The White Wolf (Half-Breed Book 1)

by Brittany Comeaux

  The tree directly overlooked the garden, a private area of the castle that put the rest of Virland's forests to shame. Even with the darkness that came with the night, the greenery that made up the castle's garden shimmered like emeralds under the moonlight. A small stream traveled through the property and led to a small pond, which was dotted with lily pads and white petals.

  Milea crouched onto the nearest, sturdiest branch and pointed to a thick brush against the castle wall. “It's right over there,” Milea whispered as she pointed to a small door at the foot of the castle wall.

  If Varg hadn't been looking for the door, he never would have seen it. The door was built at the foot of a small stairway leading from the ground level to a lower level of the castle. A chimney situated on the wall outside indicated where an oven was, so Varg could only assume that the door led to a kitchen. Though they weren't very close, Varg could see no signs of light or life in the windows and determined that the room was empty.

  “Do you see any guards?” Varg whispered to his counterpart.

  “Not from here,” Milea said. “I'll drop first and tell you when it's clear for you.”

  Milea inched forward and hopped onto the ground. She crouched and hid behind a bush and looked around, then gestured for Varg to proceed. He dropped down, but much louder than he intended. Thankfully he didn't attract any attention, so he took the extra moment to quickly survey his surroundings. He saw no other way out of the garden, so he removed a rolled up piece of rope from his satchel and tossed it over the branch they dropped from.

  “This should allow a quick escape if necessary,” Varg explained when he saw Milea's questioning glare.

  The two then darted across the lawn when they were certain that the guards weren't looking and found the door. Milea tried the handle, but discovered it was locked.

  “Allow me,” Varg offered. He brought out his lock picking tools and fiddled with the lock. After hearing the click that assured him it was opened, he slowly creaked the door open in case someone was inside. The kitchen walls were stone and plain, much like the outside of the castle. A door on the opposite end of the room opened to a corridor, which in turn led to the dining room. Another door across the room opened to the throne room, which thankfully appeared to be empty. They still proceeded with caution just in case a lone guard stood watching, or even if Lionel's family were still awake.

  In the throne hall, a fire pit in sat in the middle of the floor, but the fire was no more than lingering embers. Above the carved marble throne sat a stained glass window that allowed colorful moonlight to paint the otherwise dark chamber. A set of stairs sat to the left of the throne, which is where Milea then gestured.

  “I'm willing to bet the Count's private chambers are upstairs,” Milea whispered from behind Varg.

  Varg nodded and inched forward to the stairs, then climbed to the upper level. He and Milea followed the walkway until it led to a doorway on the same wall as the throne. He opened a crack in the door, then opened it completely when he found no one waiting behind it. The bounty hunter proceeded into the corridor that opened to Lionel's chambers. Though it still kept up with the Count's apparent modest taste, the main chamber of the Count's private chambers had another, unlit fireplace where a pair of pleasant chairs greeted guests to the Count.

  Varg brushed aside the pleasing atmosphere long enough to locate another door opposite from where they entered. He and Milea crossed the room and went through the door to find a round room with a door on either side. In the middle of the room, there was a large plant arrangement with a variety of strange mushrooms and blossoms.

  Varg and Milea split up to check the doors on either side of the room. The door Varg opened led to a bedroom that appeared to belong to a scholar. Hundreds of books were practically stacked to the ceiling in stacks around the bed, desk, and bookshelves. As Varg wondered who would have the need to read so many books, he closed the door and looked back to his counterpart as she emerged from the opposite room.

  “Nothing in here,” Varg said. “Did you find anything?”

  “Just an old bedroom. I don't think anyone's used it in forever,” Milea answered.

  Varg looked to his left and saw another corridor across from where they entered and said, “Let's check over here.”

  “After you,” Milea offered.

  Varg took the lead once more and walked down the short corridor. There were three doors at the end of this hall, one directly at the end of the corridor, and one on either side. Varg first tried the one on the right and found another small bedroom. Then he tried the middle room and found a larger bedroom, no doubt the master bed chamber.

  It was then that Varg tried the last door, only there was no light inside. “I can't see a thing in here.”

  Milea peeked over his shoulder. “Let me see if I can find a light.”

  The half-elf felt along the wall with her hands until she grabbed hold of something in the far corner. In less than a minute, a dim light sparked to life before her and she held a freshly lit candle in one hand and a used flint rock in the other.

  The dim candle light revealed Count Lerington's study, a room that was full of books, scrolls, and trinkets that were scattered in a disorderly fashion. It was clear the Count was a scholarly man, judging by the wear and tear on the old tomes and the way they were placed to the side of his chair for later use. A lone desk sat on the opposite end of the room, which was littered with scribbled parchment. Judging by the state of things, it was apparent that Lionel Lerington had left in a hurry.

  Varg rubbed his forehead with his fingertips and muttered, “This mess doesn't make our job any easier.”

  Milea placed the candle on Lionel's desk, then moved aside a roll of parchment that was at risk of catching fire, then said, “We have to search this study top to bottom for any evidence that points to why he was murdered, so let's get to it.”

  Varg nodded, then began to search the top of the desk for important notes or papers while Milea examined the nearest bookshelf. He found nothing as he sifted through the parchment, so he started to check the drawers instead. Aching to bring an end to the silence, Varg began to speak, “I noticed that the rest of the bed chambers in the castle haven't been used in some time. Lionel doesn't appear to have any family left.”

  “Perhaps,” Milea replied as she replaced a book on the shelf, “but they certainly weren't forgotten. She pointed to the left wall where a large portrait hung. The portrait had an older man—though he'd only seen Lionel's decaying body, Varg recognized this man as the Count in better days—seated in a chair. A woman, no doubt his wife judging by her age, stood behind the chair. Two younger women who appeared to be his daughters stood on either side of the chair. One of the daughters and the wife had pale hair and eyes, but Varg noticed that the other daughter had dark hair and eyes, which was odd since Lionel looked nothing like her either.

  After examining the family portrait, Varg allowed his curiosity to interrupt his current task. “I wonder where they are?”

  “The daughters look old enough to be married, so they probably live with husbands elsewhere. Since we didn't find a wife living in the castle, it's a safe bet that Lionel was a widower,” Milea suggested.

  “Do you think his daughters may know more about the gang?” Varg asked.

  “I doubt Lionel would have told them, since it only would have put their lives in danger,” Milea said. “We'll know more once we find what we're looking for.”

  Varg closed the second drawer after finding nothing but old maps—he took one of the maps of Fellen just in case—and extra vials of ink and quills. He came to the last drawer, however, and find that it would not open. He sifted through the papers again to find a key, but couldn't find one. Not to worry, he thought. He simply whipped out his lockpick again and tried it on the lock, but he soon found that the lock was incredibly complex and quite impossible to open without a key.

  Varg replaced his lockpick in his satchel in defeat, then looked up to Milea and aske
d, “Do you see a key anywhere?”

  “No, sorry,” Milea said. She walked towards the desk again and asked, “Something wrong?”

  “The bottom drawer of this desk is locked tighter than a king's jewel vault,” Varg answered.

  “Let me look,” the half-elf said as she shifted through any container, shelf, and corner she could find. Varg did the same on his side of the room, but neither of them could find anything that even resembled a key.

  Just when Varg was about to search the other rooms, he spotted a peculiar spot on the frame of Lionel's family portrait. A small section at the bottom was discolored compared the the rest of the frame, and upon closer inspection, Varg could see a small latch in the carefully carved wood. He gently fiddled with the small latch and soon opened a small secret compartment in the frame. The compartment held an old, iron key, and Varg had a strong hunch it was the one he was looking for.

  Varg turned back towards the desk and without looking at Milea, he said, “I think I found it.”

  Milea replaced the lid back on the tack box she was sifting through and said, “Oh good. Let's hope it works.

  Varg knelt before the drawer and slowly pushed the key into the hole as it if would disintegrate if not handled properly. He turned the key to the left and upon hearing the click, heaved a sigh of relief and opened the drawer. He looked inside expecting to find treasures and terrible secrets only to discover the drawer was empty.

  “What in the world . . .?” Milea uttered.

  “Why bother locking a drawer if nothing was inside?” Varg said.

  Milea examined the drawer further, and then said, “Wait a moment.”

  Milea grabbed lowered the candle to get a better look inside the drawer. After a quick examination, she seemed to have spotted something peculiar, so she reached under the drawer and knocked. Then she used her other hand to reach inside the drawer. Within a minute, she pulled the bottom of the drawer up, revealing a secret compartment.

  Varg stared in awe as Milea propped the piece of wood to the side of the desk and asked, “How did you know?”

  “I could see a tiny gap between the edge of the drawer and the bottom, and when I knocked I could tell that the wood was hollow. Then I felt a hole in the back and pulled the false bottom outwith my finger,” she explained. “Now let's see what Lionel was so desperate to hide.”

  From the secret compartment, Milea pulled an old leather book. She opened it to reveal messy handwriting on crumpled pages. She ran her cautious fingers over the illegible text and gently turned the pages as though they were thousands of years old.

  “I think this is Lionel's journal,” she said.

  Varg peeked at the writings and couldn't understand a word of it. “What use is a journal if we can't read the handwriting? I think Lionel mixed his writing and wine a bit too much.”

  Milea stared at the document and ran her fingers over the pages and said, “This is Elvish, Varg.”

  “Elvish?” Varg asked in disbelief, “But how—?”

  “I haven't the slightest idea. Aside from me, there hasn't been a single elf outside the Crystal Wood in centuries,” Milea said. “As far as the human realm is concerned, Elvish is a dead language.”

  “What could be so important in that journal that Lerington would write in an unreadable language to keep anyone from finding out?” Varg wondered.

  “There is only one way to find out,” Milea answered. She began at the first page and skimmed the text, then said, “I am not as fluent in Elvish as I used to be, but I may be able to translate this.”

  She began to flip through the pages when Varg suddenly stopped her.

  “Look here,” Varg said, “a page is missing.” He then fished the old scrap of paper he took from Lionel's possessions and held up the left side to the tear mark to compare it. Despite having been soaked, torn, and folded, the paper was a perfect match.

  Varg nodded and exchanged a glance with Milea. “No doubt about it, this paper came from Lionel's journal.”

  “You're right, and look here.” She then pointed to the opposite page where there was a tiny sketch of a man in a black hood in the corner and said, “Look familiar?”

  “Just like the men who attacked us in Birhog,” Varg said.

  “This journal is exactly what kind of evidence we've been looking for,” Milea said. “Who knows what other information we'll find in its pages?”

  “Maybe now we can—” Varg stopped abruptly and began to sniff the air.

  “What is it?” Milea asked.

  “We need to leave,” Varg answered.

  “What? Why?”

  “Now,” Varg said more urgently.

  He grabbed Milea by her free arm and urged her towards the door, despite her many questions and protests. She still carried the journal and Varg finally got her running through the door. Of all his enhanced senses, his smell was top notch. Varg knew danger when he smelled it, and this time it came in the form of smoke.

  Varg allowed Milea to run in front of him, so she'd be in less danger, and followed her to the staircase.

  “What the—who are you?”

  Varg and Milea stopped in their tracks and turned to see a guard marching out of one of the bedrooms behind them. The agitated guard drew his sword and boldly pointed it at the intruders.

  “I'm sorry, we were just leaving,” Varg said in a hurry.

  The guard boldly inched forward. “Don't even think about running! You're under arrest for trespassing in the Count's castle!”

  Varg stood his ground, but hurriedly said, “Look, there is danger nearby and you need to run before it you get hurt.”

  Before the guard could argue, Lionel's study erupted in a deafening inferno behind him. The force of the blaze sent the shocked guard flying forward and onto the floor. Varg turned and rushed towards Milea to shield her, and he ended up falling on top of her. Once the blast calmed, Varg looked down and saw Milea was fine, but irked.

  It was then that Varg realized his hand was on Milea's breast. He jerked his hand back and jumped off of her in a hurry, trying to stutter an apology. “I swear I didn't mean to . . . I mean, it did feel nice, but . . .”

  Milea stood and quickly composed herself. “Never mind that. We need to help that guard!”

  Varg ran to the guard's side, picked him up, and flung him over his shoulder. He then trotted down the stairs with Milea behind him.

  “This way!” they heard a man yell.

  “Go back through the garden,” Milea urged.

  Varg did so, and fortunately there weren't any guards in sight. Varg ran across the courtyard without caring that anyone saw them, and once he made it to some brush near the outer wall, he set the guard down against the stone. The guard had a few minor burns and was out cold, but was otherwise unharmed.

  “Thank Laelith for your sense of smell,” Milea said after she place a small healing potion next to the guard.

  “It's never failed me yet,” Varg said proudly.

  “I can only assume that it was one of the assassins who did that,” Milea said. “The question is, how?”

  “I smelled smoke coming from the window area, as if a fuse had just been lit. I assume they scaled the building without the guards noticing and set the explosion to get rid of us,” Varg explained.

  “And destroy Lionel's study,” Milea offered.

  “Which means they knew about Lionel's journal, or at least knew he had some form of evidence in his study,” Varg said.

  “What's more, now that they're following us, we'll need to cover our tracks,” Milea dreaded.

  Varg nodded and scanned the yard to make sure he couldn't see any assassins that caused the blaze, but only saw the fire from Lionel's study spreading to the other rooms of the castle. The guards tried desperately to control it, but despite their efforts the fire engulfed the entire second floor. Varg turned back to Milea and said, “We'd better make a break for it while they're distracted.”

  “You're right,” Milea said.

&n
bsp; Once they were sure they'd left the guard where he could be found, they scaled the wall using the rope Varg left behind and tumbled onto the dirt on the other side. They scrambled to their feet before anyone could investigate the noise they made and ran into the night, leaving nothing but the charred remains of Count Lerington's castle in their wake.

  Once they were clear of the village and the keep, they slowed to a walk and Milea began to flip through the pages of Lionel's journal.

  “Well, what next?” Varg asked.

  “I think we should head south. I saw something in the journal about a gang stronghold near a village called Wild Valley.”

  Varg stopped in his tracks and his expression dropped. “Wild Valley?”

  “Yes, do you know it?”

  After a brief silence, Varg answered, “I know it.”

  “Do you remember how to get there?”

  “Not entirely, but I do have a map I took from Lionel's study,” Varg said. He removed the map from his pocket and unfolded it.

  “It's just past the border between Virland and Ironbarrow, in this forest region,” Varg said as he pointed to an area on the map. “That river runs through the village, so if we find the river, we just follow it southeast to Wild Valley.”

  “Excellent,” Milea said. “Lucky for us, you've been there.”

  “Of course,” Varg muttered.

  Varg tried his best to avoid eye contact with her to avoid having to explain his sudden change in attitude and walked ahead of her until they found a place to make camp. They set up their equipment and snacked on bread before going to sleep. Varg rested his head on the cloth of his sleeping sack and tried to relieve the sense of dread he had, but to no avail.

  Why, of all places in the world, did he have to return to Wild Valley?

  Night had fallen over Rivershire and Count Edric Greenwood paced in his bed chamber as he anxiously awaited news on the two fugitives who escaped Rivershire. The Count knew his actions that led to this situation were rash, but Lionel's discoveries could have lead back to him. It was unfortunate, but with his freedom and right to rule Rivershire on the line, Edric had no choice but to kill his old friend. Now he had heard the two upstarts he tried to set up to take the fall not only evaded capture at every corner, but had launched their own investigation into why Lionel was murdered in the first place.