by SJ Himes
“What can I do for you, Clan Leader Royrick?” She kept her face blank, her tone dull and respectful. She didn’t have time for his typical, bratty banter.
“Ouch,” Royrick rubbed a hand over his chest. “Can one old friend not say hello to another? This is the first time I’ve been able to see you in forever, Sophia.”
She sighed, a long exhale, full of exasperation. She was fond of him, and he surely knew that, but what he wanted from her was something she couldn’t give. She couldn’t be what he wanted. His refusal to bend his pride and buck tradition all those long years ago is what ended their affair. “You see me every gathering, Royrick.”
“Once every five years. I asked you to be Alpha Mate, and we were together for two decades. Surely that warrants more than a flat hello and a brush off.”
“Your idea of the perfect Alpha Mate was different than mine. Different enough that we broke up because of it. I refuse to be a simpering beta maiden dependent upon her alpha for all things.” She crossed her arms and glared. “I can do more than have cubs and cook supper.”
“I know you can, Sophia,” Royrick started, but she snorted in disbelief. A noise came from the path at her back, and she turned to see Andromeda and Caius approaching, the two clan leaders talking quietly to themselves, and behind them, the prisoners and their greater alpha guards. She darted around Royrick before he could say another word, and headed for the pit.
She heard a frustrated growl from Royrick, but he refrained from continuing his case, following behind.
Ghost found himself herded away from Kane’s side just outside the pit. Burke led him around and up, while Kane went again for the tunnel in the side of hill. They stayed in their wilder forms, and snaked through the gathering clan. There were less clanmates present, and the lack of cubs was apparent. Even the younger adults weren’t there in the full numbers Red Fern could boast.
There was no sign of Gabriel Suarez—and Ghost had no idea where the younger alpha may be. Roman was about to be punished, and as it was Roman who was directly responsible for Gabe’s abduction and subsequent assault, Ghost was sure Gabe would want to be present for the last hour of Roman’s life.
And there was another notable absence—the shamans were not present at all. Ghost thought that an odd thing, but since everything that was about to occur was punishment, perhaps healing the condemned afterwards, if they still lived, wasn’t allowed. Or maybe the shamans could not stomach what was about to happen and Ghost found himself again exasperated with those who were supposed to be his kindred. He had yet to encounter a shaman who could live up to the example set by his grandfather and that left him bitter. He shoved that feeling aside as best he could and focused on what was about to happen.
Sophia was looking over her shoulder, a worried expression on her face until she saw them coming. Ghost leapt past her to the ledge, peering downwards. Kane was almost right below him, still in his wilder form and sitting back on his haunches, unconcerned with the growing tension in the guards. They were arranged around him in a semi-circle, as if to keep him from bolting. Ghost huffed, thinking these greater alphas were all brawn and had not a single intelligent thought among them.
Commotion at the tunnel to the left drew his attention. Screams and pleas for mercy came from the dark seconds before a naked Claire was dragged from the shadows. An alpha held her arm while another held a long metal spike and shackles. Ghost crouched down, ears flat to his skull when he realized what was about to happen. Claire was guilty of so much evil, regardless of the fact that she never took a life with her own hands, yet watching her now, Ghost only saw a frightened beta.
The greater alpha who held the spike reached over his head and slammed the point into the stone wall just below where the tribunal sat. The point dug deep into the wall, making a dreadful screech. Ghost flinched, ears flat his head. The alpha then swung the shackles over the spike while Claire was dragged to the wall. She screamed in protest, pleading for mercy. Sounds of dismay from the crowd came from all around Ghost. He looked down at his mate. Kane showed no sign of distress, immobile and unmoved. Ghost dropped to his belly, tucking his tail to his back legs. Burke and Sophia were behind him still, the scent of distress rising from his friends.
Claire’s arms were raised over her head, her wrists shackled in the chains. Her guards backed away, leaving her to stand alone on her toes. Andromeda was nowhere to be seen. Ghost checked the surrounding edge of the forest, and he saw no sign of the female clan leader. The Tribunal appeared from the trees, except for Caius. They took their seats, all of them bearing serious expressions but for Julian, the redheaded male appearing to be eagerly awaiting the coming punishments. There was a manic gleam in his eyes that Ghost could see even across the pit.
Movement from the right-hand tunnel drew his attention. Caius, came out from the shadows, bare to the waist, in his hand was a long length of leather and silver. He wore shiny, smooth leather pants and was barefoot. The metal glimmered in the weak sunlight that cut through the clouds, and Ghost could smell the acrid scent of the poisonous alloy. It was a whip, coiled like a deadly snake in his grandfather’s hand. Claire saw Caius approaching, and she started to cry and plead with her clan leader. Caius went to the center of the pit, not responding to her cries, his face blank and remote. Ghost could not sense anything from his grandfather, not even a hint of remorse or regret for what was about to happen. Claire must have realized that she would receive no mercy, as she fell to quiet sobbing, her face buried in her arms.
There was a subtle movement at the tunnel Caius had come from, and Ghost could just see the faintest of light from glowing glacial-blue eyes. Andromeda was watching, and Ghost felt sympathy for the female clan leader. She was about to watch her daughter be punished, and Ghost had no idea how Andromeda must be feeling. To be a clan leader meant that Andromeda had to be both ruthless and compassionate, such contrary states must be tearing her part.
Royrick stood and addressed the gathered clan. “Claire of Black Pine has been found guilty of all charges. She is to receive one hundred lashes, then she will be banished from all clans represented by the tribunal. Clan Leader Caius will carry out her punishment.”
The whip uncoiled from Caius’s hand, falling to the ground with a hiss. Ghost could see a thin metal chain intertwined with the dark smooth leather of the whip, one smooth braid that must be longer than Caius was tall. “Caius, you may begin when ready.”
The greater alphas in the pit all moved away until their backs were to the wall, out of reach of the whip. It snaked through the air with a sharp hiss, and the snap as it went forward was loud, echoing across the pit. It happened so fast that Ghost didn’t even see the blow land. Claire screamed and arched her back, head thrown back as a stripe of red bloomed on her pale skin. The red was vibrant for a short second then her natural healing abilities soothed the injury. The next blow fell before her scream faded away.
Caius set a brutal rhythm with the whip. Soon her back was a horrific mesh of crisscrossing lines, some of them bleeding from the edges. Blood dripped down her sides, thin lines that smeared as she screamed and fought against the shackles. The silver of the whip soon overcame her ability to heal, even stalling her body’s instinctive reaction to Change in response to the pain.
Everyone present was silent, the only sounds to be heard the whip flying and Claire’s muted cries. The scent of blood was strong, filling his nose and blinding his senses to anything else. Ghost sneezed, trying to clear his nose. He had no idea how many lashes Claire had already taken—he couldn’t count that high—yet he was certain that Caius knew how many lashes remained. There was no hesitation or missing— each blow landed exactly where he meant. Claire collapsed against the wall just as Ghost grew concerned she may not last much longer.
The sound of the whip stopped as what must be the last blow fell, Caius stepping away and coiling the now bloody leather and silver length into his hand. He was still ex
pressionless, but sweat ran down his back and his hair was damp from exertion. Caius nodded to the tribunal, and said, “That is one hundred lashes. Her punishment is done.”
Caius nodded to the greater alphas acting as Claire’s guards, who went to the unmoving beta. One of them unshackled her, the other caught her as she fell. She was slung over his shoulder, limp and unresponsive. She did not smell of death so Ghost knew she still lived. She was carried to the tunnel where her mother waited for her in the shadows. The guards and their burden disappeared.
Caius took a few running steps and then leapt, landing on the far edge of the pit. He tossed aside the whip and took his seat among the Tribunal. Royrick gave him a concerned glance, but Caius paid him no attention, his eyes on the floor of the pit. Royrick took a second then stood, addressing those present. “Remove Kane from the pit—Roman McLennan is to be punished next.”
Kane huffed in annoyance but stood anyway when his guards motioned for him to follow. Instead of returning to the tunnel, Kane leapt up the wall and landed next to Ghost. His guards growled and there were frowns from the tribunal, but when Kane settled beside Ghost and made no further movement, Royrick waved off his guards. They left the pit themselves, retreating into the darkness of the left-hand tunnel.
Ghost took his chance and snuggled with his mate. Kane gave him a lick across his muzzle before looking back to the pit. Growling came from the left-hand tunnel as Roman was dragged into the pit like a dog. Roman was naked, like Claire had been, with a chain around his neck. Ghost flattened his ears and a low growl escaped from him before he could stop it. Roman may be his uncle, but the wolfkin before him had cast aside all bonds of family and blood with his actions. Where he had felt compassion and regret for what was done to Claire despite her crimes, he felt no such things for Roman. Caius was unmoving still, once again an emotionless statue.
Heromindes stood and prowled to the edge overlooking the pit. Roman was forced to the center and pushed to his knees by his guards. Heromindes, without a word, began to remove his clothing, tossing the pieces aside. The guards left the pit, the last one to leave removing the chain from Roman’s neck. The guard shoved Roman down and walked away. Roman fell to his face in the mud, then sent a nasty glare at the retreating guard’s back.
Heromindes was naked at last, his long dark hair free from its braid, the ends catching in the wind. Roman slowly pushed himself up to his knees, wiping mud from his face. Royrick looked like he was going to say something, but Heromindes sent his fellow tribunal member a stifling glare, and Royrick retook his seat without a word.
“You will face me for what you have done,” Heromindes shouted at Roman. “I will snap your neck after I have feasted on your blood. The lives of all the wolfkin you have taken over these long years will be avenged, and justice will be had for my slain kin.”
“They were weak and useless wolves,” Roman snarled in response. “None of them served their purpose. And your kin are lost to you still. My death will not save them. You can try to kill me and you may be able to do it, but your family will still die screaming for you to save them.”
Heromindes roared and jumped into the pit. He landed a few feet away from Roman, who quickly backpedaled to get some distance. Heromindes was changing, his wilder nature taking control. His human form melted away as dark fur sprouted from his twisting limbs. Heromindes took his wilder form in a matter of moments, though not as fast as Ghost had seen Kane transform.
Heromindes was a large beast. His coat was a mix of dark brown and gray with random swirls of white. He was shaggy and brawny, with large paws and a big head, his mouth full of long white teeth that shined with sharp points. He clawed at the ground, throwing mud behind him.
Roman bared his teeth and growled. He was changing too, but far slower than Heromindes. The clan leader of Ashland prowled back and forth as he waited for Roman to complete his change, saliva dripping from his jowls, hackles raised, and hair up along his spine. His great claws dug into the earth, leaving furrows in his wake. Roman shuddered and flopped down on all fours, presumably the silver from his chains prolonging the transformation. It looked painful and difficult.
At last Roman stood as a wolf. He shook his head as if to shake off the trauma of his slow change. His ears flattened back and he dropped his head, lips pulling back from his teeth. He was not as large Heromindes, but he was still a big beast.
They were dire wolves, great predators of the ancient past, despite the modern personalities within their minds, and as the two wolves circled around each other there was nothing civilized about what was to happen. Ghost shivered, pressing to Kane’s side as the tension rose and finally snapped.
They came together with a crash, jaws snapping and claws rending flesh. Roman dug in with his back feet and pushed forward, throwing Heromindes head over tail. Mud splashed in all directions. Roman charged, attempting to take advantage, but Heromindes was on his feet and met his rush with open jaws. Roman tried to dodge but slipped in the mud, skidding with a yelp, landing on top of Heromindes in a tangle of limbs. Roman was quickly flipped off of the clan leader and onto his back several feet away.
The fight was messy and loud. Heromindes charged Roman, snapping at his heels and tail, chasing the disgraced lesser alpha around the pit. Blood dripped from wounds hidden by long fur. Roman would try to turn and snap at Heromindes only to be bulldozed down and bitten. What used to be growls of anger and challenge soon changed into screams of pain and whimpers.
Ghost could not watch anymore. Heromindes was enraged, a mindless creature hell-bent on tearing apart his prey. Ghost turned his head and pressed his face into Kane’s side. The scent of blood was inescapable, joining the spoor left over from Claire’s whipping. He wished he could close his ears to the noises coming from the pit. He could not turn off his mind which supplied images to accompany the sounds of ripping flesh and bones snapping.
He knew when it was over. Heromindes gave a great roar of triumph. The cry cut through the air and trees, startling some nearby crows into flight.
Kane rested his head upon Ghost’s back. His little mate was shaking, face buried in his flank. Ghost was a wild thing, feral and changeable, alternating between a grown man’s mind and that of an untamed wolf. Ghost could fight tooth and claw to defend himself and those he loved, but it was not in his heart to watch such a mismatched and forgone fight to the death.
Roman was dead. Heromindes stood over the mangled remains of the great traitor, blood in his fur and dripping from his fangs. Roman’s head was twisted back, neck sliced open down to the bone, blood still running in rivers into the mud and snow. He had died with an expression of resigned fear, his once glowing eyes dim and void.
Kane looked to Caius where he sat among the Tribunal. His clan leader was staring at the body of his son, and it was only due to long years of serving as Heir that he could see pain and grief in Caius’ eyes. Heromindes was snorting and tossing his head, ears flapping against his skull, tail flagging high as he gave in to his wilder instincts and celebrated his win. Greater alphas waited at the edge of the pit to remove the body but made no move to approach while Heromindes was in such a state. He would be violent and would react viciously to any attempt to remove his prey.
Ghost remained hidden, though his shivering ceased. Kane gave a heaving sigh, exhaling roughly through his nose to expel the too sweet scent of Roman’s blood. The Red Fern wolves seated behind him were quiet and subdued. At last Heromindes turned away from the corpse, and he left the pit with one last insulting swipe at the mud, sending damp earth over the body.
*Little wolf, lift your head. Look at me,* Kane whispered to his mate quietly in his mind. *Can you continue? Soon it will be me in that pit. I will not have you suffer.*
Ghost lifted his head, bright silver eyes glowing. Kane could feel worry and fear coming along their soulbond but also determination. It would pain his mate to watch what was to come, but he would watch r
egardless. *I will watch and you will win.*
Movement on the other side of the pit drew his attention. Roan, the mysterious alpha from Sorrowfields, came out from the trees and stood just below the tribunal. He was already naked and stood tall as he watched the body being removed from the pit.
As a greater alpha with the Voice, Kane had occasionally, in the last twenty years or so, come across other alphas with the same gift. Caius had the Voice, and young Gabe had it in even stronger measure, and there were a few wolves spread out amongst Black Pine who had a measurable form of the Voice— yet none were as strong as Kane and the gift he carried.
Except perhaps for this strange alpha from Sorrowfields.
Sometimes Kane could sense it in another wolf. It gave off a faint metallic and oppressive atmosphere if the greater alpha who bore it did not bother to hide it or keep it contained. Some greater alphas with the Voice wore it like a badge of honor and used its presence to intimidate and coerce without using the gift. Kane strove always to keep the gift contained and out of his daily interactions with his fellow wolfkin. But for the few moments when he was in error, like when he reacted instinctively with Heromindes, Kane was the least willing amongst all greater alphas with the Voice to use the Gift. Looking now at this strange alpha, Kane could not actively sense the Voice, but it was the fact that this alpha held such tight control over his gift that told Kane that it was immense indeed. Listening to his guards speaking to each other at night gossiping about Roman and Claire’s forced testimonies gave him the impression that Roan’s gift was a terrible and mighty weapon.
Kane had been unmatched for many long years— in fact, for his whole life. Even as a youngling he had never lost a fight or challenge with his peers. When he became Caius’s Heir, Caius encouraged him to fight every challenger who disagreed with the clan leader’s decision. Kane won every fight. Some opponents he left alive, as he had with Roman and Gerald a decade before, and a small handful Kane was forced to kill because they would not yield. A part of him was sorry for their deaths, but it was their nature and their culture that made such deaths both necessary and vital for their society to function and keep their wilder natures from overwhelming their humanity. He knew Ghost would disagree, and in fact he could feel his mate’s derision at such a concept through their bond. Violence for the sake of violence was what Ghost could not comprehend nor accept. Kane understood the necessity, even if he didn’t agree with it all the time.