by Brenna Lyons
“What do you want, Veriel?” he asked impatiently.
“You know what I want,” he answered evenly. “I want to hold my son, just once. I’ve been denied everything else. I want this one thing.”
Pauwel shook his head resolutely. “I have done what I could. I lied to her for you, dammit! I lied so you could get as close as you did.”
“As a wisp of air, half formed. I could not even feel his skin on mine.”
“Regana felt your presence. Even now, she is uneasy.”
“She fears me, but she doesn’t need to. You know that.” Jörg waved his hands in exasperation.
Pauwel leaned against a tree trunk and sighed raggedly. “Yes, I know it,” he admitted.
“Tell her. Convince her. If anyone can, you can.”
“I’ve tried. You know I have, ever since I saw this coming. Regana will not accept that you are sincere. You’ve lied to her too many times.”
“I didn’t. I never intentionally misled her,” Jörg exploded.
“From her point of view,” Pauwel dismissed. “Let’s not argue that again.”
“Fine. Tell her I am still printed to her,” he argued. “Tell her what that means. Tell her how I dream of her every day-sleep, how I dream of holding her again in the mid-day sun.”
“I can’t,” he answered miserably.
“Because she might choose me,” he accused.
“Never. Regana has made her choice. All it could do is hurt her. I won’t do that to her. If you are truly printed to her, you cannot force me to do it, knowing it will hurt her.”
“He’s my son,” Jörg thundered. “I didn’t know when I made my choice. She never told me. She knew that night, didn’t she?”
“She suspected, but what difference would it have made if you had known? You would have been even more determined to protect her.”
“He’s my son!”
“You have to forget that for her sake,” Pauwel countered. “If word of that got around, the villagers would kill them both, while we were helpless in the earth. The other beasts would use them to bring you to your knees and force you to tell them your secrets.
“As it is, I must leave his life before he can know me or risk the same from the villagers. The beasts only ignore that he is my child because you have led them to believe that I cannot pass the knowledge you have given me to them. It would serve little purpose for great risk as things stand now.”
“You have to leave. You have to give up. You have that time. I don’t!”
“I didn’t choose to be damned. I chose to die.”
“I will hold my son,” Jörg warned him. “Someday, I will. If I have to talk or bribe his amulet off just to feel him in my arms once—”
“If you try it, the lords will hunt you down, believing you pose a threat to all their children. Even Gawen will hunt you, if you give Regana one more moment of pain in her life. I can’t stop that.”
“I’ve done nothing to them,” he raged. “Why would they persecute me this way?”
“You betrayed them, threatened their families, and Wil—” Pauwel snorted at that.
Jörg groaned at the memory. “Riberta threatened Regana’s safety,” he protested weakly.
“Do you honestly think Wil cares what your reasons were?” he countered sarcastically. “You used her and fed from her until she was dead — brutally. Nothing else matters to him.”
“I’ve done many things I’ve regretted later. I can’t take any of them back. I wish I could.”
“Make the right choice this time,” Pauwel cautioned him as he turned to go.
“Why is it so easy for you?” Jörg asked quietly.
The older man paused mid-stride. Pauwel took a deep breath before he turned to face him. “You won’t like the answer I have for you,” he assured him.
“Tell me. Tell me honestly.”
“You were always a beast, even before you went to the stone.” He said it calmly and without a hint of censure. It was a simple statement of fact for him.
Jörg closed his eyes in understanding. “Regana told you that?”
“She didn’t have to. She didn’t want to admit much of your relationship to me. Her body told me all I needed to know, and occasionally, I would ask her something directly. Most of your handling was better left forgotten. Do you know the things you subjected her to made her fear a gentle hand?”
“I’ve tried not to relive your memories too closely. They’re — painful for me.”
“You should. You would understand her more if you did.” With that, he dematerialized and sped away into the night to feed.
Pauwel usually hunted prey that he bled and left for Regana to use in a stew, but occasionally, he took a bit of blood from a human, always those who needed correction in their ways as Jörg chose. Pauwel never killed humans, not even those Jörg would have. He simply weakened them, gave them mental correction while he fed, and left them to discover the error of their ways.
Jörg stared at the empty space where he had been for a long time, arguing with himself about whether or not he should heed Pauwel’s advice. Finally, he decided to try.
The attempt didn’t last long. The memory of Regana weeping in Pauwel’s bed the morning after they married, her self-doubt and anguish, her fear of Pauwel’s reaction to his discoveries about her prior treatment— It was all too much for him.
Jörg sobbed at the thought that he was the cause of it all. “I am damned. I always have been,” he decided.
Chapter Thirteen
517 AD
Gawen surveyed his nephew critically. The young man was stronger and faster than any warrior he had ever trained, including his own son Abbo, who would first night in three months’ time. All seven of the young warriors in training were more skilled than the aging lords already. All they lacked was the practical experience that they would learn fighting beasts.
He handed Andris his father’s belt.
His nephew met his eyes in concern. “I may not wear these, Uncle. I am not KreuzStütze’s Lord yet. I must earn my seal first.”
“It was your father’s wish that you use his blades from the first night you face a beast. I will grant you your seal at your first kill, but for now, you will obey me utterly no matter what your blades say of you. You will be unprotected for the first time in your life. Those weapons and myself will be your only defense. Do you understand?”
Andris stood taller, looking down on his uncle slightly as he did so. “Yes, Uncle. I understand.”
“Good. Then, put on your weapons belt and give me your amulet. If I order you to wear it—”
Andris snapped a startled look at him.
“You are the only KreuzStütze.” Gawen sighed. “I will not ask it unless I can no longer protect you,” he promised. All of the other houses had more than one young warrior, and a few were blessed with freed daughters. Ditrich alone had four sons and a daughter.
Andris nodded his agreement and started strapping on the belt. “My father was a good warrior. I’ve heard that much,” he said evenly.
“Our finest,” Gawen agreed. “You do him proud.”
“He fought dual like I do.”
“Not like you. Your style is your own.”
Gawen swallowed hard. Andris was a better blade than Pauwel or Jörg had ever been, but he wasn’t so sure the young man was better than Veriel. And, he might have to be. He would be better in time, Gawen was sure. He just hoped the young warrior was granted that much time.
“What was he like? My father?”
“Pauwel was a good man. He was utterly devoted to your mother. He was strong of character and of arm.” Gawen accepted the amulet Andris handed over and tucked it in his pouch for safekeeping. “He would have loved to see this night. You should try to be like him. He was a warrior like no other.”
“I heard Lord Maher say he broke the rules of training. It could have cost him his life.”
“It was necessary.”
Gawen smiled at Andris’ sidelon
g look. The boy longed for an answer but did not want to appear a child by begging for it.
“He claimed your mother sooner than was allowed. That is why you are so much older than the other young warriors are. You will discover printing soon enough. It’s impossible to ignore.”
Andris darkened. “I know,” he admitted.
Gawen regarded him in shock. “You haven’t!”
“No, but I’ve thought about it. It’s driving me mad. I must win my seal.”
“Who is she?” Gawen asked with a broad smile as they made their way into the dark night.
“Ger’s daughter,” he sighed. “Berna is...” Andris waved his arms in exasperation, looking for the perfect compliment for the lady of his affections.
“Off limits until you have your seal,” he ordered. “Understood?”
“Yes, Uncle. Understood.”
“Of course, once you have it, feel free to ask Ger’s permission. If she’s willing—”
Even in the moonlight, he could see Andris darken further.
Gawen grabbed the young pup by the scruff of his neck playfully. “Off limits,” he reminded him. “Completely off limits.”
“Off limits,” he mimicked. “But, Uncle...”
“Yes?” he asked suspiciously.
“Find a turned for me soon,” Andris pleaded then joined Gawen’s roar of laughter.
“Don’t get over eager. You make mistakes that way. Think! Always use your head.”
“It’s your sharpest weapon,” he finished for the master trainer.
“That’s right.”
They walked in silence for a long time, scanning but finding no sign of beasts about. “Uncle, was that the mistake my father made? Was he too over zealous?”
“No. Veriel is the most powerful of the elders. He does not lose.”
Andris nodded. “I’ve heard he’s mad.”
“He is.”
“Why has he attacked my mother so many times?”
“Why do you wait until first night to ask so many questions?” Gawen teased.
“I haven’t, but I’m a man now, so you are answering them — finally.”
“Ah, well in that case—” He considered his answer carefully. “Veriel and your mother were children together, raised under my hand. He hoped to choose her but didn’t stay away when he felt his blood burn for her. He went mad from it.”
“Is that why he took the stone?”
“So he says,” Gawen answered evenly.
Veriel unghosted into a malevolent cloud so quickly that the master trainer barely had time to sweep Andris to his back before he took shape before them, exuding a wave of pure fury. “Haven’t we had enough of lies, Gawen?” he challenged.
“You dare not, Veriel,” Gawen spat back. “You know who I protect, and you know that I protect him with my life if need be.”
“I know,” Veriel sneered. “I came to see the boy who would be Lord KreuzStütze.”
Andris shifted to get a better look at him. “What do you want with me, beast?”
“Only to offer you the same thing I offered the first cursed.”
“What? Death like you gave my father?”
“No. Co-operation. Gawen knows the truth. He knows I am not like the others. I want them dead, and with co-operation, we can accomplish that. He knows it is within my power to do this. Give me your hand as a sign of trust, and I will deliver them to you and your brother warriors.” He extended his hand for a clasp of agreement.
“No. You are called the mad deceiver for a reason,” the young warrior decided.
Veriel glared at Gawen. “Why was it necessary to poison the young warriors against me?” he demanded.
Gawen shook his head sadly. “Wil, Ger— They’ve all seen your killings. The children have been raised on their stories. I could not counteract that influence. Even you must realize that.”
“And each passing generation will make it worse.” He smiled a tight smile. “Unless I educate the young warriors,” he decided.
“How?” Andris asked suspiciously.
Veriel laughed harshly, and his fangs extended.
“Fates be damned!” Gawen exploded, reaching for the amulet in a panic. Regana will kill me if I let Veriel feed.
The beast had tossed Gawen like a doll and had Andris by the throat in less time than a lightening strike. He used a single claw to cut away the young warrior’s belt as Andris fumbled one of his weapons halfway out of its sheath. Andris gasped for breath as the belt and weapon fell away from him. He kicked and clawed at the beast, as Gawen shot to his feet and launched toward them with a ragged battle cry.
A furious wind knocked Gawen aside, and Pauwel materialized with the claws of his right hand firmly embedded in Veriel’s chest. The beast dropped Andris in shock, and the young warrior came up with his belt and backed away quickly.
“Are you all right?” Gawen asked as he skirted the battling beasts and grabbed his nephew by the shoulder.
Andris nodded painfully.
Gawen reached for the amulet, but it was gone, thrown free from his pouch as he fell. He growled in frustration and pushed Andris behind him again before turning back to the battle, praying that Pauwel was the victor this time.
Pauwel had taken Veriel’s throat, and the bleeding was formidable, but he had also taken heavy damage. Still, they battled. It was all a matter of who was forced to ground by loss of blood first. When Veriel finally cried out in fury and disappeared into a fine smoke, Pauwel collapsed to his knees.
Gawen made a move to go to him, but Pauwel glared at him, and he remembered the pretense. As far as Andris was concerned, Pauwel was a beast like any other beast. Like the earlier lies he told for Regana, even to death.
“What do you want, beast?” Gawen challenged him.
Pauwel looked at him in shaky exhaustion. He would have to go to ground soon.
“Why did you save me?” Andris asked in confusion.
Pauwel laughed. “I did not save you, boy warrior,” he replied sarcastically, playing his part well. “Veriel turned me. I have no love for him, so we play this game. What he wants, I take from him. You are just another stone on our game board, boy. Do not think too much of yourself.”
“Be gone, beast,” Gawen ordered. “You spared us. We will spare you — for tonight.”
“Uncle?” Andris breathed in shock.
“Silence! I have dealt with this beast before. He does not kill or take and he is a beast killer that rivals the warriors themselves, so I tolerate him.” He pleaded with Pauwel with his eyes. He had to go to ground.
“Gawen Lord KlingeStütze, master trainer and stone lord,” Pauwel answered formally, “I tire of this game. I must rest. It has been far too many years for me, and I may never be this weak again.”
Gawen’s eyes widened in shock. “You wish to die? Tonight?”
“I have asked this before, but I could not be killed then. I am at my lowest. My blood leaves me as we speak. Grant me my wish, now.”
“As you wish,” he answered with a heavy heart. Gawen started forward, steeling himself for what he knew he had to do.
“No,” Pauwel barked. “Not you. The boy will take my life from me.”
“He is only a first night,” Gawen protested weakly.
“I know what he is. The son of Regana and Pauwel Lord KreuzStütze needs a seal to claim his place. He will fight me for that seal,” Pauwel decided.
Gawen nodded in understanding. It was the only thing Pauwel had left to give his son. “Andris, arm yourself. The beast wishes to fight you. He is injured but he can still do you harm. Will you free him from his torment?”
“I will,” he promised. Andris moved toward his father, resolute, Blutjagd burning fiercely in him.
Gawen swallowed a cry of rage at that, keeping his face impassive. It was wrong. It was wrong to let Andris do this, but it was Pauwel’s wish.
Pauwel pushed to his feet unsteadily, but Gawen knew he was still a formidable foe. He faced the young warrior. �
��Andris of KreuzStütze, give me peace if you can.”
The battle was longer than Gawen anticipated, since Pauwel’s beast was intent on keeping him alive despite his battle to die that night. The beast drew first blood, a deep cut to Andris’ shoulder that was sure to scar.
The blow only enraged the young warrior, and his Blutjagd took on legendary proportions in his fury. In retribution, he landed three consecutive slices on Pauwel before dancing away in a move he learned from his mother. Knowing his opponent would next go to ground, Andris threw one of his blades, planting it in the beast’s ribs to pin him to a solid form. Pauwel looked at the blade in a mixture of amazement and joy, and Andris thrust his killing blow before he recovered, pulling both blades free as he danced away again.
Gawen bit back tears as Pauwel fell, but the former warrior laughed in relief.
“Thank you for freeing me, Lord KreuzStütze,” he gasped, greeting the new lord formally as his final gift. His head sank to the ground.
Andris looked at his blade uncertainly. “Uncle, it’s not like I expected,” he admitted. “I thought I’d be happy, but—”
“It’s all right, Andris. I grieve as well. It’s what separates us from the beasts we hunt. When the life we take is not truly foul, we regret the loss. In the meantime—” He stripped off his own tunic and used it to make bandages for the wound that would need stitched. Landric would be waiting with the others, in case such a thing was needed.
That done, Gawen painted the blood seal in Pauwel’s blood on Andris’ forehead and over his heart and gave him his autonomy. “Get your belt,” he ordered gruffly. “It’s a long walk back to the training area.” Gawen retrieved the amulet and placed it in Andris’ hand. “Take this. You may need it for Berna tonight.”
Andris’ smile widened, and Gawen had to trot to keep up with the young lord.
* * * *
Regana paced the floor of the training area nervously. Andris was out there unprotected. No, she reminded herself, he has Gawen and Pauwel. Her stomach twisted. If only Gawen had let her go, too. She was trained, after all. But, she wasn’t a warrior. Regana was just a mother, and her job was over now.