The Silver Crown

by William Bridges

  hands and feet — buried in the dirt.

  No! she thought. This can't be. I've left Pangaea. This is another realm. Gaia, please let it not be what I think it is.

  She heard howling behind her and turned to see the wolves; appear one by one. They stopped and stared at her, grinning evilly. Their gray fur began to change, to grow blacker. On two of them the fur began to fall off in patches, revealing mangy hides underneath. The pursuers began cackling. As the laws of Pangaea faded, they once more assumed their tribal aspects. Their ears grew to ugly proportions, with interior ridges — becoming the ears of a bat, not a wolf.

  Mari growled at the Black Spiral Dancers and centered herself, ready for their charge.

  Chapter Twelve

  Albrecht and Evan ran through the crevasse. They had managed to outdistance the wolves in the twisting, turning gully, but they still heard the howls behind them, just out of sight. Albrecht was trying to find a good place to make their stand. He didn't like the numbers they were up against. Evan wasn't a great fighter, and Albrecht didn't want to have to worry about him while he took on two of the wolves himself, leaving the other to attack the boy.

  The ground was on a steady incline, and Albrecht could hear rushing water ahead. Albrecht prayed the water was a river running parallel to them; if it ran crosswise, they would have to make their stand, backs to the water.

  They came out of the crevasse onto a ledge above a raging river which rushed from their right to their left. Albrecht cursed. They were trapped here. He looked around, trying to find some advantage to the ledge. Shoving Evan to one side of the ledge, he set himself on the other side. Their only hope was that the wolves would be running fast enough to have to fight to slow their momentum before they fell into the river below. Albrecht and Evan could then take them from behind, perhaps using their unbalance to shove them off the ledge.

  The howls were mere yards away. Albrecht hunkered down against the rock and motioned to Evan to do the same.

  The first wolf ran past them and scooted to a halt at the lip of the cliff. Before the next wolf appeared, Albrecht leapt at the first and kicked him in the back. The wolf somersaulted forward, over the lip, waving his limbs spastically as he hung in midair for a moment. He then fell into the water and was carried away by the current.

  The second wolf vaulted onto the ledge and slammed into Albrecht, who had to pivot to keep from going over. The she-wolf was at his throat, sinking in her fangs. Albrecht grabbed her torso between his arms and squeezed her with all his might. That seemed to knock the wind out of her, since she let go of Albrecht's throat, coughing. Albrecht lifted her up and threw her over the ledge. She yipped and scrambled in the air, as if trying to swim back to the ledge. But Albrecht's throw had been good, and the wolf flew into the river.

  Meanwhile, the third wolf had slunk around the corner and chomped into Evan's left leg while the boy was watching Albrecht. Evan cried out and slashed his claws at the wolf's neck, but the wolf lithely dodged and jumped in for another nip. Evan stepped back, dangerously close to the edge. When the wolf leapt in for a third bite, Evan stumbled backwards and fell off the cliff. At the last second, he reached out, grabbing for anything to keep him from falling. His hand closed on the wolf's thick pelt. The wolf tried to step back, but Evan's momentum took them both over and into the river.

  "Evan!" Albrecht cried out, trying to catch sight of him once he disappeared under the water. Down to the left he resurfaced, struggling to stay up. He was already yards downstream and traveling faster. Albrecht cursed and leapt in.

  The water was freezing, run-off from the mountaintop snows. Albrecht concentrated, knowing he couldn't allow the shock to stun him. He swam as fast as he could downstream, trying to catch up to the struggling Evan. He passed one of the enemy wolves crawling onto the far bank, exhausted.

  As he looked ahead for Evan, he saw curls of white water. Rocks jutted out of the stream, and the water rushed around them at incredible speed. As he maneuvered around the boulders, Albrecht hoped the kid hadn't slammed into one of them.

  Far ahead, he heard Evan yell.

  "I'm coming, kid!" he shouted. "Try to grab a branch or a rock!" Then he saw Evan.

  The boy was in the middle of the current, heading for a large spray of mist. Albrecht couldn't figure out what it was until he registered the great roar that drowned out Evan's yells. Albrecht shook his head, trying to deny it. That can't be a waterfall, he thought. It's too quick a change in landscape. But this is Pangaea. Anything can happen here.

  He howled out in grief as Evan disappeared over the edge. Albrecht quit looking for things to grab onto, resigned now to his fate — he was going over. He steeled himself, and then he was no longer in water, but falling through air. He looked down and saw miles and miles of falling water, disappearing into a huge cloud of mist far below.

  This can't be happening, he thought, as he shut his eyes.

  Then he landed. It was a hard landing, on solid ground, but he knew instantly that no bones were broken.

  That was not a mile-long fall, he thought. Felt more like forty feet. He opened his eyes and looked around.

  He was sitting on a Moon Path. Water spray was all around him, and he could still hear the roaring of water, but it sounded farther off, as if there were a wall between him and the falls. It was dark, with no sun or moon, but faint light seemed to be coming from somewhere. He turned around and saw a rent in the night sky. Light and water were filtering in from Pangaea.

  Then someone groaned. He spun around and ran over to Evan, who was lying farther up the path. He was unconscious. Then, the groan again. It wasn't coming from Evan. Albrecht looked up the path and saw one of the wolves, lying mangled. One of his legs was bent the wrong way, and it looked like a rib was sticking out of his side.

  Albrecht pulled out his klaive and walked forward cautiously. As he got closer, he saw that the Garou's fur color had changed from gray to black. The hide was scarred in many places with bizarre pictograms. Unholy pictograms. The signs of the Wyrm and corrupt rites.

  Albrecht spat. This thing was a Black Spiral Dancer.

  He looked up at Albrecht and tried to move, but he seemed to lack the energy even for survival. His eyes half-closed, he seemed to smile at Albrecht, as if congratulating him.

  "Who the hell are you, and why the hell did you attack us?" Albrecht snarled, leaning over the Dancer and placing the klaive at his throat.

  The Dancer took in some heavy breaths and then sighed. "My master sent us to you. An easy kill, she said. She lied."

  "Who the fuck is your master and why does she want us dead? Besides us being on the wrong side and all?"

  "Queen Azaera, She of the Uncracked Egg. She demanded your death or capture. She will have it. Not from me or my pack, but from others. You live on borrowed time, Silver Fang king…"

  "King? Not yet, pal. Or is that why you're trying to stop me? Did Arkady put her up to this?"

  The Dancer cackled. "Oh, the Duke fumes over you. And for his petty power struggle, I'm dead. Fuck him! Fuck you! Fuck Gaia! Fuck the Wyrm! FuckFuck—"

  Albrecht cut him off by slicing open his throat. The Dancer still tried to curse, but empty air escaped from the gash in his throat, never making it as far as the tongue. The Dancer grimaced and died.

  Albrecht walked over to Evan and examined him. He seemed all right, just knocked around a little. His leg was gashed, but that was minor. Albrecht gently slapped him in the face, trying to wake him up.

  Evan's eyes slowly rolled open and he looked around. He quickly sat up. "What happened? Where are the wolves?"

  Albrecht put his hand on Evan's shoulder. "Calm down. They're dead. At least, that one is. The other two aren't here. One got to shore. I think the other one missed the gate. He's probably still falling."

  Evan looked around, confused. "A gate? We're back in the Umbra! Weird."

  Albrecht stood up and put his klaive back in its sheath. "Got any idea where in the Umbra we are?"

 
; Evan shook his head. "Not in this blackness. Once the moon comes up, I might be able to figure it out. If there are any landmarks. This is more Mari's kind of thing."

  "Mari!" Albrecht yelled. "Damn! She's still back there, being chased by the Black Spiral Dancers!"

  "That's what they were? Black Spirals?"

  "Yeah. Pals of Arkady's. If we didn't have enough suspicions before, we do now."

  Evan looked back at the rent into Pangaea. "We've got to go back for Mari."

  "We can't," Albrecht said. "That gate opens in mid-air. It's a long drop on the other side."

  Evan looked worried. "But she could be in trouble. She might need us."

  "Kid," Albrecht said, taking Evan's shoulder and guiding him down the Moon Path, away from Pangaea, "She can take care of herself. She's proven that many times. We'll just have to hope she'll find us again."

  Evan nodded, but didn't say anything else. Albrecht looked ahead. Far off, there was a pinpoint of light on the horizon. "What's that?"

  Evan followed Albrecht's gaze and saw the light also. "I don't know. It's too far away."

  "Well, looks like we got someplace to go now. Let's check it out."

  "It could be dangerous."

  "Yeah? We got nothing better to do." When he saw Evan's face fall, he quickly added, "At least, there's nothing we can do right now. Don't worry, we'll find her. We will."

  "I know. At least, that's what I'll try to believe. Let's go to the light." Evan walked on down the almost pilch-black Moon Path, and Albrecht followed.

  * * * *

  The Black Spiral Dancer crashed into Mari, hut she pivoted and redirected his force off to the right, pushing him in that direction. She then lashed out with a quick punch to his exposed back. Bones cracked and the Dancer fell to the ground, alive but injured.

  Mari turned to face the others. They were more wary than their packmate and had assumed Crinos form also. One was taller than the other and clearly female. She hissed slowly as she moved around, trying to circle Mari. But Mari backed up, allowing neither of them to get an easy opening on her. The way she had handled the first one showed them that she clearly knew how to fight. Reckless bravery on their part would only get them killed, and they knew it.

  The Dancer on the ground slowly stood up. He had obviously just used a Gift to heal himself of a cracked spine. He glared at Mari, but there was a wary fearfulness in that look.

  The screams came over the hill again, and they seemed to rattle even the Dancers. It was clear that they did not know where they were; but Mari did. And she was afraid.

  The Dancers all turned to look at her again, and the landscape shifted. Mari blinked, and they were no longer on a muddy battlefield, but in a dirty, garbage-strewn alley. Glaring hungrily at her, no longer in Crinos form, the Dancers were now humans in black leather with knives out.

  Mari shook her head. This isn't right, she told herself. Those are Black Spiral Dancers, not gang members. She backed up and hit a wall. Looking up quickly, she saw a sign above her: The Urban jungle.

  She stepped back, sweating. She knew this place. It was a nightclub she used to sneak out to as a teenager. It all came back to her in a rush. The nightclub, the alley, the gang. She shuddered.

  The gang was approaching her, sensing her dismay, smelling the fear. She gritted her teeth and growled. She flexed her claws and looked at her hands in surprise. She wasn't in Crinos form anymore; she was in Homid. She concentrated, drawing on her anger to shift forms. Nothing happened.

  She cursed. It's this place, she told herself. It's this realm. It's trying to get at you, to scare you. You can't let it.

  One of the gang lunged forward and cut her across the stomach with his knife. Not a deep cut, but a painful one. Right on the scar Albrecht had made two years ago in their fight. The one for which she had yet to repay him.

  Another member, the female, ran forward and swung a crowbar at her head, but Mari was thinking straight now. She easily blocked it with her forearm — although it hurt to do so in Homid form — and followed up with a right-arm punch to the girl's abdomen. The girl doubled over, clutching her stomach. Mari continued the attack and slammed her foot into the girl's head, driving her face into the oily pavement. She then kicked her with her other foot, and the girl flew back, her neck flexing more than it should have, with a snapping sound. She fell to the ground, her neck broken.

  The other two gang members grabbed Mari from behind, and she moved to slip free. But one of them sank a knife between her ribs. Mari screamed in pain and fell over, blood gushing from her side. The thugs stood over her, laughing as she bled. Then they looked down the alley fearfully and ran away.

  Mari tried to move her neck to see what had scared them, but she couldn't. This was so familiar. The damn gang members and their taunting. But what had really happened all those years ago was that she had freaked out and gone berserk before they had ever touched her. She had undergone her First Change and torn the gang to pieces. When she had come to, she had been covered in their blood. Their dead eyes had looked up at her, accusingly, and she'd run away, crying at the cold-blooded murder she'd just committed. Over the years, as she looked back, she had managed to convince herself that they had been going to rape her, that she was justified in killing the scum, that she had been cleaning up the streets.

  But that was a lie, and she knew it. A lie around which she had built her whole identity. She had killed them. They had been just kids — younger than her — and not even a gang; just a bunch of kids hanging around together, out past their bedtimes. They had teased her, called her names, and she — sheltered girl that she was — had overreacted. They were dead because of her inability to control the Change. So what if she had never done it before, hadn't even known she was Garou? Did they care? They had never touched her except with hurtful words.

  A police officer walked over and looked down at her. And she remembered him. She had forgotten him until now. The cop. Yet another thread in the weaving of Mari Cabrah's self. He had been the fuel behind her self-defense course fire, her attempts to teach women to fight for themselves and not to rely on authority.

  And she remembered what he had done that night, when he'd found a teen-aged girl alone in a back alley with a bunch of dead bodies.

  She closed her eyes. Give it to me, she thought. Go ahead and do it. The kids have already gotten their revenge, through the Black Spiral Dancers. Finish the job.

  The police officer brought his club back and swung it down hard on Mari's head. Everything went black. Mari thought one last thing: So this is death...

  Chapter Thirteen

  The moon had risen when Albrecht and Evan cautiously approached what they had realized could only be a campfire. They had even heard someone singing from the vicinity. But they were taking no chances, so they approached silently and carefully.

  Their walk had taken almost an hour, during which time Evan told Albrecht about his encounter with the dinosaur. Albrecht was impressed but said he could have taken the thing. Evan fumed in silence for a while after that. He was getting a bit tired of being treated like a child. So what if he was no match for a dinosaur? Albrecht would have been clueless in Pangaia without some of Evan's suggestions. Brawn wasn't always a match for education.

  Albrecht motioned to Evan as they approached the fire. He was about to whisper for Evan to cut to the right while he cut left when he heard a low, wolfish growl behind him. He turned around and saw a thin, almost jackal-like wolf standing a few feet behind him, staring at him threateningly. Albrecht could see markings — tattoos — on its fur. He breathed a sigh of relief. The symbol for the Silent Striders was burned into its haunches.

  "We're friends," he said, putting his palms out. "I'm Lord Albrecht, of the Silver Fangs, and this is Evan Heals-the-Past, a Wendigo."

  The wolf cocked its head, seemingly surprised. Then, from mere feet behind them, someone spoke. Loudly.

  "Lord Albrecht? I've heard of you!"

  Albrecht turned slowly around
again and saw a short, red-haired man dressed in a Pogues T-shirt and torn blue jeans. His arms were laced with tattoos, and Albrecht recognized the Fianna symbol among them: the mark of the Celtic tribe of Garou. Albrecht's eyebrows rose. There were also quite a few honor and wisdom marks there, badges of merit. Standing behind the Fianna — towering over him in fact — was a blond-haired Crinos Garou, who eyed Albrecht suspiciously. This one carried a huge, two-handed hammer. Judging from the size of his muscles, it wasn't at all too heavy for him.

  The red-haired man put out his hand and spoke in a heavy Irish brogue. "Pleased to meet you! My name's Jack Wetthumb!"

  Albrecht shook the man's hand. "It's damn good to see some friends here."

  "Oh? Troubles you've been having, is it?" Jack said. He looked at Evan and extended his hand to him as well. "Your name's a bit familiar also, but I can't place it."

  "I'm Albrecht's packmate," Evan said.

  "Right," Jack said, looking at him, trying to remember how he knew him. He wagged his finger at him. "You were that kid in the Amazon a few months back. The one the Nexus Crawler came after." He turned to Albrecht. "And you were there, fighting it! It all comes back now."

  "Were you there?" Evan asked. "In the Amazon War?"

  "Yeah, sure was. That's where I got all these scribbles on my arms. They give out medals like candy down there. All you gotta do is survive."

  Albrecht nodded and glanced at the big guy. "Who's your friend? And the Silent Strider?" he asked, turning around to look at the wolf, who sat on its haunches now.

  "She," Jack said, pointing at the wolf, "is known as Parts-the-Water, a damn fine Theurge. Invaluable when you're hiking the Umbra. And this fella," he said, motioning with his thumb at the large Garou, "is Ivar Hated-by-the-Wyrm. I think you can figure out just by looking at him how he got his name. He's a Get of Fenris, and my best pal. Ain't that right?" he said, looking up at Ivar. Ivar didn't say anything, but neither did he deny the accusation.

  Albrecht smiled. "What about your name? How'd you pick that up?"