by Shae Ford
Whatever he’d been about yell never came out. Instead, he stumbled backwards, grappling with the knife between his teeth until he tipped off the wall with a moan.
For a long moment, Kael didn’t move. He didn’t want to get anywhere near the bodies. As long as the shadows covered their faces, he wouldn’t have to see the lives he’d just ended. He knew any man who served the Five had blood of kin and friend on his hands, but he didn’t relish the killing.
A soft click drew his attention to the ledge. If he hadn’t been looking for it, he never would have seen the hook that lodged itself into the stone, or the trembling of the rope as Kyleigh climbed it. She popped over the edge of the wall; her armor hid her perfectly in the thin sliver of shadow untouched by the corner braziers. She plucked the knives from the soldiers’ throats in quick, practiced movements. He crouched and went to meet her.
“That third fellow nearly crushed me,” she said quietly as she cleaned the blades on one of their tunics. “If I hadn’t heard the wind whistling off his helmet, I think the Kingdom might’ve been short one halfdragon.”
She handed him the blades. When he took them, they stuck to his hands. He pulled them off and a thin string of goo trailed behind. “What in Kingdom’s name?”
“Jake’s fog spell went slightly awry. He accidentally put a word for evaporation too close to one for binding, and now we all look like the top side of a pastry.” She clapped her hands together and pulled them apart. Threads of goo breached the space between them. “The sails are all stuck together and Lysander’s fit to be tied. They’re having to row Anchorgloam by hand just to get her here.”
Terrific, Kael thought. Never once in his planning did he account for a scenario in which the pirates would have to sail their way through slime. “How long do you think that will take?”
“Not long. They’ll be a few minutes behind, but they were rowing hard.”
“All right.”
A long, weighted silence hung between them. He kept his eyes away from her as much as possible, and she returned the favor.
“So, I’ll get the walls and you’ll get the upper stories,” she said as she slung a pack off her shoulders. Inside was his bow, a quiver of arrows and his gauntlets.
He got equipped as quickly as possible and took the grappling hook from her. “I’ll see you in a bit. And Kyleigh?” She stopped and turned to face him. “Check on the mages, if you have time. I want to make sure Jake’s potion worked.”
A disappointed look crossed her face — so quickly that he wasn’t sure he actually saw it. “Very well. And do be careful.”
Then she disappeared into the shadows, leaving him to his task.
*******
The guard barracks sat on top of the stairs leading to the third floor. Kael would have to face them eventually, but he knew popping up in the middle of their living quarters wouldn’t exactly give him an advantage. Fortunately, there was a less conventional way of reaching the upper floors.
Moonlight glinted off the large window above him, one that — according to the map — would open directly into the Duke’s office. He spun the grappling hook in his hand, holding on to the image of it lodging firmly into the narrow ledge. Then he made his throw.
It landed perfectly. He tugged a few times to be sure, and when he was convinced it would hold his weight, he began to climb. At the top, he had to stand sideways to fit his boots on the ledge. He tried not to think about what might happen if he lost his balance. With a quick jab, he punched through the glass and reached in to pop open the latch.
Inside, the darkness was unsettling. One lantern glowed feebly next to the window, but the moon put out more light than it did. He tried not to fret over it. Geist had done so well with his details that he knew exactly how many paces it would take to reach the door. All he had to do was move.
He reeled the rope in and set it next to the wall, out of sight. Then he began his steps. One, two, three, f —
Something wasn’t right.
He had an eerie feeling in his gut. The animal in him was wide-awake, stirred by a presence he couldn’t see. Yet he knew it was there. He reached out and his hand touched something coarse. It felt like a rug … no, the threads were far too small, too fine to be a rug. Perhaps it was the back of an animal skin chair. Yes, that was probably it. He just felt odd about it because he hadn’t expected it to be th —
Then the chair let out a low, rumbling growl, and Kael didn’t even have time to swear before something struck his gut and sent him flying into the opposite wall.
His back hit the stone and he felt his joints pop. He reached out to slow his fall and grabbed a fistful of tapestry, which he ripped off its hangings. As boy and decoration fell forward, they managed to knock the lantern loose. It shattered and the flames escaped, feeding eagerly on the worn threads of the rug beneath it.
A huge monster rose out of the darkness. He recognized it immediately from Bartholomew’s Pass: it was the King of halfwolves, the one that had managed to escape. It must have tracked him down, patiently followed his scent — and now it was here to settle the score.
The cut Harbinger left across its chest was now a thin, shining scar. Its thick black fur bristled in the flames. Its lips pulled back in a snarl and its knifelike teeth glistened wetly. The eyes beneath its furry brow locked onto Kael’s and dilated. Its nostrils flared to catch his scent, and it reached up with one dagger claw to touch the missing tip of its pointed ear — just to remind him.
Then it howled.
He dove to the side, narrowly missing the claw that swung out to rake his throat. Instead, he took a blow to the back of his knee. There was nothing to grab onto, and the wolf dragged him across the floor by his leg. It reared to bite him, but caught a boot in the teeth.
With a roar, it grabbed the front of his shirt and hoisted him off the ground. He kicked madly, but the wolf held him at the end of its long reach, well out of range. Its head snapped forward with lightening quickness and Kael swung blindly for its face.
The ridged backs of his gauntlets connected with wolf’s jaw, and he was rewarded with a high-pitched cry as it lost its grip. He fell hard on his ankle but forced himself to roll away. He caught his feet and had an arrow drawn just as the wolf leaped.
This would be it: either his arrow would find its mark or he’d be snapped like a dry twig. He exhaled sharply and released.
The wolf yelped and fell backwards, striking its head against the wall. It wrapped one claw around the arrow sticking out of its chest and ripped it free. It clamped a paw over the wound, but blood spurted out twice as fast. The wolf panted heavily and glared at Kael, but didn’t try to rise.
He knew then that the fight was over.
The wolf seemed to know it, too. Though its body was a monster, its eyes were clearly human. They reminded him of what Kyleigh said before, about how Crevan had enslaved the shapechangers and twisted them into his minions. He didn’t know if there was still a man trapped inside the monster or not, but he decided to give it the respect of dying in peace.
“Mountain … child …”
A rough voice stopped him cold. He spun around.
“Time,” the wolf said. His voice was decidedly male, though his words were clumsily spoken around his sharp teeth. “Please,” he pushed down on his wound, “time.”
He was shocked to hear the wolf speak, and leery of getting close to him. Then he remembered what Jake said about the slaving spell: pain could sometimes clear a man’s head and give him back his mind. He looked in the wolf’s eyes and saw that the monster was gone from them. He was looking into the eyes of a man, not a beast.
And he wouldn’t let a man die without hearing what he had to say. It was the least he could do.
He put his hand over his heart and willed it to keep beating. “I can’t heal you,” he admitted. Amos could have — he could heal just about every organ in the body. But Kael had been too busy being rebellious to learn anything other than skin, bone and the first few layers o
f muscle. Now he regretted it deeply.
“I want … death,” the wolf said. Then he touched his chest. “Bloodfang.”
It took Kael a moment to realize Bloodfang was the wolf’s name. “Kael,” he said in return.
“Kael … of the mountains.” Bloodfang’s eyes rolled back and he closed them. It was a long moment before he spoke again. “My pack is gone, all gone. Only two … remain.” His snout bent in what could have been a pained smile. “Soon … only one. I ask a warrior’s boon.”
Kael had no idea what that was, but he nodded.
“As my … defeater, I ask that you guard … guard my kin. My last sister.”
Somewhere in the back of his head, Kael knew time was running out. He only had a few more minutes left to clear the upper floors before the shifts changed and someone found those guards dead around their card table. “All right, where do I find her?”
Bloodfang’s laugh turned into a gurgle as he fought to stay alive. “You wear her scent … her very skin. Do you not … know?”
In his sheer and utter disbelief, Kael’s concentration slipped. Blood leaked out from under his fingers as he tried desperately to regain his grip. “Kyleigh? Do you mean Kyleigh?”
But Bloodfang didn’t answer him. The light in his eyes was fading fast; they rolled aimlessly in his skull. “Until the last … sun … rises,” he whispered. Then he lay still.
Kael sat back and his hands hung limp before him. The lantern flames had consumed the rug and were making their way down the tapestry. He beat them out before they could set the whole room ablaze. As he sat in the darkness, a horrible feeling tore at his heart.
A voice suddenly came from the other side of the door: “I ain’t going in there — I’ve seen what that thing is capable of. He’s probably just irked about being locked up, anyhow.”
“But what if that ain’t it?” another man said. “What if there’s been a real intruder?”
The first man snorted. “Then I’m sure he’s been taken care of.”
“Yeah, and if he ain’t been, it’s our necks in the noose.”
The first man considered this for a moment, then grunted in defeat. They opened the door just a crack, just wide enough to stick their heads in, and that was all Kael needed. Two well-placed arrows ended their argument forever.
He moved through the halls numbly, killing every guard he came across without a second thought. All he could think about was the horrible thing he’d just done and how Kyleigh would never forgive him. Now he understood why she hadn’t killed Bloodfang when she had the chance: she’d been trying to save him.
The guards were shocked when he kicked in the barrack doors. The first few to rush him got knives in the chest. While the rest struggled to climb over the bodies of their companions, he had time to get his bow drawn. After that, things went quickly.
A few sprinted down the stairs and away from him, no doubt heading for the wall. Kael retrieved his knives and followed them at a walk. He heard Harbinger’s shrilling cry and a few startled gasps. Only one man escaped Kyleigh. He dashed up the stairs, heaving under the weight of his armor, and skidded to a halt when Kael’s shadow crossed over him. He looked up, and fear ringed his eyes.
Kael put an arrow through the left one.
“Is that all of them?” Kyleigh peered through the doorway at the foot of the stairs. She held Harbinger loosely. Blood trickled off its blade and sank into the mortar.
“Yes,” he said without looking at her. “What about the mages?”
“They’re all dead. Looks like none of them survived their dinner.”
“Good.” His steps were heavy as he made his way towards her. When they were only a stair apart, he stopped.
He didn’t look at her, but he could feel her eyes on him — moving from the top of his head and down. If she could smell Lysander’s blood inside a corked bottle, there was no doubt she could smell the deed that stained his hands.
After a moment, she stepped back. Her boot scraped the ground and he knew the full, heavy weight of what he’d done finally hit her. When she spoke, her voice was the smallest he’d ever heard:
“So he’s …?”
“Yes,” Kael heard himself say. “I killed your brother.”
Chapter 37
Fire
She turned away. Her whole body shuddered as she clamped a hand over her face. He wished she would’ve broken his jaw, slit his throat, run him through. If only she would take blood for blood, then he wouldn’t have to stand there while she cried — while he wasted away under her tears.
Then she grabbed him by the shoulders, and he braced himself for the moment when she would fling him into the sea.
“Thank you.”
Astonishment drove his eyes to hers. He’d been expecting the tears on her face, but never the gratitude. It didn’t make any sense. “Don’t thank me, kill me! Kingdom knows I deserve it —”
She put a hand over his mouth, gently. “No you don’t. You did what I should have done — what I couldn’t do. He begged me to kill him in the Pass, but I …” She ducked her head and came back with a glare. “I refused him. I thought there might be a way to save him, but I realized too late that he never wanted to be saved.”
“He said he was your brother.”
She nodded. “Not by blood, of course. Bloodfang’s thrice great grandsire found me wandering through the forest four hundred years ago. I don’t remember who I was before … the pack is all the family I’ve ever known.”
Kael was silent. He was afraid to breathe. He let everything she said sink into him and tried to understand it. He was afraid if he asked her anything that she would stop talking, and then he’d never get to hear her story. So for once, he kept his mouth shut.
“There are few who know this,” she continued, her voice gaining strength, “but King Banagher captured many of the shapechangers at the start of the Whispering War. He thought he might be able to use us as weapons against the rebel army — but he could find no way to control us. And so he locked us in his dungeons for safekeeping. My pack was among those captured … I thought I could free us, but Bloodfang made me swear not to show my other shape to our captors, and I couldn’t ignore the alpha’s command.
“Because I didn’t look like the others, Banagher never suspected my powers. He released me to his most trusted advisor, Setheran, who taught me the way of the sword. My fighting prowess earned me knighthood at the end of the War. Finally, I thought I had enough power in the King’s court to free my pack.” She smiled hard. “I was knight for a day — and then Crevan took the throne. He bound my brothers in magic … and I realized I could never free them — not unless I killed Crevan. I tried, and though I very nearly succeeded, I failed. And I’ve been on the run ever since.
“I realize now that Bloodfang saved my life when he told me to hide my shape … though he always blamed himself for what happened to us.” She took a deep breath and wiped her tears away. “But that’s a story for another time. Thank you for giving him the peace he longed for. I know that he’s in the eternal woods now, hunting with the pack mates who’ve been waiting so long for his return. You’ve put my heart at ease.”
Kael realized that he’d been holding his breath. He couldn’t believe how selfish he’d been. Had he stopped worrying about his own quest for half a moment, he might’ve realized that he wasn’t the only one who’d lost something dear to him — that his wasn’t the only cause in the Kingdom worth fighting for.
She may have been relieved that Bloodfang was at peace, but that wasn’t good enough for Kael. Now that he knew her story, and knew how much she’d sacrificed to try to free her family, he felt Kyleigh deserved more than relief. And there was no putting aside the fact that he’d just murdered a man who didn’t deserve to die.
The debt between them was great … and there was only one way to settle it.
He stepped past Kyleigh and grabbed a torch out of its sconce. All across the sea, the waves were covered in deathly white fog. The
air was quiet. Then he waved the torch in a series of arcs and all at once, a dozen rowboats crept out of the mist, drawn to his signal. They made their berth on the rocky shore and dark fingers scrambled up the iron ladder that jutted out from the waves. Moonlight caught the glint of the cutlasses strapped to their hips.
“Come on,” he said to Kyleigh. “Let’s finish this — for Bloodfang.”
She smiled through the tears that still wet her cheeks. “Agreed. I wouldn’t let you clap me in irons for anyone else.”
*******
Margaret’s resolve was crumbling, he was sure of it. “The ballroom’s getting rather stuffy. Why don’t we go for a stroll? I could give you a tour of the castle,” Reginald said in her ear. He could feel the heat coming off her blush.
“But Sir Duke, what would the others think of us?”
He tightened his grip around her waist, pulled her closer. “My dear, what could they think? I’m their ruler — their very lives depend upon me. Anyone who speaks ill of me has his tongue cut out … and anyone I favor will have power unimaginable.” He dropped his voice to a growl. “Come with me, Margaret.”
She was teetering on the edge, he could see the struggle behind her clear blue eyes. But he already knew what her answer would be. In just a few moments, she would be his.
BANG!
The ballroom doors burst open and the music screeched to a halt. Reginald spun around. If it was some guard coming in to complain about the fog, he’d have his head lopped off. But as the crowds parted, murmuring to one another, he saw something he’d never expected.
A young man strode across the floor like he owned it. He wore rough spun peasant’s clothes and a bow across his back. The candlelight from the gold branches of the chandelier touched his hair, revealing deep red hidden within his curls. His face was smooth, thin, and not particularly handsome. He tugged roughly on the chains gripped in his hand, and his prisoner stumbled out of the crowd behind him.