by Jim Galford
Arella laughed and then whimpered, holding her shoulder. “Trust me, if I could have made that a law here, I would have. Would make it far easier to identify allies and challengers.”
“I am not your ally. You made that very clear already,” Feanne snapped, and Estin quickly put a hand on her shoulder in case she was about to start another fight. Her ears flattened back, but she said nothing.
“Where did you gain your gift?” Arella asked, putting the ice back on her own shoulder. “I have been raised among wolves my whole life and studied our so-called curse since I was a child. Never have I seen a were-fox, let alone any lycanthrope that can call to anything but their own for help. Wolves call wolves. Bears call bears. Nothing calls dire wolves.”
Feanne gave Estin a pleading look he knew all too well. She hated talking about her past, let alone anything to do with her transformations. All of her bluster was gone and she abruptly looked ready to run.
Squeezing her shoulder to let her know he would take care of things, Estin said, “Go with Rishad and get some new clothing. Turess will go with you. I’ll be right here when you come back.”
Putting her hand over his and smiling at him, Feanne groaned as she stood, keeping one hand on the blanket she wore. With the other, she pulled Estin close, hugged him, and nuzzled his neck. “I am sorry for taking that fight from you,” she whispered near his ear. “You asked me not to.”
“In hindsight, thank you.”
Feanne giggled quietly and nipped his ear before walking away with Rishad and Turess, heading toward the back stairs of the temple. From what Estin remembered of the place, there were rooms where the priests kept clothing there, along with a natural spring they used for ritual bathing.
“She is ashamed of what she is?” Arella asked once the others were gone. “There is no reason to feel shame over a gift of Kerrelin such as—”
“No god gave her that gift,” Estin said quickly, sitting on one of the chairs near the temple’s altar. Sighing, he looked up at the sky above the temple. The ring of walls around him blocked out the city, but not the stars. At the top of the stone wall, where archers had stood during his first visit, he noticed a faint line of carvings. They were impossible to make out clearly at a distance, but they seemed quite different from the etched pictures of trees and animals elsewhere. “A fae gave it to her. It didn’t tell her what it was doing or the implications until she accepted. She was young and scared, craving the ability to avenge her sister’s death. Now she can’t get rid of it.”
“The fae are nature spirits, Estin. Some revere them as gods, though we see them more as embodiment of the power of Kerrelin. He was born out of their power and rose to be greater than them. A gift from nature is no curse.”
“She was little more than kit when that thing forced this on her. It turned her into a killer for most of her life, hunting down furriers, loggers, and anything else that it thought threatened the woods. Feanne has more scars on the inside from that creature’s meddling than she has on her skin, and that is saying a lot.”
Arella nodded sadly. “The way of the wilderness is not one that leaves us as whole as we would like. Pain strengthens or destroys us. Your mate is strong, without equal among my pack. I have done things that I regret as well, but we all must make such choices.”
“All we wanted to do was talk to you about helping us. Was that too much to ask that it had to come to this?”
“No. This was a misunderstanding,” Arella admitted. “I saw the two of you as trying to force us to break our vows to wait until Kerrelin called us to serve. You were a threat, in a sense. No one threatens my pack or my city.”
“We wanted help, not to threaten you.”
“I know, Estin, I know. Your mate beat that understanding into me today, along with the reminder that I should not strike at another female’s mate if I intend to walk away in one piece. May I ask one other thing about her, though?”
Estin got back up, paced briefly, and shrugged. “Ask whatever you want. Just ask me, not her. She hates this topic.”
“Do you know why her eyes glow green?”
Thinking back over his years with Feanne and the fight with the werewolves, he realized she was the only one whose eyes glowed at all. The others gleamed in the light, but Feanne’s emitted a light of their own. Most fights where she had transformed had been at night, and the glow had illuminated the creatures she ripped apart. It was distinctive and frightening, even after seeing it as many times as he had.
“I have no idea,” he confessed. “I honestly thought all lycanthropes were like that when I first met her. Now I’ve been around her long enough that I hadn’t given it further thought.”
“It is not normal among our kind. Not hardly. I have never seen another like that, myself.” Getting up with another whimper, Arella limped her way over to the altar, where she picked up an old book. Carrying it back with her, she walked up to Estin and dropped it on the floor in front of him. “I won’t tell you what I think. You tell me.”
Sitting on the cold floor and opening the book, Estin let his eyes drift past most of the text, though words such as “monsters,” “beasts,” and “fae” leaped out at him regularly—all were things Feanne had either been called or accused of serving. Every few pages, a small picture had been drawn and colored in great detail. Most were scenes of the wilderness retaking abandoned cities. There were packs of animals and even several half-animal, half-human creatures he assumed to be a human changing into a werewolf or similar creature. Nearing the end of the book, he found one large picture that filled a full page. In it, a humanoid beast with features of a dozen different animals stood with the forest only coming up to its knees. The two features that stood out most were its wolven facial features and fur patterning and the fox-like tail. The creature was howling at a full moon, and animals filled the woods at its feet, also looking as though they might be howling.
Brilliant emerald green ink depicted the creature’s eyes as they lit the sky. The same color ink had been used for the color of the leaves filling the trees. Estin doubted that was coincidental.
“She’s not a god,” Estin said quickly, slamming the book shut. “Don’t even try telling me that. I don’t even believe the fae are gods. The fae she served treated her as a tool and little more.”
“I would not claim such a thing. Kerrelin does not live in our world anymore,” Arella said, sitting back down and putting the ice to her shoulder again, though most of it had already melted. “His next visit to Eldvar would be through an avatar, according to our legends. A spokesperson for nature, one could say. We have long believed that the creature he sent would be from the fae, given Kerrelin’s origins. It would be fitting.”
“This isn’t her power. The Miharon—”
Arella’s surprised expression made Estin wish he had kept his mouth shut. “Seventh page.”
Flipping open the book, Estin turned to the seventh page, which he had managed to skip his first time through. He saw a ghostly black wolf depicted moving through the woods with its paws floating above the ground. The gleaming purple eyes were unmistakable. Estin had faced that creature down years earlier when it had threatened his life for standing up for Feanne. He had reason to think it had nearly succeeded in having him killed months after that incident. He sincerely doubted there was another fae who had taken the same appearance.
As soon as Estin looked away from the book, Arella continued. “The Miharon. The spirit of the woods of the south. The black wolf of the mountains. The most powerful of all the fae that has ever been documented, though it only means the Miharon was the most powerful to reveal itself to mankind. That creature vanished a thousand years ago, and it was in his image that we became what we are. Once, his woods came all the way to Jnodin, but mankind limited his realm over time. He gave us our gift and taught us to seek the wild animal in all of us.”
Putting his head in his hands for a second, Estin said, “I hate to tell you this, but the Miharon is dead. The Turessians
set off some kind of weapon in the woods and, as I understand it, killed the Miharon. Feanne told me he’s probably dead and that she tried contacting him for months without any success. He used to whisper into her mind, but that hasn’t happened in years.”
“It could not have killed him, unless he was already weakened. A fae can defend their land. He would have fought or hidden, depending on the threat. Unless he had left the woods or the woods were pared down to a small grove—that would be the only thing that could weaken him.”
“He followed me to Lantonne and got me arrested,” Estin said quickly. “Petty revenge for telling him to stay away from Feanne. The people there saw a black wolf that led them straight to me. I was blamed for killing hundreds and enslaved because of him. It was shortly after that when they destroyed the woods where Feanne had been meeting him in the past.”
Arella leaned back in her chair, staring at the floor. “Then he is truly gone. It would take a fae months or years to recover from traveling away from his woods. The weapon that destroyed the area of his power would scatter his very existence and return his magic to where it came from. Without his grove, he is gone.”
Estin kept his mouth shut to keep from saying how thrilled he was to hear the creature that had tried to kill Feanne for disobeying, and him for helping her, might really be dead. He thought back to the grove of old trees Feanne had tended near their original camp and the way it had withered after the Miharon had vanished. And how very nearly mad Feanne had gone. Now he wondered how much of that madness was actually a result of her losing her children and how much he could blame on the fae.
“Regardless,” Arella went on, “Feanne is Kerrelin’s avatar, or at least a representative of the fae. The origin of her magic leaves no doubt. One does not simply stumble upon a new type of lycanthrope, let alone one with as much power as she possesses.”
“What does that mean for us?”
A rustle came from the direction of the altar, which had been bare seconds earlier. When Estin looked up, he saw Mairlee sitting atop it, letting her legs hang off it. She grinned when he jumped slightly. There was an impishness in her expression that Estin certainly could not reconcile with her age.
Turning her attention to Arella, Mairlee answered, “It means that the priests of Jnodin had best be ready to serve. I had expected this to take far longer, Estin. I am often surprised at how much is accomplished in your short lives, but this may be among the more remarkable deeds in a while.”
Arella stared in shock. “Who is this?”
“Another ally,” Estin explained. “This is Mairlee…are we calling you a wizardess, still?”
“Yes, that would be fine,” Mairlee replied, grinning maliciously. “We do have a new issue that you might wish to deal with sooner, rather than later.”
“What’s that?” Estin asked.
Arella continued to study Mairlee.
“We can wait for the others. This will require you seeing it, not me telling you. Explaining would be…difficult. I will want all of you to be in decent condition before I take you there. I do not know how fragile your kind are, and I do not wish to break anyone in the course of the journey.”
Blinking in surprise, Arella asked Estin, “Fragile? She has no idea what I am, does she?”
“Oh, I do,” Mairlee replied quickly. “I will stand by my choice of words, werewolf. Your kind are very much breakable. That has not changed in generations. Everything has its limits before it is beyond its ability to heal. Were I to rend your body apart, you would eventually die.”
“But how did you get in here?” Arella asked, pointing up at the ring of engravings at the top of the walls. “Magical entry to the city is blocked—”
“Child, I taught my son how to write those many of your generations ago,” Mairlee snapped. “I would consider those markings to be little more than an infant’s scribbles. They do not keep me out, nor will they keep Dorralt out of your city. They have value, but not as much as you believe.”
Arella looked caught between wanting to argue and curiosity. She clenched the muscles of her jaw and nodded, apparently surrendering the urge to ask.
For his own part, Estin still wanted to know what Mairlee was or whether she was just far better at bluffing than he was.
*
Dawn broke over the city, making Estin groan and bury his face in Feanne’s neck fur in an attempt to keep the light out of his eyes. They had gone to sleep about halfway through the night, far earlier than Estin would have liked, but the humans in the temple had insisted on meeting shortly after dawn—about the time Estin would have preferred going to sleep.
“Wake up,” Feanne said softly, though her voice sounded as though she were not all that awake yet either. “We need to meet with Turess, Rishad, and that human woman.”
“Arella.”
“I believe I mentioned her,” Feanne replied, sitting up slowly and stretching.
They lay on a pile of blankets at the side of the bed, where the sunlight was warm and made Feanne’s fur look almost aflame. He lost his thoughts for a moment as he followed the curve of her back without the heavy clothing they had been forced to wear since arriving in the north. “She hit me. Get over it, Feanne. You really need to let this go. You can’t kill everyone who slaps me around.”
“I can and I have, aside from this one,” she replied, smirking over her shoulder at him. “You may wish to remind her of that before she tries to claim that she is in charge again.”
Tracing one of several deep scars on Feanne’s back with the back of his claw, making her shiver, Estin said, “She won’t. I worked that out. That’s part of why we need to go to the temple this morning.”
“Remind me to ask you how you talked them down at some point. I thought I would have to tear that woman apart more than once to convince her that they should help.”
“You might not like the answer.” He felt her back muscles tense. She knew him well enough that she probably was already dreading finding out. Given what he knew was coming, she had every right to feel that way.
Getting up off the blankets and going to the window, Feanne closed her eyes and soaked up the sunlight, getting her whole body from ears to paws into the sunbeam. Thankfully, Estin knew there were probably no humans outside who would see her. Their room’s window faced the eastern wall, and they were on the third floor.
Not that Feanne likely cared. She hardly considered it a problem for wildlings to see her naked, and she did not think much of humans and their more conservative attitudes. If she thought too much about it, she probably would be happy to walk through the city without clothing simply to offend the humans.
“When did you say we would meet them?” Feanne asked, turning away from the window.
“An hour after first light. Gives us some time to eat before having to show up at the temple.”
Smiling coyly, Feanne slid under the blankets with him, pulled him close, and dug her claws behind his shoulders to keep him from slipping away. “I think we can live without food for one morning. I believe I owe you an apology for starting that fight at the gates, or at least I’ll use that as an excuse.”
“It’s not an apology if you don’t say you’re sorry,” he reminded her before flicking at her whiskers with a fingertip, where she had become ticklish after she was brought back from the dead weeks earlier. “You could try starting with that.”
Grinning, Feanne kept quiet as she pulled the blankets over them, blocking out the sunlight.
*
They arrived at the temple a little late. They could see dozens of warriors and archers lining the sides of the steps in rows. Outside the temple, there were hundreds of humans in the streets, staring in confusion at the two wildlings who walked from the inn to the temple without escort. Most had probably never seen a wildling, though given the turnout of the werewolves the day before, Estin guessed most of these people were seriously questioning what was happening in Jnodin of late.
Despite his best effort to remain calm
with hundreds of people watching, Estin found himself unable to keep his hand off his sword. He kept from unfastening it from its sheath, but his fingers brushed that clasp every time another group of humans came up to them, staring with a mix of curiosity and fear.
“Where is Turess?” Feanne demanded, her eyes darting around from person to person as though any of them might attack at any moment. It was the most cornered and afraid Estin thought he had ever seen her, and he only felt slightly safer himself.
“We’re late. He’s probably already here.”
Stepping quickly away from a human child who got too close, Feanne nearly tripped over Estin’s feet. Once she had recovered—managing only to give the child a yip in warning for surprising her—she whispered, “Why do humans put so much importance on exact times?”
“They don’t live by sunrise and set. They schedule out their lives around one another and the shops they control. We have the luxury of pacing our day by when we need to find food or shelter, but they can get those whenever they want.”
“Insanity,” she said, shaking her head. “It is like a pack with no leader. Arella is beyond incompetent.”
“This city isn’t hers. Only the priests are.”
“Then the priests need to take charge, with her guiding them. They can easily enforce some proper order among these people.”
Estin tugged at her sleeve as they approached the steps, drawing her attention away from a group of humans she was eyeing a little too warily for his taste. “That’s how some cities work, with a king or other noble. The king is the pack-leader, the knights and other lesser nobility are his enforcers, and the people are supposed to follow their lead.”
“Then there is hope for humans after all,” she answered, following close to him up the steps. “I do not appreciate being so outnumbered, though.”