The Silver Crown

by William Bridges

  "One day then!" the king cried, his hands out in supplication. "One day is all I ask. Is this too much? I offer you secrets forgotten in the world of flesh, secrets which could empower you more greatly than the damned crown!"

  Albrecht chewed his lip. He didn't know what to do. This was the only clue he had to the crown. The old king could be lying. But what choice did Albrecht have? There was no place left to go. And these secrets, these Gifts he was offered…

  "You can give me something to overthrow Arkady without the crown?" he asked.

  "Yes! Stay with me and I will give you all the royal rites of old, the words that are power when spoken from the lips of kings. And I will give you the Gift to win any challenge, and to call a challenge for any reason. You could return to your sept and challenge this pretender at your leisure! With these Gifts — true powers taught to my family by spirits long ago — you could rule any sept."

  "How long? How long would it take to learn them?"

  Aaron stood taller. "Two moons. Perhaps three. There are no spirits here to instruct your soul directly, so I must show you in the slow manner in which flesh learns. After this time, you can come and go from here freely, to return for more powers if you so desire."

  Albrecht closed his eyes. He had to think. Calmly. Without the old man pleading with him. Two moons! That was too long. Arkady would be king by then. But if what Aaron said was true about these Gifts, he could march up to Arkady anytime to demand his true right. But what if it were too late? What if Arkady turned the sept over to the Wyrm on his coronation day?

  Falcon! he thought. Why is this so hard? I have done

  every thing in my power here to find the crown. My packmates are in the hands of the Wyrm, probably dead by now. My protectorate is about to become Wyrm-corrupt. What else am I supposed to do? I've done everything I can, damn it! But I'm failing. It's in your hands...

  He heard a screech up in the sky. He opened his eyes and looked up. A falcon wheeled above him, and let out another screech.

  "No!" the old king said, looking up fearfully at the bird. "Don't heed it! It is a servant of the crown — the evil crown! Stay here! Please!"

  "I can't listen to you!" Albrecht said. "I've listened to you too much already. You're lost! I recognize Harano. Your whole family has succumbed to it. Every generation! It wasn't the crown that did you in, it was your own sorrow. This isn't the tribal homeland, is it? It's some small realm somewhere you've built to house your grief. I won't be any part of it. I've got a protectorate to save!"

  Albrecht looked up at the falcon. The bird flew off to Albrecht's right, and Albrecht moved to follow it.

  The old king stepped in front of him. "Please! I am lonely! Carry my memory at least! Don't let my legacy die!"

  "Get out of my way," Albrecht said.

  "It's in the North Country!" the old king said. "I fled from my lands to the New World, and hid the crown with the Silver Fang sept there. It lies under the royal house in New Amsterdam."

  Albrecht stared at the king, barely believing his ears. "You're lying! It's not in the North Country — Greyfist would have said so! I'm from North Country, damn it! New Amsterdam is the old name for New York City, and New York is not even in the North Country Protectorate!"

  The old king stepped back, flinching at Albrecht's anger. "I swear! I swear that is where I hid it. I tell you, the city of humans was in North Country when I hid the crown! It was the only place far enough from home that I could get to before… before I… I was too tired to go on. The grief, you see… the grief overtook me. Swallowed me. It has left me here, all alone. Alone and weeping."

  The old king began to fade, to shift shapes, but not into a wolf. He grew tall and thin, his skin becoming deathly pale, whiter than snow. He became a birch tree, silent as the rest. But not alone any longer. He was one of many birches, testaments to sorrow.

  Albrecht realized that he stood in a graveyard. A graveyard for an entire royal line. A birch for every cub of the Winter Snow family lost to Harano.

  He looked into the sky again and saw the falcon wheeling about, waiting for him. The falcon again flew off, and this time Albrecht followed unhindered.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Fengy strolled through the park, content for once. He had just eaten a fresh fast-food meal, bought with the five-dollar bill he had found. This was working out to be a great day.

  A light exploded in the air in front of him, and a hole appeared. A falcon flew from the glowing Moon Bridge, inches over Fengy's head. Fengy stared at it, aghast. This wasn't a proper Moon Bridge. It didn't open in the caern center, approved by the Gatekeeper. Was this an attack? But what could a bird do to harm the caern?

  Lord Albrecht jumped out of the Moon Bridge, almost colliding with Fengy. The Moon Bridge sealed shut behind him, leaving no trace of its ever having been there.

  "Watch out!" Albrecht said, running past Fengy, who was holding his hands over his head, readying himself to be run over by a pack of Garou.

  Fengy looked up to see only Lord Albrecht and the bird, streaking off into the park.

  "Hey!" Fengy yelled. "Where's your pack? What's going on? That wasn't a legal bridge! You're going to get in trouble with Mother Larissa!"

  "Don't have time to chat!" Albrecht yelled over his shoulder, turning down a lane and running out of sight.

  "Huh!" Fengy said. "Then you don't have time for me to tell you that your friend is here looking for you?" He waited, but heard no response. Albrecht was out of hearing range. Fengy shrugged his shoulders. What did he care? If Albrecht was going to be rude, always treating him like a second-class citizen, then he could damn well find his friend on his own. Wasn't everyday someone came looking for you from North Country.

  Fengy continued his walk, a bit flustered, but with a full stomach.

  * * * *

  Albrecht had stopped running to catch his breath. He stood on a street corner, watching the falcon disappear into a closed subway station. He waited a few seconds, then bolted after it. No one was around — at least no one he noticed — so he shifted into Glabro form, tore the chain lock off the gate and ran down the stairs.

  It was dark in the station, so he shifted to Lupus form and called upon one of his Gifts, honing his senses sharper than any animal's. He padded along on the cement, following the falcon. Albrecht knew this was a spirit he followed, not a real falcon, but it was still strange to see something and yet not smell it.

  The falcon landed on the floor next to another fence, this one blocking the entrance into the subway tunnel. The tunnel had intermittent lighting, as if this area had not been closed off for long and the electricity not yet shut off, letting the old bulbs burn.

  Albrecht shifted to Crinos and tore the fence down. As soon as it was down, the falcon took wing again and shot off down the tunnel to the right. Albrecht again assumed Lupus form and ran after it.

  The tunnel went down for about a quarter mile before dead-ending. A few feet before the end, on the left side of the tunnel, was a passageway, carved into the cement and stone. Unnaturally carved.

  The falcon flew into the passage. Albrecht hesitated. This was not human-made. That meant that one of New York's various supernatural residents of the sewer had carved it. He was on good terms with none of them.

  He jumped into the passage anyway and ran after the quickly disappearing falcon. It was pitch black now, but his magically enhanced senses more than compensated. He could smell sewer, somewhere far ahead. But before that, he heard the falcon turn right, down a side passage. Albrecht followed. He hoped there were not too many turn-offs, since he could easily get lost down here if something were to happen to the falcon.

  The passageway smelled old. He could pick up no scent on it: a sign that it had been long disused. The only sign of the falcon now was its screeches. He could not see it or smell it. The next screech he heard echoed longer than the rest. The falcon had entered a larger room. Albrecht hurried ahead, then stumbled out into the room as the passageway suddenly e
nded, giving him a short fall.

  He heard the falcon screech from the far side of the room. From the echoes and distance, he judged the chamber was maybe thirty yards across. As he padded across the floor, he felt marble beneath him. Marble tile.

  He reached the falcon, who was perched on a large, box-like object. Albrecht realized he would need eyesight here. He concentrated and lit the fires of his inner being, igniting his fur into a glowing lambent flame — the same Gift he had used against Nightmaster.

  As light flooded the chamber, Albrecht looked around. It resembled an old mausoleum. The floor was marble, as were the columns holding up the ceiling. Gargoyle shapes sat at the top of the posts, staring blindly out at the room. Oddly colored dust lay along the base of the walls; Albrecht realized it was the remains of tapestries. Double doors stood open on the wall opposite the passage, but they revealed a wall of dirt on the other side. It looked as if someone had begun a digging project there, but had abandoned it before ever really beginning.

  The passageway by which Albrecht had traveled was not natural to the room, but a later addition. Someone had burrowed his way past the wall and into this room.

  It was obvious to Albrecht where he was: in the throne room of an ancient Silver Fang sept, perhaps the first in North America. The place had fallen pretty far from its early days of glory. No court had convened here for centuries. He figured this must be the basement of an old mansion, one that probably didn't exist anymore on the surface. Most likely, it was bulldozed and new foundations had been laid across it. He wondered what was up there now. A tenement? City Hall?

  The falcon screeched and he turned back to look at it. The box it stood on was a chest. It was iron, and rusted badly, but still relatively intact.

  "Is that it?" Albrecht asked. "Is the crown in there?" He shifted to Crinos form and ran to the box. The falcon screeched and fluttered off, to land on the ground next to it. The lock had long ago rusted, and it flew apart easily as Albrecht threw back the lid. He looked inside.

  Nothing. The box was empty.

  He looked at the falcon, which screeched and nudged the box with its head. Albrecht frowned, then understood. He shoved the box back, revealing a marble tile with writing on it.

  A Garou pictogram had been carved there so long ago that it would surely have been worn down except for the box that had covered it for all these years. It was the symbol of kingship. A rite had been performed over this tile, sealing it with power. A rite of protection of some sort? Or a spirit binding? He had seen the sort before, and knew that only Silver Fang royalty could break such a seal and not suffer the consequences intended by the ritemaster.

  Albrecht shifted to Crinos form and thrust his nails between the cracks. He grunted and pulled, and the tile slowly yielded. He pried it up and placed it aside, then looked at what was beneath it. The light from Albrecht's pelt shone down a small, maybe one-foot-square shaft, revealing a wooden box. A wooden box perfectly preserved, as if it had been made yesterday, except for the ancient manufacture. It appeared to be a strongbox from the Middle Ages.

  Albrecht reached in and pulled it out. He placed it on the ground and examined it. There was a catch, but no lock.

  Powerful, sharp jaws clamped down onto his right forearm. Albrecht screamed in pain and tugged his arm away. It slipped free of the white wolf's grip, but his muscles were practically flayed. His arm was almost useless.

  He stared at the white wolf, who had come from nowhere and was growling angrily at Albrecht. The wolf shifted forms into Crinos. A black leather battle harness appeared over the huge werewolf's torso, contrasting with the pure white fur. Fur Albrecht would recognize anywhere.

  "How the hell…?" Albrecht said, drawing his klaive with his left hand.

  "It is mine, Albrecht!" Arkady said, stepping forward and standing over the box.

  "The fuck it is! Just step back, Arkady, and I'll let you live. At least until you're banished from the tribe!"

  "Shut up, you stupid cur! How dare you try to steal the kingship from me! Moving around behind my back and plotting with that traitor Greyfist!"

  "Traitor? He's the most loyal Silver Fang in this hemisphere! If you've done anything to him—"

  "Like kill him? Kill him for conspiring against the crown? I have. I will kill you next!"

  Albrecht stood stone-still in shock. "You… killed… Greyfist? He was my best friend in the sept!" Rage caused him to tremble and he tried to control his temper, but immediately lost the battle. He howled and lunged at Arkady, who easily jumped back.

  Albrecht was like a rampaging torch as he chased Arkady across the room, the light from his fur throwing Arkady's shadow large against the wall.

  Arkady drew his klaive as he ran. He slipped to the right and then spun around, stabbing at Albrecht, who was an easy target, glowing as he was. Albrecht ran onto the klaive, which went through his right lung but did not exit his back.

  He fell down, coughing up blood and coming to his senses. The pain had knocked the frenzy from him. Arkady did not follow through. Instead, he ran over to the box.

  Albrecht looked for the falcon spirit, but could not see it anywhere. He got to his feet and walked resolutely toward Arkady, ignoring the pain from his chest. "How did you find me?" he snarled as he walked.

  Arkady, box in hand, turned to face Albrecht. He held his klaive out defensively. "You idiot! I've been here in New York for three days, watting for you to return! Lucky I was. I did not know you would return here first. But I could not wait at the caern — wait for you to steal my birthright from me?!"

  "Birthright? You forget, I'm Morningkill's grandson. Not you."

  "But I am scion of the Clan of the Crescent Moon. We are a better family."

  "I wouldn't put too much faith in this family stuff if I were you. Not after what I've seen. But you didn't answer my question. How the hell did you find me here?"

  "The Rite of the Questing Stone, fool! Any cub could have found you. All he would have had to do was wait for you to show up!"

  "Well what are you going to do now? Put the crown on? Go ahead. Put the crown on. I want to see this."

  Arkady smiled at Albrecht, a twisted grimace. He shook his head. "Oh, no. I would not do something so stupid as that. This is not for me to wear. But I shall keep you from wearing it."

  Albrecht growled. "You're going to have to kill me to do that." He slashed his klaive at Arkady and actually surprised the Garou, who did not parry Albrecht's left-handed attack well. The klaive sliced the tendons off his right arm. His hand went limp and the klaive fell to the ground.

  Arkady howled in rage and stepped back. He dropped the box under him and crouched low, waiting for Albrecht to approach.

  Albrecht moved forward warily. They were equal now. Each had only one usable arm. But he had the klaive. He knew he could finish it with one blow if he were good enough. But if he let Arkady get too close, then Albrecht would have to drop the klaive and fight claw-to-claw. And he knew Arkady was the better hand-to-hand fighter of the two.

  Before he could choose his move, he heard grunting and scuffling from the passageway. He stepped back, out of Arkady's range, and stole a look in that direction.

  Black Spiral Dancers crawled their way up the tunnel, toward the room, bearing balefire torches.

  Albrecht turned back to Arkady. "Damn it! If you were ever a real Silver Fang, think back to that time now. Do not let them get the crown! We can fight our way out of here if we do it together."

  Arkady looked at the Black Spiral Dancers, who were almost into the room, and then at Albrecht, trying to decide. He looked at the box beneath him. "No! I can't let you have the crown. The Black Spiral Dancers promised me the kingship. It is my crown."

  "They want it to pervert it! You can't let that happen. Not if you call yourself king!"

  "Don't listen to him!" a voice cried out from the passageway. Black Spiral Dancers now jumped into the room and spread out to form a line, preparing to charge Albrecht. Behind them, Dagrack
climbed from the passage. "He wants the crown for himself, Arkady. He can't stand the idea of you on the throne!"

  Arkady growled at him. "What are you doing here? How did you find us?"

  Dagrack smirked. "Oh, I've been watching you, Arkady. You can't go anywhere without my knowing about it. As soon as you entered the tunnels, I was alerted. Who do you think dug this passageway? Black Spiral Dancers — my cousins. I was but a Moon Bridge away from you."

  Albrecht almost jumped past the Black Spiral leader when he saw Evan and Mari being pushed toward the room from the passageway. The line of Black Spirals surged forward at Albrecht's move, so he stepped back again.

  He watched his packmates as they were pushed into the room. They looked terrible. They had bruises all over and seemed weak from hunger, but they both met Albrecht's gaze. Mari nodded at him, as if she approved of his being here. Evan actually managed a weak smile, happy to see Albrecht.

  "Put them in the corner," Dagrack said. The Black Spiral Dancers pushed and shoved Evan and Mari into the far corner of the room, away from Albrecht.

  Dagrack looked triumphantly at Albrecht. "I brought these two in case I had to bribe you with their lives. But I find that, after all your journeys, it is not you who have the crown. It is Arkady. My friend Arkady." He walked over to Arkady, who growled low as he approached, but did not move away from him. "Arkady who is to be king of the Silver Fangs. And this without the Silver Crown! Arkady does not need the crown. He has me instead."

  "I need no one but myself!" Arkady yelled. "I am not your puppet. I am master here! The next king of the Silver Fangs."

  Dagrack stared at Arkady, and then bowed slightly. "Of course, my lord. Excuse your servant that he spoke otherwise. I wish simply to advise you in the matter of your antagonist here."

  "What?" Arkady said. "What do you have to say?"

  "Revenge, Arkady. It is your time for revenge. Revenge against those who wronged you long ago, who denied you and forced you out."