The White Wolf (Half-Breed Book 1)

by Brittany Comeaux

  “You have my word,” Varg growled, although it was a promise he wished he didn't have to keep.

  “Fine, tell me your plan,” Edric muttered.

  Varg and Milea crept by the city wall with a large stone in his hand, as was his part in the daring escape he'd planned out with his comrades. With the guards patrolling the gate and the top of the wall, they had no way of sneaking out. Therefore, it was only reasonable to get rid of these obstacles in order to leave the city of Balik without fault. All Varg needed was a signal to continue, and his plan would soon begin.

  The signal came when Erril's shouted from a few streets away, “Help! Guards, come quick!”

  The guards around the caravan stopped in their tracks and shot off in the direction of Erril's cries. Once they were out of sight, Varg tossed his stone over the wall. He heard it smash onto the rocks on the other side and evidently the guards heard too, for they immediately ran off to the source of the noise to investigate. Pleased with his plan's success, Varg rushed to the street with Milea following, where Edric diverted his driver's attention away from the stowaways.

  Varg opened the caravan door and allowed Milea to enter before hopping in himself. Within seconds, Erril jumped in and took a seat on the bench across from them.

  “Sorry about that, Milord,” one of the guards said. “We heard a false alarm.”

  “Am I cleared to leave now, or do you wish to take my caravan apart first?” the Count remarked.

  Varg clenched his fists, hoping for Edric's sake that this wasn't a trick to get them discovered, but fortunately the guard said, “No Milord, you are clear to leave Balik.”

  “Very good,” Edric huffed.

  The Count stepped into the caravan a few moments later, and the caravan began to move a few seconds after that. Edric never took his eyes off of Frost Fang, which sat proudly in its owner's lap as a reminder for the Count to keep his end of the deal. A few minutes past, and Varg dared to peek out of the caravan door to see the splendid city of Balik growing smaller in the distance.

  CHAPTER 11

  AN HOUR HAD PASSED SINCE the daring escape from Balik justice, and Varg could already see the dawn light peeking through the cracks in the caravan door. He hadn't realized the time of night when he and his comrades first left the inn, but depsite his lack of sleep he hardly felt tired. Edric on the other hand, seemed to always look tired.

  The Count finally huffed to break the silence, then said, “Are you quite ready to leave?”

  “Get your driver to stop the caravan,” Milea ordered.

  Greenwood scowled, but obeyed her command and said loudly, “Stop the caravan.”

  “As you wish, Milord,” they heard the driver say.

  The caravan came to an abrupt halt and jolted the passengers around, then they heard footsteps approaching the door. Varg and the others hopped out of the caravan just as the driver rounded the back.

  When the caravan driver saw them, he tensed up and drew his dagger. “What is this? Who are you?”

  Without a word, Varg approached the driver and made a fist. He delivered a sharp blow to the back of the confused man's head and waited. The driver's eyelids twitched, then closed as he fell forwards onto the ground.

  When Greenwood stepped outside and saw his caravan driver facedown in the dirt, he became utterly defiant and said, “What is the meaning of this? Did you kill my driver?”

  “Don't worry, he's only knocked out. We can't let him get in the way of our business,” Varg added.

  “What business?” the Count pressed. “I thought you were going to let me go?”

  “We will, but first you're going to answer our questions,” Milea answered.

  “I'll do no such thing.”

  “Don't test me,” Varg warned. “It's your fault we're in this mess and now you're going to help us and Oliva get out of it.”

  Edric 's expression dropped. “Lionel's granddaughter? I should have known she was the target.”

  “You knew about the kidnapping?” Varg asked.

  “That's why I was in Balik in the first place,” Edric explained. “I have connections in the city and it was my job to help the assassins enter Balik. They had another connection in the school to let them in there.”

  “The headmistress,” Varg replied.

  “Emila? I can't say I'm surprised,” the Count remarked.

  “So why were you trying to leave in a hurry if you knew about the Shadow Hand?” Milea asked.

  “If you must know,” Edric began, “I was awake last night to await confirmation that the cultists had made the grab and were out of the city. I happened to look outside and saw the guards running about, then I heard them shouting about the arrest warrant for a large man with white hair, an elf woman, and a child. I knew only one man with white hair with an elf in his company, so I was trying to leave before you discovered I was there. In hindsight, if I had just stayed put I would be dreaming happily in a bed with satin sheets and you would be rotting in a Balik cell awaiting your well-deserved fate.”

  “Enough,” Varg interrupted. “Now that that's out of the way, we need to know why Oliva was abducted.”

  “What makes you think I know why?” Edric remarked.

  “You helped the Shadow Hand kidnap a student and you didn't even know why?” Milea said.

  “Unlike some people I know not to interfere or ask questions where I don't belong,” Edric countered.

  “Then why do you offer help to the Shadow Hand?” Varg demanded.

  “Because they aren't afraid to get their hands dirty so I don't have to. There's been talk of people questioning my right to rule Rivershire, so the Shadow Hand assures that these only result in mere whispers of rebellion. In return, they have free reign to do what they see fit in Rivershire's land,” Edric said.

  “You must have some idea what the Shadow Hand is, otherwise you wouldn't have made the trouble to come all the way from Rivershire,” Milea said.

  The Count looked up and stared into space, and when he had an apparent idea, he looked back at the others and said, “Well, I do know that the Lerington family once tended to an Elvish shrine some generations ago, but it's fallen into disrepair. Lionel mentioned it when he came to me and said the cultists asked him about the shrine.”

  “Why would a Count of Fellen have ties to an Elvish shrine?” Varg asked.

  “Hundreds of years ago, the heir of the Lerington family married an Elvish priestess. She brought an ancient artifact of Laelith with her and claimed she was entrusted with it's safety. Her husband built the shrine so she could lock it away. Only her blood could open the shrine, and her descendents after that carried on the tradition until about eighty years ago, when a bandit raid all but destroyed the old temple,” the Count explained.

  “The Shadow Hand must have tried to get Lionel to open the shrine, but now that he's gone they need Oliva to do it,” Milea reasoned. “That also explains why their family could read and write Elvish.”

  “Where is the shrine?” Varg asked.

  The Count rolled his eyes. “It's a short walk from the river south of here. Just follow the trail leading from the river and it's on top of a hill. Now if we're done here, then I shall be on my way.”

  “Not yet,” Varg said. “I have one more question.”

  Edric sighed. “I grow bored of this game.”

  Varg grumbled, but continued, “Who is the Serpent?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me, Greenwood. Who is the Serpent?” Varg repeated.

  Edric sighed again, but this time it lacked the annoyance it had before. “I've only met him once, but I can assure you that it's an encounter that I will never forget. The Serpent keeps his identity a secret to everyone except for a select few, and even then only his closest followers are allowed to even refer to him by his name. I happen to know his name only because one of his followers let it slip in my presence.”

  “So what is it? What's the Serpent's name?” Varg urged.

  Greenwood
stared at him, then ruefully answered, “It's Jin. The Serpent's name is Jin.”

  “Jin? That's an unusual name,” Milea said.

  “I've heard that he's from somewhere across the sea, but not even his closest followers know for sure. I honestly don't even know what he is, much less where he's from,” Edric said.

  “What do you mean?” Varg asked.

  “Jin isn't exaclty human,” Edric explained. “He has a face you only see in nightmares, the kind of face that haunts your mind and sets the standards for your worst fears. I can't explain it, and I'd rather not relive it, so that's all I will say on the matter.”

  “Very well, there's nothing more I need from you anyway,” Varg said. “As promised, you're free to go.”

  The Count finally relaxed and straightened his posture. “Well it's about time. Do me a favor and don't run into me again. I have enough to deal with.”

  “Don't push your luck,” Varg remarked, “because I promise if I see you again, I won't spare you.”

  Without another word, Varg, Milea, and Erril left the Count to his caravan and unconsious driver.

  Once they were clear out of earshot, Erril trotted up to Varg and said, “You should have killed him.”

  Varg admitted to himself that she was right, but he simply responded, “I gave my word, and no matter what, I never break my word.”

  “Do you think he was telling the truth about the shrine?” Milea asked.

  Varg shrugged. “Even if he wasn't, his information is the only thing we have to go on. We have to find Oliva no matter what, so I'll follow any lead I get.”

  By the time the sun set, Varg, Milea, and Erril found the river bend south of Balik. They turned eastward from there and followed the nearby hill as instructed until they came across the ancient ruin of an Elvish shrine. After decades of abandonment, the crumbling walls of the structure now made home to vines and brush. Crickets chirped in the dark and the slithering sound of snakes echoed from the dirt. Dim lights from within the ruin gave away that they were not alone.

  “They're here, all right,” Varg whispered.

  “What's our plan?” Erril asked.

  “Tread lightly. We don't know how many of our friends are waiting inside or if they have anymore tricks waiting for us,” Varg advised.

  “What about Oliva? How do you expect to get her out of harms way?” Erril pointed out.

  “I don't know yet,” Varg said, “but I'll figure something out once we have a better idea of what we're up against.”

  Varg took the lead and the others covered his flank as he approached the decrepit doors that once opened into the temple. Once inside, it was clear that the architecture was of Elven origin. Several delicate runes were etched into the once white stone walls. There were also murals depicting ancient Elvish people. Varg noticed their prominent pointed ears much like Milea's, only theirs were longer. Upon reaching the end of the first corridor, there was a wall directly in front of Varg with another mural depicting several more elves bowing down to a larger elf woman in the middle. Enveloped in light, the elf woman gazed gently upon the elves with as much adoration as they offered her.

  “That is the goddess, Laelith, mother of the elves,” Milea explained. “She was known for her wisdom and love for the elves, whom she called her 'children.'”

  Varg didn't much care for deities, but merely responded, “I never knew the elves were so religious.”

  Milea nodded. “The Grand Temple is a central point of the entire Elvish kingdom and the oldest standing structure in the Crystal Wood.”

  Behind the wall, the pathway continued on the right. Varg continued in the front and led his comrades into the unknown. Once behind the wall, he entered another corridor and saw the glow again. He then began to hear muffled male voices and was sure that Milea could hear them too.

  “Looks like we are getting close,” he whispered.

  He placed his main hand on the handle of his axe and readied himself for battle as he slowed his pace and tried to make out what the voices inside were saying. Within a few minutes, he heard who he was certain was Tain and a female voice, more than likely Oliva's, who seemed to be pleading with the first voice. Then a third, unfamiliar voice that somehow made Varg uneasy came.

  “Shrine . . . your bloodline . . . what I seek,” is all Varg could discern from the mysterious voice. Varg didn't know what told him, but he was almost certain that this voice belonged to none other than the Serpent.

  Varg came upon a stairwell stretching from the direct path and had a strong hunch he should take it. He'd long since learned to trust his instincts, so he beckoned the others to follow him. The stairs led to a second floor that seemed to support their weight despite the withered stone, so the three crept cautiously and found a balcony overlooking a room of worship.

  Though the roof had crumbled and littered debris on the ground below, the chamber still retained a brilliance that few ruins preserved. A round platform was raised by steps on all sides and on the platform sat an altar with strange symbols on it. In the middle of the room stood Tain, who held Oliva's arms behind her back, half a dozen cultists who waited obediently and orderly to the side of the room, and then another, much more mysterious man.

  The last entity, whom Varg could only assume was the Serpent, garbed a hooded white robe with a violet and gray sash under a belt holding a strange blade in a sheath on his left side. Although Varg could not see the Serpent's eyes under his white hood, he could see his pale lips curving into a twisted smile.

  “Dear Oliva, all I require is your cooperation and you may walk free this evening,” the Serpent said smoothly. His eerie voice gave Varg a sick feeling in his stomach and it seemed he wasn't the only one.

  “Something is horribly wrong about him,” Milea whispered in Varg's ear.

  Varg couldn't deny her words to be true and nodded in response.

  “Why do you need me to open the vault?” Oliva pressed.

  “Your family sealed something of great interest to me in the vault to protect it from those who would misuse it. Sadly your grandfather would not cooperate with my followers, and he paid the ultimate price for it,” the Serpent said.

  “What are you talking about? What happened to him?” Oliva cried.

  The Serpent smiled. “Your grandfather intruded into business that wasn't his, so he had to be taken care of before it got out of hand.”

  “He's dead? No! It's not true!”

  Varg's heart sank at the sight of Oliva breaking down. He wished that he'd disobeyed Conley's request not to reveal Lerington's fate to Oliva, for at least she wouldn't have to find out in such a cruel way.

  “Do not fret, dear, for he was unworthy,” the Serpent patronized. “I promise that if you give me what I desire this night, there shall be a place for you in the Dawn.”

  It was then that the mysterious message on the paper found on Lerington's body rang through Varg's mind once again:

  The Serpent shall lead the worthy to the Dawn.

  “My grandfather was a wonderful man!” Oliva argued.

  “My dear, you are in no position to argue,” the Serpent warned.

  Oliva shook her head furiously and struggled to break free of Tain's grasp. “Do you think I care what happens to me? You killed my grandfather! I won't give you anything!”

  “I did not carry out the deed myself, Oliva, but I do not deny that he had to die to protect our mission. The Shadow Hand have a noble destiny that will rid the world of unworthy and weak-minded pests,” the Serpent replied. “I will not hesitate to use force to accomplish this.”

  “Do what you must. I will never submit to you,” Oliva countered.

  The Serpent heaved a sigh. “Very well, you leave me no choice.”

  The Serpent made a gesture at Tain, who released his grip on Oliva. Before she could run, the Serpent grabbed her arm and held her in place. He placed a gloved hand on his hood, which in turn caused every cultist in the room to drop to their knees and bow before him. He then removed
his hood and left the room breathless.

  Though the Serpent had slight human features, it was clear that he was a creature of an ancient magnitude that could strike fear even in those who lived on the battlefield. His skin was sickly pale and rich, violet scales surrounded his eyes, framed his face, and traveled down his neck. His hair was long, smooth, and a pale shade of violet and fell around dark horns that curved with the shape of his head. His eyes were a frightening shade of gold with thins slits for pupils, much like a snake.

  Oliva began to shake violently at the sight of the man known as the Serpent, which only made him offer her a twisted smile in response.

  “You should be thrilled,” he hissed, “for only a select few are granted the privilege to look upon the face of the Serpent!”

  Oliva calmed herself and tried to hide her weakness, but Jin was not deterred. He dragged her to the altar and, while holding her hand over the concave part of the altar with his hand, he revealed a small knife from his robe and immediately slit her palm open.

  Oliva cried out in pain as her blood dripped into the concavity. To everyone's astonishment save for the Serpent, the symbols began to glow and travel along the floor towards the wall directly behind the altar. The symbols twisted and danced, taking the shape of an archway. Once the glowing symbols stilled, an opening formed between them, revealing another corridor.

  “Excellent,” the Serpent hissed.

  He shoved Oliva back towards Tain, who then caught her and held her in place.

  “You said you would let me go!” Oliva argued.

  Jin simply stared at her and answered, “I don't know what awaits us in the Inner Sanctum of this temple. As far as I'm aware, I may need your blood again yet. It would therefore be unwise to release you until I know for sure.” Jin turned to the rest of the cultists and added, “You will wait out here for us to return.”

  The Serpent marched through the open door with Tain following with Oliva. She desperately struggled to break free, but to no avail. Tain kept his grasp firmly around her arms.