King’s Wolf

Chapter Five

Michael stood close by…though not close enough to be seen… and watched as Rafael and Nic played at the ocean’s edge with four very young children who delighted in romping in the waves with their fathers. That wasn’t quite correct, he saw, as he observed more closely. Three of the children appeared to be thrilled by being chased by the waves, running along the sand and being tossed back into them by their laughing fathers. One child held back, hiding behind whichever father’s strong legs were closest whenever the waves were too high or forceful. The other three children began to notice this unusual timidity and teasing comments began, which both fathers gently discouraged, even as they encouraged the fearful one to trust them to keep all of the children safe.

“Send the child to me,” Michael told the fathers telepathically. “Sometimes a child’s fears have a deep root, and it takes time to discover where it is buried so that it can be uncovered and removed. The joy of being a grandfather is having the time for that type of gardening, which the parents of twins do not have, as you are now discovering.”

His sons laughed at that. “No argument on that point,” Nic replied. He was the one who crouched down and gently pointed the fearful child toward Michael. Even if it were not Nic’s child, he would always be first to understand such a fear, Michael thought. It was not a criticism of Rafael. He loved and appreciated both his sons, their strengths and their weaknesses, and he knew that they loved all of their children equally, regardless of parentage. It was just that they each had different strengths.

It was time to work on this child’s unique strengths, which were going to be so very different than the others. How different it would be for this child than it had been for Michael, he could not help but think, and he wished that his Master could see this day. And yet, in the way of the Dance Masters, he knew that he probably had, thanks be to the goddess.

The child’s face was bright with happiness now and Michael smiled to see how fast his grandchild ran to join him. As fast as the wind. As fast as he used to be able to run as a child, when his feet barely skimmed the surface of the ground.

“Papa Michael, I can play with you instead of in the waves? What are we going to do?”

Michael smiled. “I’m going to teach you how to dance on top of the waves so you never have to worry about them again.”

But first, he enjoyed an excited hug from his granddaughter, whose destiny was to be the first Dance Mistress.

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

 
Nic and Lydia made an early start on their first day of travel. Nic had to weigh the risk of being detected by Jamyn’s men versus the chance of success if he continued his efforts to reach his family, and he decided that it would be safest to stay shielded while they were in open ground. Maintaining such a shield took most of the mana that Nic was able to regain each day, although the regular food Lydia was finding for them was going a long way toward repairing his health. Still, he could feel bones where once he had muscles and knew that it would take months to regain his former strength.

The first time they encountered bandits on the road, Nic had tried to do his share of the fighting and was quickly overpowered, to his embarrassment. Granted, the odds were two against one, and he had no weapon, but still, it was humiliating! Such considerations would have been nothing more than an interesting training exercise for him before his capture by the hooded men. Now it was a matter of life and death. He had been able to take down one of the two men who attacked him, but the second man had him down on his back in no time. Meanwhile, Lydia morphed to her wolf form, drawing away the attention of the other three men in the gang. While Nic struggled with his second attacker, who was armed with a long knife, she had killed one by breaking his neck, disabled the second by crippling his leg, and tossed the third far enough to the side that he decided to make good his escape.

This freed her up to run to Nic’s aid. She quickly pulled the rough looking man off of him before he could do more than touch his blade to Nic’s neck. He turned toward her with a nasty growl, sounding more animal than human.

“Damn Wolf people,” he said. “See how you like being skinned like a….”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before his throat was ripped out.

Lydia reached out her hand to Nic, who got up slowly. “Maybe you should let me handle the fighting from now on?”

Nic frowned. “I am already letting you do everything.”

“Let us get away from here to somewhere safer to camp for the night and then we can talk about it?” Lydia suggested sensibly, looking around at the dead and injured men. Smiling wryly at her logic in the face of his self-esteem issue, Nic picked up the pack he’d dropped when they’d first been attacked and indicated that she should lead the way. As usual.

Later that night, as they’d sat eating the stew that Nic had made, he’d raised the topic again.

“Lydia, I am very grateful for all that you are doing for me, but I cannot help feeling that it is not fair that you do all the work on our journey.” He’d smiled at her, charming her if he but knew it. “I have to tell you, I am not used to being useless.”

Lydia had smiled back at him, though she did not answer right away. Instead, she’d helped herself to more stew and savored the taste of it.
“Nicon,” she’d begun, her tone thoughtful, “when I travel alone, which is most of the time, I eat my meat uncooked more often than not. Yet, I enjoy the taste of cooked meat, especially when added to potatoes and carrots; not to mention the onions and mushrooms, and the herbs that you take the time to find growing wild, and before you make that face, I am not saying that your only use is as a cook,” she’d laughed, making Nic laugh with her, as he had been about to make exactly that complaint.

“What I am trying to say is that you add flavor and color to my life like the vegetables and herbs do to the stew. Meat alone is enough to keep one alive, and it does not need to be cooked when you are one of the Changing People, but those who claim it tastes better to eat it plain like that are just howling at the moon for the sake of making noise. It does not sustain the spirit; neither the raw meat nor such noisy howling that is not made for the sake of praising the moon or the goddess, is worth much in and of itself. Living without a Pack as I’ve done for so long, even though it was my choice, done for my reasons, has made me appreciate how much all that a Pack means, those things that a Pack gives a person. The caring, the being part of something bigger than yourself. Being with you has given that back to me. I have a reason to hunt hard because I am feeding someone beside myself, a reason to travel because with you, I have a destination again. Never feel that you are useless — you are the one who is goddess-kissed! I am blessed to be part of your mission for as long as you allow me to travel your road with you.”

Nicon had reached out his hands to Lydia. “We are both blessed in our friendship, Lydia, and our friendship is not just for the days that we travel together. You and I are Pack now. My Pack is your Pack, from now until the end of days and nothing will ever change that. I will accept your protection, because I need you, and I am smart enough to acknowledge your strength and courage. Besides, I really love you for you, and I thank the goddess for sending you to me.”

Lydia had smiled. “Did you want the last of the stew?”

Nic had laughed. “I’d suggest arm wrestling you for it but I think we can skip that and I’ll gracefully concede it to you.”

“Or we can share it,” she’d told him, and proceeded to split it between their crude wooden bowls.

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

Lycan and Rafe had been about traveling for two weeks. Their first couple of hard days’ running had taken them to a forest area near the trade routes where they believed Nic had sheltered. They spent the rest of the time searching for any sign of him, Rafe meekly following Lycan’s lead as the big Metamorph often shifted to his Wolf form to sniff for signs of his mate. The advance of winter and bad weather did not help, as rain and early snows obscured both tracks and scents. Still, Lycan was able to catch some faint scents and assured Rafe that they were on the right track, just many days behind a Nic who was taking pains to hide his trail, often circling back to avoid the predators who sought him specifically. Lycan was grateful that Lydia was with his Mate as he often found signs of battles, small ones, but vicious, and each time, it was clear that his sister was taking the lead in protecting them.

The fact that Lydia was acting as the main fighter told him that Nic was still weak, possibly injured, as he doubted that his Mate would allow anyone other than him, or Rafael, both sworn to protect him, to take the lead in any fight while he watched, unless there was good reason. For him to hide behind a female, even one who was a she-wolf Metamorph, who had the capacity to be fierce warriors, and none more than Lycan’s sister, was just not Nic’s way. Nic was not one to let anyone fight his battles for him. So Lycan knew his Cub had no choice but to allow Lydia to serve as his protector. He was grateful beyond measure to his sister, and to the goddess for sending Lydia to Nic.

Lycan did not tell Rafe the conclusions he’d reached about Nic’s condition from the signs he read — no need to burden his bondbrother with information that was of no real use to him, he reasoned.

Times were tough in this land, which was filled with roving bands of predators, Metamorph and human. It was this type of lawlessness that the Royal families, and strong Pack Leaders, had traditionally prevented. For almost two decades, however, the Third Kingdom had been without any real leadership, just the cruel hand of the Authority’s secret Hooded Men, who were content to let their guards run wild in the Third Kingdom so long as they provided plenty of fodder for their battles in the other two Kingdoms. The result was a lawless land, from which most decent people fled, and the remaining traders and townspeople stayed inside after dark.

To think that it was once the Kingdom of scholars and artists, Rafe thought sadly. Mellisande would weep to see her country now, the homeland she had long dreamed of returning to as Queen.

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

Dominic stared at the devastation in front of him, speechless. Lydia sensed his need for quiet and waited. She did not understand the significance of the standing stones, to her kind they were merely an odd arrangement of large rocks, but she was intuitive and could tell that they were very important to him. The Changing People did not worship stones. They knew of, and gave thanks to the goddess, and they also honored the moon. But their way was to show respect for all things of nature, not to put them into unnatural shapes as the men and mind-twisters did. She grew worried, however, when she saw Dominic fall to his knees, his usually cheerful face twisted in grief. As though someone had died, Lydia thought worried for her friend.

Nic was grieved, beyond anything he had ever felt, as he offered a fervent prayer to the goddess: Goddess, show me what you want me to do. This blasphemy is an evil that must be cleansed from your land. I am your servant and will do your will.

Colin had often wished for Dominic to take his religious studies more seriously. In truth, Nic had a deep faith, but it was one grounded in actions more than rituals. Until now. Now, as he felt the goddess respond to his prayer, he knew with certainty that he was being called to blend action with ritual and somehow achieve the impossible. He had to perform an unknown ritual and rely on the goddess to work her will through him. The answer came to him with all the certainty that he had when he knew that Lycan was his destiny.

Now he knew what it was that the goddess was requiring of him -- he was to raise the Standing Stones of Tuneric.

“Nicon?” Lydia touched him gently on the shoulder. Nic looked up. His face was determined.

“I need help. I’m going to raise the stones,” Dominic told her. He looked around at the toppled stones. “I need to reach my family.”

“Well, that would probably be a good idea anyway, Nicon. But raising these stones! Legend is that it takes one hundred druids to raise a single stone,” Lydia answered him calmly. She knew that one should treat the goddess-kissed with respect, but there surely were practical considerations to any quest! Even the goddess must realize that Nikon was not fully healed yet! And he certainly was no druid.

Nic smiled faintly despite the seriousness of the moment. “Not always,” he told her, recalling when Michael and Colin had raised the stones on their Island. They had prepared for weeks in advance to get the proper sized stones into place, but the actual lifting and imbuing them with the magic needed for teleporting — that had indeed been a difficult task, but not an impossible one, nor one that took very long, though they were drained for months afterward. Still, it had been an awe-inspiring sight. Dominic did not think he would ever see the like.

Unless they were able to do it again here. Nic walked around the stones, pacing the perimeter, measuring the distance between each one. They were placed equidistantly, every seventeen paces. Eleven of them. The only problem was that they were lying down — and extremely heavy. Massively heavy, Nic judged, bending down to touch one of them, and feeling the magic that thrummed through it.

Standing in the middle of the desecrated stones, but trusting in the purity of his purpose to protect him, Dominic used the power of the stones that he sensed still remained to focus his magic. He sent out a call, keeping it basic and broad in scope:

Wolf… Bondmate… Lycan……come to me and bring my family to me. I need them…almost as much as I need you. Rafael…Brother…Twin, come to me.

“Nicon, I need you to stop whatever you’re doing and look now, there is a problem,” Lydia’s voice was tense. Creatures were approaching.

Grabbing Lydia’s arm, he reached down to find her magical core, so similar to what he sensed with Lycan, it almost made him gasp. But he forced himself to focus, and locked on to it to teleport the two of them out of the circle. He did not have enough strength to take them to the Second Kingdom but he was able to move them to a safe distance.

As soon as they rematerialized, Lydia fell to her knees. Nic steadied her while she vomited. As soon as she finished, she stood up and swung at him.
“You are a mind-twister! You lied to me!”

“No! I never lied to you!” Nic held her tightly so that she could not hit him. “I did not lie to you, I promise.”

“Is your name even Nicon?”

Dominic paused, then answered slowly, still holding her, “Nicon is my nickname among the Changing People. My full name is Dominic. Most of the time I am called Nic. Everything I told you was the truth, it just was not the whole truth. It is true that I spent a good deal of time with the Changing People. But please…we do not have time for this now. Later, I will tell you all that you need to know, all that you deserve to know. Right now, I need to bring my family and allies to the Standing Stones. We need to confront those men in the hoods. If you no longer wish to help me, I understand. But I have to go on.”

Lydia looked into those beautiful violet eyes. She did not understand Nicon… or, rather, Nic. But, she still found that she could not leave him. There was something about him, more than his beauty, which drew her to him. She thought it was probably his aura. She knew he was not for her, even though they had lain together. Even now, she suspected she was with child from that one time, that his children grew within her. She was glad for it as she had been alone a long time. But this god-kissed man was someone special -- his eyes spoke of a loneliness that she well understood. He was waiting for someone he missed, someone he loved with his whole being. She knew that feeling well also. She only hoped that the person he loved was worthy of him. For now, she would stand by his side, for as long as he needed her. She could be his friend even if she could not be his mate. And she would be the mother of his children, which was more than she’d ever hoped to have in her life after she lost Meko. She hoped the strange travel he had just done had not harmed her cubs.

Goddess help her, she was carrying a mindtwister’s cubs!

Pushing aside her worries, she forced a smile at Nic. “How can I help you?” The relieved smile he gave her in return when she asked her question and he knew himself forgiven was all that she could have wanted. He tightened his arms that were still around her and kissed her forehead before ending their embrace and standing.

“I must try once again to reach my family. And then, we must head back to the stones. Hopefully the hooded men did not stay once we left. I do not know if they saw us, hopefully not.”

Nic sat cross-legged and tried to focus on contacting his mate, brother, and Michael, then Colin or Melli, but he could not be sure that he was reaching any of them. Growing frustrated once again by what seemed to be a block on his connection, he sent out a general telepathic message.

I call you to me! Come now! We must battle the darkness away from the Standing Stones of Tuneric…Come to me! Dominic your King calls!

Instead of being drained, Dominic felt energized when he was done. He stood and looked at Lydia. “It is time. We will go back now and complete our task.”

“What are you going to do there? Battle all of those men?”

“Others will battle for me,” Dominic told her, a fey light in his eyes. “My task is to raise the stones.”

Lydia’s mouth fell open in shock. Dominic was glowing with light. Dominic smiled at her and reached out his hand. “Come. The time is now.” Taking his hand, she felt herself pulled into the void of a teleport for the second time that day — and in her life.

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

They were running to their next camp site, when suddenly, Lycan stopped dead in his tracks, almost causing Rafe to slam into back. But before he could voice a complaint, he too heard the call, from the person he’d waited to hear from for so long.

I need you, come to me, I call you now.

It was Nic, he was calling them! Rafe turned to Lycan excitedly, but before he could say a word, the call came again, even more urgently:

I call you to me! Come now! We must battle the darkness away from the Standing Stones of Tuneric! Come to me…Your King calls!

Lycan’s rugged face was filled with excitement. “You heard it too, yes? Can you get us to these Tuneric Standing Stones he speaks of?”

Rafe knelt and pulled a map from his pack. “We are here,” he showed Lycan a point on the parchment Colin had given them. Before he could say more, Lycan growled in warning. Rafe’s own senses alerted him to danger; he looked up, moving quickly into a more defensive position, the map quickly stowed back into his pack as he assessed the threat.

A group of eight rough looking men were approaching from the road ahead…no, twelve, Rafe amended his mental count as he took note of four men who already had separated from the rest. The four had moved off the road, seeking places to hide, no doubt hoping to take Lycan and Rafe unawares.

“I can teleport us away, though not to Tuneric,” Rafe said in a low voice. “I’ve never been there.”

“Does the quickest path to Dominc lie ahead of us?” Lycan asked, his voice also pitched low.

“Yes. It is not far. We could make it there quickly running hard.”
“Then you will not waste that power you call mana to escape this battle. You will need it when we reach my mate. These men will serve to warm up our fighting skills without tiring us overmuch. Rabbits and boar have not posed much test to our skills, nor have the few ruffians we’ve encountered on the road thus far been much of a test to us.”

Rafe nodded. There was no need to discuss it further. They both knew time was important, and these men stood in the way of their reaching Nic. He was ready to fight. Lycan was right. Despite the larger numbers, these ruffians were no more than a warm-up for the two of them.

Lycan took the lead, walking forward confidently, no longer running, but not going slowly either. He waited until he was about ten feet away before speaking, forestalling the speech the leader of the gang was about to make.

“I will give you one chance to pass without a fight,” Lycan said, his deep voice making it clear that he did not care if the man took the chance or not. “Then your lives are forfeit as we have no time to waste with you.”

The man laughed, and his followers joined him in his amusement. “We are many against just the two of you and yet you speak of letting us go? You are either a fool or drunk! You may be big, but you and your pretty boy are going to give us your money and packs, and that sword to start, and then we will see if the amusement you’ve given us has made us feel like sparing your lives….”

Lycan morphed into the Wolf and with one slash, the man’s throat was wide open. Rafe expected the others to scatter at that point, but to his surprise, they morphed into Coyotes.

“Deal with the ones who hid first, they are human…and archers.” Lycan shifted back swiftly in order to give that order. Rafe saw the wisdom of removing the risk of arrows, and used his telekinesis to send the arrows that flew toward them back toward their senders. The screams of pain coming from the foliage told him the trick, an old one from the Second Kingdom Royal Guard, worked. Smiling grimly, he turned to help his bondbrother fight seven angry Coyote Metamorphs.

Rafe had spent the past several months training with Lycan and Beren’s Wolf and Bear Metamorphs; he had spent his youth training with his brother, learning all that their father could teach them about fighting, but this was something different — it was hand to hand combat with men who were fighting him as a predator fights its prey. He did not need Lycan’s mental urging to kill, don’t wound, to know that mercy was not appropriate. Not with opponents as ruthless as these, not when they stood in the way of getting to his brother. He slashed with his sword, aiming for hearts and throats.

The battle took mere moments.
 

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

Did you hear that? Michael burst into the tower room where Colin and Melli had been meditating. He did not interrupt them, as it turned out. Dominic’s strong call had already done that. They both were standing by Colin’s large scrying glass.

Colin answered aloud. “I heard it. As did Melli. We have seen where Dominic is calling from in the glass. He is at the Circle of Tuneric — come look at it, Michael. The shadows that have hidden it from view have been lifted. The vision is so clear I believe you will be able to see it as clearly as we do.”

Michael walked over quickly to look. What he saw made him exclaim in shock. The stones toppled, some cracked, almost broken through. It was a desecration such as he had never seen, even in his travels with the Dance Master. “Who could have done such a thing? Who wields such power, and having it, would be so evil?”

“There is obviously still much evil in the land. I suspect there are false druids in the Third Kingdom, and they are in the service of the hooded man — or possibly he is the pawn of a much stronger evil. Dominic must have learned something of them and intends to face them down. We need to reach him and lend our support as quickly as possible.”

“Yes, at once.” Michael turned to Melli. “I must ask you to stay behind with Bran and Beren to guard you, my dear. I will leave as many of our people who can be spared from this battle. I cannot risk you. Not now, when you are this far along. Do you agree?”

“Yes, Michael. My own visions tell me that this is one battle I must sit out, much as I would rather be there. But be sure to bring home the woman that Dominic has found on his travels — no matter what persuasions you must offer. That is very important. Also, listen to Dominic when it comes to his advice about another ally he has met along his journey. Do not let your temper lead you astray. You must bring him back with you — it is important. I ask for your word please…as your daughter and as a seer of the House of Emory and Dyad.”

Michael raised an eyebrow but there was no time to ask for more explanation. He gave his word, along with a hug and a kiss to her forehead. Colin and he packed a few quick supplies, mainly medical, and teleported with Fen, Eamon, Donal, and Jax, as well as Cena and Cera, to the site of the Tuneric Circle.

Goddess help us, was Colin’s thought as he saw what lay before them.

The goddess is sure to be on our side, was Michael’s answering thought, but I would like another dozen wolves and Telepaths also. Quickly, let us get to Rafe and Lyc…no wait…that is Dominic. Colin, it is Nic!

There were a dozen hooded figures lined up against Dominic and Lydia, who had assumed her wolf form. Nic had erected a telepathic field to protect them from attack but Michael and Colin could see that the hooded figures, Telepaths, were trying to break through it. They quickly added their strength to it while Fen and the others began offensive attacks. Turning to look at them, Dominic flashed a brilliant smile their way. Michael saw that he was thinner than he had ever seen him, but he seemed to shine with a power that was greater than he had ever beheld.

“Goddess kissed,” Lycan’s voice could be heard behind him. He and Rafe had arrived. They looked as though they had encountered a few fights along the way, as their clothes were tattered and Rafe’s sword was stained.

“Can we get inside to him?” Rafe asked.

“He needs us to keep those others from getting in to him,” Michael decided. “We’ll be able to hold him soon enough.”

“He looks starved,” Rafe murmured.

“He has been,” Lycan said, his voice cold. “I will make them pay.” He morphed into his wolf form — a large, angry wolf. He launched himself at the closest hooded figure.

Can you keep me guarded?

Dominic’s question, the first direct contact in months, took Rafael by surprise. He expected something more, well, personal. But he could tell from the serious tone of the question that his brother was focused on some very important task and this was not the time for a brotherly reunion. Swallowing his hurt, Rafe replied, his own tone solemn, of course. I am here to do whatever you need.

For a moment, the humor and love that was the quintessential Nic glimmered in Dominic’s response, and it soothed Rafael’s feelings immensely. You forgot to say, My King. Whatever you need, My King, Dominic teased. Then he was serious again in a flash.

I need all of you to fight while I do something very important. I am sorry, there is no time to explain, but it is crucial that I do this. Oh, and this is Lydia, she has kept me alive for the past couple of months since I escaped my captors. Now, I am going to push this field back to move them away from the stones, help me strengthen the field — I want none of them within a stone’s throw of the stones by the time I start.

Father, if you have some Dance Magic that is appropriate to the occasion, please use it, but I believe that the actual raising of the stones is a task that the goddess is asking of me. Colin, I hope you can confirm that.

Goddess, look at my Wolf fight, he is amazing, is he not? I have missed all of you so much!

With that, Nic turned his full attention to the stones. Rafe quickly passed his message on to those of the others who may not have “heard” it, while Michael and Colin started to do battle with the hooded men. Gaining Michael’s assent, Rafe diverted his energy to the force field around Dominic and Lydia, and helped in pushing the fighting outward. The others aided in pushing the fighting physically back from the Circle. Lydia, at Dominic’s quiet request, stayed inside the Circle, guarding him. She paced around him, her tail swishing aggressively as she watched the battle raging the short distance away. The large wolf who was working his way through the hooded men — he looked very familiar. She tried to tell herself that she was imagining it, that all of Nicon’s talk of family had made her sentimental, but that gold and brown fur on that powerful body, that loud roar of triumph each time another foe was vanquished — she would swear that it was her brother Lycan who was fighting so fiercely. She shook her head — surely it was an illusion brought on by the mystical nature of the moment. She said a prayer to the goddess for them all, especially for Nicon, but also for the large wolf Metamorph Leader, and yes, even for her brother, wherever he was.

Arms outstretched, eyes closed, Dominic pictured the first stone in his mind and started to raise it. He imagined it rising toward the sun, inch by inch from its place on the earth, and up toward the sky, toward the goddess, toward the moon.

Michael glanced over from where he had just cut down another of the hooded men, and almost dropped his sword in amazement. All eleven stones were slowly rising! Dominic seemed to be staggering a bit. He needed help.

Colin, Rafe, all of you! Quickly, go help Dominic. He needs your strength. It is begun but to continue, he will need you. I will take care of these. Lycan…go to your Mate!

Michael watched as Colin and Rafe quickly moved to do as he said. It took him a little longer to get Lycan’s attention since his mind in the wolf form was difficult to reach, but he sensed that Dominic may have added his own plea to his mate as the Metamorph suddenly stopped in his final fight, shifted back to human form, and broke the neck of the hooded man who had been fighting him. Once that degree of casualness about killing might have bothered Michael in his son’s mate, but not now, not when he had lived for months in fear of receiving word that his beloved oldest child was dead, perhaps tortured to death.

Michael turned his attention back to the field that surrounded the Circle. He estimated that with the effort of the others, giving Dominic their power, the Circle should not take more than half an hour to be fully raised. He scanned the area, making sure that there were no hooded men, and then turned to face the West, pausing before he did to steal one more look at the group in the Circle. Lycan stood with his hands on Dominic’s shoulders, while Rafe and Colin stood on either side of Dominic, their hands clasped around him. The she-wolf had moved away some distance. Perhaps the power coming from them was disquieting to her, Michael thought. He was about to turn away when an alien thought entered his mind.

It has been a long time, nephew. I am pleased to see you have gathered your entire little family here for me. Makes it so much easier to put an end to your line — something that should have been done years ago.

Michael whirled around. Another hooded man stood before him, some twenty paces away. He was tall, as tall as Michael’s father had been. He had a sleek black mountain cat by his side. The cat was large, though, for a cat, even one for the mountains of this region, and was undoubtedly a Metamorph. But what did this man mean by calling him nephew? He tried to probe the other’s mind to see if he could sense anything familiar about it.

So forceful, Michael. Why try forcing my identity from me? Why not simply ask?

Fine, Michael replied telepathically, nothing in his tone to reveal his unease, who are you? And why did you take my son and hold him captive?

First things first…tell him to stop or I will let my dear cat here rip your throat out.

Michael actually laughed at that. I am not about to tell him any such thing. And since you did not say who you are, why do I not take a look?

Michael used his telekinesis to pull the hood back from the other man’s head, and had trouble not gasping at the face revealed. It looked like a distorted image of his father — his father wearing part of a cat mask perhaps. The man’s whiskers were long above his lips, which were thin and shorter, his nose flatter and his chin pointier than his father Jerad’s had been, but the resemblance was definitely there. This man’s ears also appeared pointier and had hairs coming from them. His eyes were still the brilliant green of an Emory, however, but the pupils were a diamond shape instead of a circle.

“You are a Metamorph? But also a Telepath? And an Emory?” Michael was confused and as he tried to work out what this meant, he left himself unguarded.

Jamyn took advantage of Michael’s momentary distraction to attack. Michael raised his guard almost quickly enough to block it completely, but his slight delay in blocking the telepathic attack was enough to cause him to fall to his knees from the force of the blow. The cat was on him in a second. Seeing the man who looked just like Nicon get attacked by a large mountain cat, Lydia, who had been looking for something to do, sprang into action. She ran from the Circle and leaped at the cat, pushing it from atop Michael before it could rip his throat out.

Jamyn cursed in anger. He attacked Michael a second time but Michael was ready for him and repelled the attack easily, despite the fact that he was bleeding from several deep claw gashes in his chest. He slammed a telepathic blow back at Jamyn, with an attack that was many times more forceful than Jamyn’s own, causing the old man to lose consciousness. Before he passed into darkness, Jamyn had a fleeting sense of failure, realizing that his full strength was nothing compared to this nephew’s power. Michael turned to assist the she-wolf who had helped him but once again was taken down.

The mountain cat had made short work of Lydia, tossing her down forcefully. Jared had morphed back into a man long enough to throw her forcefully against one of the standing stones that was being raised. His druids were by his side and they were keeping Fen, Donal and Eamon busy. Seeing that Michael’s telepathic skill was far beyond his own, Jared morphed back to his cat form to physically attack him, hoping that his speed and resistance to telepathic attack would give him the advantage.

Jared was not expecting that Michael would have spent months upon months in training with a large Metamorph wolf. Normally, Michael would have had no trouble defeating even as strong a fighter as Jared. But he was not at his best. After having teleported across two Kingdoms, Michael was weary. He was bleeding from multiple cuts, and he was lending as much of his telepathic strength as he could to Dominic’s efforts to raise the stones, he was weaker by this point than he could remember ever being, even after his fight with the Hell Hound. He was having trouble holding those deadly jaws away from his throat, yet he could sense that the raising of the stones was at a critical point. If he called for help now, Dominic might be distracted into losing control over them, and dropping them now might break them beyond all recovery.

Michael could feel his grip slipping as the green eyes of the cat came ever closer. His arms trembled as he slipped and those sharp teeth touched and broke through the skin of his neck. Michael had rarely felt his death so close and he forced his tired arms to push back once more, to gain a slight margin of space between his larynx and the eager teeth of the hunting cat. Just when he felt he could not last another second, a dark form streaked across the field and knocked the cat from his chest. As soon as he caught his breath, Michael leaned up on his elbows and watched as the two cats fought ferociously.

The cats rolled as they bit and clawed at each other. He looked to see if there was some way that he could help the cat who had helped him, but it was too hard for him to be sure which one was which as they battled. They switched positions so quickly; first one was on top, then the other. He thought the smaller one was the one that had come to his aid, but was not certain. The slightly smaller cat was the better fighter, and time after time he escaped the jaws of the other cat, much as Michael himself had.

That was it, Michael realized. He had only to look for the one who was maneuvering as he would himself. Thus able to anticipate, he was able to prevent a fatal strike by the larger cat with a telepathic assist. The other cat took advantage of the break to turn on the offensive again. He made a strong attack which was just barely countered by the larger cat.

Michael was about to pin the cat himself with a forcefield when he was struck from behind. Another cat? No. Two more cats. Young, large ones, they bounded over him and went to the aid of the large cat. Michael used his power to push the cats into a roll before they could launch themselves onto the smaller cat. Snarling, one of them turned back and started to stalk toward the Assassin while the other flanked the larger one, which was confronting the smaller cat again.

‘This is not good,’ Michael thought, trying to come up with a plan. It was draining to use mana against these cats, since they were Metamorphs and resistant to his telepathy, though not as much as Lycan’s people; he suspected they were not full-blooded. He tried to edge his way closer to the other cat.

Once Dominic gets the standing stones raised again, you will be able to teleport away, a strange voice said in his head.

What about you?

Bitter humor laced the next thought. Trust me, that is not something you will care about.

Look out!

The two younger cats lunged for the smaller cat as the larger one looked at Michael with a smirk. Which was annoying, Michael thought, a smirking black cat stalking him. He risked a glance over at the others. They were almost done. Just a few more feet.

“Why do you not show yourself again? You have your minions attacking for you. Can you not handle me on your own?”

The cat seemed to be amused. It swished its tail and the thought appeared in his mind, not in the same voice as the other thoughts. I am safer from you, Emory, in this form, I believe. Once your champion over there is finished, which should not be long, then I will take care of you.

Confident, are you? Maybe my champion will defeat your young bullies. They did not look very experienced to me.

Michael was stalling. He was in pain from claw and teeth marks and he was low on mana — but he needed to make sure this devil cat did not interfere with Dominic’s work. And he did not want to see the smaller cat who had saved him get killed, but if he needed to, he would give his own life, so he might have to sacrifice that cat also.

But not if he could help it. He spun and dove at the large cat, his powerful legs kicking toward its hindquarters. Taken by surprise, it did not move away in time and he was able to knock it down. He thought he might have broken at least one of its legs. Without stopping, he continued on to where the cat that had helped him was fighting the two younger cats. He pulled one off it, tossing it to the side. The other turned and snarled.

Suddenly, the she-wolf rejoined him, and engaged the second young cat in battle. The smaller male cat was lying still on the ground, but he was panting, so he lived. Slowly, he crawled onto his four legs again. He was a tough old cat, Michael thought, thinking they had something in common.

The she-wolf and the smaller male cat moved to flank him. They stood between the three larger cats and the standing stones.

This is amusing. You have assembled quite a team, Assassin. The son of the displaced King and murderer of your own father and wife, and the betrayed sister of your son’s tainted mate. Quite the day for family reunions, would you agree?

Michael felt as though he had been struck in the chest so hard that he could not breathe. He gasped for breath. He turned to look into the eyes of the cat by his side. Off-guard, he did not see the attack of the younger cats but his two guards did. They leapt to meet it in mid-air.

The howling was loud and ferocious as teeth dug into flesh and claws scrambled for a hold. They rolled and twisted as they hit the ground hard. Michael felt claws dig into his flesh as he fell back. He felt his skin tear and blood flow and still he did not react. He was too shocked by the claim of the enemy.

Then he heard yet another voice in his head, Fight, pack-sire. My sister is fighting despite her hatred of me for her love of your son, your son calls the other cat Uncle Ben, he promised him sanctuary and forgiveness. He needs you to survive to honor his word. Live, and fight, pack-sire!

Michael summoned all of his strength and skill. He sent out a telepathic blast that sent the cat sailing away from him, and then targeted the other two opposing cats. The force ripped them away from his allies.

He collapsed into unconsciousness.

Dominic was in a telepathic trance, with all of his mental and physical efforts focused on one goal, the raising of the stones. Dominic’s mental and physical efforts focused on one goal, the raising of the stones. He had the vaguest awareness of Colin and Michael and the others joining him at the circle, and then of Lycan and Rafael being there. He had intended to lift one stone at a time, much as Colin and Michael had constructed the Druid Circle on their home island. But he’d soon realized that the only way to raise a Circle of stones that had already stood for hundreds of years was as one unit. The stones had an energy all their own that he had to tap into in order to raise them.

Part of Dominic’s mind was completely engrossed on the task before him. The other part wanted to forget the stones and turn in Lycan’s arms and allow his mate to hold him safe from all the dangers of the world. He wanted to slap his brother on the back and congratulate him on his impending fatherhood. He wanted to hug Colin and beg him for one of his wonderful concoctions to cure his stomach pains and a poultice to heal the pain in his leg.

And he wanted to have his father look him in the eyes and tell him he was proud. Proud of how he had kept it together during his imprisonment, proud of how he had escaped and made his way here. And of course, proud of how he was completing his task here…before he collapsed.

Collapse. Michael was down. With all his will power, Dominic stayed focused on his task, but he sent a message to Lycan.

Go to my father. Now!

The warm security of Lycan at his back disappeared but he knew he needed Michael to survive. He had sent some information to Lycan through their special link, and he knew that Lycan had relayed some of it to Michael. He sensed when Ben arrived, and at first had feared that his ‘uncle’ had turned back to the side of his family, but was moved beyond measure when he realized that instead, Ben was risking everything to aid Michael.
Dominic was draining every last drop of his spirit into raising the stones back to the sky. He had a sense of the stones, standing mere inches from their rightful position, but he just did not have it in him to give any more. His mana was gone, his strength was gone. His mate was no longer at his back.

I am here, brother. Borrow from me.

I am here also, Dominic, son of my heart, you may use our strength and power.

Strengthened by Rafael and Colin, Dominic was able to finish the work of raising the stones. He fell to his knees, shaking off Rafe’s arms when his brother would have held him up. Instead, he assumed a position of prayer, in which Colin joined him. Rafael did not want to leave him so as much as he thought he should check on the battle raging near them, he too got down onto his knees.

Joining their hands, they raised them to the sky and Dominic prayed, “Goddess, we offer our service to you and ask that you give us your aid in removing your enemies from your holy ground. Punish those who desecrated your holy shrine.”

His prayer finished, he fell into his brother’s arms, unconscious.

A whirlwind filled the grove where the stones stood and the cats battled and ripped at their clothes and fur and hair. The Metamorph cats that were fighting against Michael were not faring well at that point, as Lycan had tossed them away from Ben and Lydia quite forcefully. He looked at the three figures, the black cat, his sister, and his pack-sire, and was at a loss over which one to go to first. Seeing that the others had finished, he sent a message to them.

Help needed here.

It was Rafe who answered him. Nic is out. Colin and I will help, bring Michael to me and I’ll give you Nic.

Lycan shifted to his man form. He picked up Michael’s battered body and hurried over to the Circle.

“I can take both of them in my arms, but I cannot do anything to take them to the safety of the Second Kingdom. Colin, can you bring the two Metamorphs with us?”

Colin nodded. Rafe had already gone over to where Ben and Lydia were lying. Lydia had shifted back to her human form, but Ben remained in his cat form. A druid came up to him, wearing a worn brown robe. Colin looked at him cautiously.

“I am Deryk, servant of the House of Emory,” the druid bowed low. “I ask to be of assistance now to Lord Ben. There is a spell…. Please, search my mind first to allay your fears.”

Colin nodded. There was not much time. The spell the man spoke turned the cat to a man again. The strange druid, Deryk, bent to pick him up.
“May I come with you? There is no place for either of us in our former house since we helped your King to freedom.”

Colin nodded. He had time for only a quick look at the man whom Deryk was wrapping in a robe of dark green, but that dark hair, the angular face with its high cheekbones, it was like staring at an older, harsher, version of his beloved’s face. The man was an Emory — but could he really be Ben Emory? He was supposed to have been murdered when Michael was first married. Colin shook his head to clear his thoughts. There would be time for these questions later.

They readied for the teleport. Colin prayed to the goddess to help them. Michael and Dominic were unconscious, as were the female Metamorph and the man who may or may not be Ben Emory.

Lycan looked at the strange druid. “Can he help you?”

“I would be happy to help.” Deryk looked meekly at Rafael and Colin.

Lycan told him, “If you betray us, I will rip out your heart and eat it.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

Deryk’s skill as a teleporter was strong, as was to be expected of a druid of the Third Kingdom. With four injured to transport, two of them Metamorphs, it was also a relief. Colin and Rafael were both drained. They arrived back home and were relieved to see Beran and Bran running toward them. Fen, who had teleported with the assistance of the twins Cena and Cera, had alerted them to the need for help and they were ready to take the strange Metamorphs off their hands. The younger Telepaths had been able to teleport themselves the long distance, especially with the Stones of Tuneric raised and more powerful than ever; they had been able to assist in teleporting the few Metamorphs who had gone with them even without Colin’s guiding consciousness but all of them were very weakened by the battle and the teleport.

The young Telepaths and the Metamorphs had done well fighting off the additional guards who had been there, freeing the rest of them to their tasks — Colin shuddered to think of the outcome if they had not been there as the battle had been so close in the end. One extra human guard may have tipped the scales. Colin made a mental note to praise them when he had the chance. Paramount now was healing the injured.

Bran insisted on taking charge of Lydia, who he remembered as a young cub. Beren was given the task of carrying Ben Emory. Colin and Rafael both wanted to carry Michael but neither of them had the strength after expending all of their remaining energy in teleporting. Lycan carried Dominic, of course, and, somehow, he managed to carry both cherished men in his arms.

“To the sickroom,” Colin instructed. He and Rafael helped each other get there.

Bran called over his shoulder, “Your wife is waiting for you there, M’Lord. She was watching you in her viewing glass. She told us to be ready to meet you.”

Rafael smiled tiredly. He had his arm under Colin’s and was half carrying him toward the stairs. The medical room was kept on the upper levels to keep them far away from any invading force in the event of attack. They were able to defend the injured in times of war, but the obvious downside, Colin thought, was that there had to be enough strong people left to get the sick and wounded to those who could help them.

On this day, it was difficult. When Colin reached the sick room, he saw that Melli and Magda were already cleaning the wounds on all three of the worst injured. Lycan was taking care of Dominic himself. Deryk was quietly directing the two young women in how to treat the bite and claw marks. As Colin entered, he looked up.

“There is a drink I know how to prepare; it helps to restore mana more quickly. The druids of my homeland brewed it for the royal family of the Third Kingdom over many lifetimes. The young King drank of it and it restored his energy remarkably well when he was very much in need, as he is now. If you would agree, I would be pleased to brew enough for all of you.”

“Tell me what ingredients you will need and I will see that you have them.” Colin was not sure that he would let the twins or Michael drink of this brew until it was tested, but he would watch closely as it was made to determine if it could pose any risk. After the treachery of Benra, he no longer trusted a brother druid simply because he was a druid. He told Eamon to obtain the list of ingredients that Deryk wanted, but to let him review it before the supplies were retrieved from the storeroom. Colin did not want to delay anymore in getting to Michael.

“Michael is still unconscious, but that is perhaps for the best,” Melli said calmly. “He has several severe bites, the worst one is on his neck.” She pulled back the sheet from Michael’s torso. She had already washed and bandaged the lesser of the wounds but she knew that Colin would want to treat the most serious of the wounds himself. Indeed, the injury on Michael’s neck was almost enough to make Colin ill. It was so close to the source of his life blood.

“We do not aim our bites for the spots where it will not do any damage,” Lycan pointed out wryly from where he stood by Dominic’s bedside.

Colin took a deep breath. “I guess not.”

“You need to close that one with magic. We would use thread but Dominic showed me that your magic is better.”

“I would, Lycan, but my magic is weak right now and I cannot leave this wound open. Melli has stopped the bleeding but it will need to be treated soon. I cannot risk having him break it open more.”

“It will not break open more,” Lycan said calmly. “Rest, and let your magic build. That wound will be fine, it is clean.” Lycan walked closer and pulled the cover down, exposing Michael’s body. He examined each cut, scratch and bite carefully. “With your consent?” He looked at Colin, a questioning glance that was less confident than his usual.

“I am sorry, Lycan, I do not know what you are asking.” Colin was tired and worried. He was happy to have Dominic back with them but there were more worries than before, and he wished he had Michael and Dominic to consult.

“I wish your permission to treat the pack-sire as we would our own. Then I think that my bondbrother can borrow from me to heal his sire.”

Colin was surprised…but then realized he should not have been. Lycan’s heart was as great as his strength. “You have my consent, and my gratitude.”

“It is my honor,” Lycan responded but he did not waste any time. He morphed into his wolf form and licked the nasty looking wound. Melli had to turn away, sickened more by that sight than she had been by her own actions in tending to the injured. Rafe clasped her hands and pulled her against his chest.

“How can he do that and how can Colin let him?” she whispered to her husband.

“I think it is a tender gesture,” Rafe said, reflectively. “Not to mention practical. His tongue is able to do a more thorough job of cleaning than we can with a rough cloth; it is more sensitive than our hands using the cloths, and Nic said that the wolves’ saliva seemed to both sterilize the wounds and help the bleeding stop.”

“That is true,” Colin agreed, his fatigue not enough to dim his scholarly interest in Metamorph practices. “Metamorph methods for wound care surpass our own, except when ours are aided by magic. Which reminds me; I want to check Dominic’s leg as soon as I am confident that Michael is out of danger. How are the others, Melli?”

“The druid who came back with you has worked with Bran to care for them. Magda and I really only aided them. Dominic appears to be exhausted but his leg wound is well on its way to being healed. The woman is in serious condition but Bran believes she will be fine. She would benefit from Michael and Dominic’s help as she has several very deep wounds. But the one who is most seriously injured is the older Metamorph. He is back in his cat form. The druid, Deryk is his name? He said that it is better for him to stay in that form until he can be treated by a strong telepath as he is in very critical condition. He has lost a great deal of blood.”

Colin asked then after the others, Fen and Eamon had both sustained minor injuries, as had Cena and Cera. Jax and Kaden had bites but nothing serious and their Metamorph constitutions would soon heal. They were already getting treatment from their own people. Colin thanked her for her report.

By that point, Lycan was finished with his cleaning and sealing of Michael’s wounds. He shifted back to his man form. Deryk hurried over to where he stood, and fell to his knees at Colin and Lycan’s feet.

“I beg your help, my Lords. My Lord is in grave condition. He needs the care that the Pack Leader can give him. If he would, please? Otherwise the poison in his wounds will soon end his life.”

“He is the man who stole Dominic from his brother’s wedding,” Lycan said in his harshest voice. “Why should aid be given to him now?”

“He saved your bondmate,” the druid argued, his tone meek even though his words were challenging. “And he fought hard to save your mate’s father. Lord Emory did all in his power to right the wrongs of his past…and his family’s present. He was promised sanctuary here.”

“He has received sanctuary,” Lycan pointed out coldly. “No one is attacking him.”

Rafael looked at the cat lying on the bed, far away from Nic and Michael. He felt a nudge in his mind. Could it be Nic?

My mate is not listening to me. Tell him to stop being so hard…I cannot talk to him when he is like this.

Nic…you are with us again! Rafael felt as though he would cry from the joy of having his brother’s ‘voice’ in his mind again. It had been gone for so long.

There was warmth and love in the thoughts that came to Rafe, as Nic told him, I have missed you more than you will ever know, brother. I was in the darkest of nights, with no stars, and no Rafe to be serious so that I could make light. It was lonely without you. And cold without my Wolf. We will talk more later. When I am stronger. I have much to tell you. But I need you to tell my Wolf to help Ben…Ben saved me when I was almost gone forever, and he went against both father and son to do it.

Nic’s thoughts were more serious than Rafe had ever heard them. He sent back reassurance, and as much love as he could encompass in a thought. Once he sensed that Nic had drifted away, to sleep again, he turned his attention to Lycan. Could he get through to that stubborn Metamorph as Dominic and Michael did?

Bondbrother — you must listen…Dominic, your Cub, gave me a message for you!

He did? Why does he not tell me himself? Lycan’s thought was louder in his head than Rafe expected. It was enough to make his head ache. It made his reply curt.

He tried, you are being too stubborn to hear his call.

That message got through. Rafe could sense the hurt chagrin coming from Lycan. Their eyes met and Lycan’s amber ones were dark with his regret.

I will do anything he asks, was the quiet answer. Then will he talk to me?

Of course! He loves you. He is resting now. Please, he begs you to help the Cat, for love of him. Nic says he would have died but for that Cat.

Then it will be my honor to help him.

Without saying another word to the men assembled around him, Lycan morphed back into his wolf form and gracefully walked over to where the mountain cat lay on a pallet. The dark fur was matted in several areas where the bleeding had finally stopped, but there were other areas where they had tried bandaging him and the bandages were stained red with the blood that continued to seep through. Lycan methodically worked his way from the worst of the bites and claw marks to the lesser ones. He growled to Bran at one point and his Beta came over to help him as the job was more than Lycan could easily handle alone.

Once he finished, he shifted back into his man form, and went directly to the table where flasks of mead and wine stood. He drank an entire pitcher of water first — and then one of mead. He turned and looked at the surprised faces of the others. “This is thirsty work,” he pointed out. “Try it sometime if you do not believe me.”

“Thank you,” Deryk said fervently. Rafe thought the man looked close to tears as he returned to his master’s side and saw his improved state.

“He is still in danger. I believe he will need magic healing to recover.” Lycan looked somberly at Colin and Rafe. “I think I should try to transfer my strength to one of you — and you should try to heal Michael. He then may be able to heal that one. It will need to be done as soon as possible if he is to recover at all. He is still very low on blood.”

“The restorative drink is ready also,” Deryk stated.

Colin looked worriedly between Michael and Dominic. His first concern was to heal them. But — the most seriously injured was indeed the Cat Metamorph, who apparently was Ben Emory, and who also apparently was the man who had assassinated a large portion of the Emory family, as well as the other Royal families. Should he heal him, and risk finding out that he had delayed Michael or Dominic’s healing in order to save a murderer?

“What do you want us to do, Colin?” Melli looked to him for an answer. “Should Rafe drink this restorative?”

“No. I would rather wait until Michael advises us. I am sorry, Deryk. We have learned to be cautious. We will do what we can for your master. Can you tell me his name? That is a starting point.”

Deryk looked surprised. Then he answered, “I beg your pardon, M’Lord. I thought you knew. He is Lord Ben Emory, only son of the deposed King Jamyn of the First Kingdom.”

Colin and Rafe stared in shock at the druid.

“Maybe that restorative would be a good idea after all,” Rafael murmured quietly.

Lycan stood behind Rafael as he rested his hands on his father. He felt the young man draw upon his strength but he was not able to effect a healing of the severe wound in Michael’s neck. Only the most fragile knitting together of tissue started to form by the time Rafe sagged back against him.

“Let me try.”

Turning, Lycan and Colin were shocked to see Dominic standing upright. Deryk was at his side.

“I beg your pardon, but I gave ….”

“You went against my orders and gave Dominic your brew,” Colin said, unbelievingly. Lycan roared and with one step, reached the druid, who stood unflinching. Deryk did not shrink away even when Lycan lifted him high by the neck of his robes.

Wolf. Put the druid down. He is trying to save his Cat. He has been with Cat since he was an apprentice and Cat was very young. Younger than your Cub when we met. He is not planning evil. He wants to save his Cat, but not at the cost of our lives. He knows saving the pack-sire is necessary to save his Cat. This will take the Dance Master…only he can save Ben.

Lycan lowered the druid and turned to look at Dominic. A broad smile spread over Nic’s face as he saw the naked hunger in his mate’s eyes as they moved over his body, clothed as it was in only a thin robe. He opened his arms and Lycan moved quickly into them, lifting him up and spinning him around.

I am so happy to hold you again, and to feel you in my arms.

It is very good. But you are too thin. We will have to fatten you up.

I can think of something I would like to eat right now…but it will have to wait. Help me, my Wolf? You have done so much already but I need your strength some more today.

I will always have strength when you need it. Lycan lowered his lips to Dominic’s and they kissed, their hands clasped between their chests.

We will lie together as soon as I take care of Michael and Ben, all right?

We will lie together after you help your Sire and the Cat…and eat a large meal.

Nic laughed under his breath, then kissed Lycan once more before turning to Colin and Deryk. He addressed his words also to Rafe, who was sitting slumped on Michael’s bed.

“I am ready to help. If Rafe would shift over a little to make room for me, I will start.”

“Have my seat,” Rafe said, his smile faint.

“Just move over a bit, we can sit next to each other but I ask that you watch only. If you drain your mana too low, you will find it very hard to build it back up.”

“Should we also drink of this mana rebuilding brew?” Rafe asked.

“I suggest we wait and see how Dominic fares,” Colin said stiffly. He was still unhappy about Deryk disobeying his direct order. While Dominic might trust the man, it did not excuse the serious breach of druid etiquette. Only Ben’s imminent death would justify such an action and even then, another request first would have been more appropriate. Colin pushed it from his mind for the moment and turned his attention to Dominic.

Dominic placed his hands very gently on Michael’s collarbone, just below the beginning of the bite wound. A warm light emanated from his hands, much as it did when he had healed Bran when he and Lycan had met. Lycan had his thick arms around Nic, beneath his robes, skin to skin, instead of just placing his hands on his shoulders.

Michael…Father…Dance Master, most favored one of the Goddess…feel the warmth. Let your magic rise to the surface to repair your damaged tissues, heal your torn flesh, let your blood flow in its proper paths.

Colin watched in wonder as the wicked looking wound began to heal before his eyes, the torn sides moving together, the ragged edges smoothing out and knitting together. Soon, the neck injury was completely healed, and Dominic was moving on to the next nasty wound. He kept a smooth, even pace to his work, chanting softly while he maintained an internal dialogue with his father.

You are doing well, Father. A little more now. You are tired and will get to rest soon but we must repair a few more of these nasty bites and you can rest with Colin by your side.

Lycan was beginning to feel fatigued and for the first time, worried that even his strength might not be enough to meet the needs of his mate. But, finally, when he felt as though he might waver on his feet, the drain from his power stopped, and he thought he even felt a flow of power back into his leaden limbs.

“Drink this,” Colin whispered, holding a flask to his lips. Since it was Colin offering the drink, he did not hesitate to take a large refreshing gulp from the mead he was offered. It was laced with special herbs that helped keep him awake and alert. He nodded his thanks.

Dominic moved his hands to his father’s brow. Michael, wake now. Speak to me and welcome your son back home. He has missed you so very much…and has much to tell you.

Michael’s eyes did not open. Not right away. But just as Dominic was beginning to grow concerned, the beloved, familiar ‘voice’ could be heard in his mind.

It sounds like my elder son and feels like him, but there is a new maturity and seriousness to this man that makes me miss my wild laughing boy.

Dominic laughed quietly, joyfully, and laid his curly head down upon his father’s bruised chest, careful not to injure the tender, newly healed skin.

Michael’s hand moved up to touch the unruly curls. “It is my boy. You are home, praise the goddess,” Michael whispered, his voice hoarse.

“The goddess works through mysterious ways,” Dominic said, glancing up at Colin, who was standing near, his face showing a mixture of emotions. “Michael, I would like to make Deryk known to you, he has been a servant in the house of….”

Michael’s eyes narrowed. “I know him. You were my brother’s druid. You served him as a young man and were his aid when he was Assassin. You assisted him with poisons and their cures. Where have you been these many years?”

“I have been with Lord Ben,” Deryk answered quietly but firmly.

Michael looked at Dominic, then at Colin. “The black cat. The other Metamorph. How could it be?”

“I have much to tell you, Michael,” Dominic said, “but first, there is an urgent need to heal Ben. He is here and close to death. I do not believe I can do it without your help — and Colin’s.”

Michael looked confused and started to protest but Dominic gently stopped him. “I know your mana is low, but there is a drink that Deryk has prepared which will assist in restoring your energy and mana. I have used it several times now and it works well without side effect. I was near death myself when Deryk gave it to me when I was imprisoned. It enabled me to fight off attacks and eventually to escape, despite being very weak physically. I can heal some things as King with the goddess’ blessing but this will require the Dance Master.”

Michael looked into Dominic’s eyes and knew that his son had knowledge that he had not had before his imprisonment — how he had gained it though, he knew not. None of his captors would have had it, Michael would have sworn.

Michael looked next at Colin. “You do not like this idea?”

Colin’s skin was tinged a light pink. “I am cautious. You are both very weak. I do not like the idea of artificially boosting your mana — are you doing yourselves permanent harm by doing so? I am not familiar with this brew and would like to study it more before you drink of it, Michael.”

“There is not more time!” Deryk interjected, his eyes bright. “Lord Ben is dying! I beg you. Do what you want to me if you do not trust me. Let the Metamorphs remove my limbs if I lie, but please, do not punish Lord Ben. Without his aid today, the standing stones would not have been put back in their proper place. And for his courage, he now lies near death and you will do nothing to save him?” He looked at Dominic. “You promised him on your honor that he would be welcome here and not punished, yet he is being left to die untreated!”

“That is not true! Lycan and Bran treated him!” Rafe argued, leaning forward. “Father was also in critical shape, and Dominic is not in any condition to keep healing people. If the man can wait, he is going to have to. And while he helped today, did he not also help in kidnapping Dominic in the first place? Did he also help in desecrating the Circle? How do we know he will not change sides again?”

Michael placed a calming hand on his younger son’s shoulder. He used it to support himself as he sat up. “Let me see this Metamorph you tell me is my brother Ben.”

“Well, actually, one of the things I need to tell you, Father, is related to that. Perhaps we should clear this area of all but those of the inner circle?” Dominic looked most serious and Michael nodded. He could see the deep circles under Nic’s eyes, and the signs of privation which remained on his face and thin body, but there was also an inner light that spoke of his new-found purpose. Dominic was fully ready to be a leader. He had passed through some crucible of fire, Michael saw, and it had tempered him like the steel in a fine sword. Their enemies had made a critical mistake when they stole Dominic away, and having done so, they should have killed him. This way, they only made him stronger. Like the standing stones at Tuneric — now that they were raised once more, no power on Terrafyn would ever knock them down again.

Gathering around the Cat Metamorph’s bed, the men looked somberly down at the injured Metamorph, who was barely breathing. Lycan and Bran had cleaned his wounds, but he had lost a great deal of blood and was in shock. Michael wondered if there was any chance at all that the creature would survive.

How do we begin? I have never healed a Metamorph when he was in his animal form. Dominic looked at Deryk, uncertain where to start.

To shift him would kill him. You are right, I must perform this healing—then I will decide if I need to kill him. Dominic looked at his father but could not tell if he were joking. Suddenly it seemed that only the three of them existed, he, Michael, and the black cat.

Let me lead, and you will follow, Michael suggested. He placed Dominic’s hands on a large gash in the cat’s side, then stood and began to weave slowly, first with his arms and hands, and then in a slow, gliding dance around the unconscious cat. Dominic kept his hands on the gash and concentrated on working their magic until new flesh and fur was formed beneath his hands to close the wound, feeling his father’s magic swirling around him and the injured Metamorph. Steadily, slowly, they healed each of the wounds like that.

Looking up, he saw the room come back into focus. The amazed faces of Colin, Rafe and Melli came into view. The druid Deryk was on his knees, giving thanks.

Lycan had his arms crossed over his chest. He spoke first. “He needs blood,” Lycan said.

“How do we do that?” Dominic asked.

“There is a way. I’ve seen it done just once,” Deryk said. He looked at Colin. “If you will work with me, brother, I will attempt the spell. If we have a suitable donor. It should be a close relative, preferably. One with significant Telepath and Metamorph blood.”

“Well, who would that be?” Rafe asked.

Deryk looked surprised that he had to ask. “Why, any of you Emorys should be suitable.”

Michael and Rafe looked dumbfounded. Nic smiled, amused by their expressions. “I really do have a lot to tell you.” Turning back to Deryk, he said, “My father is obviously out. He lost too much blood himself. It can be Rafe or me. I am willing.”

Rafe shook his head. “No. You are worn enough and you lost too much blood from that leg wound. I will do it. How do you want to take the blood?”

“There is a spell. All I need is for you to stand next to him and hold his wrist in your hand,” Deryk said.

Colin interrupted. “Tell me first what the words of this spell are. Can I see it tested on someone else first?”

Deryk paused. “That is not advisable.”

“Why not?” Michael was instantly on guard.

“The bloods have to be in alignment, if they are not, it can cause a bad result.”

“Then I do not want Rafael to do this,” Colin declared, before waiting to hear more. Deryk looked frustrated. Dominic looked from his teacher and beloved mentor to the stranger who had so recently saved his life. He felt compelled to intervene.

“Deryk, which person can suffer the bad result if the blood is out of alignment? One or both of the men involved?”

Deryk looked relieved by the question. “It is the one receiving the blood who can be harmed. It can cause a bad reaction — almost like a person eating a food that his body cannot tolerate. In severe cases, it can cause death, which is why we try to only use it when it might mean death without the transfer of blood, and between persons who are related, as that seems to lessen the incidence of bad reactions. Since the young Lords are both Emory and part Metamorph….”

Colin raised a slim eyebrow. “I believe you are confused. Simply because Dominic is bonded to Lycan does not mean that either he or his twin is part Metamorph.”

Dominic decided it was time to take control of the discussion or Ben might die while they continued to argue about his treatment. “Colin — I will explain everything when we have taken care of the immediate crises. But there is Metamorph blood in the Emory family. More than we might think and some of it runs in my body, which means that my brother, who is identical to me, must have some too. Civilized as he seems in comparison.” Nic grinned at Rafe, who returned the look with a smile. “So, are you willing to give your blood?”

“I wish I could, son, but….” Michael looked torn. They all looked at him appalled, even Deryk. He smiled wryly. “I suppose that would be out of the question. Still, I am willing to try this drink of Deryk’s, Colin. I think we all should, so that we are returned to strength as soon as possible. Let us finish healing Ben once Rafe gives him blood. It is so hard for me to realize that he really is alive.”

Michael sat close and watched as Deryk performed the spell. Colin was watching also. It was a spell that would be very useful. All of them realized that. So many times, they were able to heal the wounds but the loss of blood was too great, and they lost the man anyway. Dominic stood by Rafe’s side, and spoke sharply to Deryk as soon as he sensed his brother growing faint. He pulled Rafe’s hand away from Ben’s wrist.

“That is enough, Deryk. You have taken all that I can permit. Ben will heal now, with time. Let him rest. I will take my brother to rest as well.”

Deryk bowed. “Thank you, Lord Rafael, Lord Dominic, and of course, Lord Michael. It is enough for him, yes. I did not take into account that he is not used to this process as our own people are.”

Rafe was leaning heavily on Colin and Nic. He looked up at Deryk with disbelief. “Do you do this all the time in your land?”

Deryk was tending to Ben but he paused. “Well, not all the time, but there are frequently times when the cats get violent. If we did not want them to die from blood loss, we needed to develop treatments that would address the problems that arose from their high spirits.”

“How many ‘cats’ do you have in Jamyn’s stronghold?” Michael asked. Lycan had carried over a wide seat that was large enough for Colin to sit next to him and hold him upright. He brought over a second one that was large enough for him to sit with both of the twins.

“We do not keep ‘cats’ like one might keep pets…or guard dogs,” Ben murmured. While they had been getting situated, Ben had quietly shifted. He looked at Dominic and Rafael sitting together and smiled that small, crooked smile of his. Then his eyes turned to Michael. “Hello, Michael,” he said in his low, hoarse voice.

Michael stared at him, his expression impossible to read, even for his lover and sons, the ones who knew him best. After a moment, he replied, “Hello, Ben. I have you to thank for saving me and my son, I believe. I am in your debt.”

“You will not think… so… soon. I have… things …to tell you.” Ben was breathing heavily.

“Rest now,” Michael told him, touching his hand. “I will wait by your side, and we will speak when you have rested. Whatever has happened in the past, we will manage to get over, because it is in the past and we have a future to live for. I am happy that my brother is here with me.”

Ben chuckled weakly. “Even if I am not your brother but your cousin?”

“Even then,” Michael told him, not blinking an eye. “But, to me, you will always be my brother. Now rest. We will talk later.”

Ben closed his eyes, saying, “Deryk, you must rest also. Thank you for your good care, as always.”

Dominic watched the expressions flicker over the druid’s face. Relief that Ben was well enough to talk and concern that he was doing too much. But underlying all of it was…love. The druid held his master in more than the affection that a servant holds for a good and kind master. Deryk was in love with Ben in the same way that Colin loved Michael! No wonder he was willing to take on even so formidable a person as Colin, and the mighty Dance Master himself, for Ben’s sake.

Seeing that all was settled for the moment, Dominic asked his father if he could be excused for a while. “I need to have a long talk with all of you, but with your permission, Father, I would like to rest for a while, myself.”

Michael summoned another smile. “As long as you take Lycan with you for protection, you may do so. We do not want to lose you when we have just gotten you back.”

“I believe that will be acceptable, sir.” Dominic stooped to hug his father. “But I believe we will need to take my brother to his wife first. He has poured out his life blood for us today and must be restored by her loving arms.”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “I think I can find my own way to Melli. But once you have become reacquainted with your mate, you will have to give her some of your time and attention.”

Dominic grinned happily. “Of course. Where is she? I will see her before I leave to rest.”

“She is attending the female Metamorph. She had been badly injured as well,” Colin explained.

Nic frowned. “Lydia? How could I have forgotten to check on her! I must go to her at once!” He turned to Lycan. “She saved me from certain death soon after I had escaped from Jamyn’s prison. She stayed with me for weeks on my journey to the Circle, hunting to keep me in meat and helping me find my way. I cannot believe I did not think of her sooner!”

“You have been very busy,” Michael excused. “She aided me also. I would like to meet her properly, Nic.” He looked at Lycan. The large man was looking down at his feet, his expression closed. “Does she need our help in healing, Colin?”

“Bran told me she would be fine until tomorrow. Then we might want to take further steps to heal her better. But for now, she rests. Melli is merely watching over her so that she has another woman with her.”

Nic tipped his head. “Why would Lydia need to see a woman especially? She is not a girly type of girl, if you know what I mean.” He grinned. “I would think seeing a handsome Meta like Bran or Jax might be more to her liking, actually. Just not Lycan.”

Colin smiled at the young man. “I think that is not quite what your friend needs right now. She already has a male friend, I believe.”

Nic looked surprised. “What makes you say that? Lydia has never mentioned any mate to me.”

“Well, a female does not normally get into the family way without having a mate,” Colin teased.

Lycan felt the tension enter Dominic’s body as soon as he heard those words.

Rafe punched him lightly on the arm. “Do not let them tease you,” Rafe told him, smiling. “Melli told me that she is only recently expecting. It is no surprise that you did not realize it. Perhaps she does not realize it herself. If it is her first time, she may not. Everyone does not have the benefit of a druid’s lectures in childbirth to rely upon on such topics.”

Nic smiled automatically but Lycan knew his mind was not on his brother’s words. He helped get them out of the conversation and away from the others as quickly as possible, agreeing that Nic would visit Lydia the next morning and Rafe would make sure Melli passed on his message of affection and concern.

I’m happy you are back, Nic.

I’m happy to be back, Rafe. It is a tough world out there without my brother to take care of me.

Or your Wolf.

Or my Wolf, Nic agreed, his tone wistful, but his thoughts were divided. How was he going to explain to Lycan about Lydia? And for her to be carrying his child…no, children. With sudden certainty, he knew that he was to be the father of twins. He smiled and leaned against Lycan. It would all be well. The goddess worked her will in the strangest ways, but destiny was a wonderful thing at times. Tomorrow he would tell Lycan about Lydia.

Wolf, let us go to bed, I am so happy to be with you again, I do not think I can ever find the words but I will try to show you.

Lycan picked him up and held his cub close. Goddess be praised, his cub was back, all would be well, he told himself. Tomorrow he would tell Nic about Lydia.

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