Black Wolf

by David Gross

  All watched now as the angry black air curled up into itself, then fled back to Rusk’s body, where it hovered over his gaping mouth. It whirled impatiently, unable to return to its ruined home.

  “What is it?” asked Tal.

  “Rusk,” said Feena. “That’s my guess. It’s Rusk’s own black spirit.”

  “Was that the plan, Sorcia?” Darrow called out to the elf. “To force his own essence into the Black Wolf?”

  “You’re such a tool, Darrow,” said Sorcia. “You don’t deserve to know.”

  “But I do,” said Tal. He stalked toward the elf, Perivel’s blade firmly in hand. “Is he right?”

  Sorcia crouched, torn between running and fighting. As Tal loomed over her, she knelt down instead, hanging her head low. “It’s true.”

  Tal cast his gaze across the other surviving werewolves. One by one, they lay themselves on the ground. Those in wolf form put their heads on their paws, while those on two legs bowed grudgingly.

  Selûne formed a narrow arc as she peeked out from the shadow. As her barest light fell upon Rusk’s black soul, the cloud evaporated in a high, grating squeal that hurt Tal’s teeth to hear. In a few seconds, it was gone.

  “It’s over,” said one of the werewolves. It was one of the two Tal had fought the night before. Tal had heard him called Karnek.

  “No,” said Tal, “not yet. The Malveens still have Eckert’s daughter.”

  “She’s probably already dead,” said Sorcia.

  “Shut up,” said Darrow.

  “No one hears you, traitor, weakling, tool!” she spat at Darrow. “Rusk used you as he did because you had already proven yourself a weakling and a toady to the Malveens.” She turned her back on him and addressed the other werewolves. “With Rusk dead, there’s no reason to stay here.”

  “Talbot is the one who killed him,” said Darrow. “It’s his decision, not yours! ”

  “You people follow whoever kills your last leader?” said Chaney incredulously. “Rusk wasn’t the only one who was mad.”

  “You know nothing,” said another female werewolf. She had twisted her blond hair into a crude braid while in human form. “We respect strength but do not follow blindly.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Sorcia. “We shouldn’t be here. We should never have left the woods.”

  “Then go back,” said Tal. The werewolves looked at him in surprise. “Get out of my city, and stay away. If you come here again, I’ll make sure you never leave.”

  “But what about Maelin?” pleaded Darrow. “You can’t face the Malveens alone.”

  “He’s not alone,” said Chaney. Feena had healed his injuries, and both of them stood beside Tal, staring down the pack.

  Darrow watched as the pack gathered around Sorcia. They took wolf form once more before loping out into the night.

  Turning back to Tal, Darrow pleaded, “At least take me with you.”

  “Put on your pants,” said Tal, throwing the garment at Darrow’s chest before collecting his own fallen clothes. After the first season at Quickly’s, Tal had learned to shed his modesty with his clothes, but the constant and unintended nudity was becoming annoying.

  “How can we trust you?” asked Feena. “It sounds like you’ve betrayed everyone you served before.”

  “I know how it looks,” said Darrow, “but all I want is to help get her out of there.”

  “Do you know a spell to tell whether he’s lying?” Tal asked Feena.

  “Not until dusk tomorrow,” she said.

  “We can’t wait that long. When Rusk fails to return, they’ll kill the girl.”

  “Why not just turn this one over to the Scepters?” suggested Chaney. “He’s proof that none of this is your fault. You didn’t kill anyone except these monsters.”

  “What about the girl?” said Tal. “Even if Eckert has been feeding the Malveens information to use against me, she did nothing to deserve this. Besides, if the Malveens are behind this, I want to know why.”

  “It’s because of your father,” said Darrow. “At least, that’s what Stannis says.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Darrow told them the story of the pirate Lady Velanna and the fall of House Malveen, along with Stannis’s undying grudge against Thamalon Uskevren.

  “That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” said Chaney. “What could he hope to gain by turning Tal into a werewolf?”

  “At first, I don’t think he had a plan,” explained Darrow. “When he heard Tal escaped the werewolves, he hoped Rusk could control him and use him to embarrass the family.”

  “But Tal already does that. Ow!” He rubbed his head where Feena had rapped him with her knuckles.

  “Even if Rusk couldn’t control you,” said Darrow, “he figured your fights with your father and brother would eventually lead to bloodshed.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” said Tal.

  “Maybe not,” said Feena. “Those who don’t learn how to ride the moon often give in to the beast. Remember how hard it was for you to control your anger when you were newly cursed?”

  “Maybe so,” said Tal slowly. “Still, I have a hard time picturing Radu Malveen as part of such a scheme.”

  “He hated it from the start,” admitted Darrow. “But you can’t count on his standing aside and letting you take Maelin. He won’t permit anything to hurt his family.”

  “Well, he should have thought about that before he helped hurt mine,” said Tal.

  He turned back to where Sivana and Mallion sat beside Quickly’s body. They had covered her with a gold and white cloak, the one they used for monarchs in the plays. Ennis sat against the foot of the stage, his big body quivering as he wept. Tal went to kneel beside them.

  “It’s not your fault,” said Sivana. “You’re thinking it is, but it isn’t.”

  Tal started to answer, but Mallion interrupted him. “She’s right. Maybe they wanted you, but they hurt people wherever they go.” He cast a rueful eye toward Darrow. “Be careful of that one.”

  “I will,” promised Tal. “When we get back, we’ll take her to the House of Song. Whatever it costs, we’ll have High Songmaster Ammhaddan bring her back to us.”

  Sivana lost her composure at his words. “No,” she said. “Quickly’s will … she left it with me. She doesn’t want us to … she said she liked the life she had and wouldn’t want to bollocks up a second one.”

  Tal’s breath caught in his throat. That sounded just like Mistress Quickly.

  “Do you want us to come with you?” asked Mallion. Tal could tell by the tone of his voice that he hoped the answer would be no.

  “Stay with her,” he said. “And sing her a prayer for me.”

  “We’ll sing a few for you, too,” said Sivana. “Milil and Oghma grant you a great show. Knock ’em dead.”

  “That’s what I intend to do.”

  “I have a bad feeling about this place,” said Feena.

  The four of them stood within the shadowed courtyard of House Malveen. The weird gargoyles watched them as they made their way toward the central building. Selûne had emerged from the eclipse as brilliant as ever, but even her silver light could not penetrate the lowest gloom.

  “What kind of feeling?” asked Chaney. “Magic? Evil?”

  “Yes,” said Feena.

  “Quiet,” warned Darrow. He touched hilt of the long sword he had borrowed from Mallion, grateful that Tal had not insisted he go unarmed. “He might have set the spawn to guard the warehouse.”

  Tal willed his eyes to shift to wolf form. It felt as natural as squinting, and it allowed him to see light too faint for his human eyes to perceive. The details were lost, but he spotted the movement of a rat none of the others saw dash across their path.

  “We need light,” said Feena. Even if the three werewolves shifted to four legs, Chaney would be left blind.

  “All right,” said Tal, “but brace yourselves.”

  Feena chanted a quick orison, and her holy symb
ol blazed with white radiance. She cupped it in her hands to keep most of it on the ground ahead of them. They spotted the broken door, and Darrow led them through it.

  Inside, the warehouse was abandoned. Tal could still smell the recent occupation of the werewolf pack, along with something salty, sour, and somehow unnatural.

  “The spawn,” observed Darrow, whose own nose was wrinkled in disgust. “They smell worse up close.”

  “If you smell them coming,” said Feena, “let me cast some wards on you before you fight with them.”

  “Thanks,” said Tal, “but once a fight begins, you stay out of the way.”

  “No promises,” said Feena. She almost laughed at the shock on Tal’s face. “I’ll be careful.”

  “Good enough.”

  They navigated the crowded warehouse and found the door to the River Hall closed.

  “There’s no ward on it,” said Feena quietly, holding her talisman before her. “At least none that I can detect.”

  Tal tried the handle. Locked.

  “Stand back,” he said, setting Perivel’s sword aside.

  “Wait,” said Chaney. “Let me try something.” He slid a flat leather pouch from his sleeve and unfurled it to reveal a selection of lock picks.

  “We’re going to have another chat about how you make a living, aren’t we?” said Tal.

  “Don’t be so judgmental,” Chaney said. “You’re the werewolf.”

  “A law-abiding werewolf,” Tal responded.

  Chaney snorted quietly.

  “Are they always like this?” whispered Darrow amiably to Feena.

  Her response was a silent, icy glare. Tal still didn’t like the man, but he felt a pang of pity for Darrow. The man had done some terrible wrongs, to be sure, but he seemed to crave redemption. Tal wondered how different his life might have been if Feena had not guided him through his harrowing affliction.

  “There,” said Chaney. “Easier than I thought. Exactly the same as the lock on Thazienne’s bedchamber.”

  “You wish,” said Tal. “You keep it up, and I’ll tell her you said that.”

  “I take it back! I take it back!” whispered Chaney.

  Tal knew they should try to remain silent, but the banter soothed his nerves. The idea of facing vampires was bad enough, but it was Radu Malveen he truly dreaded facing. Not only was the man the finest swordsman in Selgaunt, but Tal was not convinced he was a willing party to his brother’s crimes. He hoped it would not come to a fight between them.

  “Lead on, but go slowly,” said Feena. She looked through her three extended fingers while clasping the talisman between thumb and little finger. “I’m still watching for magic.”

  Darrow walked slowly ahead. Watching the caution with which he set each foot on the floor persuaded Tal that Darrow was either a good actor or a man who truly did not know whether there were wards in place.

  Darrow halted suddenly, crouching and sniffing. “Smell that?”

  “They’re coming,” said Tal. Feena already had her hands on him, casting a spell that made his skin prickle all over.

  “Wait,” she said. “One more, for each of us.”

  She intoned another spell, reaching out to touch Tal and Chaney on the face before pressing a hand against her own cheek. Tal felt a cool, slippery sensation. No, it was more like a thought than a physical feeling.

  “What does that do?”

  “If we’re lucky,” said Feena, “it will hide us from these spawn Darrow described.”

  “What about him?” said Chaney, jerking a thumb toward Darrow.

  “What about him?” said Feena coldly.

  “Hurry,” said Darrow, hastening toward the Grand Promenade. Tal followed, with Chaney and Feena trailing behind.

  The Promenade looked empty at first glance. Tal had never seen a room more beautiful nor more bizarre. The illuminated stream cast rippling shadows on the walls and ceiling, and Tal followed Darrow’s example by casting his eyes up there for any sight of Lord Malveen’s minions.

  “How many are there?” asked Tal.

  “At least two,” said Darrow, running past the inner fountains. “Maybe more. Hurry, the gallery is on the other side.”

  Tal waited long enough for Chaney and Feena to catch up with him, then followed. All four had just rounded the grand pool when Tal spotted a black figure running spiderlike across the wall.

  “There!” he pointed. The thing scuttled away into the shadows, but then several things happened at once.

  A dark, wet figure fell onto Tal from above. Even as he heard Chaney’s shout of warning, a tremendous thunderclap exploded around Tal’s head. All the prickling of his skin turned to hot needles wherever the thing touched his body, and a flash of light blinded him completely for a second. Tal heard his attacker fall to the marble floor nearby and moved in to strike as his vision returned.

  Blinking away the stars in his eyes, Tal saw the stunned monster writhing on the floor. Once it had been human, but its clawed hands and feet were flat paddles now, with fingers half the length of a man’s. Its naked skin was the darkest purple, nearly black, glistening smooth as a slug’s body. Beneath round black eyes, its face consisted of nothing but a wide, lipless jaw studded with short, sharp teeth. Its mouth moved in a weak, involuntary spasm. Whatever magic Feena had cast on him hurt the thing far more than it shocked Tal.

  Without hesitation, Tal severed the creature’s head from its body. Perivel’s blade cut through flesh and bone effortlessly, leaving a scar in the floor.

  The spawn’s body melted into a puddle of oily black liquid, spreading at first into a wide circle. Within seconds, it moved intentionally toward the pool, pouring itself into the clear water. Where it filled the lighted pool, darkness covered the ceiling above.

  Behind Tal, Feena shouted, “Back! By the power of Selûne, I command you! ”

  She held her holy symbol defiantly toward another of the spawn. The monster hissed and recoiled from its place on the wall, but the talisman caused it no visible harm. Beside Feena, Chaney stood guard, his eyes searching the upper reaches of the hall for another attack.

  “Over here!” Darrow called to them from an open door. Beyond it was a dark room.

  Dark hands reached down from the shadows to grasp him by the head, pulling him up. Darrow screamed and struck wildly with his sword. Tal ran to help him, leaping up to catch his flailing legs as he rose into the shadows. He fell back to the floor holding an empty boot, while Darrow’s screams grew louder and more frantic.

  Feena sang out another prayer, her voice steady and bold. Her talisman flared more brightly than ever, shining steady rays of sunlight in all directions. The shadows flinched like living things and fled from the holy light.

  The spawn within them squealed horribly and fled from Feena. One burst into flames as it fell from the high ceiling. It grabbed futilely for a long tapestry as it plummeted, tangling itself in the thick fabric and setting it alight. Another trailed smoke as it fled the River Hall. Orange light flickered in the hall where it had fled, and Tal knew it would not be back soon.

  Darrow’s sword clanged on the floor near Tal. Soon after, a snarling gray wolf fell heavily beside it. The beast jerked and twisted violently, still trying to bite at an opponent who was no longer there. Its red eyes met Tal’s, and its nape bristled as it growled at him.

  “Calm yourself,” warned Tal, raising his massive sword.

  The wolf whined and turned in a circle, lowering its head to the ground briefly before shifting form. The change came in awkward spurts, and when Darrow’s human form crouched low before him, Tal saw the terrible wounds on his back and head. Deep black scars covered his head and shoulders, but the blood barely oozed from the wounds. The flesh surrounding them was already hardening and turning a dry, necrotic gray.

  Darrow hissed and grimaced in pain. He looked ten years older, his features drawn and wan. He blinked away the tears of pain and said as bravely as he could muster, “Stings a bit.”

  “F
eena?” asked Tal.

  Before he could voice his request, she was already beside the wounded werewolf. Where she ran her fingers over Darrow’s wounds, they closed under a trail of silver light, leaving only gnarly gray scars behind.

  “That’s the best I can do today,” she said. “The life they stole will have to wait until tomorrow.”

  “Thank you,” said Darrow. “I know I don’t deserve your—”

  “Don’t speak,” warned Feena, but her tone was less venomous than it had been earlier. “Just show us this secret passage,” said Feena.

  Her voice was urgent but surprisingly gentle. The fight had shaken her more than Tal realized. She had trained all her life to fight werewolves, but the undead were another matter entirely.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” said Chaney. “Now that we’re ready for them, and you have that light, this will be a snap.”

  “We’d better hurry,” said Tal. “I smell smoke. The one who got away must have fled to the upper floors.”

  “Just don’t be overconfident,” said Darrow. “Lord Malveen is probably down there waiting for us, and he is no mere vampire.”

  “That makes us even,” said Tal. His face was flush with excitement. Despite the horrors of the place, he had never felt so confident. “I’m no mere werewolf.”

  CHAPTER 21

  THE BAITING PIT

  Tarsakh, 1372 DR

  Darrow led them through the secret panel and down the winding stairs. Years of Malveen family trophies stared down at them from the walls. The images unnerved Darrow, who found them eerily similar to the skulls mounted in Rusk’s sanctum back at the lodge. He was still trembling since the attack of Lord Malveen’s minion. Whatever else it had drawn out of his body, it took some of his courage with it—and he had precious little to start with.

  “It’s that smell again,” whispered Talbot, sniffing. “Or something like it.”

  “Lord Malveen,” confirmed Darrow. “He’s down here somewhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if Radu is nearby, too. Let’s just hope they haven’t—” Darrow couldn’t finish the thought.