King's Wolf

Chapter 2

 

They were sleeping under the stars; it was just the two of them, newly bonded, on their quest for allies in the battle against the Authority. It was a cold night so Nic had to lie as close to Lycan as possible. Not that he really needed an excuse. But on this particular night, Nic remembered that it was so cold that they did not pleasure each other before sleeping...a first for them. Lycan had wrapped some extra furs around Nic and laughingly told him that he would pleasure him when he was not turning the same shade of purple as his eyes. Lycan had held him close, though, and rubbed his large warm hands along Nic’s back beneath his shirt, which his protective mate had bade him to keep on, and the rhythmic movement soon lulled the young Telepath to sleep.

It was some time later that he woke, conscious of being alone in the cocoon of furs. He peeked out, the crisp, cold air making his breath sting his nose. He thought perhaps Lycan had just left for a moment to take care of nature’s call, but there was no sound to support that conclusion. Looking around farther, he finally saw his mate. The beauty of the sight almost took away what breath the cold air had left him.

Lycan was standing in the moon’s light, his naked body silhouetted in the night sky against the full moon. His pure male beauty enraptured Nic and made him give thanks to the goddess for bringing this man into his life—for his many wonderful qualities, but among them was his beauty, which Nic had to believe the goddess valued also or she would not have made such a perfect creature as his bondmate. He stood, arms outstretched, like a god of the night, his long golden hair falling down along his back, the hard muscles of back and buttocks perfectly formed, his legs and arms sinewy and yet graceful.

In the flicker of an eye, Lycan shifted to his wolf form and stretched out again, this time howling his homage to the Moon and the goddess. Nic wished he could join his mate, but his body would not be able to withstand the cold for long and he did not want to mar or shorten this time for Lycan. So, he burrowed back down and waited for his mate.

His Wolf.

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The visits were becoming more violent. Nic was unsure how much longer he would be able to withstand their attacks. He knew he would not tell them anything and he did not believe either Ben or Jared had the strength to force information from his mind—only Michael could possibly do that to him—but he thought there was a very real chance they might accidentally kill him while they continued their efforts. That would be just like this group, he decided, with his usual sense of humor. To kill him accidentally after all their years of deliberate effort failing.

Ben came in one evening, much later than his usual time, and almost caught Nic at his nightly snack of mouse. Nic looked at him blankly for a moment, wondering if he should just go ahead and continue with what he was doing. After all, what could they do to him? Cut his rations even more? Remove the nice fat mice from his cell? Actually, it was a bit surprising how fat and plentiful the mice were. So losing the mice would be punishment indeed.

It did not seem, however, that Ben was in the mood for punishment this visit. He sat down on the chair that was in the room for their use, and looked somberly at Nic.

“Did you realize,” he began in a conversational tone, “that my father ordered that your cell be infested with mice to taunt you with your Metamorph heritage? He thought that it would be one more way to break your spirit, that eventually, you would become so hungry, you would try to eat a mouse.”

“Imagine that,” Nic replied, keeping to the same conversational tone as he stared at the ceiling of the cell from his position sitting cross-legged on the cot. He no longer bothered sitting up for the visits all the time, but since he had already been up and hunting, he merely leaned back against the wall and affected a slightly bored but polite demeanor.

“Yes. You can imagine it, I suspect. My father and Jared cannot. But you are not quite what they expected, are you?”

“How do you mean that, dear Uncle?” Nic made a point of referring to their relationship with Ben as often as possible, even if Ben was not truly his uncle. He sensed that it troubled the man on a very deep level to be treating Michael’s son this way. Maybe deeper than Nic would ever be able to reach but he had never been one to give up easily.

Yes, very deep, he laughed to himself. So deep that the best I have achieved is fatter than expected mice, but one may always hope, and pray. Maybe one day will see a rabbit venturing into my humble abode. For that I will expend the mana on fire for cooking.

“You will eat a mouse to survive, won’t you, dear nephew?”

“Without a nice wine to go with it?” Nic pretended to be shocked and Ben actually laughed.

“You really are Michael’s son. He would laugh at his own pyre. I will try to get more real meat given to you.”

Nic was shocked at how quickly his silent prayer was answered…and grateful…but managed to keep his expression even.

“I would prefer some fruit if you are feeling benevolent—but do not consider me ungrateful, anything you wish to do to make this less cursed would be appreciated,” Nic told him, looking him in the eyes. He found those green eyes eerie on such a cold man. Michael could be cold when he needed to be, but his sons always knew that a warm heart beat beneath the pretense. These Emorys, they were something completely different.

“My father is growing impatient,” Ben said abruptly, ending the eye contact and getting up from the chair. “He wants us to break you. Can you not give us some information, even just a little? Work with me, Dominic.”

Nic was shocked to see the pleading look in his captor’s face. He thought about the request. Was there anything he could tell them that would be harmless? He thought not. Resistance of the mind required strength of will that was unwavering. If he started picking and choosing where to be weak, he would break more easily in areas where he must remain strong. Besides, he believed that this father of Ben’s was only allowing him to live because he had not broken. Did Ben really not know that?

Nic tried to choose his words carefully. He spoke calmly but with an air of fragility that he hoped might impress upon this strange uncle the need to take action.

“I would like to cooperate with you. I am ill unto death. I do not say this to gain pity, simply to state a fact that must be considered. You have guessed the truth. I have been eating the mice. What I have been fed here would not have kept me alive. Again, I merely speak the truth. The bread is stale and moldy but I eat it, and am glad for the weevils in it. I drink the water when I can summon the mana to clean it. I cannot risk dirty water. If it is not your father’s intent to have me die from disease, he should rethink the diet he keeps me on.”

“You could save the mana you use to cook the mice,” Ben said, a twisted smile on his face that disappeared when Nic said simply, “I do not waste mana cooking the mice.”

“I will get you meat…and fruit.” He turned to go.

“Uncle Ben.”

“Yes, Nephew Dominic?”

“May the goddess bless you for your mercy.”

Ben swore under his breath. He turned back toward Dominic, his eyes tortured. “I did not know. I tell you, I did not know your mother was with child when she…she was not supposed to die that day. It has none of it been as I expected.”

“Then act to change it now,” Dominic said quietly. He was not sure why Ben was bringing up his mother now, that final attack on the palace when Adam and Suzanne were killed, but if it won him an advantage, he would take it. He fixed his violet eyes, so like his mother’s, on Ben. “Help me get free.”

“He will kill me.”

“Come with me. I will give you sanctuary. Your brother, cousin, however you wish to think of him, Michael, will welcome you home. I can guarantee that.”

“No you cannot,” Ben said bitterly. “I was born cursed and I live cursed. Do you think I do not wish it differently? I saw you with your Metamorph mate on the day of your coronation and….”

“And you knew that Destiny is a strange creature. Often cruel, and certainly one with a twisted sense of humor,” Dominic said gently, feeling his way even more carefully. “But know this, if I were to morph into a wild hunting cat in front of my father tomorrow, he would weep with joy to find me in front of him. If you were to demand his apology, he would give that too, for the wrongs done to you. But first, if you were by my side, he would be falling at your feet in thanks—

“But I would have to turn my back on my father and my son to save you.”

“That would be hard,” Nic conceded. “You lost a family before. I can only imagine what that would be like. But only you can decide if what they require of you now is something you can live with—or if it is something like the murder of my mother and unborn sister, and will haunt you until your dying day, or worse, and you find that this time you must say no.”

Ben stood still for a long moment. Nic waited. When his uncle finally moved, it was without his usual grace, moving instead with jerky, awkward steps.

“I must go. Your food will improve.”

The next day, there was a selection of fresh fruit, a newly baked loaf of bread and some meat on a tray. Brought by Jared. Dominic eyed it cautiously.

“Oh, do not look at it as though this is an illusion. That is your father’s talent, is it not? Illusions so real they have both scent and texture? This is real enough, a gift from my father to his ‘nephew’. I heard him giving the order and I had to find out for myself if my dear little cousin was indeed close to death due to lack of food.”

“Thank you for your concern. Please convey my gratitude to your father also. The food is very welcome.” Dominic spoke quietly, his demeanor neither subservient nor arrogant. He was not about to do anything to cost him this much needed nourishment if he could avoid it.

Whether he could avoid it—that was the question, he mused to himself, watching Jared place the tray on a table that a servant set down next to one chair. Nic stayed seated on the bed.

“I would not want to seem rude, but am I permitted to eat in your presence?” Nic finally asked, as Jared sat staring at him for a couple of minutes after the servant left without saying a word.

“Oh? You wish to eat? Why, go right ahead. I would have expected a starving man to fall upon such a lovely tray without delay.”

Dominic got up and limped over to the table. Just before he reached it, Jared stuck out his leg to trip him but Nic was able to sidestep him by jumping agilely over the limb and to the other side of the table. He snatched the bowl of fruit and started eating it. Within moments, he started retching.

“Alas, it seems the food does not agree with you,” Jared said with false solicitude.

Ben burst into the room at that moment. He knelt next to Nic, who was on the ground, vomiting violently.

“You poisoned him!” Ben accused his son.

“It would appear so. Or perhaps he has just grown unaccustomed to fruit?” Jared looked down at his long nails, his manner as one who had not an interest in the outcome of his cruel act. Only the wicked gleam in his green eyes revealed that he was far from indifferent. He was very pleased with the results of his little game. Ben summoned one of the guards from outside the door.

“Bring some water and fresh linens. Also ask Master Jared’s druid for whatever cure he undoubtedly has ready for this occasion.” When the guard looked at Jared to confirm the order, Ben snapped, “Do it now or you will test the fruit also.”

The guard rushed away.

“That was a good one, Father. I would have killed him outright if he had hesitated in obeying me, but the fruit was a good threat if you are squeamish about killing outright. I suspect this poison will kill if left untreated long enough. Of course, one must consider your nephew’s weakened state. I heard he was near death yesterday. He might be a good deal closer now, would you say?”

Dominic shuddered with the force of the spasms contorting his body. He wished he had the mana to attack. Though, if he was going to wish, he should wish for Lycan, here and ready to tear that smug Jared into so many pieces, there wouldn’t be enough hide left for a pair of ladies’ gloves.

If he were not two minutes from dying, that thought would be a cheering one.

Wolf, I could so use you now. Though Colin would be a big help too.

The next hour was a blur of pain, but eventually Nic found himself in a different room, bathed and dressed in worn but well-made clothes. The finery he had worn to the wedding had been reduced to filthy rags after all this time so the change was a welcome one. The aroma of a thick broth made him think that maybe, someday, he would even want to eat again.

Someday. He placed a hand on his tortured stomach and held back a groan, on the principal that it was not regal. Then he decided regal or not—he hurt. He groaned.

“This will help you, my Lord.”

Nic looked suspiciously at the goblet that was offered to him. Ben was standing to the side. He said, “You can safely drink of it. This is Deryk, my druid. I needed to get the treatment for the poison from Jared’s druid but for treatment now, to help you regain your strength, I would only trust Deryk. He has been with me since I first came to the Third Kingdom as a boy.”

Nodding, Nic accepted the goblet from the tall man. It did do much to settle the residual pain and uneasiness of his system. He drained the goblet and then smiled weakly at the druid. “My thanks to you, Deryk. The goddess bless you for your skill.” He looked at Ben. “Thank you for saving my life, Uncle. That is, if this was not all part of one plan?”

Ben flushed with anger at first, but then slumped into a chair. With a gesture, he dismissed his druid. Then he looked at Nic, his expression wry. “I do not blame you for thinking of that possibility. I give you my word it was not. I know my word is not worth much right now. I assure you that…

The door opened again. A tall man came in, garbed in a rich robe, with a hood similar to the one worn by the others at those times when they wished to hide themselves. At first he thought it was Jared, and his stomach clenched in remembered fear. But then he saw the ashen look in Ben’s face, and saw him fall to one knee, with the message coming into his mind, Quickly, to your knee if you want to live, nephew. He knew it could only mean one thing.

He was finally going to meet the elusive Grandfather, presumed master of his captivity.

Nic struggled to get up. His mind guards were set to let in only friendly messages. It was a special trick his father had taught him when he was very young, so that he could let in Colin, and Michael, and of course, Rafe, but keep out strange telepaths. The spell actually served as a filter--keeping out enemies or even those with questionable intent. Now, with his guards still firmly in place, this message was the first to get in from any of these Emorys, and he was fairly certain it was not coming from the man in the hood. His uncle must not intend ill toward him.

One near death experience per day being enough, he summoned the strength to fall to one knee, but kept his chin high. A greeting he would give another ruler who was older, he comforted himself, recalling the court etiquette taught to him by Colin.

It would have been quite a conciliatory pose-- if Nic could have maintained it, but he soon fell to the side. Ben tried to support him but was held in place by his father’s magic. Consequently, Nic landed flat on his face at the feet of his family’s enemy.

“Let him go, Ben. You have done enough for our young guest. Now is his time to show the proper respect for your Sire. I believe he has now assumed the correct posture.”

Nic struggled to his knees, and with the force of will alone, got to his feet.

“I believe this is more appropriate,” Nic said proudly. “I was wondering if I would ever get the chance to meet you. I confess, I am a little confused by all of the subterfuge, but first, are you my Grandfather or Great-Uncle?”

The man laughed. Then struck at Nic with a mental block. Nic resisted it as best he could. The restorative he had received helped him, as did being out of the special cell. His mana had been building since he had been in this room despite the effects of the poisoning, but he’d been greatly weakened even before Jared’s poison and had a long way to go before regaining his full strength. He fell to the bed but to his surprise, was able to block most of the strike. Thinking fast, he pretended to be knocked unconscious. He remembered Lycan’s lesson from the battle with the Cat Metamorphs, if you cannot win the battle, better to feign defeat early than to give a cat something to play with.

“Father! Why did you do that? I thought you wanted to question the boy?”

“I did. But I wanted him weakened. Jared understood that. What have you been doing? Coddling him like one of your own, my son?”

“I am keeping him alive. That was also your charge.”

“The two of you should have been able to do both,” was the quietly spoken answer. Nic thought that this man’s quiet voice was more ominous than Ben’s shouts or Jared’s sneers. “I should not have had to have come to see him until he was broken.”

“He kneeled to you.”

“Yes. I was pleased by that. That was your work?”

A brief pause. Then Ben answered dryly, “I strongly doubt it was thanks to our dear Jared almost killing him. A cat only scratches at the man who kicks it.”

“A good point. And this Emory is more Metamorph than I would have suspected. Perhaps we have won already. My throne was taken away unjustly. It was given to Adam because of what were seen as my unfortunate traits. Yet now, we have a King who is as close to a beast as I ever was. Ironic. Jerad’s spirit must be tortured indeed. I wonder if your ‘brother’ Michael knew of his own taint or did Adam suspect and that is why he skipped him when naming his heir?”

“I know not Adam’s motives; we were never close. I know only that he did not name me. But then, I was not his true brother.” Ben regained his feet and pulled a chair out for his father. He poured a glass of wine for him. He glanced at his nephew worriedly. He hoped that the boy’s mind was not damaged. His father did not know his own strength, and yet, Ben had thought his father had been weakening in recent years, his reliance on dark spells sapping his strength and power.

Jamyn was not thinking about his strength, but about how weary he was from trying to attack Dominic Emory. He had thrown his strongest blow at the boy. He had been relieved when he saw him fall back. He had been afraid for a moment that the boy would have been able to withstand him, despite his being at full strength and the boy being half-starved and weakened near to death by the poisons, both in the drink and in the walls of the cell.

But…now that Jamyn had finally triumphed over the young usurper of his throne, he was able to forget the circumstances under which his victory was achieved. He smiled at the fallen Nic and turned his attention back to his son.

“Ben, I would like to know what information you have obtained while you were busy stroking this particular cat.”

‘Well, if that did not bring forth unpleasant images,’ Nic thought, careful not to project it beyond his own mind.

“I have learned that Michael was greatly weakened by last year’s battles. He is tended by a druid daily….”

Nic almost ruined his pretense by laughing at that idea. Michael was certainly serviced daily by a druid—and he serviced him right back. More than once a day when time permitted, if truth were to be told. But he’d never told Ben anything about Michael. He had certainly never told him anything about Michael and Colin. He must be making the contents of this report up on the spur of the moment, or twisting the story from what he may have observed during spy missions. No one who saw Michael could possibly think he was weak.

But, the deeper question was, why was Ben giving this story to his father? Nic continued to listen.

“The brother to this one is a far more serious man. He is the King that Benra wanted, you know. He is doubtless the King that your father would have chosen. He is wedded to the pale skinny Royal from this Kingdom, and he is the ideal humorless King. As you know from when we held them both captive, she does not have the look of a Third Kingdom Royal at all, while he has the Emory look but not the fire. She has not won the hearts of the people, being aloof and cold. The people do not rally around them as they do this King but they are well distracted by their search for him. He remains their rallying cry—as long as he lives. If he dies, he will become even more of one.”

Ignoring the last part, which he dismissed as a bid to keep him alive, Nic thought about Ben’s evaluation of his twin. Rafe? Humorless? He might not become aroused at the sight of a naked man but he was as fun as…as they were allowed to be. But most of their fun was in the privacy of their own world on the Island. And on Kelway. Shouldn’t forget that. Was this how an outsider viewed the two of them? And was this how Melli was viewed? Aloof and cold? Not beloved by the people? It was something to remember. And think about.

“So you believe it is in our best interests to allow this one to remain with us, and alive…for now.”

“Yes.”

“But what about what he has seen? And are you so sure he has not been misleading you?”

Jamyn did not want to give Ben the satisfaction of knowing that his tactics of being kinder to the young Emory had resulted in his gleaning more information than Jared’s brutality, which had elicited nothing. He had searched Jared’s mind and knew that the attack today arose from the younger man’s fear that his father was succeeding where he had failed.

Jamyn encouraged what he believed was a healthy competition between his son and grandson. His father had done that in his own way. He pitted his sons against each other—until Jamyn was suspected of being a Metamorph. Then there was no winning the competition. If he were faster or stronger, it was viewed as a sign that he carried the taint. If he were slower to learn a lesson from the druids, it was seen as an example of his lack of true Telepath blood. He had been frightened at first, and bitter, but long before he finally was told of the plan to send him away to the druids in the Third Kingdom, his heart had hardened. He bonded with a member of the Court first, and Ben had been the result. He had assumed it would be his stay of execution, but instead, it ended any chance he had to return to his family. Jerad was told his older brother had died, and asked to take in Ben as his son.

In the very early days, he wondered if his brother ever missed him, ever questioned their father. Later, when he began to plot with his allies for the destruction of the Royal families, he made sure that before he died, Aaron knew that it was his discarded son who brought about his death. He didn’t dare do that with his brother, the risk was too great that even in his dying moments, a warning thought might be sent to Adam or Michael and his whole plan endangered.

It was too long-sighted a plan to risk for a moment’s satisfaction.

Jamyn looked down at Michael’s son, Jerad’s grandson. He had used assassins to kill Jerad and Adam. While he never would admit it, he couldn’t have achieved the final destruction of the Royal families without Ben’s help. The druids had been very useful in the Third and Second Kingdoms, but it took quite a bit of effort to defeat Adam and Michael, the last hold-outs. But finally he had done it. For many long years, he had ruled in secret. He had almost won completely and resumed the throne when that old fool, Benra, appeared, proclaiming the survival of a branch of the Royal Tree, and the evil scourge that threatened it. Benra and several druids working with the Councils had been willing to serve as they had in the past, providing poisons and peeks into the future. All because they thought they were fighting evil. They little knew that they were aiding the evil they feared.

And what the druids’ seers had told him was that a pairing of Telepath and Metamorph was coming that was going to Rule the land. He of course interpreted this to mean him and his line. Not this boy and his mate. But he recognized that this Emory and his Wolf Metamorph could certainly be one answer to the seer’s riddle. So his reason told him that he should remove this boy as the true threat to the dynasty he had worked to achieve for so long.

Yet…Ben had long been his right hand, and Ben’s words made sense to him. Jared would be his successor, but for now Jared had overstepped his bounds by almost killing their prisoner. He never should have poisoned the boy without clearing it with Jamyn first. The man frowned, considering that. Yes, Jared had overstepped his bounds. It was a good thing Ben had acted so quickly or they might have had a dead martyr on their hands.

He looked at the boy. He was very thin. The bones on his face were so prominent now, his chin pointed, the bones at his neck looking so fragile. What Ben had been saying was true; he did look close to starvation. Jared had been foolish to risk poisoning him when he was in such weakened condition. He would have to punish Jared for such lack of foresight. If the boy were to be killed, it would be by design, and only by his design.

Jamyn rose. “You have made progress, Ben. I am pleased. Try to bring the boy around. I will question him later tonight.”

“As you wish, Father. But I ask that, if it pleases you, your questioning may be delayed until tomorrow. He has been seriously injured by the force of your mind attack. A day of rest is needed if you do not want him to die…sir.”

“Do you believe that is wise?”

“I am sure with the force of your attack it will be days before he will be able to form a coherent thought.”

“You show wisdom, my son. I will delay my questioning until the day after tomorrow, unless you inform me that he has recovered more rapidly that you expected.” Before leaving, Jamyn pulled back his hood and smiled at his son.

“You did well, Ben. Very well. I am proud of you.” He rested his hand briefly on his son’s head, then turned and left the room.

Ben waited until the sound of Jamyn’s footsteps had died away and then he sat in the chair his father had vacated. He looked over at Nic.

“You can stop pretending to be a possum now. To my knowledge, there are no possum Metamorphs. Did you see what he looked like? It is not an opportunity you are likely to have many times.”

Nic sat up. “How did you know I was not unconscious?” He accepted the flagon of juice that Ben handed him.

“You turn your head away from the light source after an attack, even when you are unconscious. I assume it hurts you.” Nic was impressed—Michael and Ben had traits in common, and keen observation skills were among them.

“I only saw the slightest glimpse of him through the hood, and I do not believe I was seeing clearly. When he took it back, I peeked at him as he was saying how proud he was of you, I thought I saw….” Nic hesitated.

“What did you think you saw?” Ben seemed almost amused.

“He looked like…well, like the images I have seen of Adam in my father’s memories, and of Jerad, very much like them. But…”

“Go on. What else did you see?”

“There was something else there, was there not? Another face? But how could that be?”

Ben nodded, as though Nic had passed some test that he was pleased with him for passing. Nic waited. He felt that Ben had come to a decision and yet he would have expected his father’s pride to have had the opposite effect on him.

“My father has two faces. One he shows the world, and one that he can no longer hide from those with eyes to see. The strongest telepaths can see it. And so can most Metamorphs since they can see through illusions. My father is both a strong Telepath and a Metamorph. But over the years, his Metamorph appearance has grown more pronounced. His handsome Emory features no longer dominate his face. I suspect the rest of his body is similarly affected. Most of the time, he wears the hood, and he has encouraged Jared and me to do the same. Our Assassins have always done so as well, although their hoods have a different style to them. I suspect father has ordered this so that if the day comes when I, and eventually, Jared, no longer can plausibly appear as men, at least not for long periods, we will have already established a habit of not being seen in public often. We are the hooded men.”

Nic was fascinated by this, not horrified. Ben smiled his twisted smile. Somehow he had expected this reaction out of this unexpected son of Michael’s.

“What types of changes do you mean? I thought I saw pointed ears and a flatter nose instead of the aquiline nose of an Emory, the face more triangular. Is that his real face?”

Ben nodded.

“Can I see you morph? You can, right? You’re not just partially Metamorph, as some of the men in my mate’s pack were partially Telepath. You’re a full Metamorph when it comes to shifting?”

There was a pregnant pause and then Ben stood. He was wearing the ornate robe he favored when in his own stronghold, with its hood that he tended to keep down. As he smoothly shifted form, it slid away from his body, pooling on the floor of the room. On top of it stood a sleek black hunting Cat, with bright green eyes and a long tail that swished languorously. The Cat sprang to the top of the table without overbalancing it or even spilling the wine. Then it leapt to where Nic sat, settling back on its haunches next to him.

“Beautiful,” Nic said, sincerely. He would have liked to have stroked the silky looking fur but knew better than to take such a liberty. A Metamorph was not the same as the animal he looked like, for all that many shared some of the traits of their animal. He could not help noticing that Ben looked much more comfortable in the skin of the hunting cat than he did in the skin of a man.

The Cat jumped down from the cot and walked gracefully over to the discarded robe. It morphed back into the form of Ben Emory, who bent easily to pick up his robe and shrug into it. He looked at Nic, his thoughts not readable.

“I suggest you rest and eat. Not in that order. I will leave my own people guarding this room. I will return tonight. I have much to think about.”

“What are you going to do? I cannot stay here long. I appreciate that you have bought me some time but as soon as your father tries to attack me again, I will have to defend myself.”

Ben looked at him sadly. “If you defend yourself, he will order you killed. The only reason you are still alive is because he thinks he was able to defeat you. He will keep you as a pawn, boy. He believes himself to be the rightful King, and he has good reason to do so. He was the eldest brother. It is his belief that the Alliance you forged will fall apart without you, and that Metamorph and Telepath will fight. He will reveal himself as the King who can bring them together, as the true leader of both, foretold by the seers. If that does not work, he will produce you, his broken puppet. He has received no indication of your real power—by my grace, boy. Remember that.”

Nic felt sickened, but he showed Ben no sign as he quietly asked him, “Those are your father’s plans. What are yours?”

“I told you, I need to think. Do not press me. The time I bought was for me as well as you. Rest and eat.”

“May the goddess guide your thoughts…and bless you for your acts today, Ben Emory.” Nic bowed his head to his ‘uncle.’

“I wish you the same, ‘nephew.’ I leave you now…for a while.” With that, he was gone.

Dominic ate sparingly, not sure how much his stomach would be able to tolerate. He slept for a time, then got up and ate a little more. The druid from earlier, Deryk, came in and examined him. He gave him another medicine to drink, which helped settle his stomach even more. The immediate crisis was over. All that remained was the bone weariness, the near-starvation, and the various aches and pains from being beaten and living in a small cell for months. No problem at all, Nic thought lightly. Aloud, he assured the druid that he was fine. The druid frowned but did not speak a word. Dominic wondered what his loyalties were. His age was difficult to discern. He wished he had the nerve to ask if he was the druid who supposedly “died” in the attack that killed Ben so many years ago. Though, he mused, that would not be nerve if it would lose him the druid’s assistance—it would be stupidity. He truly must be part cat himself, since curiosity certainly was one of his besetting faults.

It was later that night that he received another visitor. Nic was sleeping, but part of him stayed alert as was his habit since being captured. He felt the subtle prodding at his consciousness that was typical of Jared. At first he was surprised that he had not heard him enter the room, but then realized that the man was probably still in the hallway. This room had thinner walls and a lighter door than his cell had; Jared probably had hoped to catch him unawares and creep into his thoughts.

And discover that he was not as damaged by Jamyn’s attack as he had pretended? That would not be good, Nic knew. How to handle this? He decided it might be good, if he could manage it, to let Jared in just a bit—as long as he controlled what his cousin saw—to prevent him from finding it suspicious that such a supposed collapse had left Nic still able to guard his thoughts. Quickly, he thought of a way to solve his dilemma, and put it into effect.

I will be a mouse, he thought, amused despite his dire predicament, but give him entertainment in a way that does not give me bruises!

Nic sensed more than he saw Jared enter the room, having taken the bait Nic placed before him in his consciousness, which was that Nic was still safely unconscious, but suffering from tortured nightmares. Jared wanted to be closer so he could explore what he believed to be his first chance to read Nic’s thoughts without being blocked. Meanwhile, Nic fed him the images, borrowing some from the experience Lycan had shared with him to give it verisimilitude—he knew his mate would not mind if it aided Nic’s survival.

Threatening figures…they are hooded… encircle him, He tries to flee, and tries to get to the wolves on the ridge but the ridge moves ever more distant and the hooded figures get closer and closer. He falls to the ground as a large body pounces on him. It is a large black cat! He screams for help but there is no help to be had. He tries to break free but the large claws are at his neck…..

Nic thought he did a nice job with that dream. He embellished it with many miles of misty paths and running but not getting anywhere. Jared kept trying to push past the mist but his own efforts became tangled with Nic’s in the dream image and his frustration mixed with the simulated emotion Nic fed him. He withdrew finally in disgust, convinced that his father had terrorized the Emory boy mercilessly.

“So much for stroking a cat, father dear. You are more ruthless than I have been giving you credit for being. I did not think grandfather had the strength to defeat this one, but I did not know whether you did or not. I have my answer now. And it pleases me not.”

Jared stormed from the room, snapping something at the guards to bring them from the stupor he had placed them in. Well, that had been interesting, Nic thought. But, where did it leave him in the immediate future?

Nic shared with Ben the news of his nightly visitor when he came to the room early the next morning. Ben assured Nic that neither his son nor his father was an early riser.

“So, we must act now, today,” Ben murmured to himself more than to Nic. “But it will not be easy to get you out without my son sensing it. Father is still resting from his attack on you yesterday. How to hide your escape from Jared is the question?”

“You will actually help me escape?” Nic could not believe his good fortune. He looked at Ben hopefully. The man looked back at him wryly.

“I find that there does actually come a time when one grows tired of killing one’s own family,” he said. “I no longer believe in my father’s cause. I will help you, but I make no promises. We may both die in the attempt.”

“I am willing to risk it, but then, I have nothing to lose. Are you sure you are willing to do this for me?”

That odd half smile was directed toward him again. Ben said softly, “I believe I would like to see Michael’s face again and at least ask for his forgiveness. I am curious to see if you are correct in your assessment of him.”

Dominic smiled. He had no doubts about his father. While Michael had long promised vengeance for the deaths of Adam and Suzanne, saving his son would wipe that debt clean. Especially when Dominic explained what injustices had been done to this man for reasons that he could not help.

A thought occurred to him. “It was you, was it not, who fought the Hell Hound with us? Why? Was that not supposed to put an end to us?”

Ben gave his crooked smile. “I found that I did not want to be responsible for letting loose a creature like that. What good is it to rule a Kingdom of carcasses? My father does not always think his plans through completely. As it was, that creature was too much for me, and would have been too much even for your father, given his exhaustion, though I confess, I do not know what it was he did in the end. I’ve never understood his strange dance magic. The Cat Metamorphs spoke of his teacher as though he was second only to the goddess, which is why....” Ben’s eyes darkened. “Well, never mind that. I only meant to say that it was a novel experience, working together with Michael and not against him. We had not done that since he was a mere boy. Your shock when you saw my glamour was more amusement than I’d had in years, well worth the battle with that beast.”

“You saved my brother and Lycan.”

“I have my moments of whimsy. Do not think of it, I am sure Michael would be quick to point out that neither would have been in danger had I not assisted in raising that fell creature.”

Nic looked into the green eyes, so like his father’s, and thought that Michael would not see it that way. Redemption was not beyond any of the goddess’ creatures; Colin had taught all of them that lesson. For the first time since his capture, he stopped feeling the fool for allowing himself to be captured and regained his sense of certainty that this was meant to happen. Perhaps it was not just to ensure Rafe and Melli’s children being born that he needed to act as he had that day, but just as importantly, he needed to go through this to redeem the lost Emory.

The goddess made difficult demands.

“How far is it to the outside?” Nic asked, ready to start planning his escape, now that he understood why he had been brought here.

“Do you think you can run for long? You are very thin and you have not been able to exercise for a long time now.”

“How long has it been?”

“Almost four months.”

Nic was shocked. He knew he had been held captive for a long time but he had not counted the little mouse skulls for a while. It was too depressing. Lycan must be close to insane with anger, he thought. And Melli must be growing large with the babies. He was missing so much. A whole season had passed. Winter would be just about over now, spring must be showing its signs back home, though he had no idea what the seasons were like in the Third Kingdom, he had some idea that they were delayed. With some dismay, he realized that it would just be turning cold here.

“Are you all right?” Ben asked quietly.

“Yes,” Nic answered, even more quietly. “It is just…I feel as though I have been standing still and time passed without me. My family must be very worried.”

“Your family must think you dead.”

“No. They would know if I were dead. You said it yourself, they rally to my cause, and I know that their every effort is bent toward rescuing me, and they will be there when I…when we…need them.”

Nic’s tone was confident and Ben did not argue with him. He found himself believing what this young man said. Perhaps he was simply in need of something to believe in—it had been a long time since he had truly believed in his father’s message of revenge. From the moment that he had seen this young man walk courageously toward him, he had been impressed by him. The day before, when he answered his father with falsehoods and half-truths, he had taken an irretrievable step. Yet, he knew he could not help in destroying something as noble and pure as Dominic Emory. He hated the things he had done but nothing so much as ordering the strike that had killed Adam and Suzanne. He had not realized until after it was over and the assassins’ reports reviewed, the reports from those few assassins who survived, that Suzanne had been with child.

Ben had not known that an order had been given to kill all who were present. He thought only Adam was to be killed, not Michael and his children also. His order had been against the Palace—and limited to Adam. He found out about the change in scope only when his father cursed the failure to find the bodies of all of the remaining Royals. He had transformed to his cat form and escaped to the woods, running for hours until the need to weep had passed.

An Assassin did not weep, even when he led attacks against pregnant women and babies for his King. But Ben had run, and wished he never had to go back. He had though, and stoically accepted criticism for the possible escape of Michael and his twins, all the while giving thanks to the goddess for that blessing.

Ben was tired of the game. He was tired of death. He wanted to retire to the mountains and live as a cat. It would be nice if he could find sanctuary with his cousin, to be able to visit Michael’s family occasionally, with their acceptance of Metamorphs. Perhaps he could even find a mate again. Jared was more his father’s child than his.

He turned his thoughts to the problem of getting Dominic out of the stronghold. He considered Jared’s actions of the night before.

“I think I know how we will manage,” he said finally. “We will wait until tonight. You can expect my son to come again. He should once again take care of the guards, which will benefit us. This time, when he comes in, knock him out. Do you think you will be able to do that? With another full day to rest?”

Nic nodded, “I will.” He would have to be able to do it, so he would. Ben looked at him closely, then nodded.

“Once you have taken care of Jared, place him on your cot in your stead. I suggest you pull the cover over his head but if you are able to cast an illusion over him, all the better. He is much taller than you for all that there is a resemblance. Leave the guards stupefied, and head down the hallway, to the left and then down the corridor to the right. I will meet you there.”

“And if you are not there?”

“If I am not there, it will mean my father has summoned me. In such a case, I will try to send you a message but I cannot be sure it will be safe to do so. I will endeavor to leave you some guidance on getting out of here safely. If all goes well, I will be there to meet you with food and other supplies. If not, I will leave a map showing how to reach the outside under the wainscoting by the third doorway after you’ve turned onto the corridor. I will leave supplies on the outside later today. I suggest you head for the closest druid circle. My father has been plotting…well, no need to get into that now. Suffice it to say that you will need to travel some distance to get to a druid circle but there is still one within a couple days’ hard running.”

Nic nodded. There was no way they could plan for every eventuality on such short notice. He was still weak but he knew he would do whatever it took to get to safety. He also could count on his loved ones to be searching for him, so as soon as he was clear of this place and his strength built back up, he should be able to contact Lycan, Rafe or Michael. Or perhaps Colin would be able to find him in his scrying glass.

Feeling much more positive, Dominic smiled at Ben. “Will you be coming with me?”

“Not quite yet, although I will try to accompany you as far as the forest,” Ben told him. “I have some friends there who will help you in the next part of your journey. You may need to travel partway through the mountains before pursuit stops. It would be better for you if I remain here to steer the pursuit in the way we would want it to go.”

Nic nodded. That made sense. “Thank you, Uncle.”

That made Ben smile. “Get some rest now,” was all he said, though he ruffled Nic’s hair.

The day seemed to pass very slowly, even more slowly than those days when Nic received little food and the cell was too cold to allow sleep. Now, when he had plenty of food and was comfortable, Nic found that he was too excited to sleep for long. He was anxious for the night to fall. If Jared did not come, should he try to leave? He believed he was strong enough to handle the guards on his own. He and Ben had not discussed that eventuality, however, and he wished now that they had talked longer. If he had realized that he was not going to sleep, he probably would have implored his ‘uncle’ to stay.

Suddenly, despite the slow passage of time for most of the day, when night fell, Nic was finally tired and drifting in and out of sleep. Time passed quickly then. He was startled to hear the sound of someone at the door. He quickly composed his thoughts as he had the night before when he heard the sound of the guards being cast into a stupor. This night, Jared did not hesitate, but came directly into the room.

“Do not tell me that you are still asleep! Come now, little cousin, you must be awake by now! There are crumbs on the table from where you ate bread at dinner.”

Nic opened his eyes as though drowsy. “Is that you, Jared? Come to poison me again?” He spoke faintly, as though weak. He was hoping Jared would come a little closer.

His wish was granted. Jared chuckled low and stepped close to the cot in order to peer down at Nic. “Poor little King. Did not enjoy your visit with my Grandfather, did you? I understand that he used his telepathic powers against you, poor boy?”

“Yes…something like…this.” Nic slammed Jared with a mental blow as he sprang up from the cot. He caught Jared as he slumped, laying him on the bed. He guided him down onto it actually, and was glad that the bed was so close, since the man was heavier than he looked. Nic shook his head in frustration at how weak he was. Still, his telepathy was returning. His mana was not back fully, but thankfully, it was enough to deal with Jared. He went through his cousin’s pockets and found a few useful items, a knife, some gold coins, and a comb, the last item making him smile. He decided to take Jared’s boots too while he was “borrowing” since he was barefoot and he would be traveling some distance. They were large but better than nothing, and not as big as one would expect for such a tall man. He had relatively petite feet, Nic thought, considering them. Must be another cat thing, he decided, looking at his own relatively large feet.

Nic covered Jared up, turning him toward the wall, which was his own usual way of sleeping. With any luck, the switch would not be discovered until morning. To be extra cautious, he used the mana to cast a sleep spell on the unconscious Telepath. Then he “borrowed” Jared’s hooded cloak, hateful as the garment was to him, it would prove useful on several grounds.

Finished, he let himself out of the room. The guards were still by the door, staring forward glassily. Nic closed the door behind him, then slipped down the corridor. To his relief, the large Cat he had met the day before was stalking back and forth. He grinned at it and it swished its tail at him impatiently before taking off at a brisk pace. Nic followed, walking as silently and swiftly as his father had taught him. He thought the Cat looked back in approval at one point as they made it through the castle halls silently.

They were doing well until they reached the outside courtyard. At that point, they had to leave the shadows and cross the open court, which was fairly well lit by torches that stood every ten paces. Nic cast a disillusion spell but even with that, there was a shadow cast along the ground.
He saw no hope for it but to run as fast as he could and to stupefy each guard that he encountered. He sent that thought to the Cat and he thought he saw a nod. The Cat took off in the direction of a far gate that was guarded by only one man and Nic readied to follow when he heard a shout of alarm behind him. Cursing under his breath, he picked up his pace and dashed for the gate.

‘No, go for the wall to the left. You’ll have to climb it,’ the voice in his head said. Glancing to his left, Nic saw the area that was meant. It was a lower wall, with some pock-marked areas in the stone. He could climb that, he told himself. But better yet, he could use his telekinesis to pole-vault it with that piece of post from that stack, he noted. Lifting the post over, he lightly vaulted the wall.

‘Neat trick.’

‘Thanks,’ he replied in his mind to the Cat. But I cannot see you now. Can you give me an idea of which way to go?

‘They cannot see you at the moment. They think I am chasing you so I will be running East, you must run Northwest. Toward the mountains is where you want to head eventually, but not yet. Head into town. There is a tinker, name of Kydd. He will give you some supplies. Did you get any money from Jared before you left?’

‘As a matter of fact….’ Nic paused, embarrassed. He had never stolen before in his life. Ben’s next thought relieved him of his shame.

‘Good. I would have thought you stupid if you had not. But do not use it there. Trade the boots for more practical ones that fit better. And get what you need with the extra value on the trade. The money will look suspicious. Gold is not common and I doubt he had anything less, but if you need to hire a ship, you will need it. I will try to plant some items there that you can use but if I do not, do the best you can.’

‘My deepest gratitude to you, Uncle….’

‘No time for one of your speeches. You may still find yourself prey so remember to look sharp and be a possum when you cannot run fast enough—until your strength is back. I have done what I can for now. Fare well…nephew.’

‘You will not meet up with me somewhere?’

‘Our paths do not join yet. But I believe they will soon enough, if we are lucky tonight that is. May the goddess speed you on your way.’

With a mental push, Ben Emory left Nic alone as he ran off to misdirect his own guards. Nic summoned as much strength as he could and took off as fast as he could, sending a prayer to the goddess for himself, and for his strange kinsman ally, before turning his thoughts toward home…and Lycan. Soon he would be back with his family, and his mate. His lifted spirits lent wings to his feet in their ill-fitting boots.

 

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