by Ted Striker
The problem, she thought, was the golems. Golems were generally stupid things, certainly no smarter than the person controlling them. Although Jwilla was good at her craft, she could not control three golems at the same time and keep them from leaving tracks. She could not make them disappear, either. If she and Tamoth abandoned the golems, their deception would be discovered quickly. Not necessarily a bad thing; just that it was too soon. “We need to keep this up for two more days,” she told Tamoth. “We can hide the golems once we are out of sight of the Erych. Then we can begin to circle back to Bryan.”
Tamoth grunted. “If we keep climbing, I will need to be a mountain goat to disappear.” He paused. “Didn’t we hunt – what’s-his-name, the mad satyr, that one who was terrorizing the maidens of Lakewoods—somewhere around these parts? He led us a merry chase. If we can find his old paths, we can do the same to those Erych.”
And just like that, a wisp of a plan formed. Jwilla found a likely spot to camp. Leaving Tamoth and the golems to make a fire and set up camp, she went hunting and returned with several rabbits and news: “The Erych are settling in to camp as well. Perhaps we don’t need to go on for two days. When darkness falls, we should put our plan in motion.” They ate and rested until the light was gone. Then Jwilla commanded the golems to Gateway Pass. The automatons left camp and began their mindless march. “They will walk until they arrive or some chance disables them,” she said. “The pass is two days distant; with any luck at all, their trail will be the one the Erych follow. By the time they discover the trick, we’ll be well on our own roundabout way to rendezvous with Bryan.”
They left and followed the golem track for a while before turning off onto what Tamoth was sure was one of the satyr’s old trails. It was the mere ghost of a trail now, a track used only by animals, and by those very seldom. Tamoth led, picking his way carefully, and even though Jwilla was right behind him, she could hardly see his trail in the bright light of moonrise. For all that he weighed fifteen hundredweight, the centaur could be nimble or stealthy as required. Daylight would show more, but the care that the pair had taken to hide their tracks would likely be sufficient. They followed the trail down into a small valley where Tamoth entered a brook and picked his careful way downstream, exiting only when he found some rocky ledges that led up the opposite slope.
“Climb onto my back,” he said to Jwilla. “On this rock, I won’t leave a track to follow, and carrying you will let me go faster. The rock runs south for miles. We’ll make good time, and by daybreak we’ll be able to turn back toward our young friend’s path.”
Chapter 21
The detritus of the party littered the square under the light of the well-risen sun. Bryan looked through the window of his room over the scene as villagers swept up and set the square right again. He sensed Branna’s approach and half-turned to slip his arm around her waist. She snuggled close, pulling at his earlobe with her lips. “Thank goodness you weren’t wounded worse,” she murmured.
Bryan turned more fully to the Wolf Queen and kissed her on the mouth carefully and completely. “I’m certainly happy to be alive to be here kissing you,” he replied when they broke for air.
“For now, at any rate,” she retorted mischievously, pinching his butt cheek. “Tomorrow, who knows?”
“Tomorrow, I should get started South.” Bryan felt a little uneasy and took refuge in the mission. Lasting relationships just hadn’t fit in with his career choice as an agent, but it was one thing to tell himself that and quite another for this wolf-girl to slice through all his bullshit in a single razor-sharp sentence. “Someone once wrote that having a wife or family is giving hostages to fortune,” he said. “My life has never had room for that kind of hostage.”
“It is a hard life that has no love,” Branna said a little sadly. “I had Conn for a very short time, but those were the richest years of my life. Now that I’ve just reclaimed control of Clan Conroicht, I understand your point of view. My life will have little room for such ‘hostages,’ as well. But don’t you think that there is room for love, for a time, at least? I know that you have your own quest to the South, but I hope you won’t leave too soon.” Branna’s hands strayed into provocative territory.
“I have a couple of days while we pull supplies together,” said Bryan, a little hoarsely. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again. “No, I definitely will not leave too soon.”
After a while, they dressed for the rest of the day and went in search of the Council.
Branna greeted some of the villagers they passed by name as they walked to the Council House, and their greetings in return were warm and friendly. A few of the men and several of the women even extended their warm embraces to Bryan as well. One saucy wench even busked him boldly on the mouth. Branna eyed the woman askance, but made no protest. “Her evil plan is to tempt you into her chambers so she can steal your power,” she said loudly enough for the wench to hear. Both women laughed merrily. “Your new status as hero of the clan is a key that will unlock many doors and many legs here,” said the Wolf Queen as they entered the Council House.
“As well it should!” said Connor warmly. “Ye’re late for breakfast, but come into the kitchen and we’ll find a bit of food for you. No doubt you’re famished and exhausted by your exertions of the night!”
Were there no secrets here?
{In a small town full of Wolf ears and noses?} pointed out Mebd, in fine humor. {You may as well have hired a crier to advertise for you. But no worries; on this side of the Veil, heroes are accorded their due.}
“Thanks,” he said to both Mebd and the Council leader with a smile. “I could eat a bite.” I still don’t trust you, old man!
Connor returned a smile that showed understanding and what seemed to Bryan to be a rueful humor. “You must have many questions for us to answer,” he said with a small bow. “And we have questions for you, as well.”
Three other Laignach were seated at the kitchen table drinking. “Aodhan,” said Connor, pointing to a large red-haired fellow at one end of the table, “and that’s Neit beside him; they’re brothers, if you didn’t notice. Connla, my youngest son, is that dark-haired wiry waif.” Connor tousled Connla’s hair affectionately as he sat. The youth growled wordlessly and glared at Bryan, who ignored the discourtesy and nodded amiably.
A serving maid brought a platter of steaks over to Bryan. She bent low as she set the platter in front of him to make sure he could look down her bodice. She served a pitcher of milk and one of ale as well as leaving a large loaf of bread before retreating with an inviting smile.
Connor pulled up a chair and drank some ale. “You begin, hero of Clan Conroight. What do you want to know?”
“Actually, I need to continue on my way.” said Bryan as he loaded his plate with food and tore a hunk of bread from the enormous loaf. “I’ve been told that you hire out as mercenaries.”
“Foul lies!” spat Connla, half-rising, his fists clenched. “Only to be expected from Men, I suppose. We have ever only striven to protect our territory and our friends!”
Connor raised a calming hand to his son. To Bryan he said, “As usual, the truth lies somewhere between. Anciently there were thirteen clans among the Laignach. We were and are fierce warriors, but in that ancient day there was a great deal of chaos. Many different factions among the inhabitants of this land fought for territory and supremacy. Our people did what was needed to survive, and some of that necessity was ugly and foul. Today only six clans exist: Ourselves, Clan Conroicht; the Lycaons and the Vylcolis are the three oldest families with a lineage leading directly back to Fenrir. The other three clans are the Ulfhednar, the Kurtadam, and Tierkrieger. They broke away from either the Lycaons or the Vylcolis.”
“Clan Conroight has always kept to itself, defending our territory and those villages that choose to align themselves with us.” Added Branna. “The Lycaons live far to the East, in the foothills of the Escarpment of the Gods, and the Vylcolis are to the East, Beyond the
Great River. Both of those are much as we are, peaceful kingdoms who mind their own business. The Kurtadam and the Tierkrieger, on the other hand, both live to the south west, in country that is more difficult to make a living from. They hire out as mercenaries. They have earned the Laignach an infamy for violence and ruthlessness. Phelan was like them; he felt that fear equaled respect, and his path would have made us into another mercenary force; he thought that we would be overwhelmed by either the Men from the south or by another clan did we not become more aggressive.”
Bryan chewed quietly for a moment. “Thank you,” he said at last. “I truly meant no offense by my questions, but as you may have perceived, I am not from these parts.” This last was directed at Connla, but the youth was having none of it. He scowled at Bryan from beneath lowered brows.
“And a sound understanding is a key to success,” said Connor.
Aodhan spoke up. “If it is our turn for a question, my friend, I have one to ask. When you punched Phelan in the snout, what were you thinking?”
Bryan looked directly at Connor when he answered. “I was thinking that I was a dead man, and that if a Wolf wanted to kill me, he was going to know that he was in a fight before it was over.”
“So you had no plan?” asked Neit, incredulous.
“Barehanded, against the apex predator of these parts?” Bryan shook his head. “What kind of a plan could I have? I hit Phelan because the opportunity offered itself. Then I broke his paw for the same reason. I needed to get to the sword, but it wasn’t until I was barefoot that the idea of using rocks came to me.”
“So your grand plan was to throw rocks at a great Wolf to provoke it to anger.” Aodhan grinned. “I always knew Humans were insane.”
“Yes,” said Bryan simply, “It was just crazy enough to work. Let me ask you something: Why does everyone here seem to be glad that I won? Phelan was one of you, after all, and I’m an outsider.”
“Phelan seemed a good choice as Clan Chief at first. Once he had power, he let his darker side show, ruling by fear instead of reason. As it turned out, he was a curse to the Clan instead of a blessing.” Connor looked down as he said this.
Aodhan said, “Well, you are now one of us, Wolf or not.”
Connla was having none of the camaraderie. Bryan had noticed that the youth seemed to be nursing a grudge. Now his feelings boiled over at the show of comradeship the Laignach were showing Bryan. “You will never be one of us!” he sneered. “You are nothing more than a Man, whatever you have done here.” He turned to his father, jabbing a finger in Bryan’s direction. “He can never be one of us!”
“Peace, Connla!” said the youth’s father sternly. “Laignach he may not be, but Lord Bryan has rendered a great service to Clan Conroicht.”
Branna spoke. “Whatever Lord Bryan has done, whelp, he is here because I have brought him here. I have chosen him to be with me. That is enough.”
“Enough!” Connla spat the word. “I say, ‘enough!’ Men have enslaved our kind, hunted us, sported with our women before mutilating and murdering them!” He was shaking with repressed fury, on the verge of Changing. “You yourself, Branna! How quickly you forget the outrages of Men against you! Well, I neither forget nor forgive!”
Connor put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “His mother was taken by the same Porvir you met. He and his men. . . abused her badly before hanging and drawing her.”
“I understand,” began Bryan.
“You understand NOTHING!” roared Connla. In a flash, he changed into a huge brown wolf, his clothing exploding from him. He started a leap that would end with his jaws around Bryan’s throat. Before Bryan could move, Connor hurled himself between them, and Neit and Aodhan both threw brawny arms around Connla’s wolf form, holding him tight as, squirming, he wormed his way closer to Bryan’s face, jaws snapping, splashing Bryan with hot wolf saliva. Connor snapped the word that Changed Connla back to his human form.
Bryan paid no attention to any of that. A wild howling reverberated through his brain and a sudden jolt of pain shot through him as if his skin was suddenly three sizes too tight, and he fell to the floor, writhing. He burned as if his body was on fire. He cried out as agony coursed through his nerves, his veins, his bones.
Aodhan stared. “How is this possible?” Shaggy yellow fur was beginning to sprout all over Bryan’s body in an accelerated pattern. Releasing the now quiet Connla, Aodhan quickly bent and ripped the leather armor from Bryan so that it wouldn’t strangle the Human as his skeleton shifted and his body began to flow into its new shape, much bigger and more massive than his human form.
Branna rushed forward, but Connor stopped her with an outflung arm. “Stand back! D’you not see it? His First Change is upon him!” he shouted, drawing his sword. “He’s aye too old to be shifting his shape for the first time! He has no training, and there’s been no Guide bonded to him! Without a Guide, he won’t be able to control the Beast, and will likely kill us all and lay waste to the village and countryside.” He raised his sword to strike.
“No!” screamed Branna. She threw herself between Connor and Bryan and frantically began to tear her clothes off. “Don’t kill him! I will Guide him.”
Connor shook his head. “Do you think that I want him dead? He could become the Clan’s greatest asset! But, lass, he’s too old, and you two haven’t been Bonded. How will you get through the Beast mind to make him hear you?”
Aodhan put his massive hand on Connor’s arm even as he drew his own sword. “Let her try, Connor. If she fails, we three can surely withstand him.”
Connor lowered his sword and backed off. “On your heads be it if we all die,” he said grimly.
Chapter 22
Bryan heard this exchange from behind a loud hissing wall of pain. He understood what had happened. When the Soul Sword had captured Phelan’s essence, it had also caught Phelan’s Beast, the animal spirit that made him Laignach. Then the pain intensified, and rational thought was ripped from him. He felt his face stretch; it was like a complete cramp of every muscle in his face and neck as what had been a flat human face now elongated into a canine muzzle. His jaw went through a series of stabbing pains as his teeth lengthened into long, sharp fangs. His skin rippled and rolled as his muscles swelled and thickened with a series of loud pops! and his body transformed. The Change was almost complete. Thick, tawny animal fur covered his entire body, and he felt the Human part of his mind being pushed down by the animal id.
The Beast he was becoming rose onto its four legs and drew black lips back in a snarl that revealed fangs as long as daggers. He saw the three men, weapons drawn. Those weapons would avail nothing before his strength and speed. He threw back his shaggy head and loosed an unearthly, bloodcurdling howl.
{Bryan!} Somewhere in the depths of his psyche, Bryan knew that disembodied voice. A flash came to him of a battle… one neither won nor lost. Perkins? Perkunas! That was the fellow’s name. {Bryan!} repeated Perkunas. {You do not have to be the Beast! Fight it, my son! Claim your soul!}
Mebd joined in. {My son, you are complete in yourself. The Wolf is merely a small part of your whole. A rún mo chroí! You can defeat the Beast, keep him in his place!}
His place! His place was to hunt, to bring down, kill and devour prey. The men with their swords, and these three inside him; he would track them, stalk them, destroy them all!
Suddenly a new scent came to him: a she! And not just any she, but one he had known and mated only recently. Bryan’s beast growled with the onset of lust. Then her cold nose touched his own and her pheromones flooded into him. She licked his muzzle. Bryan felt a strange pressure behind his eyes. He growled, moved to mount her. Branna growled sternly, the noise rising through a whine and ending in an insistent yip!
He moved again to mate with the she, and received the same answer, this time punctuated with a sharp nip on his muzzle.
This sharp new pain, so different from that of the Change, helped him to focus, and through the confusion of sensations and wa
nts that was the Wolf, a clear light shone above the thick fog of animal desires. Now Bryan understood what that pressure was. With difficulty, he pushed the Beast down and opened his mind to the voice that was trying to reach him.
*Bryan! Hear me!*
*I hear.* He growled the words grudgingly, but Branna rejoiced: They were words, the symbols of sweet reason!
The fog over his brain started to lift, the light in his mind brightened; he was Bryan again. Bryan the Wolf. Well, why not? Hell, everyone else was in here. Might as well have a pet, too. He sneezed a disdainful Wolf sneeze.
Mebd spoke:{At last!} she said, her relief flooding through him. {We had feared the worst, my child! Were the Wolf to rule in your mind, we three would have been trapped, helpless intelligence-- prisoners of ferocity and animal desires-- until the death of the beast – and of ourselves! An ignominious finish to such a promising beginning, no?}
Bryan growled. {Wouldn’t you two deities have figured out how to reassert intelligent control?}
*Bryan, who are you talking to? Oh!* Branna withdrew.
{It seems that we have been discovered in flagrante delicto, as the Romans might say!} Mebd was in great humor, but Bryan understood that the possibility of being trapped inside the psyche of a werewolf had been a truly frightening experience for the Goddess. {Indeed, my son. Once the Wolf was in complete control, it would have resisted any attempt to rein it in. Your father and I communicate with you, but you are the one who controls your body, in whatever form. Only you could wrest control of your body from the Beast. I know of one person who remained a Wolf for centuries before she regained some control.}
{Who?}
{My sister,} replied Mebd in a flat tone. {She is the ancestress of the Laignach. Her worshippers know her as the Morrigán.}
{Wait a minute. Connor said that Fenrir was the ancestor of the Laignach.}