The other wolves followed, leaping upon the sleepy cattle, sinking claws and teeth into the unsuspecting animals. Teeth clamped down hard on rock. The entire field was filled with boulders, the cattle mere illusions. The three cattle dogs shifted into their natural forms—that of three Carpathian hunters.
Nicolae Von Shrieder, a renowned vampire hunter, wielded his silver sword, the blade flashing scarlet as he removed the head of the nearest rogue. Even as he did so, before he could plunge his stake in the chest of the still clawing creature, two leapt upon his back and tackled his legs, taking him to the ground. They were so fast, these werewolves, leaping higher and moving quicker with no warning than even the vampires he’d hunted for centuries had given.
Traian Trigovise hit the ground running as he shifted. The werewolf coming at him was huge, seemed to be all muscle, teeth and claws and lightning fast. He dove under the wolf’s reaching claws, sliding along the ground, hooking his arm around the wolf’s knees to bring him down. He slammed the silver stake into the heart before the rogue could recover. Two more were on him before he could make it to his feet. He tried to dissolve, but the claws digging into his flesh prevented escape.
The third cattle dog shifted fast. The Carpathian known simply as Andre was as elusive as a legend could get, moving fast, a shadow only, streaking through the air and literally ripping the wolf from Traian’s back. He didn’t slow down at all, moving continuously, his sword flashing in the early dawn’s light, wreaking havoc with the number of werewolves attacking.
Andre’s swordsmanship was superb. He’d fought in centuries past and the sword felt right at home in his hand. He seemed to flow, his feet smooth and sure. The blade gleamed bright red, blood dripping onto the ground and spraying through the air as he calmly cut through the raging wolves.
Traian and Nicolae followed in his wake, slamming silver stakes into hearts as Andre cut the rogues down. The three made short work of the werewolves who had attempted to attack the cattle. Costin Eliade and his cattle were safe on a neighboring farm, leaving the Carpathians to build their trap for the rogues.
It took a few moments to realize they had successfully destroyed the twelve werewolves bent on killing the livestock. Both Traian and Nicolae were surprised at the lacerations and chunks of flesh missing from their bodies. Blood streamed down their chest, necks and backs. Nicolae had slash marks across his belly. Andre had bite marks on his legs, but other than that, he’d remained unscathed.
Traian grinned at Nicolae. “What did we learn from this?”
“That Andre needs to give us both sword lessons,” Nicolae acknowledged. “We had to do all the grunt work and look at us. Next time, I want to be the one dancing with the sword while you two do mop up.”
Stop congratulating yourselves and get over here. We could use a little help. Gregori used the common Carpathian telepathic communication, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Traian, undaunted, flashed another quick grin and winked at Nicolae. “We also learned werewolves fall for illusion and we had the advantage here.”
Nicolae, Andre and Traian moved quickly across the field to go to the aid of the other Carpathians just as a second wave of werewolves leapt over rooftops to drop down on the warriors fighting off the rogues.
I don’t like this, Fen said uneasily to Tatijana. Get into the air and see if you can find who is coordinating their attack. They have to have a leader directing them. This is too organized.
He fought his way toward Gregori. He’d dealt with rogue packs throughout the centuries and none were this large. He’d never seen a single pack this large.
How many dead? he asked Andre.
Twelve. Andre’s answer was short and clipped. I have come across smaller packs of rogues, but none this size and none this well organized.
Just the fact that Andre added anything at all to his statement further alarmed Fenris. Andre conveyed tension in his terse sentence. Like Fen, he realized something was definitely not right about the attack. It was too well orchestrated, especially that second wave of werewolves sent to join their brethren.
Tatijana immediately took a running start and leapt into the air. As she did so, a werewolf launched himself from the horse shelter rooftop and swatted her out of the sky. Her body tumbled toward the ground, the rogue catching her around her rib cage between his teeth. Fen leapt to meet him, driving his silver sword through the werewolf’s gut. As the rogue opened his mouth in a gasp, Fen yanked Tatijana to him, streaking upward to avoid hitting the ground. The werewolf hit hard, rolled and came to his feet howling, holding his ripped belly with one hand while his red eyes tracked Fen and Tatijana.
Drops of bright blood fell to the ground, almost on top of the wolf. Tatijana clamped her hand over the bite marks. She could feel Fen’s building rage that she had been bitten. He was anxiously trying to examine her as he went airborne.
I’m all right, Fen, she assured. They’re so fast and they jump so high, it’s hard to judge a safe distance from them.
I can feel your pain. Don’t tell me an untruth, Tatijana, I need to know how you are.
It hurts like hell, but nothing’s broken. I thought for a moment he was going to snap my ribs like twigs, but you were on him so fast.
I am Sange rau. Faster than they are. His voice was grim.
Even as he replied, telling her the strict truth, she felt the warmth of healing energy slipping into the wounds on her rib cage. There was instant relief. Thank you.
Always.
The Carpathians were seeing for the first time the damage a rogue pack could have on them. When they realized just how difficult it would be to destroy the Sange rau, they might change their minds about allowing such a mixture of blood to live. It was tantamount to having a nuclear weapon aimed at one’s head.
Fen reversed his direction and this time aimed for the ground, moving like a speeding bullet straight toward the werewolf he’d knocked from the sky. The wolf leapt to meet him. At the last moment, Fen pushed Tatijana back skyward, giving her the opportunity to shift into her dragon as he met the wolf head-on. He was moving so fast, a mere streak in the sky, that when he hit the rogue, he nearly went through the body. His fist shot through the chest wall, the silver stake he held in it slamming through the heart so that the wolf was dead before both ever hit the ground.
You play rough. Gregori had observed the encounter in spite of fighting off the latest wave of attackers. His voice was thoughtful. Wary.
Now they begin to understand, Fen said to Tatijana. He will be more concerned that I keep my distance from his prince.
Tatijana sighed. Our prince. Don’t pretend you would not guard him with your life. I am in your heart and soul, remember, wolf man? I see what you are doing. You want Gregori and the others to realize what they’re up against. Mere words are not enough. They have to see for themselves.
No one Carpathian hunter will ever be able to defeat the Sange rau alone, Fen told her. Only if a miracle occurred. The combination of Lycan and Carpathian abilities is lethal. The Lycans know it, because they have seen thousands of their kind killed, nearly wiping out their species, by only one or two of these monsters. The Carpathians have not faced them, and their arrogance will get them all killed—and possibly their prince if they don’t process the information fast. Even now, they can’t fathom an enemy like the Sange rau.
Gregori, the prince’s primary guardian, would be the first to grasp the enormity of what they were up against. His natural instincts already made him suspicious and wary of Fen. Fen didn’t blame him any more than he could blame Zev, who was the Gregori of the Lycans. He was directly responsible for the welfare of the council and it was his duty to keep the Lycan people safe no matter what part of the world they resided in.
Rough is the only way with werewolves. You can’t ever underestimate them, Fen answered Gregori.
This pack is well organized. Too well org
anized.
That is so, but the master is not here. I would know. The Sange rau has left this battle to those he commands. Fen knew Gregori would catch the worry in his voice.
The fighting near the corrals was fierce. Gregori was wounded, and yet he displayed no emotion when he answered. He could have been having a picnic in a park instead of fighting for his life. You believed this master would be close.
I had hoped. Fen thought Abel might throw Bardolf under the bus in order to weaken the Carpathian fighters. It would be a sound strategy, especially given the endless supply of rogues he’d acquired along the way to do his bidding. I need to find the one who has their master’s ear. There is a way I can perhaps get information on either Abel or Bardolf, maybe both. At least find out what they are up to. It’s risky, but if I get what we need, well worth it.
He felt Gregori’s instant rejection of the idea. Tatijana echoed him with her distress.
How risky? We will need you to continue to educate our fighters . . . obviously.
From where Fen was, he caught occasional glimpses of Gregori. The werewolves had definitely targeted him for termination. Fen’s vision narrowed as he watched for a moment, the way the wolves circled Gregori. The prince’s guardian had been made known to them. He’d been involved in the fight earlier, but why such sacrifices? The bodies of werewolves lay sliced and staked around the prince’s guard, and yet still they came after him.
The nagging fear in Fen began to blossom into urgency. Something else was going on here, and he was missing it.
I think it’s worth the risk. I need to know that you and the others can finish this.
We’ve got this, Gregori assured, even as he fought off two more wolves driving straight at his throat and belly. He knew how they fought now, gutting their prey and tearing great chunks of flesh away to make their victims weak from blood loss.
Zev and his hunters will come quickly, Fen advised. It’s important that all Carpathian hunters know the difference between Lycan and werewolf.
Gregori ducked a leaping rogue, so that the creature sailed over his head and right onto Andre’s flashing blade. All of us know exactly what the Lycans look like. We have their scent as well. Each of us visited the inn where they were staying. There will be no mistakes, he said with certainty.
The elite may sense my presence, but they cannot identify me. I doubt they are that sensitive in the midst of blood and death, but Zev is more than elite, he is their best. It is possible. Fen had already located his entry point. He needed to use the ground so whoever was directing the battle from his safety zone wouldn’t see him coming.
Gregori grunted in pain, quickly cut off, as a great beast landed on him, driving him to the ground. The moment he was down a frenzy was triggered among the rogues. They threw themselves at him, piling on in spite of the other Carpathians racing to Gregori’s aid. The Carpathian hunters realized Gregori was the prime target and they redoubled their efforts to fight their way to him. It was Jacques who cut the head from the wolf tearing the flesh from his back and Nicolae who sliced through the one burrowing beneath him to rip at his belly.
The moment Fen saw the others going to Gregori’s aid he whirled around and indicated the ground in the middle of the field where the werewolves had tried to surprise the farm. I need a tunnel to follow back to the original source without him seeing. I’ll cast an illusion while you burrow quickly for me.
Tatijana waited until Fen sent images of her and her lifemate rushing to aid Gregori, entering the intense fighting near the corrals. The moment the illusion was strong and intact, she shifted to her dragon, trusting Fen to keep her from being seen. Tatijana’s dragon followed the trail beneath the soil, burrowing through the earth fast, leaving behind a nice-sized tunnel for Fen to follow in.
Fen left the Carpathian warriors to it. He had one purpose—to track the attack back to its source. He had to find the captain directing the battle, and that meant trusting that the Carpathian warriors would defeat the werewolves at the farm.
Tatijana had paid great attention to detail and the weapons the Carpathians had made were truly exceptional. The Carpathians had shared the information he’d given them on the rogue wolves attacking in packs and they were prepared for the fight. They’d lured the pack to Costin Eliade’s farm and coordinated the defense. They’d done everything they could do to decimate the pack and give Fen the chance to find the lair of at least one of the Sange rau.
He knew without a doubt that with two Sange rau so close to the prince, it was only a matter of time before disaster struck. Fen plunged into the hollow tunnel Tatijana’s dragon had carved out and moving with his Carpathian/Lycan speed began the race to ferret out the hiding place of the pack’s captain.
Tatijana, nothing is adding up. The Sange rau should have led their pack away from Carpathian territory immediately on realizing they were so close.
She was quick on the uptake, following his train of thought. You believe they have an agenda.
Absolutely. I’ve gone over it a million times. There are only three reasons I can think of that would keep them here. The best would be if either Abel or Bardolf or both were badly wounded and couldn’t leave. But that wouldn’t explain sacrificing a good part of their pack.
The dragon burrowed back toward the surface once she hit the beginnings of the marsh.
So something much more sinister.
The drive for a lifemate doesn’t always end when a Carpathian turns vampire. I’ve seen cases where they believe a woman would somehow restore their soul and yet they can keep to their ways. Abel may have returned with that idea in mind.
Tatijana already knew him far too well. But . . .
That might be a secondary issue, but more likely Mikhail is the intended target. Did you see the wolves going for Gregori? The prince and a Daratrazanoff have a special bond that creates an unstoppable power. Gregori was specifically targeted.
No matter the reason, the Sange rau had to be dealt with. None of them could afford any more time passing before ferreting the masters out and destroying them.
You’ll get them, Tatijana said firmly, every confidence in her voice.
Fen wished he had that same confidence. The nagging worry had grown to a full-blown alarm going off. He had to find the captain directing the werewolf pack’s attack on the farm.
The tunnel beneath the ground ended abruptly in the marsh. Reeds choked the water. Waterfowl ducked heads beneath the surface and rose to flutter wings peacefully, as if no abomination had passed near them. There was no telltale shriveled greenery to mark the way of a vampire, but then he hadn’t expected any. He had known all along neither Abel nor Bardolf would be close.
That nagging, growing alarm blared at him. He reached for the prince’s guard. Gregori, I need to know where the prince is.
He got the immediate impression of fierce battle. The Carpathian hunters, despite as many as there were and with the traps set for the rogue pack, had not found it so easy to destroy a ferocious and well-trained pack on the offensive.
He is safe.
The voice was clipped. Gregori would not disclose the location of the prince to anyone. Fen could tell by that implacable tone. Gregori was severely wounded. He would need care and blood and the ground to heal him. If the pack couldn’t kill Gregori, wouldn’t this be the next best thing? Wounding him so badly that he had no choice but to go to ground? The alarm, rather than quieting with Gregori’s assurance blared even louder.
The children? he persisted.
They are safe. Gregori was terser than ever.
Fen cursed in his native language. Tatijana, with the main force of Carpathian warriors concentrated here on the farm, the prince, and the all-important children are left with little protection.
Gregori would never leave them without protections, Tatijana said. He’s overboard when it comes to the prince’s protection. He doesn’t e
ven listen to Mikhail at times. He would never leave the prince unguarded with a rogue pack near. And don’t discount the women. Your Sange rau and the Lycans might, but many of them are good fighters.
Fen didn’t reply. He wasn’t about to tell her he didn’t find the information reassuring. He emerged out into the open, although he took care to mask his presence. He stood on the edge of the swamp, taking a careful look around, seeking the best vantage point above them, where the captain directing the battle would be able to see the entire farm.
Tatijana shifted into her human form and slid beneath his shoulder, standing close so that her scent enveloped him. It always amazed him that the huge blue dragon could be his lifemate, this woman with her shapely figure in human form.
“Can you find the location of the prince?”
She shook her head. “No one, not even Dragonseeker, can get into Gregori’s mind.”
“Then we’ll have to do this the hard way.”
The way he said it alerted Tatijana instantly. “What are you planning?”
He sighed. She wasn’t going to like it. He didn’t like it, but he felt there was no other choice. “The pack was sent out, but neither of the two main leaders came here with them, not even to ensure the orders were carried out effectively. That tells me Bardolf and Abel have plans far beyond the destruction of Costin Eliade’s farm. And we need to know now what that is.”
Tatijana tipped her head up to look at him. She was already in his mind, but she didn’t understand what it was he planned to do. “I don’t like where this is going,” she admitted, looking him straight in the eye.
He slipped his arm around her. He didn’t like where it was going either. “I think Abel or Bardolf plans to hit the prince while the pack distracts the Carpathians and Lycans by hitting the farm.”
Dark Lycan (Carpathian) Page 18