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

by Diane Rapp

  Forshell charged like a madman, his white teeth flashing in a deadly grimace as he closed for the kill.

  Donovan felt Krystal’s mental contact, felt Halder grab Krystal’s hand, and felt power surge into his weakened body. Donovan evaded Forshell’s slashing blade, gracefully side-stepping the onslaught. He whirled into a menacing stance, anger vibrating through his flesh.

  Shocked, Forshell stepped back.

  A raspy voice said, “You killed my family like a coward! Now you will face my sword like a man.” Donovan heard the snarling sound come out of his throat. He felt like a spectator, watching the scene but unable to control the action. Recognition entered Forshell’s eyes, followed by an expression of stark terror.

  Forshell retreated in panic.

  Donovan’s body lunged, handling the heavy broadsword with skill honed by many years of fighting. Careful strategy cast aside, he fought with Halder’s fighting style, the king’s insane hatred pulsing through a young vigorous body. Halder demanded vengeance and Donovan’s body responded.

  Krystal struggled against Halder’s grip on her hand. She tried to break mental contact with Donovan but Halder’s unquenchable hatred held them captive. Halder/Donovan swung the blade with rage, intent on killing the murderer of the royal family. He delivered a killing blow, struck again in a mad frenzy, blow after blow until blood drenched Donovan’s face, sword, and armor.

  When Forshell’s mutilated body lay motionless, Halder finally released Krystal’s hand and slumped dead in his chair. Liberated from the king’s hatred, Donovan stood immobile over Forshell’s bloody body. He clutched the killing sword and the king’s ring glowed red on his hand. Donovan presented a ghastly sight—covered in blood with his face contorted in pain—the same face from Chella’s vision.

  Chella rushed forward followed by Kriegen. The wolf sniffed the corpse and uttered a long quavering howl. Soon more wolves echoed the howl, creating a discordant chorus. Tears streaking the blood on his face, Donovan staggered from the scene, leaning heavily on Chella’s shoulder. The crowd gawked in stunned silence.

  15 ~ A New King’s Remorse

  Doctor Alexander watched as Bryant cradled King Halder’s limp body, tears dripping onto the peaceful face of his friend. Waves of despair radiated from the soldier. I should offer him comfort, but I can’t. He stood awkwardly while Krystal touched Bryant’s shoulder in a gesture of compassion. I’m grateful she spared me the torture of sharing his emotions.

  “Halder killed Forshell.” Bryant sobbed, rocking the dead weight of his friend. “My king fought in that match, the form, the figure the style all resonated Halder at his best. He avenged the murder of his family!” Bryant’s anger erupted. “I should have been the one to execute Forshell. Why did he use Donovan and not me?”

  Krystal knelt by Bryant and stroked the dead king’s hand. “It’s strange seeing him peaceful. Without anger and hatred in his eyes, he looks strong and compassionate. I wish I’d known the man you knew, Bryant.”

  He relaxed and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Halder was a wonderful husband and father. He was the best king a soldier could serve.”

  Unable to open himself to the anguish of Bryant’s sorrow, Alexander silently quit the scene. Emotion repelled him. He could tolerate physical pain to repair his patients, but he couldn’t bear touching tortured souls.

  His wife sought out such minds, and Catherine’s gentle soul healed their torment. Catherine mastered her empathic abilities at a young age. She braved asylums to rescue catatonic people. When she found Alex, he had retreated into a world of his own mind—untouchable.

  Catherine reached him. She healed his injured mind, taught him to block uncontrolled emotions and gave him love. With Catherine’s support, Alex learned to be a doctor, enduring short bursts of pain to cure illness. When Catherine died his world collapsed.

  Retreating to the lab, the world of clinical research and sterile control, Alex worked like a demon. The work saved his sanity. He invented Transfer, a miracle that abolished death and illness. It insulated him from feeling life and death. Now I must live on a backward planet without Transfer. How can I bear the suffering?

  Catherine could do it. Alexander missed her sweetness, courage, and support. She could handle this situation. Without Catherine Alex felt lost and inhuman. Now he must confess a secret to Krystal and Donovan that might shatter their future.

  ******

  Donovan sat in a chapel, his mind numb. Priests moved like flickering shadows, preparing an altar for the dead, careful to leave him undisturbed. He failed to hear the swishing cloth of robes, failed to smell the spicy scent of burning tallow candles, and sank into his troubled thoughts. His hand ached. The muscles had contracted into a death-claw while holding the king’s jeweled sword—his sword now. Dried blood stained the weapon, once bright and shiny. He knew he should wipe it clean but squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t look at the deadly blade.

  What happened to me? What prompted the insanity that caused me to savagely kill Forshell during the contest? He replayed the scene. When Forshell nicked him with the poisoned dagger, he felt drugged. Krystal’s mind touched him, and then Halder overpowered them both in a blind rage. He watched himself, as a man possessed by a killing frenzy, and couldn’t stop it. Krystal tried to stop Halder but failed. How did he take control over my body?

  On the first day they met, Halder keyed his hand to use the sword as they opened the force field door. Donovan remembered how oddly familiar the hilt felt in his tingling hand. By accepting the royal ring today, Halder completed the connection and overpowered his body. A vindictive madman dominated Donovan like a puppet-master jerking strings, turning him into an instrument of vengeance.

  Krystal eased herself onto the pew next to him. “Donovan?” Her soft voice and peaceful presence filled a void within his soul.

  He said, “I can’t release the sword. Halder still grasps the sword with my hand.”

  She touched his fingers. A warm glow spread into the tight muscles. She heated his fingers, wrist, and arm. “He’s gone. Halder died after killing Forshell, collapsing like an empty husk. Let go now.”

  The sword clattered onto the stone floor. Its resounding clang sent priests scurrying into hiding while Donovan sobbed into his bloodstained hands. “I tried to fight his control but Halder overwhelmed my reason. His hatred triggered my own anger and I participated in his slaughter. I’m a killer!”

  “No! Don’t blame yourself. Halder planned his revenge carefully. He sucked us both into his scheme, used my mental connection to reach you when the poison weakened your mind. Halder caused the slaughter.” She took Donovan’s hands and gazed into his blood-streaked face with love in her eyes.

  Donovan shook his head. “Halder wakened the demon inside of me. What happens next time? Will I suppress my savagery or yield to another killing frenzy? It terrifies me. With the power and immunity of a king, I could destroy an entire army!”

  “We all possess extreme emotions. You’re human, my darling.”

  “Kings can’t afford to be human. As king, I am the law. I can’t allow the frailties of emotion to rule my mind. A king must protect his people not wield power in an unbridled rage. How can a mere human accept the burden of power?”

  “Halder accepted it.”

  Donovan nodded sadly. “Yes and it consumed him in the end. When enemies struck at his family, his love generated hatred. His anger spawned malice.”

  “You’re stronger than Halder.”

  “Am I? We linked minds. We acted as one, filled with rage and anger. I enjoyed killing the enemy. It felt good…until I saw the carnage I let loose.”

  “You’ll be a good king.” Krystal wrapped her arms around his shoulders and nuzzled his neck.

  Donovan leaned into her caress, drinking the love she offered like a man dying of thirst. “I have no choice, but I must rid myself of power. Power corrupts. With good intentions a king makes decisions without seeking consent and eventually becomes a di
ctator. No single man can judge what’s right for everyone.” He yanked at the king’s ring but it stuck firmly onto his finger. The red glow dimmed to a flickering white light.

  Krystal sighed, covering the ring’s glow with her own hand. “We needed protection. If Forshell became king, he’d be far worse than Halder.”

  “True.” Donovan looked troubled. “We must ensure our safety but share the decision process. Self-government worked in the old federation of the United States until people allowed it to slip through their fingers.” His eyes flickered with hope.

  “Can people govern themselves?”

  “We’ll teach them how to implement self-government. I pray they learn quickly.” Donovan stood and flexed his hands. The ache of remorse still throbbed in his chest, but hope allowed him to look at the future.

  “How do we teach a concept we’ve never experienced?” Krystal asked.

  “Old history books in the archives describe the process. By studying the records of the past, I’ll discover the secret. I must.” Donovan gestured at his bloody clothes. “This must never happen to me again.”

  Krystal rose on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Even a king with a plan needs rest. Come, my darling, tomorrow you claim the throne.”

  Together they climbed the spiral to their room, but sleep did not come easy. Donovan woke to nightmares. He’d spend many nights fighting demons in his dreams.

  *****

  Surprised to find Forshell’s woman in his tent after the funeral pyre, Jarrack grinned. Her black mourning robes were replaced by a filmy garment that seductively displayed her charms. He once admired Jayella among Forshell’s harem, but approaching her might incur the desert leader’s wrath.

  “I offer myself.” Jayella’s deep voice sounded enticing.

  “Why?”

  “The leader of the tribe should possess the first woman.” Her smile flickered through the thin veil.

  “And you wish to remain first woman? It might be a clever decision if my succession was certain.”

  “I have seen it in the future.” She meekly dropped her eyes. “You will become leader, and I will bear you twin sons.”

  Jarrack arched an eyebrow, speculating about the woman’s words. Did she possess the power of foreknowledge? He might be wise to listen. She moved closer. “I am first woman and it is a position I will not relinquish. I’ll help you gather power.” She sounded over-confident and anger flared in Jarrack. She said, “You are destined for more power than any desert leader in history and I will be hailed as the mother of your sons.”

  Jarrack smirked. “Produce sons and you will be first woman. I need sons.” He pulled his knife and cut off the filmy scarves covering her body. “Fail and my men will share your body. It’s the same for any woman I take. Breed true and be safe.”

  She cried out as a thin trickle of blood dripped from her breast. He took pleasure in the alarm filling her haughty eyes.

  “I have power,” he said in a low menacing voice. “You share my power only as long as I am pleased.” Her eyes widened in fear as he roughly handled her naked body.

  ******

  The Council of Lords convened in the main hall. People clamored outside, hoping to view their new king. Somber noblemen greeted Donovan as he entered the hall.

  “Having won the Tournament, you’ve ratified King Halder’s choice of legal heir.” The judge waved a parchment in the air. “We confirm his choice.”

  “I object!” Sir Hembly rose with his arm in a sling. “How do we know he’s the proper candidate? Who submits records of his lineage and where are his sons? Can we afford a war between ambitious lords if he produces no heirs? Award the crown to a proven man.”

  Heads nodded agreement as murmuring in the chamber grew louder.

  “Donovan, what have you to say in defense?”

  His steely gaze scanned the faces of the Lords slowly, silencing their murmurs. “The Tournament proved my blood burns hotter than anyone in this room. Any man challenging me will taste the temper of my steel.” His hand hovered over the hilt of the blade they all knew was stained with blood. He glanced sideways at the antagonist. “Sir Hembly, would you care to testify on that subject?”

  Nervous laughter rippled through the assembly as Sir Hembly sat down with a red face.

  Donovan said, “I intend to marry my lady, Krystal. If we produce no heir within ten years, I agree to voluntarily step aside and support a successor without conflict.”

  Krystal caught her breath.

  “Until that day, each Lord will follow me without question—if you value your hides!”

  Hembly erupted again, “We cannot permit the king to marry this woman! She’s not yet heavy with child, let alone a proven breeder. She brazenly flaunted herself in unseemly garb upon her arrival, like a harlot in a tavern.”

  “Enough!” Donovan’s voice boomed. “Do not insult my lady!”

  Wishing she could shrink into the walls, Krystal braved stares with her head held high.

  “You deride Krystal for wearing unseemly clothing, yet her clothing was dictated by the government we served. Would you know how to dress on another world? Your ladies show more cleavage than offworld societies accept. It would warrant arrest on certain planets.” Embarrassed titters escaped from women seated nearby.

  “I choose my bride, not the Lords!” Donovan’s steady gaze caused the Lords to twitch in their chairs. “Further, I demand a statement of loyalty from each of you upon the king’s ring today.”

  Donovan held his hand aloft. The king’s ring glowed ominously and faces turned white at the sight. “You know the power of the ring! I proceed to the chapel to accept the crown and trade vows with my bride. Come bow before the ring and greet your new king or flee like cowards and be hunted down by my loyal men!”

  He paused, scrutinizing faces with a steely gaze.

  “Choose for yourselves.”

  He pivoted and marched through the hall with long strides. His golden cape billowed and his red hair glowed. Krystal watched the gaping crowd as Donovan walked defiantly past Lords and Ladies. His boots clicked on the marble floors. The king’s jeweled sword swung lazily from his narrow waist.

  He reached Krystal’s chair, bowed elegantly and offered his arm. “Will you accompany me to the chapel as my bride?”

  Krystal’s grinned. “I will, my king.”

  He kissed her fingertips and helped her rise with queenly elegance. Placing a trembling hand firmly on his arm, the couple glided out of the hall. Slowly the chapel filled for the coronation and royal wedding. Every Lord attended.

  ******

  Feeling agitated during the ceremony, Dr. Alexander slipped away after hearing the wedding vows. Working alone in the lab, he ignored the ensuing revelry, desperately searching for an answer to his dilemma.

  Time dragged into days.

  One morning the laboratory felt dreary, depressing. He yearned for companionship and wandered into Donovan’s tower.

  The tower buzzed with activity. He hardly recognized members of the Zebulon crew, freshly transported from Prosperity. They enthusiastically greeted him, dressed in native clothing and babbling local jargon.

  Absorbed in conversations, hovering over books spread out on the dining table, Donovan didn’t notice Alex. Chella worked on a chart that allocated space in assorted towers, while Krystal organized their move into the king’s tower. Maggie clattered pans in the kitchen.

  It all cheered Alex. He realized how much he’d missed the warm glow of friendship. Happiness was like a tonic. Quick to notice the shabby bandage on Donovan’s hand, he mentally chastised himself for neglect and interrupted the conversation. “Let me examine your hand, Donovan.”

  “It’s fine, Alex.”

  He stiffened, rocking back on his heels and crossing his arms. “I don’t recall your qualifications for diagnosis! The title of king doesn’t confer medical credentials. As court physician, I demand to see your wound.” The concern in his voice softened the impact of his severe manne
r.

  “It’s just a scratch,” Donovan said and unwrapped the makeshift bandage.

  Cradling the swollen hand in his long fingers, the doctor frowned. “Just a scratch! It’s an infected wound, full of poison!”

  Donovan looked sheepish. “It doesn’t hurt, I thought…”

  “Absence of pain can be a serious symptom. If you hope to survive to rule your kingdom, seek my medical advice and follow my recommendations!” Alexander’s lips formed a thin line and his eyes narrowed. Krystal appeared at Donovan’s side, her eyes wide with fear. Dr. Alexander produced a knife and punctured the hand. Puss mixed with blood oozed from the wound.

  “We don’t know the nature of Forshell’s poison. It might be designed to slow you down, or it could deteriorate blood vessels and create an infection leading to death.” Dr. Alexander poured a white powder onto the wound. Donovan flinched as the powder bubbled.

  Dr. Alexander noted the reaction with a curt nod. “Good! You won’t be tempted to self-diagnose next time.”

  Donovan smiled mischievously. “That gives you away, doctor! You’ve confirmed there will be a next time. Thanks.” Donovan accepted a fresh dressing and returned to his discussion.

  Alexander stomped away, feeling secretly amused that Donovan read him so perfectly.

  Krystal followed—not amused. “What do you mean, scaring me like that!” Her blue eyes flashed.

  “The lesson was not meant for you. King or not, Donovan’s overconfidence needs trimming away from time to time. You were remiss by allowing him to remain untreated for so long. Why wasn’t I summoned?”

  “You stayed holed up in your lab and things got confused…I’m sorry…if anything happened to him…” Tears spilled down her cheeks.

  Alex softened. “Donovan’s fine. The poison will drain. Change the dressing twice daily, and he’ll soon be fit. If he argues about treatment call me at once.” Dr. Alexander rocked back on his heels with his hands clasped behind his back, his lecturing posture.