The Silver Crown

by William Bridges

  "Great! We're supposed to spend years finding this thing?"

  "These are the only clues I have," Antonine said, standing up. "I believe that you will find the legends I told you instructive along the way. Simply look for the gates. Remember that in the spirit world, things are not as they seem."

  "Well, I guess that makes sense," Albrecht said. "Look, thanks for everything you've done. Without you, we wouldn't even know where to begin."

  "My pleasure," Antonine said. "I think we should rest now. You're going to need a lot of sleep; you've got a long walk ahead of you. I advise you to leave tomorrow night. The Moon Paths will be faint by day, making travel dangerous."

  They nodded and went to the guest bedrooms, each of them reflecting on the tale they had heard. Only Albrecht remained in the living room, stretching out on the floor cushions. There weren't enough guest beds, so he had volunteered to take the floor.

  He stretched out and looked at the ceiling as he heard the bedroom doors shut and saw the lights go out. There was a window right above him, and the stars shone clear against the darkness. He hoped he had what it took to wear the crown, and made a silent prayer to Gaia for Her to look favorably upon him. He then rolled over to sleep, but he was plagued by nightmares the whole night. Visions of his hands burning off, or his skull igniting, and a sharp band of pain around his head.

  Chapter Ten

  "You take care of yourself, Eliphas," Albrecht said, looking down at the young Silver Fang who sat in the driver's seat of the car.

  Eliphas smiled at him. "Good luck, Lord Albrecht. I hope you succeed. For all our sakes." He turned the ignition key and the engine purred to life.

  Albrecht stepped back and waved. "So do I. Don't worry. I always come through in the end."

  Eliphas nodded. He accelerated down the gravel drive and drove off into the darkening day as the sun went down. Moments later, he was gone. Albrecht walked back into the dome. The others were gathered in the living room, packing for the journey. They had all brought backpacks, rations and changes of clothes with them. They had been on long jaunts in the spirit world before and knew what they needed to survive. Albrecht went over and sat down with them. Pulling his own pack over, he began taking inventory.

  Antonine was walking around the room, searching through the bookcases which lined the walls. He had a stack of books in his hand. When he seemed to have found everything he needed, he went into his study, a room near the kitchen.

  "What's he up to?" Albrecht said.

  "I think he's making a map," Evan said.

  "To Pangaea?" Albrecht said.

  "Yes," Mari said. "I have been there before, but it was by a… longer route than we need now. Antonine is trying to put together a good map of signposts to look for."

  "Like what?" Albrecht said. "I thought the Wyld nature of the place prevented mapping."

  "True, the closer you get to it. But we have a way to go before reaching the realm itself. Any shortcut we can find will help greatly."

  Albrecht nodded. "You're the Theurge. I'll trust that."

  Mari nodded. "Finally thinking sensibly."

  Evan smiled at both of them. He was glad they weren't shouting at each other yet. He knew that would come later, but for now they were getting along.

  Albrecht zipped up his pack and placed it before him. "Done. Clothes, sleeping bag, food, water. Do we need anything else?"

  Evan was also finishing his pack, and Mari had already finished hers. "I can't think of anything," he said.

  Mari shook her head. "I think we've got it covered."

  Antonine came out of his study with a parchment. He walked over and sat down next to them, handing the paper to Mari. "This is the best I can do. It's based on some accounts I have of journeys to Pangaea, along with hearsay from friends of mine. You should do okay by it. Remember, though, that you're departing under the half moon, so the Moon Paths will be somewhat faint and incomplete, and the Lune spirits will not be guarding all of them. Travel will be dangerous at times. However, I believe this place here" — he pointed at a spot on the map — "is a Lunae, a crossroads of Moon Paths, where you should be able to rest for the day. You will need to find as many of these as you can along the way. I don't recommend taking shelter in a realm, since you might not know the laws under which it operates before entering. The last thing you need is to get caught in a sub-realm and waste a few days trying to get out. However, it would be worse to stray off the paths; you'd easily get lost without them to guide you."

  "Thanks," Mari said. "It's pretty self-explanatory. I can use this. A very complete job in such a short amount of time."

  Antonine nodded and stood up. "The sun's almost set. I think it's safe for you to leave now."

  The pack stood up and shouldered their bundles. Antonine led them outside and around behind the dome to a small field. He looked about and stopped, turning back to them. "This is a good spot. I've used it many times before. Mari? Do you want to lead us in?"

  "Certainly," Mari said, stepping next to him. The others followed her and gathered around in a circle, all touching her. She held a small mirror up and looked into it, moving it about to catch the final rays of the sun peeking through the trees. When she was satisfied with the reflection, she stared into it. She reached out with her spirit to connect to the spirit world. Once she touched it, she pulled herself toward it. Or did it pull itself to her? Many Garou had argued that point. In any case, the Gauntlet wrapped about them and then parted as it passed. They all stood in the Penumbra, the spiritual shadow of the physical world.

  The field looked very much the same on this side as on the other. It was darker here, since the sun did not shine at all. The half moon was clearly visible in the sky.

  Albrecht looked around and saw part of Antonine's house beyond the trees. It looked different. Webs were spread across it, but in a very beautiful, almost chaotic pattern, as if the spider creating it had had an aesthetic purpose when weaving it. That is weird, Albrecht thought. The Weaver and Wyld in balance. Quite rare.

  "I think that path is best," Antonine said, pointing down a small, one-person-wide path that disappeared into the woods. "If you follow it long enough, it leads to a Moon Path. At least, it used to. In the physical world it leads to a small pond, but I've never found the pond from this side. Just follow any signs of brighter moonlight. The Lune spirits will be there. Remember, stick to the Moon Paths: without Luna's guidance, you may never find Pangaea."

  "Thank you again, Antonine," Mari said, shaking his hand.

  "Yeah, you've been a lot of help," Evan said.

  "Don't think anything of it," Antonine said. "I am doing what is important."

  Albrecht walked up to him and put out his hand. "If this crazy plan actually works, then I'll certainly remember your help when I'm king."

  Antonine smiled and shook his hand. "Just be a good king, Albrecht. Remember the Lay of the Silver Crown. Heed it."

  "Of course. I'm kind of fond of my skull."

  Antonine chuckled and walked off. "You had better get going. You have little time."

  "We're off," Albrecht said, turning to the path. Mari was already ahead of him, and Evan had stepped in between them. Stopping at the edge of the woods, Albrecht looked up at the moon. Well, Luna, he thought. Don't get crazy on me here. Help me out. All right?

  He then turned and walked into the woods, falling in behind Evan.

  * * * *

  Greyfist looked up at the half moon and felt the strengthening of his spirit, a gift from Luna on the night of his birth auspice. He was a Philodox, and the half moon was his moon. He thought about Albrecht and his pack. He hoped Antonine had been able to help them. Had they left yet? Were they walking the spirit world now?

  There was a knock at the door. Greyfist turned from the window and sat down at his desk. "Come in."

  The door opened and Arkady appeared. He walked into the room and shut the door behind him. "Good evening, Seneschal."

  Greyfist was surprised, wondering w
hat the king-in-waiting wanted with him. "Greetings, Arkady."

  Arkady walked across the room and stood before the desk, looking around the room. "I have never been here. It is a nice office. You have many… books. Have you read them all?"

  Greyfist tried to hide his look of annoyance. Non-readers always asked that stupid question. "No, I haven't. They are mostly for reference. It is what remains of the protectorate's library after the fire."

  "Ah, yes," Arkady said, sitting down on the couch. "I had forgotten. It is good you have saved them. You are very loyal."

  Greyfist did not respond. He simply looked at Arkady, waiting for him to reveal his purpose in coming.

  Arkady sat back and smiled. "You are wondering why I have come? I should not…what? Mince words? I am here to find out what Lord Albrecht's plans are since losing our combat."

  Greyfist's eyebrows rose. "Plans? You made it clear that he is no longer welcome. He's gone back to New York, to whatever life he had during the exile."

  Arkady looked at Greyfist, not saying anything. Then he sat forward. "You must understand my position, Seneschal. He was a threat to my ascension. I did what I had to. I bear him no personal ill will."

  Greyfist opened a drawer and pulled out his pipe. He knew Arkady was lying. A bald-faced lie. As a Philodox, the spirits had gifted him with the insight to tell truth from fiction.

  "But I am worried," Arkady continued. "I suspect that he will try to sabotage my rule on the throne."

  Greyfist lit his pipe. "Why do you think that? It was hard enough convincing him to try for the throne in the first place. Why do it again after losing so ignominiously?"

  "Yes, why?" Arkady said. "That is what I have asked myself. It makes no sense. There is no way he can take the throne by law. And to break the law is not to be king. So what could he be attempting?"

  Greyfist sat back and puffed on his pipe. "I would say that he is attempting to get shit-faced drunk right about now. As he probably did last night."

  Arkady's smile disappeared. "I heard that Eliphas Standish drove him back. But Eliphas has not returned yet."

  "Albrecht probably dragged him out for a night on the town before returning to the caern."

  "I doubt that. The Gatekeeper is a very dedicated young man. I cannot see him willingly forsaking his new duties here for a simple drunken binge."

  Greyfist did not say anything. He just puffed on his pipe.

  Arkady stood up. "I know that you had both Albrecht and Eliphas in here after the combat. What did you talk about?"

  Greyfist's eyes narrowed. "Personal business. Why are you so curious, Arkady? If you have a problem with Albrecht, why don't you go to New York and take it up with him?"

  "Because he is not in New York, is he?" Arkady said, stepping forward and putting his hands on the desk. "Where is he? Where has he gone?"

  Greyfist stood up. He did not like the looks of this. Arkady was beginning to look flustered. Greyfist recognized the signs of a frayed temper: Arkady was close to losing control of his anger. Was he really so paranoid about Albrecht?

  "Get out of here, Arkady," Greyfist said. "Come back when you can control your rage."

  "You cannot order me around, Seneschal," Arkady said, leaning forward, eyes glinting.

  "Yes I can. I am seneschal, and you are an uncrowned king-in-waiting. You will do as I say, cub."

  Arkady stood there, breathing heavily, his shoulders shaking. He was obviously trying to control his anger. Greyfist walked around the desk, toward the door. Arkady grabbed his shoulder and pulled his face inches from his own.

  "You will tell me what conspiracy you and Albrecht have thought up!" Arkady said.

  Greyfist put his hand on Arkady's and pried it off his arm. "Get out!"

  Arkady exploded into action. His fist slammed into Greyfist's chin, knocking the Philodox to the ground. Arkady was in Crinos form before Greyfist could react, jumping on Greyfist, bearing him down. Arkady's weight knocked the wind out of the seneschal, but he concentrated and shifted to Crinos form. Arkady still had leverage and size over him; Greyfist was pinned down. Arkady held his right claw to Greyfist's throat while he reached into his pocket for something with the other hand.

  "Get off me, Arkady," Greyfist said through gritted teeth. "Before you bring a rite of censure upon yourself!"

  "Shut up," Arkady said, pulling a bug out of his pocket. The creature looked like nothing Greyfist had ever seen. It flexed its tiny, chitinous legs as it dangled from Arkady's fingers. Arkady then grabbed Greyfist's chin and pulled it open. Too quickly for Greyfist to stop him, Arkady thrust the bug into Greyfist's mouth and down his throat. He let the Philodox go, jumping away from him.

  Greyfist coughed violently, straining to vomit up the bug. His body began to shift back to Homid form, even though he tried to stop it. What the hell was Arkady doing? What had he put into him? He could vaguely feel the thing moving — crawling — down his throat. He choked out a few words, "You… will… suffer… for this!"

  "Tell me, Seneschal," Arkady said, standing behind Greyfist. "What plot are you and Albrecht hatching?"

  Greyfist stood up and started to speak, to tell Arkady to go fuck himself. But the words would not come out. Instead, he felt a quivering in his gut, which traveled up his spine and into his brain. He couldn't help himself as he said, "Albrecht is after the Silver Crown."

  Arkady's eyes slowly opened wide. "But that is a myth! A legend! No Silver Fang has worn the crown in… in ages!"

  Greyfist tried to move toward the door, but he couldn't. His legs wouldn't work. "What… what the hell is this thing?"

  "It is a gift from an… ally," Arkady said. "One who knew you would not tell me what I needed to know. Conspiracy against the throne is a very serious charge, Seneschal."

  "Damn you! No one has conspired. You are not king yet!"

  "Oh, but soon. Soon," Arkady said. "Now, where has Albrecht gone?"

  "To Antonine Teardrop."

  Arkady's face fell into a frown. "Why did you involve him? He will tell Loba! She is an exile! You are delivering protectorate secrets to outsiders."

  "You know that's not true," Greyfist said, feeling dizzy. "You're fishing for accusations. It won't work. You've attacked the seneschal in his own den. I will have a rite against you, Arkady."

  Arkady growled. "We will see who wields more power here, Seneschal. Where is Albrecht going from Teardrop's?"

  "I don't know," Greyfist said, feeling sick to his stomach. He collapsed onto the floor.

  Arkady looked worried. "What do you mean, you don't know? Surely you know where the crown is, if you sent him off for it? Why are you on the floor?"

  "I… feel… terrible. What the hell did you put in me?"

  Arkady looked very worried now. "Put your finger down your throat! Throw the thing up!"

  Greyfist growled in pain, clutching his stomach. "It's a Wyrm creature, isn't it?"

  "No!" Arkady said, leaning down over him. "It's just a fetish to make you answer my questions. It had no Wyrm scent on it."

  Greyfist looked at Arkady angrily and then growled low and menacingly, looking past the Silver Fang. Arkady turned around to see a large Crinos Black Spiral Dancer step from the Umbra, grinning madly.

  "Damn you!" Arkady yelled at the Dancer. "What is your fetish doing to him?"

  "Killing him slowly and painfully," the Black Spiral Dancer replied, sauntering over to them.

  Greyfist grabbed the fur about Arkady's throat and pulled his head around. He locked eyes with Arkady. "You bastard! You've betrayed the throne to the Wyrm!"

  Arkady looked surprised. "No… No! He was not supposed to come here. I did not intend this!"

  Greyfist growled and tried to dig his claws into Arkady's throat, but a sudden pain washed over his body. He grabbed his gut again and howled as blood broke forth from a wound opening out of his stomach. The Wyrm bug crawled its way out of the wound, chewing the flesh around the edges. Arkady stared at it in horror.

  Greyfist's e
yes rolled up into his head and he collapsed. With the last of his strength, he whispered to Arkady, "You are doomed. Albrecht will find the crown and become the true king."

  Arkady stared in shock at the seneschal. He carefully put his hand on the Garou's shoulder and shook it. But there was no response. Greyfist was dead.

  Arkady turned around to see the Black Spiral Dancer smirking down at him. "Dagrack! How dare you? We had a bargain! You have betrayed me!" He rose and pointed a clawed hand at the Garou.

  Dagrack shrank, assuming Homid form. He stood about five foot eleven, with black hair streaming over his shoulders. He had a long, thin face, but a smile which spread practically from ear to ear. He held up his hands, cautioning Arkady. "Now, now, ally. You misunderstand. I am only helping you in ways you have not yet realized. Did you really think you could intetrogate the seneschal like that, and not have to kill him afterwards? I'm only saving you from him."

  "But why did you come here? If the others see—"

  "Calm down your wayward temper, O king," Dagrack said. "The Gatekeeper is gone, remember? No one saw me pass over. We will now proceed to stage a scene. You came to talk with the seneschal, and things were going just fine, when a horrible Black Spiral Dancer — me — came leaping from the Umbra. Using its forbidden and unholy Wyrm powers, it killed the seneschal. And cut you up badly before fleeing, wounded by your mighty blows."

  Arkady clutched his fists and stared angrily at the wall. "No. I do not like this one bit. You think you can take control of me now because we have bargained. It is not so. I will not allow it. I did not wish the seneschal dead. He was loyal! He would have been loyal to me!"

  "Untrue," Dagrack said, walking over to Greyfist's body. He reached down and picked up the bug, putting it in his pants pocket. "He was trying to dethrone you before you had even worn the crown! You call that loyal?"

  "I will not listen to you!" Arkady shouted.

  Dagrack walked up and looked him in the eyes. "Oh yes, you will. Who was it who saved you all those years ago from the fomori slavering for your blood, back in the Motherland? Who helped you escape to this new land, a land where you have built yourself a base of power? You are to be king! And you have gotten here because of my aid. I have told you before, our goals are not dissimilar. It is because of the Fangs' witchhunt against my tribe that we cannot work together to heal the damage to Gaia, to war against her true enemies."