King's Wolf

Chapter 3

 

“How much for the boots then? I need a more serviceable pair for walking,” Nic smiled with a cheerfulness he was far from feeling. He’d used the mana to create a glamour to make himself appear the same as he had the day his father instructed him to fool Benra—how long ago that seemed now! But “Den” seemed a more likely person to be seeking to trade largesse from a master than the more obviously Royal-featured Dominic, with his distinctive eyes and hair. Even if this were the Third Kingdom, where Royals were known for their distinctive height and gray eyes, he was sure that the bards’ songs had instructed the people of this Kingdom if nothing else. Indeed, in general, the Third Kingdom was known for its scholarship, and most villagers, Colin had assured them, knew how to read! That was why on their island, he had insisted on every island child being educated, something that had been a novel concept to Michael, but which he allowed as harmless at first, and later grew to understand as fair in a deeper sense than Colin had even intended.

Still, even without reading, it was known throughout Terrafyn that the Royals of the Kingdoms had appearances that differed as greatly as their lands—only they, of course, knew that their differences also hinted at other differences, those of their secret…talents. The bards vied to come up with rhymes for the blond hair and blue eyes, that predominated in the Second Kingdom, the gray eyes and extreme height, of the Third Kingdom, and of course, the forest green eyes and midnight black hair of the First Kingdom. There were other qualities too, of course, and people loved to argue about it, but it always began there. Colin noted at the wedding that Dominic’s blending of his mother’s eyes and his father’s hair no doubt made him even more beloved in both the First and Second Kingdoms, so if Melli and Rafael were to have a child with his eyes and hair, and her father’s height, that child would truly be a child for all of Terrafyn to rally around. Michael had tartly replied that if that was all the people judged their leaders on, he would start praying now that his grandchildren would not inherit their grandmother’s brains and character or Terrafyn would be in trouble indeed.

The choice of red hair and brown eyes for a glamour was safe—there was nothing remotely Royal about it. But, it brought comfort to Nic, reminding him of Fen, and he reached up to touch his pendant.

His pendant! Why had he not thought of it as soon as he got clear of that goddess-forsaken place! He called upon his mana to teleport home with the aid of the pendant, and called upon his father, and Colin…Rafe…Melli?

Nothing.

Nothing at all came from the pendant. It was…no longer even invisible, he realized, his heart sinking. It was as though every bit of magic had been drained from it. He could not sense anything of Michael or Colin in it any longer, or perhaps only the faintest echo of their magic signature. With a start, he realized that the trader had been talking to him.

“Do you want the trade or not?”

“Sorry. Got a bit dizzy there. Ate some bad meat yesterday. What did ya say?”

“I said, five copper, plus whatever boots you can fit those feet of yours into,” the Trader Kydd said, spitting toward his spittoon and missing, Nic felt like rolling his eyes—Ran would scorn such a spitter—either you aim for something with your spit and hit it, the Raven Master felt, or you don’t bother aiming at all was his feeling about the matter.

Nic clapped his hand to his head. “Now I know it weren’t no bad meat. Were a bad deal made my head feel so light. Five copper! Mebbe I had better sit down! Or is there a charge for that?”

Nic kept up a good-humored banter with the man, along with a discussion of the best way to get to the closest seafaring town—neither reflected his true state of mind or intent. Before he was done, he sold his pendant, confiding that he needed to raise enough for passage on a ship. He imprinted his own spell on the pendant, hoping that it would work to safeguard it long enough to keep it from unfriendly eyes. The spell was a variation on a glamour—only those who meant well toward him should see the pendant for what it was, all others should see it as an ugly, worthless object. A true ally, one of their inner circle would see the wolf as Lycan himself and feel called to get it to Lycan or Michael as quickly as possible.

As he took the pendant off to hand it over to the trader, he felt a pang of homesickness stronger than any he had ever felt before. Not even on the day he’d left the island and all he’d ever known in search of his destiny had been like this, for then he’d had Lycan.

And his pendant. It was more than a talisman, though it was certainly that; it was a constant reminder of home, and had kept him sane during the darkest days of his captivity. It was drained now but he knew it had protected him from the worst of Jared’s machinations. Even when his cousin had resorted to poisoning him, had not Ben somehow learned of it almost immediately and saved Nic just in time? Yet it was now time to put the pendant to another use, he felt sure of it with the instinct that had guided him so many times, for all that he wished still for the simple comfort of its familiar weight on his breast.

“Here, take it,” he said gruffly to the trader. “Ye drive a hard barter, you do. Now let me try on those boots there on the shelf to your left. And I’ll be having that blanket and those loaves of bread too in addition to what we agreed, I’m thinking, if you’ll be wanting the chain as well. And would you be willing to give me a ride to your next stop perhaps? I can help with the chores and sing a song or two to help bring the customers to your cart.”
 

************
 

Nic turned over and immediately felt the cold seep into his blanket roll. He wished he had something more substantial than just a thin blanket between him and the cold ground—but then immediately he felt ashamed of his failure to give thanks to the goddess for the blanket, well aware that it would be worse without it. Winter was not yet here in this Kingdom–not technically–but it was as cold as the Winter Solstice back home and he felt as though his blood was freezing in his veins. What he would give to be with Lycan tonight. His chest tightened at the thought.

He missed his mate for far more than just his warmth, of course, though that was always good. Nic forced his thoughts along more positive paths, and gave thanks that he had his freedom after so many months of captivity, as he now had the ability to send his thoughts out, which he did, trying once again to find some trace of his bondmate, as well as for his brother and father, widening the search carefully to seek any sign of their allies, especially the Metamorphs, searching for him as he knew they must be.

It was a thrice daily ritual—he limited himself to save his still depleted mana, which was slow to grow to its normal strength due to his severely weakened state. Tonight, as always, he found nothing friendly, far or near, nothing but the night. He could not sense any wolves near, nor any other Telepaths. Of course, he kept his thoughts guarded by habit. Not all Telepaths could be trusted; he’d learned that lesson at a cost. His good fortune in finding an unexpected ally could not be counted on happening twice. He might need to find his way to the Second Kingdom’s Palace alone, but somehow, he needed to get back to his family and his mate. In the quiet hours of the night, he sometimes feared they believed him dead, as much as he’d insisted to Ben that they would never give up on him. He hoped that they would know better, that just as he trusted in his instincts to know that Lycan, his soulmate, and Rafael, his other half, lived, they would know that he was alive, and struggling to reach them.

Dominic’s sense of desperation had led him to give up his most prized possession—once he’d made sure it was not strong or he was not strong enough to use it to carry him across two Kingdoms. It was Nic’s strength that once he committed to a course of action, he did not tend to second guess himself, so while he missed having the comfort of his pendant, he felt comfortable with his choice to trade it, in the hope that it would send a clue to his family and make its way back sooner than he could. He wondered if the time in the iron laced room had poisoned even it—or if something else dark had been at work, as he had been surprised when it did not bring even a glimmer of sense of Michael or Colin’s magic to him. Yet, he felt sure that somehow, it would aid him in getting word to them, in warning them that the Authority, the force that had been hunting them for so long, was actually led by telepaths, and worse than that, by their own family, long believed dead

His great-uncle’s plot had been devious in its simplicity. If Nic’s family had tried to move on without him, establish a government with either Michael or Rafael as King, then the so-called Authority would try to pull the rug out from under it by bringing Dominic into the open as the true King, named by King Adam as his heir. By that time, Jamyn had expected Nic to be so brainwashed, he’d be little more than their puppet.

Dominic’s strength in holding on for so long had not fit into his captors’ plans well. With his Uncle Ben’s surprising aid in enabling him to escape, he just needed to make his way across the mountains and find his family. He laughed softly to himself. That was all, cross the toughest terrain in Terrafyn during the harshest season for this Kingdom, with no more supplies than a blanket and an almost empty pack. He had counted on his hunting skills to help him. So far, that had not worked out very well. He had greatly underestimated how affected he had been by four months of near starvation and beatings.

Nic rolled over once again, trying to find a comfortable spot on the hard ground. If only he could restore his health enough to build his mana back up.

Oh Wolf, where are you? I need you...very much.
 

With thoughts of his love filling his mind, warming his thoughts even if he could not warm his body, Nic fell into a restless sleep.
 

***********
 

Michael entered the War Room where Rafael and Lycan were holding a planning session. He stood in the shadows for a moment and simply observed. Colin had told him that he was concerned that their alliance of Telepaths and Metamorphs was falling apart in the absence of Dominic, and Michael wanted to form his own opinion.

“We cannot just lay siege to the government building in Attinway,” Rafael was saying through a clenched jaw. He leaned on his arms, both hands spread flat on the table.

“Why not?”

Lycan was getting on Rafe’s last nerve, Michael realized, not least of all because he was making Rafe feel that he wasn’t doing enough to get Nic back. Rafe loved his twin, would die for him if he thought that was called for, but he was a smart enough man to know that sometimes the harder task was living for someone. Lycan was a smart man, but he did not want to live without Nic–it was as simple as that. He owed a duty to his Pack, but his allegiance to Nic came first. He knew his Pack would feel the same and he clearly thought Rafe should as well. Rafe was not too sure that he didn’t, but he’d had his duty drilled into him from a very young age.

It was time for him to intervene before the two came to blows, Michael decided.

“There are many reasons why we should not do that,” Michael said quietly, “but the most important is, I don’t believe Dominic is there.”

Both men turned swiftly to look at their lead Assassin– and Father to them all, even the Leader of the Wolf Pack. In character for both, Lycan’s expression was hopeful while Rafe’s was fearful as he asked, “Have you received bad news?” In contrast, Lycan’s words overlapped his eagerly, “You’ve had good tidings!”

Michael walked into the room and took a seat. He was feeling his injuries from his most recent battle. After he settled matters here, he would seek out Colin and have him massage some liniment into his muscles. He looked up at Lycan and Rafael.

“I have had some small bit of news, yes. Nothing so clearcut and positive as a definite lead on Dominic’s whereabouts, nor so terrible as word of his death. But it would be good news for our enemies if they could see the two of you–how do you think Nic would feel if he knew that the two of you were fighting each other instead of working together to win his release? It is the best news his enemies could have and the worst torture they could devise for him.”

The softly spoken words had their desired effect. Rafe hung his head in shame while Lycan drew his brows together in thought. The Metamorph never wasted his time in useless emotions, Michael reflected. He would consider what Michael said and if he found them wise, he would change his actions. He never wasted time or energy on such fruitless emotions as guilt. Michael found himself wishing he had been born a Metamorph sometimes. Lycan, predictably, spoke first.

“What have you heard?”

“A traveling man, a tinker, told one of our people in the Second Kingdom that he gave a ride to a young man, shabbily dressed, two weeks ago. The man traded for a blanket and other items. Our person traded coin to get what the young man gave for the blanket. It was brought by messenger to Fen, who brought it to me.”

Michael held out his hand. In it was a small platinum wolf, the same wolf that Dominic always wore on a chain around his neck. Lycan reached out his hand to take it and neither father nor brother disputed his right to do so. He lifted it to his nose and inhaled deeply before touching it to his lips. He looked at Michael, unashamed of his moment of softness. Again, Michael thought there was much his own people could learn from Lycan’s.

“Nic wore this not many days ago. I believe he must have been the person who traded it as I can smell only Fen and two others on it besides you. My Cub’s scent is still strong on the metal. Where was this tinker when the trade was made?”

Without making a show of it, Lycan handed the small pendant to Rafe, who held it tightly in his hand. Michael knew that his younger son was trying to reach his brother through their twin link, and hoped that the pendant might aid in getting a fix on Dominic even if he were injured or otherwise being blocked. When he put his head down in defeat, Michael just reached out and put his hand on the bowed head in silent comfort. He knew his own efforts had been fruitless but he also had known that Rafe would need to try. He turned his gaze back to Lycan, who was watching Rafe impassively. He spoke quietly.

“I can show you on a map. Or I can link minds with you and give you an image of the place if that would be easier for you to place it. It is near the Great Forest of the Third Kingdom, where the mountains of the Second Kingdom begin. There is a trade route near there that links the cities and towns.”

“Show me in my mind then but I will also take a map.”

“You are going?” Rafe looked up, his face stubborn. “I want to be the one to go find Nic. Are you not needed by your Pack?”

“And are you not needed by your wife?” Lycan snapped back.

“I think it would be best if Lycan went, Rafael,” Michael said calmly, sending soothing thoughts to his younger son. When Rafe looked at him, his expression was a good attempt at neutral but Michael could see the hurt that he could not quite mask. He held back a sigh. He really wished he could go to Colin but this was the first lead on Nic’s whereabouts that they’d had in months.

“Rafael, if matters were not so tense here, I would want both of you to go in search of your brother. But they are. I hate losing Lycan to our efforts here, but I doubt he would stay even if I ordered him to do so...and…well, I want Dominic home safely as much as both of you do. I think Lycan is better suited to traveling hard and fast and he’ll be able to hunt Nic down even if your brother cannot use his mental powers, which we must suspect he cannot since we cannot reach him. They have their added link.” Michael held up his hand to forestall Rafe’s arguments. “I know your twin link is strong...but so is my link to both of you and my power is still stronger than that wielded by both of you and I cannot find him. He would not have let his pendant leave him if there were any chance of our using it to teleport to him. Or of his teleporting to us, so we can assume that his mana is low and staying very low. We can also conclude that he is very far away, the Third Kingdom most likely. Lycan has skills and powers in tracking that we do not. And when it comes to traveling over mountains in the face of winter’s approach, which I might remind you, is the situation there, for all that we are enjoying its end here–he has assets you and I, quite frankly, lack. Not least of which is an alternate body that is fur-covered.”

The sound of laughter from the doorway made all three men look over. Colin and Melli stood there. Melli had a tray of sweet cakes while Colin carried wine and glasses. He also had a flask of mead for Lycan, which was the Metamorph’s preferred drink.

“I am sure there are spells that would assist you in growing fur, Michael dear,” Melli teased, coming into the room.

“And if there aren’t, I’m sure I could find a potion or two that encourages hair growth,” Colin added in his thoughtful voice.

“I hate when those two are cheerful,” Michael complained. “They always gang up on me.” As soon as he said it, he regretted it, because a silence fell instantly. Each of them was thinking of the missing member of their group, the one who would have started the teasing going in a different direction, and kept it going until everyone had his turn. Michael’s face turned to stone as he couldn’t help but think of his missing son, whether he was in pain, whether he was hungry.

Dominic, my brave boy, where are you? Dominic, it’s father, speak to me.

Colin’s hands gently prying his fists open made Michael realize that he had been sitting for some moments in a trance, trying to reach Dominic. His lover had linked with him and lent his strength to his efforts as had Lycan and Rafael. They all looked at him hopefully. Michael looked at them and shook his head wearily.

“Still nothing. Did either of you sense anything?” Rafael shook his head sadly. Michael waited for Lycan to answer.

“Well?”

“I think, perhaps.”

“You’re just saying that,” Rafe said, his face the picture of frustration. Melli put her arm around him comfortingly, and whispered something to him. He hung his head, cradling it in his hands, but first muttered an apology at the Metamorph.

“Lycan, what do you think you heard?” Colin asked gently.

The big man paused, glancing at Rafe. He seemed torn about speaking, which in itself was unusual as it was not like him to mince words. Watching, Michael realized that Lycan was concerned that Rafe would not take whatever he had to say very well. Making up his mind quickly, he stood up.

“I am sure Lycan is getting the same general sense of Dominic being alive that I’ve been getting.” He quickly filled Colin and Melli in on the news he’d received from their allies to the north. Then he bade Colin and Melli to do what they could to find out more information through scrying, asking that Rafe lend whatever assistance he could. “I’m going to take a walk with Lycan and give him a geography lesson on the Second Kingdom’s border with the Third Kingdom.”

“But....” Rafael stood up also, ready to argue with his father but it was the Assassin, not his father, who looked back at him coldly.

“Are you disputing my orders?”

“No, sir, but...”

“There is no time to discuss this further now. Lycan does not eat cakes so he can take his flask of mead with him and come with me. The sooner he leaves, the sooner we’ll all be together again. Colin, I’d like to meet with you in the southern room at an hour after dusk if that is convenient for you?”

Colin raised an eyebrow at Michael’s tone since the southern room was also known as their bedroom but he did not argue–he was not one of the children after all–he merely nodded and said that was agreeable to him. Michael nodded, and, after pausing long enough to ensure that Lycan was following, left the room.

Rafael turned to Colin.

“What is wrong with him? First he tells us news about Nic and then he says only Lycan can go search the mountains for him! I’m not allowed to go at all, just the Wolf because....”

“Because Lycan is better suited to search him out in the mountains if he is hiding from enemies,” Colin said sharply. “Think, Rafe. Not of your needs, but of the needs of your brother and of your people. You are the Regent and must act as a Leader now, not as a brother. Lycan’s people love Nic. They will do anything for Lycan and Nic, go to lengths that they will not necessarily go to for the rest of us–and we need them willing to go those lengths. Michael is doing what needs to be done to keep Lycan and his people happy… and this Alliance together, and, hopefully, what will bring your brother home to us from the monsters who grabbed him. Now explain to me how this plan is improved by having you go with Lycan? Or, worse, off on your own to find your brother instead of staying as the Ruler of the Kingdom he left in your care?”

Rafe flushed with embarrassment but he was not one to give up easily. It was one of his best qualities, Colin thought, admiring how the young man looked back at him, his gaze and voice steady.

“I don’t need to be lectured, Colin. I know that I have duties here. But...sometimes… I just want to be a man. One who can take care of his own family and to hell with everyone else. Dominic was grabbed away during my wedding, for the sake of the goddess! I should have been taking care of him, not thinking of myself, or of....”

Suddenly realizing what he was saying, Rafe stopped speaking and turned to look at Melli, who was looking back at him with a stricken expression on her face. He reached out his hand for hers but she stepped back.

“I will go see how Bran is doing with the Pack members in the infirmary.” She walked quickly from the room…as quickly as a woman in her condition could walk, that was, which was rather slow, not that Rafe tried to overtake her. He knew better.

Rafe turned back to Colin. “Are you going to walk out on me now too?” he asked sadly.

“No, Rafael, I’ll always be here for you. And I think you know the same is true for Melli and Michael...and yes, Lycan. They all love you, as do I. And so does your brother, who is somewhere doing all he can to make his way home to us. Surely you do not need me to tell you that you are not the only one hurting. Your connection to Dominic is strong. You were like two halves of one whole growing up. I know it was hard on you when Dominic went off with Lycan to recruit the Metamorphs to our cause–but you know in your heart that you had begun to part from him in favor of Mellisande before then.”

Rafe was about to argue that point but his innate honesty made him take a deep breath and instead ask, “Could you tell that?”

Colin nodded.

“Do you think...you don’t think...did Nic know?”

“Nic knew from the time you were six years old and gave Melli the last sweetcake on Midsummer Night,” Colin told him, a reminiscent smile on his face. “You used to think that Nic was always just dreaming his days away, but he saw a great deal when you did not even realize he was paying attention.”

“I miss him, Colin. It’s like a pain that becomes more unbearable each day instead of easier. Like a part of my body is missing, only I never get used to it. I didn’t mean to hurt Melli or Father, but I feel so shut off from everything and everyone without Nic.”

Colin nodded. “You are used to Nic being the twin who connected with people first, and smoothed the way. Or even made the way more difficult. Either way, he generally started the connection and you were free to follow or not, as you chose. With Melli, you always were the nicer boy. It was easy, was it not?”

Rafe flushed. “Melli loves Nic, you know she does.”

“Of course. But, you were always more careful of her feelings.”

Rafe grimaced. “You make me sound so....”

Colin smiled and put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “You were and are exactly what the goddess intended you to be. And that is the man Mellisande chose as her husband, and the brother that Dominic loves dearly. Never let your faith in your brother be shaken. I can tell you that his faith in you will never waiver, and that is why our enemies will fail. They know only deceit and betrayal. We have love and loyalty such as they cannot fathom. We cannot help but overcome with such weapons on our side.”

Rafael spontaneously leaned over and hugged the Druid tightly.

Colin returned the hug after a moment. “What was that for?” he asked, surprised but pleased.

“For reminding me what really matters,” Rafael told him. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a wife to hug and you have a cranky man to massage into a better mood if I read my father accurately, and I am sure I do.”

Colin laughed, then gently shoved Rafael toward the door. He looked at the position of the sun in the sky and decided he had time still, before heading to his and Michael’s room to meet his love, for the scrying session he’d been instructed to conduct. While Melli had not gotten started on it as ordered, in her state of upset, there was little chance of her achieving success so he had not even tried to keep her. But now he would chance his scrying glass alone. Perhaps touching the wolf pendant would bring him the connection to Dominic that he needed.
 

**********
 

Michael and Lycan walked in silence until they reached the outer wall of the palace. The Second Kingdom palace had much stronger protections than Michael had grown up with in the First Kingdom–a function of their superior building skill. Lycan and he stood at the ramparts and looked out over the outer yard where a battalion of Lycan’s Wolf Metamorphs were training with Bear Metamorphs from the nearby Mountains. Dominic had met with their Leader, Beran, in the fall the year before, when winter beckoned, and Beran had agreed to join forces with them. His people were strong and tough, but far slower than Lycan’s. They’d also had no familiarity with weapons until Nic fashioned special equipment for them that fit both their man and bear forms.

Fen and some of the other Telepaths were showing them the types of weapons they might face. A number of humans had joined their cause after the Battle of Candone, when it became known far and wide that Dominic, the heir to King Adam, was not only alive, but that he was a brave and just leader. The humans had not prospered under the rule of the Authority and were glad to see the return of a King, even if he did preach a new era of tolerance—and openly admitted to being a mindtwister, or, as he called himself, a Telepath. Tales of the Battle of Candone went a long way toward reconciling people toward that quirk, especially since the bards told of the great courage of the Telepaths and their Metamorph allies.

The promise of fair treatment and the end of persecution, coupled as it was with action by the young King and his Metamorph bondmate, made the Metamorphs, usually slow to win over, flock to Nic’s side. He sent food during the winter months, and much needed medicine, as he had promised, and he created councils for the airing of disputes, true councils with respected leaders from all the peoples on them, not mere puppets as before. Fen and the Starling Metamorph Hildebran proved wise judges of character when it came to appointing representatives from each of the three peoples to serve on the councils, and even those vocal critics, Ren and Leife, expressed approval.

But the Authority had continued to harass their efforts to rebuild the cities and towns. Dominic and Lycan, as well as Rafe and Michael, had been kept busy before the coronation with the business of war. They had hoped that the worst of it had been over, with only a few cities holding out against them. Attinway had remained the final stronghold of the Authority when Colin had agreed that the royal wedding of Rafael and Mellisande should proceed, especially with Michael and Nic’s assurance that the goddess had given her blessing.

It was the thought of more Emory heirs being conceived that had forced their enemy’s hand against Dominic, however, as Jamyn became angered at the thought of more false heirs being created to stand in his way, preventing him from taking the throne he saw as his. Colin’s scrying over the months since that fateful day had shown him that much. Michael’s intelligence work had confirmed as much, but they had gotten no closer to recovering their missing King, but so far their hard-won Alliance was holding fast, though it was beginning to fray at the seams in places.

King Dominic’s capture might have caused many of the Metamorphs to hold back while they waited to see what steps the Authority would take, which had been Jamyn’s intent—had Nic not taken the step that very day of proclaiming the Second Kingdom a sanctuary for the Metamorph people, and his brother his Regent over both Kingdoms. Still, Rafael did not have the personal magnetism that Dominic did. Rafe was admired as a fighter, and he was liked...but Nic was loved. And more importantly, Nic was trusted. This thought was on Michael’s mind as he walked next to his son’s mate.

“You wanted to get out of the room?” Lycan spoke first.

“I sensed that you were hesitating to speak in front of Rafael. Am I right?”

The Wolf Leader looked down at Michael. He admired this man, whom Nic had told him had taken on the duties of guard over his family when he was little more than a child. Even now, though a man of only five summers more than Lycan, he stood as father to all of them, even taking on the role of father over Lycan’s wolves and Beran’s bears, worrying over all of them, wanting to keep all of them, from the oldest grandfather to the youngest cub...safe.

But most of all, he worried over his own two cubs and the young female who bonded with his younger cub. Lycan was glad that he could share good news with this strong man that would ease some of the lines that creased his brow.

“I definitely reached Dominic. Or rather, he reached me, in that way he does. I did not want to say it in front of his brother for two reasons. One, Dominic’s brother is missing him to the point of pain and I thought he would feel even worse that he was not the one Nic seeks first in his own need.”

Michael nodded. He was glad that Lycan had been sensitive to that in Rafe. He would have to get the news to Rafe in the right way, but for now, the overriding good news was that Dominic was alive and able to reach them. He smiled at Lycan, his relief almost made him dance with joy.

“But this is incredible! Nic did reach you! Could you tell where he is? Has he indeed escaped? What....”

Lycan put his hand on Michael’s arm, his face somber.

“He is hurt…badly. Hungry. Cold. Very cold. But I believe he is free of his captors. He was...relieved in some way, which I think is due to having escaped. The cold could mean a lack of that power you call mana...or it could mean he is very cold physically. It could be both. I have sensed this type of cold in him under both circumstances. He has contacted me in this way when he is very low in his mental energy, his mana, and also when he is cold in body. They have gone hand in hand in the past. He calls me Wolf and his thoughts are very basic, almost like one of my kind in nature, if you understand me?”

Michael nodded. He’d connected with a few of the Metamorphs telepathically, enough to know that their thought patterns were very different from humans. Even Lycan, who was very articulate, had much more primal thoughts than most humans. When he was in his wolf form, it was extreme. He was difficult to reach at all, although Dominic was able to do so much better than Michael was. He thought about what Lycan revealed about Dominic’s condition.

“Were you able to respond? Ask for more information or tell him we were looking for him?”

“No. His words were out there but when I tried sending a response back, there was no sense of him having heard them. I couldn’t even be sure that he was sending them at the same time that I received them–if that makes sense?”

It did. Michael knew that sometimes a telepathic message floated in the ethos until the recipient was looking for it. He thought for another moment then asked the hard question.

“Assuming that he sent the message relatively recently, did it seem that Nic was in immediate danger?”

Lycan drew his brows together and thought of how to word his response. Finally, he said, “No, I don’t think so. He was miserable and wanted me there, but I got the impression he was holing up somewhere, trying to rebuild his strength as a sick or hurt animal will. I do think I should leave as soon as possible for the area where he was last seen. The mountains are a large area.” He hesitated, then said, “I would like to take that small totem with me.”

Michael did not know what he meant at first, but then as Lycan stared at him patiently, he said, “Do you mean his necklace? Of course! I’ll get it from Rafe.”

“No, wait. Put the vision of the map in my mind first. I want to leave as soon as possible. I will seek out Bran when I leave you and then as soon as you get the totem for me, I will go in search of my...in search of Nic.”

Lycan flushed. He still thought of Nic as his Cub, his Pup, at times, especially times like this when there was still that ghost of a thought echoing in his mind–Wolf, where are you, I need you... He felt soothing energy pass through his mind–not for the first time that afternoon–and he realized that it was Michael doing it, somehow calming him. He shook his shaggy head at his mate’s father impatiently.

“I don’t want to be calmed down! I want to be impatient and tense and even a bit angry. I need to find Nic quickly. Did you not understand me? He is hurt. Hurt and hungry and cold. I have to get to him and get to him quickly! Sitting here and letting you send me false soothing is not helping him!”

“Sending you off in that frame of mind, to have you run into a trap, or to fall prey to the ordinary dangers of the road is not going to help my son either,” Michael said coolly. “If you are agitated, as you are now, you will not remember the geography I am going to attempt to show you.”

Lycan was abashed. He bowed his head in deference to the smaller man, something he did not do often. Michael did not rub it in, he just continued in a very businesslike manner, which Lycan appreciated. Michael unfurled a large map.

“This shows the mountains that border the Second Kingdom to the West. The Third Kingdom lies Southwesterly. As you can see, it is a very long, tough range of mountains, far higher, longer and broader than those found on the northeasterly side of the Kingdom. It was here,” Michael placed his finger in a spot near a blue line, almost midway across the map, near the edge of the brown mountains, “where Dominic is said to have traded for the blanket and food. He then disappeared into the mountains. If he is attempting a crossing overland, as opposed to by water, that is by far the most treacherous route to take physically, but the dangers are all natural. The man-created dangers are more plentiful when one looks to the waterways, which are controlled by the Authority, which still has power in the Third Kingdom.”

“Nic knows how to use a boat,” Lycan said, thinking out loud.

“True, but he cannot hide as easily on a boat...nor escape once spotted. Not if his mana is low. None of these rivers are large and they are well guarded. Nic is a good camper by our standards, although not by your standards obviously. Is there any way to get word to your people in that region? Can we get help for him while you are on your way?”

Lycan wondered if that would work to their advantage–or Nic’s disadvantage. “It is difficult to say,” he told Michael. “Alerting unknown packs to the fact that my mate is in their territory, wandering alone and hurt...I think that would bring Nic more trouble than aid. Side by side, we can approach such packs about allegiances and fighting the Authority with you. Nic, on his own, is too....” Lycan did not want to say weak as it was not a word one thought of in connection with Nic.

“Vulnerable,” Michael finished for him. Lycan nodded.

“Yes. Coming to the aid of another, one who is non-pack? That is not our way.” Seeing Michael’s worried look, Lycan amended his answer. “I cannot put out a widespread call for help, but I can use select messengers and spread the word among trusted packs, and allied Metamorph groups, the Bears, the Mountain Cats...some of them will aid us as they either owe me a favor or would like me to owe them one. You might want to approach Pelien. He would not ally with us directly but he is fond of Nic personally and he has by far the most influence of all the Leaders. He has indicated that he will not harm Nic and his word is trusted. His people are far spread. If he issued the order for Nic to be brought to him, he would be obeyed. And of course, Ran’s people are the best at searching afar.”

Michael nodded, feeling more encouraged. “Let me give you my memories of traveling through this area so you can get a sense of what it is like.” At the large man’s nod, he put his hands on Lycan’s head. Lycan’s mind was filled with images of places he’d never been, scents even, and the feel of the cold in the air, much crisper than in the mountains of home since these mountains were so much higher. The trees had a different look too. More with needles than leaves.

After what seemed like a long while but which he knew from past experience with the Telepath Sire was probably only minutes, Michael lifted away his hands. His face was weary with the strain of conveying so much information to Lycan–Metamorphs were not easy subjects Nic had told him once, and he felt it now. Lycan got up and moved to a side table where a decanter of wine sat. He poured a glass for the man who was, for all intents and purposes, his Bond-Sire, though he and Nic had never had the formal ceremony that Rafael and Mellisande did. For the first time, he wondered if Nic would have wanted such a thing. To proclaim his commitment before the goddess and the moon—that was all his kind required and that was done. Had he demanded that Nic make all the concessions to their differences? It was not like Lycan to worry about what was past but he found himself wishing that he had given Nic the chance to show all of his world how much he was loved. Was that what the joke had meant, about making an honest man of him? The joke at the wedding had not made sense to him as Lycan was scrupulously honest; Beren, who spent more time around humans, had found it a funny jest and it had brought a smile to Nic’s face.

When he brought him home, Lycan vowed, he would offer him that chance.

Michael accepted the glass of wine and then made as though he was glaring at Lycan.

“Why are you dawdling around here? Go see your man Bran, and then I want you off to find my son within the hour. I will either meet you with the necklace or send it to you by one of our most trusted people.”

“Yes...sir.” Lycan found a smile. Michael could remember the man he first met. The tall golden haired Wolfman seemed to laugh at everything that life threw at him. In that way, he’d been an ideal match for Dominic, his light-hearted son, who managed to find the joy in the darkest of times. Pain suddenly gripped Michael’s heart as he pictured his son, injured, alone, friendless.

A voice came into his head, I will find our Cub, Pack Father, and bring him home to you.

Michael raised startled eyes to this big, strange man who’d become such an integral part of their family. Lycan pulled him into a crushingly tight hug.

“The goddess protect you...and Dominic,” Michael managed to say, though it was hard to even breathe.

Lycan muttered the standard response, “And you and yours.” But he was out of the room almost before the words were spoken, his long legs eating up the distance as he went to find his Beta.

************

Dominic heard the sound of someone, or something approaching, coming near the small cave he’d sheltered in. He sat up and peered into the darkness. With some effort, he started a small fire. His mana remained dangerously low, his efforts in escaping had taken it lower than he’d ever taken it before in his life, and his weakened state was not permitting him to rebuild it as he normally would. It was only by the goddess’ grace that he’d had the strength when he’d needed it, he realized after the fact. That and all his years of training—if he ever got home, he would have to thank Michael for being such a tyrant when he and Rafe were younger.

When he got home, he amended the thought.

The fire cast the shadow of a wolf into relief against the far wall of the cave, the one near the opening. Nic knew it wasn’t Lycan–he’d have sensed it if his mate were near, but perhaps it was one from their Pack? That was even more unlikely but he was one to think positively. Miracles could happen, and Jax or Kaden could come trotting right into this cave on the other side of a large mountain range.

Or, it could be a wolf looking for dinner, a much more likely scenario. Nic waited, and watched. The wolf’s size indicated that it was a Metamorph, and indeed, a moment later, the shadow changed to that of a man. A shaggy, shabby man who appeared to be in his twenties. His eyes sought out Nic right away.

“The goddess protect you,” the man said, bowing his head in an ingratiating fashion. Nic was on guard instantly. He had yet to meet any Metamorphs, much less a Wolf Metamorph like this one, who was being deferential without having a reason. Certainly no one in Lycan’s Pack was like that. But he smiled at the man and spoke cheerfully, despite the cold and his hunger.

“And you and yours. The weather has turned cold early. You are welcome to share my fire, friend.”

“Is your Pack near here?” The man looked at Nic more boldly now that he was closer. Nic was not a tall man and his slimness was deceptive. His lean muscular body was much stronger than could be detected when he was clothed in the fine garb of a Royal. Even though his clothes had seen better days, their quality was evident. Jamyn might be living in hiding, but he maintained the traditions, and when Nic was given clothes after the poison attempt, they were the everyday dress of a Royal household. Even after weeks on the run, they held up better than most materials would have. Nic doubted he could be mistaken for a Metamorph, although perhaps his calm greeting of a Metamorph in these days was confusing to the man. Not many humans spent time roughing it in the mountains. Perhaps he was thought to be an Authority spy?

A gleam of avarice appeared in the shabby Metamorph’s eyes. Clothes such as Nic’s, even damaged as they were, would bring a nice amount in trade once cleaned up and a few repairs made. Nic could see the thoughts flickering over his face as easily as if he were reading his mind. But, he stayed calm and friendly. He was in no condition to fight but he would if he had no choice.

“I do not have much in the way of food but what I have I am willing to share,” he said in a friendly voice.

The man’s expression turned sly. “You’re willing to share, are you? Your fire...whatever little food you have...what else do you have there to share, pretty boy?”

Dominic frowned at the shabby Metamorph. He sent the message telepathically, This one would not be good to touch, he is protected, I should leave now. Nic continued sending it over and over, implanting it as a chant in the creature’s mind, hoping to imprint an image of an angry Lycan. He was so intent on what he was doing, he almost missed it when the man morphed back into his wolf form and jumped him. He tried to repel him with his telekinesis, but his mana was too low. He was forced to fight him using hand to hand tactics. He’d been trained by his father in excellent fighting techniques, but his opponent was fighting with tooth and claw as well as his limbs. Nic felt him take a large bite out of his thigh and the pain almost made him pass out. With his last ounce of strength he flipped the wolf off him and into the fire.

The wolf roared in pain and anger. Nic crouched, the boot knife he had bought from the tinker in his hand as the wolf circled back toward him. The wolf was leery now of getting too close to the fire. Seeing that, Nic used what mana he had left to send the fire blazing as high as the ceiling of the cave, and cast a small illusion to make it appear as though the fire stretched wider than it actually did. The wolf backed away, puzzled over how he was going to reach Nic on the other side of this seemingly huge inferno. Nic wished the wolf would leave so that he could give the bite the attention it needed. He could feel the blood dripping down his leg in a steady stream. On the plus side, he thought wryly, the blood was cleaning out what was undoubtedly a nasty wound. On the down side, he might die from bleeding to death before the fight was over.

“Come out, little boy, come out and play with Slick,” the Metamorph taunted, back to his human form. “We got off to a bad start but we can start over. It’s a cold night. We can keep each other warm. I’ll forget about these burns and you can let me take care of that bite for you. Now let the fire burn down a bit.”

Nic did not waste his time answering. There was not enough food to keep two satisfied for long and he had a sickening feeling that this Metamorph would not be above eating human flesh. He certainly wasn’t above taking a few big chunks out of him, not that Nic had all that many spots on him where you could get a large mouthful, he thought, his mouth quirking up irrepressibly. He watched as the man morphed back into his wolf form, and he readied himself for a rush. He was unsure how long he’d be able to fight him off once the wolf realized the fire was mainly fake. Suddenly, another form entered the fray, tackling the first Metamorph in a blur of brown and gold. The new wolf’s coloring was reminiscent of Lycan’s and for a moment, just a very short moment, Nic let himself hope that it was Lycan, but the form was far too small.

The howls of two wolves fighting to the death filled the small cave. Dominic rested against the back wall and tried to staunch the bleeding in his leg. Pressing on the wound made him light-headed from the pain. He knew he was going to have to cut away his breeches from the spot and wash it out but he didn’t have the energy. Almost disinterested, he watched the fight. The newcomer was making mincemeat of the shabby wolf, which he was glad to see, assuming this new one was not going to want to eat him also. His head ached from lack of food and mana and he was cold and needed rest.

But he needed to stay awake, he told himself sternly. Rafe would tell him to stay vigilant, watch to see if he needed to protect himself against the second wolf. Finally, just when he was ready to give in to the heaviness of his eyes, the shabby wolf gave one final howl and lay still. The second wolf, which was smaller but much stronger and healthier looking, walked over to Nic, straight through his fire illusion.

I must be losing my touch, he thought, slightly dazed. He reclined against the wall and just watched in his half stupor as the wolf used her teeth… he could see now that she was a female… to rip his breeches away from the bite wound. She then licked at the open wound, cleaning it with her tongue. Nic would have been more bothered by this if Lycan hadn’t done the same thing once when one of his Pack got injured. It was how they cleaned a wound.

“What is your name?” he asked weakly.

The she-wolf looked at him with eyes so like his mates, the same golden brown, perhaps a shade darker, but quite close, it made his eyes fill with tears. He reached out a shaking hand and stroked her ruff. She pressed her head against his hand. As he lost consciousness, he had a brief glimpse of a tall, long-limbed woman crouching near him, and heard a husky voice saying, “I am Lydia.”

 

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