Circle of Wolves
CircleofWolves
A Cerridwen Press Publication
www.cerridwenpress.com
Circle of Wolves
ISBN 9781419918766
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Circle of Wolves Copyright © 2009 Jacquéline Roth
Edited by Helen Woodall.
Cover art by Dar Albert.
Electronic book Publication February 2009
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing Inc., 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Cerridwen Press is an imprint of Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.®
Circle of Wolves
Jacquéline Roth
Dedication
For Chris and Steve. Thank you, Chris, for loving this story even when it was in its infancy. That it led to us becoming friends is something I cherish. And for the King of Crones, our dearest Steve. Thank you for continuing to push and ask for the next chapter, and the next, and the next…
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Jeep: DaimlerChrysler Corporation
Prologue
Eight shall rise to form a new circle
Of Were and of human they will come
Through trust and cooperation
They shall defeat the greatest of evils
Or through lack, fall in final defeat.
For it is only through their bond
That we are lifted
Beyond our hate and fear
To the dawn of a new day
For all the Children of Semira
Two heroes shall blend worlds
The first shall serve the Cat and the man
Forging a new world and a new way
Opening the door for those to come
Opening the eyes of one by whom we shall stand or fall
The second is challenged to heal the wounds
Inflicted by centuries of guilt and shame
For until the blood and the curse become one
The wolf’s howl will be a lonely cry
Lost in the moonless night
The Prophecy of the End Days
Stanzas I through IV
C. Ryder, Oracle
Circle of Wolves
Chapter One
Conclave
Where was he? The room filled quickly as he watched from the darkened recess. He ticked off his mental list as he saw them mill about, taking their places on the circle inscribed in the center of the room. The circle was painted in gold and drawn in charcoal and sand. The air current that swirled about it with a soft whirring accounted for both the billowing of the mages’ cloaks and the final element that lent its protection and its power to the people who stood within the boundary.
He had still not seen the face he was looking for. Everyone seemed to be present but he’d yet to see the face he sought. True, many of those dressed in the white and black robes kept their cowls pulled up over their heads, obscuring their faces. But he had been certain he would know him, know him from his movements, from his posture. That he didn’t recognize the boy, now grown to a man, disturbed him. He pushed aside the regret and stepped from the shadows.
Silence spread through the room like the ripples across the surface of the pond. All talking, all fidgeting, all movement stopped as he stepped into the circle and took his place in the large star that had been emblazoned on the floor at due East within the circle. He stood with his own white cowl pulled over his head, hands clasped but hidden in the full sleeves. As he looked around the circle, he noted that several of the black robed faces were still hidden from him. Was that him on the left? Or maybe the right? His heart dropped. He honestly didn’t know.
Thrusting his regrets aside, he looked directly across the circle at the mirror star sitting due West and felt the loss of the man who should be standing there. Instead a single black candle burned with a black flame. His partner, his balance, his rival, had left them. The Grand Dark Master had shed this mortal world and left behind him an open place that would have to be filled and soon.
For centuries they had organized themselves this way. The Masters’ Circle brought together the leaders of the gifted, the mages, from all over the human world. Every five years, or on occasions such as this, they gathered in conclave those representing the best, the most powerful of all those whose gift for commanding the magic of the world around them set them apart from their non-magical brothers and sisters. Each man who stood here was the leader of his own working circle of mages, five each, one for each element and a master who guided or controlled them. Each region of the world had its representatives present at conclave. These were positions earned and won, not voted upon or selected as the normal humans chose their leaders.
He turned to his side and saw the tall white-robed figure who stood where he himself had stood for many years, in the place his working circle held within the larger Masters’ Circle. Evan Forester was his earth mage, his heir apparent. Evan, whose boyhood love for his master’s daughter had rivaled the missing mage’s and had caused a rift in the Master’s carefully ordered world. It should have been his son, for he could never consider the fire mage anything else, by his side.
But it was Evan. Evan who had too many secrets. But what were his other options? His son-in-law confined to a wheelchair with a magical injury no healer could cure. And Marcus? If he was a younger man he’d roll his eyes at the very thought. Marcus in charge of anything more than a barbeque was a horrifying thought. There was too much darkness in Marcus. If only his daughter Arianna was more powerful. But she hadn’t been his jewel. And the death of his daughter Cassandra had taken from him the two most powerful mages he’d ever known. One lost to death and one to the darkness.
Resigning himself to what lay ahead, Lawrence Ryder spread apart his hands and began the words that would call the conclave to order. “Spirits of earth, fire, air and water, spirits of north, south, east and west, spirits of light we call you to this gathering.” He was the Light Grand Master. He ruled all those lesser who called the lighter forces of magic.
As he lowered his hands, a wave of black lifted in unison as all the dark-robed mages acted as one to fill the place of their Grand Master. In one voice they intoned, “Spirits of water, air, fire and earth, spirits of west, east, south and north, spirits of dark we call you to this gathering.”
Standing to the Grand Master’s left, Evan felt the power rise through his body as he always did, felt the tingle that moved from his toes, up his legs, creeping along his spine and through his body. He looked at his master and watched him search the crowd.
Evan knew the dark eyes were flickering around the circle. He knew what, or rather whom, the Grand M
aster sought. A weary anger that blended inseparably with guilt welled up inside him. After everything, he would be the one. After all he had done, after the betrayal, after he had broken the old man’s heart, he would still be the one.
All arms lowered. Several minutes passed as each of the mages in turn, light then dark always keeping balance, called forward their protective elementals to bear witness and to offer protection. He would have to show himself. Now he could hide no longer. Evan waited with as much impatience as the Grand Master. Only three mages left, two dark. Evan was staring hard at the two trying to decide which ebony robed figure was his. He had never hidden himself before, why now? The smaller of the two dressed in black robes lifted his arms. Pale smooth arms that showed no scars, no marks grasped the edges of the cowl and pushed it back to reveal light brown hair and eyes. The familiar face and its implication shocked not only Evan, whose momentary loss of control nearly caused him to break from his place in the circle but produced a collective gasp from the other mages, his master included. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t the man they had expected. This was the new master of the old Grand Master’s circle and it wasn’t who it was supposed to be.
Grand Master Ryder nearly lost his composure when the face was revealed. Not the black hair and piercing blue eyes he had expected. Not the young man who had once called him father. Not the most powerful mage he had ever trained. Not Julien. It was not Julien Amiens, the man everyone had assumed would easily take control of the old Grand Master’s circle but Ian Carsten. Ryder’s mind cataloged in an instant a hundred ways this would lead to disaster. His mind raced for a reason, why? How? The mage who had also received his training at the hands of the Grand Master spoke his protections then moved back into the circle. It was only then he looked at Ryder. Looked at him and smiled.
The subtle movement of Evan’s hand beside him helped him to refocus. He would have to find another solution to the problem at hand. He had been so sure, so certain it would have been Julien. How did this whelp best the remarkable fire mage? Stop, he thought, closing down his speculation. He had to focus. If not Julien, then who? His eyes fell on the oldest of the mages in dark robes. Singer. Master Singer would have to do. He would not command the respect and awe that Julien would have commanded but he was balance, he was cooperation. Ian Carsten was not.
* * * * *
Back in his rooms, the rituals completed, Lawrence Ryder sank onto the sofa. How had this happened? Not Ian’s assuming the mantle of master. That he now understood. Carsten himself had explained after the circle lifted.
“I had expected to have to challenge Julien for master, so I can well understand your surprise,” the man said in a smooth voice. Ryder had always hated the boy’s voice and boy is what he would always be in the Grand Master’s eyes no matter that gray now tinged the hair at his temples. Carsten had been one of his earliest students, several years older than Julien but nowhere near as powerful. He should have been a minor inconvenience to the young man, a fly to be swatted away.
“Imagine my surprise when Julien didn’t challenge. Said he didn’t care about such things and had his own problems to deal with. He said the last thing he wanted was to play nursemaid or daddy to a bunch of bickering twits. His words not mine,” the man smiled sycophantically while lifting his palms in acquiescence. “All he asked is that he be left in peace to tend to his own pursuits and he would serve whatever master the circle chose.”
Ryder realized he shouldn’t have been surprised. This sounded exactly like Julien. The magic of the circles was an afterthought. They were a necessary evil that distracted him from his real purposes, his real obsessions. But Julien was no longer Ryder’s most pressing problem. His real problem was what to do about filling the Dark Grand Master’s role. He had been working for weeks now, muttering to those who would listen about how they needed new blood. He had assumed that new blood would be Julien. With the young man as his mirror, the power of the circles would have been unstoppable. The power of the gifted humans would have been unbeatable. No creature from the other realms would have dared to challenge them.
Now he would have to battle against his own campaign. Carsten had challenged for Grand Master. Had he himself not been prattling on about the need for youth and fresh energies, the idea would have been laughable. Carsten was riding on the misconception that he had bested the man everyone had expected to assume the dark mantle. His own support for Singer stunned the circle and divided it. Now they would wait. Each mage would spend the next three moon cycles contemplating, consulting his or her elementals and deciding who to follow.
That Singer would rise or fall by the measure of Ryder’s own power was indisputable. There had to be a way. A way to demonstrate that he still held the control, the power it took to rule. There had to be a way to demonstrate that together he and Singer could do the undoable and accomplish something so large and awe-inspiring, that it would push Carsten to the background.
A knock on the door pulled him from thought. The hinges creaked slightly as the door opened. The tall young man with light golden-brown hair moved into the room. His movements were relaxed and casual, each gesture, his very posture, seeming to strive to be as inconspicuous, as non-threatening as possible.
“Master,” the low voice was tentative. “Master, can I get you anything? Is there anything I can do to help?”
The idea burst in his brain like an exploding sun. “Yes, Evan, there is something you can do. Something only you can do.” He grasped the young man’s arms. “You may just be the key to stopping this catastrophe.”
* * * * *
“What the hell is going on?” Sethlin Lasater came storming, or rather rolling, into Evan’s room letting the door slam back against the wall. A long-ago accident had left him confined to a wheelchair, his lower body twisted and withered. “Ryder comes storming in with Singer and they lock themselves and you, in his workroom. You come back out ten minutes later and start packing. Exactly where are you going?”
“Europe,” Evan answered without looking up from his task.
“Why?” Seth insisted.
“I have to find them.”
“Find them?” Seth’s eyes narrowed. “Do you mean what I think you mean? Are you actually going to try to find…” His voice broke off as he read the answer in his friend’s posture. They were actually going through with this ridiculous plan? Ryder, Guardians forgive him, had gone crazy and was taking Evan with him.
“Evan, you don’t have to do this.” Seth watched his friend continue to throw items of clothing into a bag. “It’s asking a lot.”
“You’d do it.” Evan glanced over at his friend then back to his packing. “You’d do it without a second thought.”
“Would I? Are you so sure about that?” Seth’s words stopped him. He looked down at the sea-green eyes that were narrowed and watching him carefully. “It’s dangerous, Evan.”
“But you know as well as I do that I have to go. I have to try. Someone has to make these people see reason. If we can’t do that, we are going to lose credibility, lose our place. Pulling off this little coup is the best way and maybe the only way to prove we still control things.” He shook his head, “Come on, Seth, we know what Ian really is. We know what lies behind that simpering smile even if the rest of the world doesn’t. It’s our obligation.”
“So you’re going to let him exploit your…” His friend’s voice trailed off and he looked away.
“My deformity,” Evan offered calmly as he resumed his packing. “That’s what you mean, isn’t it, Seth? Am I going to let Master Ryder exploit the fact that I am a nasty, snarling, dirty little monster one night a month to get what he wants?”
His friend looked up at him startled. “Evan, you know none of us thinks of you that way. You can’t help what you are and we’ve loved you almost your whole life despite it. Don’t you know that? Don’t you get it?”
Evan shook his light brown hair out of his face, “Don’t you get it, Seth? We’re only holding our place as t
he highest circle by a thread. Like it or not, fair or not, the world sees Ian’s new rank as Julien’s failure.” Evan’s mouth twisted into a wry grin. “Though I’d love to see the idiot fool enough to say that to Julien’s face.” He met Seth’s eyes, “And since everyone still believes, no matter the truth or not, that Julien is Master Ryder’s son, the failure is his too. If we can pull off this alliance, get the werewolves to agree to cooperate, it will solidify our position once again. More importantly it will solidify our master’s position.”
“How can you unite a bunch of people you can’t find? You have no idea who is or isn’t a werewolf unless he tells you or you’re caught out on a moonlight stroll at the wrong time of the month.” Evan could smell Seth’s frustration hanging heavy in the air. He could hear it in the deepening of the soft Southern twang in his voice.
“That’s why I have to be the one who goes. I can tell.” Evan tapped his nose. That sensory organ, along with his ears, was heightened by what his mother had euphemistically called his “special nature”.
“So you’re going to walk up to everyone on the European continent and say, “Mind if I sniff you?” Or,” Seth scowled, “gee I can tell from your smell you’re a werewolf, wanna come submit humbly to absolute control and oppression? We don’t give a shit about you but hey, we’re the good guys. Come help us shore up our faltering dynasty.”
Evan sighed. The mage conclave that had been held last week, in addition to sparking what looked to be a nasty power struggle, wanted tighter controls on werewolves and other dark creatures. Seth had come swooping down on him as soon as the announcement was made public, demanding to know what he was going to do about it. What was he supposed to do about it? Any action on his part would jeopardize everything he had built the last couple of years. Hell, it could destroy everything for which he had spent his life struggling. “You’ve been ranting about the conclave for the last week. This is what I’m doing about it, Seth. I owe our master everything I have. He didn’t have to take me in. He could have turned my parents away, or more so, turned them into the conclave for hiding a werewolf. But he didn’t, he took me into his own home and trained me. I won’t risk what I have for anyone, not even others like me. If that’s selfish, then so be it. I like my life, Seth. It’s much more than I ever thought I’d have.”
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