Howl of the Wolf (Heirs to the Throne Book 1)

by Diane Rapp

  “I can imagine holding your girls on my knee. They’ll have beauty and strength. Your daughters will save this world from an evil we don’t comprehend just yet.”

  A pricking sensation crept up Krystal’s spine. “Daughters?”

  Halder snatched his hand away. “Don’t listen to an old man’s prattle. There’s Mandrake, a worthy opponent. Watch him, my dear. He’s never lost a shooting match.”

  Krystal felt shaken. A brief image from Halder’s mind made her want to probe, but she forced herself to watch the competition.

  Mandrake sauntered confidently forward. He nodded and stood arrogantly surveying the field before shooting. When spurred to action, his natural speed caused a jolt of shock. How could he shoot so fast, shoot so accurately?

  Mandrake turned to stare at Krystal as if her thoughts attracted attention. Was Mandrake a sensitive? Krystal shivered. She kept her gaze steady and Mandrake nodded politely before turning away. Doubt flooded her mind. She saw visions of the future in Halder’s mind then imagined Mandrake reading her mind. Their minds were blank slates, unreadable.

  ******

  Donovan and Bryant worked frantically on the sidelines to improve his technique. Finally, they shifted the quiver to Donovan’s right shoulder. From that position he could grab a new arrow and still keep the targets in sight.

  Donovan blamed himself. He should’ve asked more questions about the competition. Bryant now told him that the gamekeeper would increase the number of birds let loose with each round. Donovan improved with practice but he must use speed time or risk defeat. He felt Krystal helping him. Could he move that fast without someone noticing, accusing him of sorcery?

  The field of competitors narrowed rapidly. Six remained to shoot in the second round, each a formidable shot. Donovan sensed Krystal’s mental touch as he moved to take his turn. The gamekeeper released the latch with a loud thud.

  Flapping wings beat a staccato in Donovan’s brain as three fowl crept into sight. He heard the pounding rhythm and calculated. He estimated their flight patterns and fired the first shot. He trusted the bird to stay on course but had no time to worry. He released the second arrow. It hovered in the sky, inching toward its target.

  He felt Krystal’s energy as the final missile sped from his bow. Abruptly Donovan dropped into real time, his heart pounding to the rhythm of beating wings. Awed, the crowd watched the third bird flap furiously to escape as Donovan’s whistling arrow hit the mark.

  Bryant gripped Donovan in a brotherly embrace, tears glistening in his eyes. Donovan searched the stands for Krystal. He sent her a mental thank you.

  ******

  Halder rejoiced, certain he felt a power surge from Krystal to Donovan. This is wonderful! With her help Donovan can accomplish everything necessary for my plan to work.

  Two contestants failed before Mandrake appeared, composed and self-assured. Mandrake cast Donovan an arrogant glance. Such an action often revealed a chink in a man’s mental armor, but it marked unyielding determination in Mandrake.

  The crowd hushed as Mandrake’s birds flew. Wasting no time, he dispatched the shafts felling two fowl with apparent ease. The final bird flapped furiously before it dropped onto the ground. The crowd murmured, and Mandrake’s face colored.

  “Clean shot!” The judge declared. The crowd hissed in disapproval and Mandrake walked away, red-faced.

  Another contestant failed.

  Forshell, the final contestant, was unknown to King Halder. He moved with the grace of a dancer. Dressed in traditional desert robes, his black hair and dark eyes marked him different from other opponents. The crowd hushed as Forshell swiftly dispatched the targets, securing his place in the final round.

  The lunch bell chimed. Enticing aromas from succulent meats and pastries drifted from the food stalls. Krystal laughed when she saw the mound of food Donovan and Bryant attacked. Halder sipped another dose of medicine and listened to the two men discuss strategies, wind velocity, and erratic flight patterns.

  He noticed that Krystal hardly ate her food, and Dr. Alexander cast worried glances in her direction. The doctor touched her wrist, shook his head, and spoke to her in muffled tones. She motioned the doctor away, still looking pale. Halder nearly touched her mind, nearly offered comfort, but the risk was too high.

  ******

  Donovan drew second position for the final round. They would shoot four birds of dissimilar sizes. He stood near the grandstand and examined his arrows carefully, balanced each shaft on fingertips, and blew the feather fletchings. Discarding several rejects, he slipped the best arrows into his quiver.

  Suddenly he felt Krystal’s distress and ran to her. Placing his hand on her forehead, he shared her dizzy discomfort. Her eyes blurred and heart pounded.

  “Krystal! What’s wrong?” he asked. “There’s something wrong with Krystal!”

  Dr. Alexander pushed Donovan away.

  Color drained from Halder’s face. Donovan wondered, Is this how Halder’s family died? Could they kill Krystal in public view? He eyed the royal taster but the man appeared healthy. What’s happening?

  Dr. Alexander hovered over Krystal and then met Donovan’s worried gaze. “She’s all right but she needs rest. I could see it coming but she refused to listen.”

  Donovan sat beside Krystal. “Darling you poured your own energy into me, but it wasn’t necessary. I can control my timing. I won’t allow you to hurt yourself on my account.” He stroked her cheek with calloused fingers. “Your life is too important to risk.”

  Alex nodded. “Young lady, you are confined to quarters. No more excitement today.” Krystal tried to object but knew they wouldn’t listen. Dejected, she let Maggie and Chella help her down the steps.

  Halder looked relieved.

  Donovan pounded his fist against the chair arm. “Is this how kings live, always worried about murder plots and afraid for the lives of our family?” Donovan stomped away feeling trapped.

  Forshell’s fourth shot faltered and he finished third. As he swept past Donovan, Forshell’s menacing gaze met Donovan. He’s the desert leader who attacked us at the spaceport. Is Jarrack here? Donovan studied the crowd, feeling watched and unprotected.

  It was time to shoot. He knew Krystal could not mask his speed. Donovan hoped onlookers would pay attention to the targets and fail to notice his timing. He tracked the flight of the birds and slipped into a familiar rhythm. He aimed and fired.

  ********

  Mandrake looked surprisingly confident in the face of Donovan’s strong showing. The birds flapped into the sky and Mandrake’s arrows sped from his bow. His timing was perfect and his graceful movements were naturally fluid.

  Donovan envied Mandrake’s skill. He felt guilty about cheating with speed time as Mandrake’s four birds dropped. Still, he couldn’t afford a defeat. He approached Mandrake and bowed respectfully. The archer met Donovan’s gaze with an expression of genuine surprise and returned the bow.

  They must shoot again. Donovan moved into position, took a deep breath, and felt the feather-light touch of Krystal’s beloved mind. Will she risk herself at such a distance? No. Like a kiss, she offered him reassurance and left.

  Donovan nodded to the gamekeeper. Five birds flew vigorously into the sky. Donovan’s muscles responded to the pull of the bow, automatically calculating the flight patterns as he released arrows in a stream of vibrating wood and feathers. An irregular movement caught his eye. The fourth shot merely winged its target.

  Disaster!

  The erratic flight of the winged bird was impossible to calculate, but he must shoot again. Donovan nocked a sixth arrow and let it fly.

  The crowd gasped as the twang of the bow made Donovan’s plight clear. They held a communal breath in silence. Four birds lay motionless on the ground but the fifth flapped farther away. In real time, Donovan watched the arrow float through the sky.

  As the arrow found its mark, the crowd erupted. Donovan turned, slowly, and stood like a giant before the cheering
throng. Mandrake marched forward, a stern expression on his face. The crowd hushed as Mandrake knelt before Donovan.

  “Your servant, sire. I pledge my bow to your service and to no other until death,” Mandrake said.

  Donovan beamed. He clamped a massive hand on Mandrake’s shoulder. “I’m proud to accept your service. Now up man! We’ve got drinking to do.”

  The crowd swept the men from the field. The legendary competition forged a friendship between the two men, and Mandrake was a valuable confederate in Donovan’s camp. Bryant described previous competitions where Mandrake shot five birds, but he conceded this match without shooting his final round. It was a bonus to get his pledge of loyalty.

  Raucous voices and music filled the air as minstrels already sang about the victory. Donovan feasted with Mandrake. They drank toasts to the king, to their ladies, and to Donovan’s success in the Tournament. Besieged by hopeful ladies, Donovan avoided their attention. After a few courtesy dances, he slipped away and let eager young men fill the void.

  He found Krystal asleep. Her face looked soft and pink beneath the coverlet. He yearned to cradle her in his arms, but eased his own tired body into bed and enjoyed feeling her warm body curl into his. She had been part of his victory but he worried about depleting her strength.

  ********

  After watching Donovan’s competition, Jarrack sat in a dark tent and thought about Donovan’s performance. He patted the black box and knew he’d found a way to stop his rival. When should I use it? Would it be best to bide my time and let the Tournament proceed? Should I curry favor with Forshell by using it soon? The decision could wait. Tonight he pursued far more interesting targets. Soon sleeping minds would be susceptible to mind control.

  ******

  In the forest Kriegen greeted Tendra with the enthusiasm of a young cub. Tendra returned his affectionate licks and proudly presented her litter. Two cubs peered out from their bed, their eyes still unfocused.

  They are beautiful Tendra! Kriegen’s awe of the tiny cubs was evident in his mental voice. They are so small.

  Cubs grow fast enough, Tendra mused. Soon you will tire of their sharp teeth and constant begging for play. Don’t you remember fleeing to the upper caverns when Sheba’s litter was born at mid-winter?

  Yes. We marvel at the patience of mothers. Hunting parties are often formed to avoid disruptive youngsters…but these cubs are a blessed sight. We are well pleased. How do you fare? Kriegen’s sharp eyes noted her loss of fur.

  Well enough. A thick winter coat is not needed in the heat of summer, and soon our cubs will tire of nursing. She nuzzled Kriegen affectionately. Do not look so worried.

  Kriegen sniffed the air. We must speak of the marvels we witnessed at the cave of the humans. They perform unusual rituals, and the leader of the pack we followed has a most interesting mind.

  We are eager to hear the stories of your travels. Tendra followed Kriegen into their summer cave, looking tired from her journey. The journey came too close upon the heels of her whelping, but she had been anxious to join him. His ancestor voices chided. He closed his mind to avoid their comments and enjoyed the company of his mate.

  11 ~ The Crystal

  Warm breath tickled the nape of Krystal’s neck. She moaned with pleasure as he caressed her breast, eagerly turning to greet his passion. He kissed her hard, too hard! She recoiled as rough hands pushed her down and ripped her nightdress. Jarrack’s face hovered above her, black eyes sparkling with malice. Panic swelled within Krystal. He fed on her fear, his strength increasing the more she struggled.

  I’m trapped, she thought. I can’t scream, can’t breathe!

  Jarrack sneered. “Don’t fight, my sweet.” His hands roamed her body, bruising her skin. “You invited me in.” His lips curled into a distorted snarl. “You’d already be mine except for Donovan’s interference.”

  Donovan! Krystal’s mental scream echoed through their sleeping chamber. Donovan, help me!

  Donovan appeared, looking like a snarling tiger released from its cage, and grabbed at Jarrack from behind. The devil slipped from Donovan’s grasp and turned.

  “So! It’s the speed demon who wants to be king!” Jarrack taunted. “I know your secret and will terminate your reign!”

  “Get out!” Donovan bellowed. “Leave Krystal alone!”

  Jarrack leered at Krystal’s half-naked body. “She’s almost mine. Once they let me in, I’m never far away.”

  Donovan lunged. His hands closed around Jarrack’s throat, but Jarrack’s image shifted into a searing column of fire. Donovan’s flesh sizzled, but he couldn’t release his grip. He screamed in agony.

  Krystal’s rage erupted, and she ripped free of Jarrack’s control. She realized that Jarrack was a projected image. Well, she could create images, too! Forming a white-hot ball of flame, just like the one she used to destroy the crystal chamber, she hurled the fire at Jarrack.

  It struck and burst into sparks around his image. He dissolved but regained form and grabbed at Krystal. She threw another fireball directly into Jarrack’s face. It exploded in a blinding flash of white light. Jarrack evaporated.

  Donovan lay on the floor writhing in pain.

  “Are you hurt?” Krystal stroked his hands with cool fingers. He sighed in relief as she extinguished the heat with her touch. Then he bolted upright, searching the empty room for his enemy. They sat alone on the cold stone floor, but Donovan’s blistered hands and the dark bruises on Krystal’s skin proved Jarrack had been there.

  “Where’d he go?” he asked.

  Krystal shuddered and Donovan gently pulled her into the protective circle of his arms. “Shhh. He’s gone,” Donovan said, stroking her trembling body. “I don’t understand how he got through the door.”

  “Jarrack was not here physically,” Krystal said in a dejected tone.

  “That’s why I couldn’t get a good grip on him.” Donovan rubbed his hands together. “At first I saw him touch you but I couldn’t move—until you called my name.”

  Tears streamed down Krystal’s face. “Jarrack said I invited him in but how? I hate him! His touch makes my skin crawl.”

  “Hush, darling. You’re weak from helping me during the Tournament. Now we know the danger, we won’t let it happen again.” Donovan lifted her onto the bed. “I’ll fetch Alex, and he’ll give you something to sleep.”

  Krystal objected but Donovan wouldn’t listen. He went to fetch the doctor. She clasped the blankets up to her chin and cried softly into the pillow. Sleep? She remembered Jenny’s terror. How could Krystal ever sleep in peace, knowing Jarrack might invade her dreams? That’s what happened to Jenny and it just happened again! Was there no way to stop him?

  ********

  Donovan returned with Alex. Sleepily rubbing his eyes, Alex listened to the account of Jarrack’s attack. He held Krystal’s wrist lightly with his fingertips. “I expected something like this,” Alex said, rummaging in his satchel to extract a vial filled with golden liquid. “Take this. It will help you sleep.”

  Krystal’s eyes widened and she pushed his hand away. “No! I can’t sleep! He’ll come back if I sleep!”

  Alex sighed. “Think about it, Krystal. How much effort did it take to project your energy to Donovan today? It took more energy for Jarrack to engage in combat. He’s exhausted, unable to return. I promise.”

  Alex gently pressed the vial to Krystal’s lips. She sipped it tentatively and within minutes sank into the soft comfort of her bed. A welcome lethargy spread through her limbs.

  “Come, we must talk.” Alex led Donovan into the sitting room next door. “She’s fine for now, but she’s in more danger than you realize.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Alex looked troubled, weary. “A girl named Jenny in the medlab was targeted by Jarrack. He invaded her dreams and gained control over Jenny’s waking mind.”

  “What’s your point?” Donovan frowned.

  “Krystal sent Jenny down planet to safety but the girl com
mitted suicide the next day. Jarrack took his revenge from a distance. Krystal doesn’t know about Jenny’s death, and I don’t want her to be told. It’s too frightening.”

  Donovan regretted sparing Jarrack’s life at the spaceport. By acting like the good guy, he’d put Krystal into danger. If he’d slit Jarrack’s throat— “We must stop him, Alex. Krystal won’t live under his control. Please help me. I can’t lose her.”

  “I may have the answer.” With a strange expression of pleasure mingled with pain, Alex pulled a crystal shard from his pocket. “This is a mendilium crystal,” he said. He protectively cradled the stone on his cupped palm.

  “Mendilium? Don’t you use the crystals in Transfer equipment? I’ve never seen one.” Donovan reached for the crystal, but Alex reflexively drew it away.

  “It’s usually a clear crystal with no intrinsic beauty. As you can see, the colors swirling in this shard make it incredibly beautiful.” With effort Alex held the stone out.

  Raising an eyebrow, Donovan gazed at the crystal. It sparkled and colors moved under the smooth surface. He felt compelled to stare into the stone’s depths, felt absorbed by the pulsing light. His heart pounded. He yearned to clutch it to his chest and let his mind sink into the stone.

  Alex closed his hand and Donovan staggered. He rubbed his forehead, feeling the pain of deprivation. He wanted to grab the stone and keep it for himself.

  Alex said, “I found this crystal in the rubble of our Transfer equipment quite by accident.” The doctor paused, staring at his closed fist. Donovan felt energy seep through the doctor’s fingers. He longed for another glimpse, hoping Alex might open his hand for just a moment. As if sensing the thought, Alex thrust his hand into his pocket.

  “I’m sure now. The stone has a strange influence on us.”

  Donovan turned aside, embarrassed. “So what does this shard have to do with Krystal?”