. Always running around, causing trouble for the rest of us." I tapped my finger against my cheek. "She must have taken to dying her hair in her later years; that's why I thought you knew her as a blonde." Then I lowered my voice again, "She even said that you were a male. She was quite the trickster."
"That was her only endearing quality," sniffed the feline.
"So you do remember her!" I said. "That would make you the famous Cheshire." I halted at the full name from the book. Calling a beast that could cow lions a 'cat' might be undiplomatic. "You're quite the VIP on my world, featured in books and plays."
The creature preened at the compliment. The eerie floating snarl changed slightly, becoming more of a smile. The rest of her body phased into view—still dark gray fur with darker tiger stripes, but at least she was entirely visible now.
I took a deep sniff. Not all big cats were solitary hunters. Lions hunt in packs, and Cheshire would dwarf a lion. But it seemed safe. No other invisible cats within smelling range. She must have been hunting solo.
Cheshire tilted her head and laughed. "Not very trusting, are you?"
Lycan Legacy - 4 - 5 - 6: Princess - Progeny - Paladin: Book 4 - 5 - 6 in the Lycan Legacy Series Page 27