The Wolves Of War

by Greg Curtis

  “He was a monster!” It was Endorian's turn to raise his voice, though he was far more controlled.

  “That miserable pile of dung forced me to take part in his experiment. He drained me of blood. Left me weak and hurting as he filled that glowing ball of his with my life blood. And if I tried to resist he promised he would have my family murdered.”

  “Sooth?” Lord Daelyn interrupted, reminding everyone that nothing here was being said untested. It also stopped the Princess from starting her accusations once more. She might yell and scream at the others but not at Lord Daelyn.

  “He speaks the truth. He is angry, but it is anger born of pain.” The soothsayer backed up Endorian's tale, leaving the Princess almost speechless.

  “Then, when I had no more blood left to give, he had me dragged to the vault under the throne room, and shackled with nails through my wrists while my feet were spiked to the floor. Briagh and Father Argen have told me of your family, but I did not see them there. They must have been behind the curtains that had been placed across the centre of the chamber.”

  “Sooth?” Again Lord Daelyn asked, clearly aware that what was being said was important. If he had spoken the truth Endorian had just exonerated himself from all the Princess' charges. Not that he suspected she would care. Hatred filled her heart.

  Still, she kept her silence when the soothsayer nodded, allowing none to hear the dark thoughts moving through her brain. Briagh didn't even have to roar at her. Endorian continued with his tale.

  “Then when all was ready, Barachalla stepped up to a stand in the middle of the chamber, placed the orb on it, and spoke a few words. After that all I remember was a world that turned to pain.”

  “There was light so bright that it burnt at the eyes and I had to look away. And pain as what remained of my soul was slowly torn apart. I remember the smell of something burning followed by a lot of screaming. The guards were all screaming as they were blinded by the orb. I screamed as well. But most of all I remember feeling like I was being pulled apart in strange and terrible directions. I could not withstand the power of that glowing orb, though I tried with everything I had. I thought I was going to die.”

  “But though things went dark for a time in the end I awoke. Not everyone did. A lot guards had fallen down and stayed down. Many of those who still lived and moved were blind and all were terrified. Some were shooting and stabbing at the others. Many looked to have lost their minds and those who could see me, saw only a monster. The chamber was covered in ash; it looked as if a volcano had erupted in the room. But worst of all there was the smell of burnt blood. A thick, pungent sickening smell that clawed at the throat and nose. It was the smell of my blood.”

  “My form was unstable and continued to shift. I could not control it. What had always been so quick and easy was neither. And I was in pain. Terrible pain. The changes that should have flowed had become like a raging river – pouring through me, cascading wildly. And different parts of my body were changing in different ways. I felt pain such as I had never felt before.”

  “Of Barachalla I saw nothing. He was not in the room. But I didn't have time to search it. I could hear howling coming from behind the soot covered curtains and guards were shooting wildly. Some shot at me but most were shooting at anything that made a noise. They were even shooting at each other. At that point I knew I had to run. I had a family in the dungeons and I desperately wanted to go to them, but I could barely stand and speaking was beyond me. Soldiers were outside, yelling in alarm, trying to break down the door to the chamber.”

  “So I tore myself free, leaving yet more blood behind, and when the soldiers finally broke into the chamber I burst through their lines and ran up the hallways. But I did not know the way out and everywhere I ran people kept screaming in terror while soldiers kept shooting at me.”

  “In the end I found a second story window and leapt through it and into the garden below. From there I ran into the city beyond and then out into the world. All I could do was run. Run and keep on running.”

  “I could not go back for my family.”

  Briagh was moved by the obvious pain and sorrow in Endorian's words. Others were too. But not It seemed the Princess. Though her face was twisted up as a swarm of conflicting emotions ran through her, Briagh could see that the overriding one was disbelief. He could already see the word “Liar” forming on her lips. And he knew he couldn't allow her to say it.

  “Sooth.” Briagh shifted and called for the truth to be verified once more, even though it was not his place.

  “He speaks the truth,” the soothsayer told them all.

  That stopped Elan from uttering her charge in a hurry. And Briagh knew she didn't like that. But you did not charge a soothsayer with lying. However, he also knew that she still didn't believe Endorian. He wasn't completely sure why she doubted him. Maybe she knew Barachalla and couldn't believe what was being said of him? Maybe it was simply too hard to put aside years of lies and hatred? Maybe she just hated morphs? Still, she was quiet for the moment and that was a blessing. He had grown to dislike her voice – mostly because of what she said.

  Meanwhile he considered that his work was done. She had listened to Endorian's tale. She might not believe it and no one could force her to. But she had listened and that was as much as could be hoped for. Which was why he padded quietly back to his horse and his clothes, changed and then started dressing.

  “You enjoyed that!” Careyn accused him quietly.

  “A little,” he admitted. “She's tried to kill me twice! Arrows hurt! And then there was that soul destroying whistle! She needs to learn a little fear.” He wasn't really proud of what he'd done, but he was somewhat pleased with it. He had failed his own family, but maybe he'd helped a little to protect another morph with his own family.

  “Not that you great oaf! The naked part!”

  “The naked part?” Briagh didn't understand that. Until he saw the look in her eyes. “I'm a morph! Clothes don't change shape with me, so the naked part is simply part of life. I don't even think about it, save that it's inconvenient.”

  “Humph!” She clearly didn't believe him. “I can see that we're going to have to work on your manners!”

  “With a little luck Careyn, no we won't. I've done what Lord Daelyn wanted and I expect that he should now release me from my sentence. Once that happens I'm leaving.”

  That was his plan after all. His only plan. Leave. Get out of this impossible fae realm, head back into Abylon and then keep heading north until he found somewhere else. Somewhere that no one could find him. Least of all one angry Princess.

  “Save that you've just publicly embarrassed Lord Daelyn by frightening his guest and then appearing naked in front of him. I wouldn't count your chickens too quickly!” Careyn laughed happily at him.

  “But that's not fair!” Briagh immediately tried to defend himself. But then he stopped. Because the truth was Briagh realised, that she could be right. He could have just undone all his hard work and made things worse for himself.

  Sometimes life wasn't fair. Especially for a morph.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Gaol. Briagh was becoming tired of it. Frustrated too as day after day passed with nothing happening. He'd expected to be out of here and gone by now. Instead, he was back in his cell with nothing to do. Nothing at all. He no longer had visitors. Not the Captain, the priest, the magistrate or even Lord Daelyn. Even Careyn was there less often. Which left him with endless hours of staring at walls and bars, and of course the blue sky beyond them.

  Maybe Careyn had been right? Maybe he had upset Lord Daelyn. It was hard to be sure – the Lord had said nothing and his expression was always carefully neutral. Or maybe it was simply that he was no longer of any importance to anyone and had been forgotten. He had done what he'd been asked to do after all. After that what else was needed?

  Princess Elan by contrast was important. The others visited her regularly. He had no idea why or what they discussed. All he knew w
as that he saw her every day being escorted down the corridor past his cell to the meeting room. She never looked at him as she passed he noticed. Neither to show displeasure or apologise. But then royals never apologised. Not to commoners.

  And Endorian was important too. Briagh had seen him in the courtyard outside his cell, speaking with people. He seemed no happier than before. He certainly never smiled at anyone – Briagh wasn't actually sure if his face was capable of smiling anymore – but he seemed to be busy. He had met several times in the courtyard with the Captain and Father Argen. He had also met with the Magistrate. It seemed that they were hatching a plan of some sort, but they were always too far away for him to hear what they were talking about.

  At least the morph seemed a little more relaxed these days. More comfortable with people around. Perhaps something good had come out of his journey? Still, Briagh feared that Endorian might be asked to journey into Abylon where he would be killed on sight. He did not want to be responsible for that. It didn’t matter that Careyn was right when she said it would not be his decision; he would still feel as though he was to blame.

  “Visitor!” Even as he was thinking of her Careyn called out to him from further down the corridor before finally turning up in front of his cell. “Make yourself presentable.”

  Briagh of course did as he was asked. He still had hopes of one day getting out of this cell, and offending people by being less than properly dressed would not help with that. So he stood up, straightened his clothes as best he could and brushed off any dirt he could see with his hands. A brush would have helped. So would a mirror. Still, he decided to have some fun with his gaoler.

  “Good. Is it finally time for the priest here to begin construction of my shrine?”

  “There is a shrine to Liasa at the front gate and the priests will come and hear your failings and your prayers if you ask them.” She was distant with him. Efficient. He didn't know why, though he suspected it had something to do with him appearing naked before the Princess.

  “I do not follow Liasa.”

  “Morphia then. There will be no shrine to the lawless Goddess in this gaol!” She stepped back half a step as if surprised he could even suggest such a thing. “This is a place of law!”

  “Not Morphia either. I may be a morph but I do not follow her. In truth I am a follower of Elm Tibesh.”

  “Elm Tibesh!” Her eyes widened and her voice grew a little louder and a little higher pitched. “You want to build a shrine to the Lord of Thieves in a gaol! Have you lost your wits?!”

  “But surely it is my right? I am a true follower and I have not had a chance to make my ritual offerings and my observances since I have been locked up in here.” It was hard to say that to her and keep a straight face as he said it. Still, he did his best.

  “Not that right! You will be old and grey before there is a shrine to Elm Tibesh here!”

  “Also it is customary for followers who are denied their right to worship, to be allowed redress from those who denied them.” Briagh carried on as if she hadn't said a word. “And it would be nice I think if you could make my observances with me.”

  “You want me to … to …” She started spluttering in horror, unable to even get the words out.

  “It's not that hard. I will teach you the proper prayers and chants, and there is a ritual sacrifice of course. A chicken – illicitly procured naturally.”

  “Steal a chicken!” Her voice rose even higher. “That's –.” She stopped suddenly as she spotted the smile on his face and realised the truth.

  “You are a very evil man!”

  Briagh found himself slapping his hand across the face unexpectedly. It hurt, but still he couldn't keep himself from grinning a little.

  “But you get to eat the chicken after!” He tried again, and promptly found himself slapping himself again for his trouble. That was a devastating gift she had.

  “No more talking!” But she too was now trying to hide her grin as she spoke. “Make yourself presentable and stand ready for your visitor.”

  With that she stepped back a few paces while trying to look completely serious, and Briagh was left in his cell to do as she demanded. In short order he was ready and only just in time as he saw the soldiers walking up to his cell and taking up positions on either side. Lord Daelyn had come to see him he realised.

  Careyn of course bowed and stepped aside as the Lord approached. Briagh did his best to bow as well. Though this was not his land and the fae was not his Lord, it seemed important. Especially when he might have upset the Lord previously. Maybe twice.

  “Briagh of no last name.” The Lord stepped up to the bars.

  “Lord Daelyn.” Why was it important to them that he had no last name Briagh wondered? He'd wondered that many times before – though he'd never asked.

  “It is time to speak of your sentence.”

  One thing about Lord Daelyn Briagh thought, he always came directly to the point. There was never any polite conversation first. That was somewhat different to the lords he had seen while spending his nights in the Arcanium. They couldn't stop talking about irrelevancies.

  “First you brought danger to our realm and failed to tell us of it.” The Lord held up his hand before Briagh could protest. “I accept that you did not know of it and tried to help. That you acted to protect Captain Hillaren and his rangers when that danger struck.”

  Briagh was extremely happy that the Captain wasn't there to hear that. He would have been mortified – and then he would have blamed Briagh for his shame as he considered it. The Captain was one fae who was never likely to become a friend.

  “You also came to the aid Father Argen as we wanted – though there was some urging required when any citizen of this land should have leapt at the chance to serve.”

  Urging? It had felt more like forcing to Briagh. But he was careful not to say that. Nor to mention that he wasn't a citizen of the land. No doubt it would be another black mark against him.

  “But then you offended a guest of the realm, undressing before her and roaring at her like a beast. I'm mindful that the Princess is somewhat intemperate in her views towards you and has tried to kill you twice. However, what you did was offensive, even if it facilitated the sharing of words.”

  Intemperate? Briagh couldn't believe he'd said that. She'd tried to murder him in cold blood. Twice! That wasn't simply a fit of pique and poor manners. And he couldn't help but notice that as carefully neutral as the Lord's expression was, it wasn't matched by Careyn who was standing just behind him and trying desperately to keep from laughing. Even the Lord's guards were looking as though they wanted to smile.

  “There must be amends made for that.” Lord Daelyn carried on, apparently not noticing the expression on Briagh's face. “I would think that to begin with an apology would be in order, and of course an act of contrition.”

  Act of contrition? That sent little alarm bells ringing through Briagh's blood. In fact, he had the truly horrible feeling that it meant another mission. And there was only one mission he could think of that anyone was interested in at the moment. Taking Endorian back to Abysynth and curing the princes of their madness. He did not want to return there. He especially did not want to bring a fellow morph there to be killed.

  “I will certainly apologise to the Princess.” He would hate it but he would do it Briagh decided. He would do whatever it took to leave this accursed land. But he did not want to go back to Abylon. And especially not to Abysynth where people might still be hunting him.

  “I am glad.” The Lord finally managed an expression – a studied and polite smile with absolutely no hint of his actual feelings on the matter in it. “And once you have completed your task – whatever it might be that she requires of you – we will speak no more of this matter.”

  With that the Lord turned and left, his body guards as always in step with him. Which left Briagh standing there, feeling angry. At that moment he hated his life. Hated this twisted land. And most of all he hated the f
act that he would have to apologise to the cold-blooded bitch who had twice tried to kill him. And who he was certain, would try again.

  And what did he mean they would speak no more of the matter? Did that mean that he would be freed and all would be forgotten? Or that he would be sent off to the labour camp after all?

  Briagh had a sudden sickening thought that he'd just placed his head in a noose by agreeing to do whatever it was she wanted of him. And the equally sickening understanding that he had no choice. For a time he had forgotten that. He had dared as both a commoner and a morph to speak back to a Lord. That did not happen. Not if you wanted to keep your head attached to your shoulders. Now he would have to pay for that mistake. Maybe he would pay for it for the rest of his life.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  To Briagh's surprise he wasn't escorted to the other wing of the jail by the guards as he had expected. Instead he was escorted outside, and into the gaol's courtyard. It took him a few moments to make sense of that. But when he did it made him angry. The Princess wasn't in the gaol!