Wolf’s Cub

Chapter 16

Colin stared at the flame, not sure he had heard his tutor correctly. Or rather, he hoped he had not heard Tutor Benra correctly. Better to be sure than to seem disobedient...or stupid.

“But, sir, you want me to put my hand in the fire?” Colin raised his steady gray eyes to the druid.

“Do you have a hearing deficiency, young Allym?” The question was mild, deceptively so.  Benra revealed a mean temper – for a druid – at times. Colin was quick to shake his head in the negative.

“Then you know what I want you to do and by not doing it, you are showing yourself to be either disobedient, cowardly or....”

“Or intelligent.”  The interruption came from the doorway. Colin’s eldest brother, Cendall, stood there with his druid Advisor, Vengeance Terene. Another druid stood by Terene’s side. Colin stole only a quick glance then returned his gaze to the flame he had been told to hold his hand inside, steeling his nerve to do as he had been ordered. He would not want Cendall to think him disobedient. Or worse–cowardly!  But then his brother’s words sank in. Was it intelligent not to do as Benra ordered? Colin raised his eyes once again. 

“Prince Cendall! It is always an honor to have you visit our humble classroom but I must ask that you not interfere with the discipline of a druid’s studies. As the honored druids who accompany you can doubtless assure you, a druid’s path is less glorious than that of a king, but it is no less disciplined and honorable when successfully pursued....”

“Undoubtedly more so, since none of my tutors, druid or otherwise, ever bade me to place any of my body parts deliberately in harm’s way,” Cendall interrupted again. The tall handsome prince turned to Vengeance, “Is that a part of my training you neglected, Vengeance? Venerable, I feel bereft of this new style of ‘discipline.’ Colin, come to your brother, lad, and comfort him.”

With a sidelong look at Benra, who nodded his consent, Colin ran to his brother and received a warm hug. He was just five and Cendall, already a grown man with sons of his own, was a favorite as he never failed to make time for his young half-brother when he visited his father’s court.

“I believe I must steal your student away for the rest of the day, Veris Benra. The King has called for his sons to attend his Court and even the scholarly druids must obey a King, even in this Third Kingdom, where we appreciate the value of our druids like no others do.”

The two druids by his sides smiled at Cendall’s sly mocking of the First and Second Kingdoms, where the ancient studies were indeed undervalued and druids little more than ornaments in a Royal Court. 

Colin did not understand his brother’s words completely; he only knew he was saved from a burned hand and was pleased to scamper at his brother’s side, doing his best to keep pace with the long strides of the tall men. He was both embarrassed and pleased when Cendall, noticing his difficulty, reached down to pick him up and tossed him onto his shoulder.

“You would do well not to spoil the boy,” Vengeance suggested grimly. “He will not get such treatment where he is going.”

“As long as you do not favor such methods as burning little boys in the guise of ‘teaching’, I think he will do quite well where he is headed,” Cendall said, the anger in his voice barely restrained. “I would have my father know what that old bast....what Veris gets up to with the young ones if it were up to me but the crafty old man is a valuable seer I am told, so all I can do is remove Colin from his sphere of influence.”

“You do well to do so, and our seers tell us that your kindness to this young one will be repaid a thousand-fold.” Venerable Terene, Vengeance’s brother, took Colin from Cendall’s shoulder and settled him back down on the stone floor. He took him by the hand as they neared the large room where King Colm awaited his sons.

Before going further, Venerable knelt to straighten Colin’s robes and brush the dark hair back from the boy’s temples.  This druid, who looked older even than Benra, looked deep into the young boy’s eyes as he asked him questions as seriously as making a vow.

“Do you wish to be a druid, Colin? To study the whys of the world and not just the whats of things? Will you be able to give honor and allegiance to the goddess first and foremost, above all others, be he king or lover?”

Colin looked into wise eyes and felt as though the goddess herself were waiting for his answer.

“Above my father and brother?”  He thought he had better be sure of this.  So far in his five years, his father had ruled his world and his brother had owned his heart.

Venerable had kept his expression serious; he knew his brother Vengeance was frowning, disapproving of giving such a young child a say in his own destiny.  The young Prince was frowning for a very different reason; he was sad for the tiny brother he was sending away to a life of denial and sacrifice, but glad to do it in the hope that it would prove a safer life than the one that now faced most Royals.

“Yes, Colin, above even your father the King and your brother Cendall who will be King after him, and who loves you like one of his own sons.”

“This is harder than putting my hand in a fire,” Colin whispered, causing Vengeance and Cendall to hide smiles, “but yes, I want to be a druid.”  He lifted his eyes to Cendall. “I will be able to serve you best that way, Cendall.”

Venerable Terene looked at his brother as the two Allym brothers hugged. They both had heard the prophecy and knew just how this young druid would serve his brother, how he would save the House of Allym and the Third Kingdom, and indeed, do his part to save all the Kingdoms from destruction. The young boy spoke true though neither brother knew just how portentous this moment would be for both their lives.

“The goddess works in mysterious ways,” Vengeance murmured.  “Should I go deal with the other one?”

“No,” Venerable answered. “He too has his part to play. We cannot cheat destiny nor make any path easier, much as we would wish it.  And for all the harm he does and will do, Veris Benra always acts with good intent.”

“May the goddess save us from those who act with good intent,” Vengeance muttered as he followed Venerable and the Allym brothers into the King’s Court.

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

Rafael looked at Melli. She was tired – they both were from their days without sufficient food or water, but the strain had been more wearing on her. He could feel the strength that Michael and Dominic had sent to him through their telepathic connection. He had to find a way to make the most of this added mana; Melli was not going to be able to do much except hide and wait.

If only she were a bird Metamorph, he thought wistfully, they could get her to the window with the conjured ladder and....

Camouflage.

An idea was coming to him.  Benra, growing impatient for Rafe to share word of what he had learned from the others started to ask him questions and he rudely hushed him, treating the old druid as though he were one of the youngest Telepaths chattering while he worked. He left it to Melli to soothe his ego. He had to figure out a plan. She knew better than to interrupt Rafe when he was like this. Just seeing him sitting quietly, that particular “plotting” look on his face, gave her hope. He did not fail her.

“That’s it!” Rafe looked at Benra and grinned.

“Melli can hide as you, or rather, you will be her, and we will just have to convince them that you escaped.”

“But how could I?” Benra’s eyes narrowed. “And what do you mean, hide as me?”

“I can cast non-defensive illusions, similar to the conjuring, for a short period. We need to time it just right. But...you need to be willing to take a great risk...for your Queen. Are you willing to do that, in reparation for putting her in this great danger?”

Benra looked Rafael in the eye. “I would walk into the fires of hell should the need arise, young Emory. Tell me your plan.”

Rafe took a deep breath. Could he trust this druid?  He took Melli’s hand.

I leave it to you, Rafe. My senses say he is speaking the truth but I am so weak, I cannot tell if I think that because I want it to be truth or because I know it to be true.  

Rafe lifted her hand and kissed it. He tried to send some strength to her through their connection but without their having bonded, it was not as strong as his connection with his twin and his father. He felt a spark of amusement from her.

This is the penalty we get for waiting to wed before mating.  The goddess should at least bless our efforts as a reward for our chastity.

Rafe flushed, knowing he had not been all that chaste but certainly since pledging his troth to Melli, he had been, so that should count for something besides uncomfortable nights and cold swims.

It should count for a moment of grace. Or more accurately, for about thirty minutes, which is about how long it might take to convince their captors that Benra was Melli, and that the real Benra had somehow escaped.

Taking a deep breath and saying a final prayer, Rafe explained his plan. Once he finished, he looked at the other two expectantly.

“It is audacious. Just the type of foolhardy plot an Emory might come up with,” Benra sputtered Then he smiled as he added, “But...it is a plot that my former colleagues would never dream of, and never think that a druid trained Royal, such as they know you both to be, would dream up, nor one which such a rigid traditionalist as myself would consent to...and in its very outlandishness lies its potential for success. The preying cat will not expect the wolf in sheep’s clothing – or rather, another cat – to pounce.”

Laughing at something only he found funny in his words, Benra cooperated in the casting of the necessary glamours. Rafe’s skill at glamours was unmatched by any but Michael, but it was a difficult illusion indeed to make the old druid look like a beautiful young maid. He would leave it to Melli to hide herself at the top of the conjured ladder. Once there, her mana would have a chance to renew at the open window. He was pleased to see that she was able to cast a disillusion spell and hide herself against the white wall of the tower room as she waited at the foot of the ladder. He took care in hiding the ladder from view, blending it against the wall.

If worse comes to worse, and you are discovered, use all your mana to try to teleport from the room to the closest wooded area. Nic, Colin and Michael are drawing ever nearer, they will help you, he instructed her.

I cannot leave you here, Melli protested.

Yes, you can, if the alternative is to be spitted so that a demon can be brought forth to drink your blood, Rafe told her bluntly.

Melli was quiet for a moment. Then she answered, I will do my part to find Michael and bring him back to you as soon as I am strong enough to teleport.

Relieved, Rafe bent his head and kissed her, once for himself, and then four more times.  His eyes twinkling despite their desperate plight, he gave her a gentle push to start her up the ladder.

But of course, being Melli, she had to pause and ask, why four added kisses? I understand you kissing me for Nic, and then for Michael and dear Colin, but that last silly kiss, on the nose?

Your new brother Wolf said to kiss you for him too, now get you up the ladder and no more questions from you, love...but one more kiss, from me. I love you, Mellisande. The goddess keep you.

Rafe clung to her tightly before putting her gently away from him and walking away. She knew better than to delay him this time.

Footsteps could be heard outside.

Dear goddess. Let this work. 

Melli climbed quickly to the top of the conjured ladder to the small window. She gripped the ledge just in case Rafe’s mana failed and he had to let the ladder go. She breathed in the fresh air from outside and felt the small spark that remained of her own mana flare in response. It was nighttime, and the moon’s glow was comforting. Somewhere, not too far away, Colin, Nic and Michael were looking at this same moon, and praying for their safety.

The vision hit her like a blow and she almost toppled to the ground; only the strictest training Michael could devise during her childhood enabled her to retain consciousness – and her grip on the ledge – as she suffered through the vision.

A man fighting  a beast the size of a standing stone, with nothing but a sword, another man crumpled at his feet. Dead? No, please goddess, not dead. The dark curly hair, the slim musculature, she knew that body like she knew her own.  Rafe? Oh no, please no. The man fighting then, was it Nic? Or...Michael? But who was that coming to fight – and was he coming to fight with him – or against him? It could almost be the first fighter’s twin, in the way he moved, his height and build so similar, but his face was hidden.  Whoever he was, it seemed he was too late if he was coming to help, as the Beast reared up and was about to cut the Emory male down...but the newcomer pulled him back by his shirt in the barest split second before the beast struck. And threw the man, it had to be Michael, down behind him while he took on the Beast.

As quickly as it came, the vision left. Melli clung to the small window, blind with tears. Did the vision mean that Rafe’s plan was doomed to fail? Was the beast to be raised after all?

Melli needed to leave. Looking down, she saw her beloved Rafael, his legs braced, his face calm, waiting for their enemies as though he had nothing to fear. She loved him so. She now understood how much was demanded of Nic when he was told that the King must allow his Assassin to sacrifice himself to save his King or Queen. She had never thought of it in terms of herself and Rafe, when Rafe was named her Assassin – of course he would protect her. That was a given. But sacrifice himself so that she could survive? So that she could flee?

It was what their people expected of their Kings....and Queens. The selfishness of survival.

Rafe, I ... I need mana to teleport...now.

Startled by Melli’s request, but knowing that she would not ask if the need were not urgent, Rafe tried to meet that need. It was much harder to share mana with Melli, and there were many calls on his own magic, but his love was deep and true, and his ability to deny himself was tremendous. He had trained to be an Assassin since his boyhood; he knew his duty to his Queen. He pulled from deep within and sent the power back along the same connection Melli used to send her message, saving only what he needed to maintain the glamour on Benra and the ladder on which Melli stood. Once Melli teleported he could let the ladder go, he thought, looking for the bright point as he felt his own life force waver.

Do it, he whispered, sending his strength to her. He sensed her essence leaving the room even as the hooded man and his guards burst in. He moved protectively in front of Benra, a Benra who appeared to be Melli.

“Where is the druid?” the hooded man demanded at once.

“Gone,” Rafe said hoarsely, his throat tight with emotion. Good, it helped the deception. Let them think he was upset at a further betrayal by the druid. He focused all he had left on keeping the illusion strong around Benra.

The hooded man laughed. “So much for his concern for the Royals. When it comes right down to it, he cared most for himself. No surprise there, but you seem hurt, Emory. Did you trust in him after his brief moment of conscience? More fool you. Your father would be ashamed.”

You have no idea how right you are, Rafe thought, a flash of pain at the memory of Michael’s anger taking him unawares. But that too helped, as it was seen by the hooded man as a natural reaction to Benra’s leaving them to their fate.

“I will have to trust to my own conduct to earn my father’s praise or shame,” Rafe said quietly, drawing his sword and standing between Benra as Melli and the hooded man and his guards.

He hoped that they would know that Melli had been trained as a druid and would hesitate to strike her within this strange druid room. Indeed, Colin had trained all three of his students in the ways of the druids.  He wondered just how technical the room’s standards’ were. It had healed his neck wound earlier. Would he qualify as a druid, sufficient to warrant the room’s protections?  He hoped he did not have to test the room with any more serious wound than the neck injury, but nothing else was as important as the fact that Melli had escaped. Goddess be praised. He hoped she had made it to safety. He forced his tired mind to listen to the hooded man – it was the one who loved to hear himself talk.

“Will you come with us now, Queen Mellisande, or do we need to slay your friend, dare I guess and say betrothed, right before your eyes?”

Benra looked to Rafe, his eyes wide. Rafe guessed the cause of his very genuine alarm. Benra’s voice would betray his charade. Rafe answered for her.

“She will go with you but I insist on staying with her, to ensure she is treated well.”

It made sense, Rafe reasoned, if one did not know that they planned on killing her. And him also. They must need her cooperation to a certain extent if they were bothering to ask for it. So they needed him alive too. Or at least he would think so, the hooded man’s next words bringing that into question.

“And what is there to stop us from killing you both as soon as we leave this room?” the hooded man asked, his tone seeming genuinely curious.

Rafe could almost wish for Nic instead of Benra, if it would not mean that Nic would be in this dangerous situation. Nic, who loved the challenge of any trick, was capable of duplicating even Magda’s accented tones, much less Melli’s more cultured voice, which he could do to perfection. When Nic did an illusion, he did it completely, gestures, posture, expressions, as well as voice. Benra was able to assist in maintaining the visual illusion but he added nothing to his impersonation. Well, nothing but mana. Benra was looking at Rafe, his eyes signaling for him to answer something. Rafe improvised, thanking the goddess – and Michael and Colin – for the years spent training for every eventuality.

“Kill me, and Melli will kill herself,” Rafe calmly announced, apologizing to the goddess for such an outrageous statement. “We are indeed betrothed, and death of one is death to the other. You must show me what you have planned for her.”

A second hooded man showed himself in the doorway. Rafe was careful to keep his face expressionless, though he felt some satisfaction at having his suspicion confirmed – there were different hooded men. An illusion was used to make them seem more similar. The one in the doorway was shorter. The first one was taller than Rafe was and had a cold demeanor, like he enjoyed playing with people. The second one, he had a different...aura. Not that Rafe could see auras like Lycan could, and to a lesser extent, Magda could too, but he had a general sense of what was meant by it.

Hooded man number two remained in the doorway, keeping the magical door open as he commented, “What an intriguing demand under the circumstances. A bold one. Such a true Emory. But will such a demand be met?” The second hooded man stared at Benra as Melli, and Rafe felt the sweat bead on his forehead and upper lip as those penetrating green eyes that gleamed within the dark of the hood tried to pierce the illusion. Then a low laugh could be heard emanating from the shadows of the hood, and the man pulled it lower over his face, covering his eyes.

“Oh, I do believe we must allow young Emory see the fate of this lovely...lady.”

The first, taller hooded man spoke sharply to the other one. “Have you found the Metamorph?”

“I have received better news from...from our colleague. He reports that his particular pet, the guest he has played cat and mouse with for so long I felt sure he would have killed it by now, has finally agreed to cooperate with us. That little achievement should cause problems for our impending visitors. Perhaps you can forego the summoning....”

“No!” The psychic blast the tall hooded man sent at the shorter one was strong enough that Rafe felt its heat. He wondered if there were some way he could encourage this dissension among their enemies. The target of it did not even flinch; he merely held up his hand and blocked it. Rafe was impressed, if a bit intimidated. It was quite a show of power on both sides. And a delay during which his mana dwindled. If only he knew whether Melli had made it far enough away, then he could let the illusion drop. But without knowing, he needed to buy as much time as possible. He caught Benra’s eye; the druid nodded. He understood. As far as they could carry the deception, they would, though it would not likely last beyond this room.

“I am not in the mood to humor you, young Emory.” The tall man turned to the other shorter hooded man. “Take him away from here and kill him.”

“We saw that is easier said than done,” the shorter man reminded him.

Rafe wavered on his feet. How long would this stalemate last? He was draining the last of his life force maintaining the illusion. He hoped it was enough, that Melli had landed safely. He used his strength to raise his sword, intending to attack the taller man, when Benra reached out and stayed his hand. He felt a flicker of mana move from the druid to himself, and looked down in wonder. Could Benra really be helping him? Him, not Melli?

The illusion dropped away as Rafe fell to his knees, the old druid wrapping his arms around him to ease his fall on the hard stone.

“You are defeated, M’Lord. The Queen has escaped. I will not allow you to kill this young Prince. He has the heart of a true Royal, which is lacking in you and your seed.”

Rafe did not see the tall hooded man pull the hood from his face, the sight would have shocked him, though not as much as the visage revealed when the second man pulled his hood back. Benra looked at both familiar faces with great sadness.

“Do not look so sad, Veris Benra. The spell is best completed with a virginal Royal but the eldest born child of a Leader such as the Metamorph we hold is still a possibility. If this boy is not a virgin, that is.” The tall man gave Rafe a speculative look then turned to the other. “Do you think the spell would mind a younger twin – there is some room for variation, is there not? You spoke with Him about it.”

The shorter man replied in his smooth way, “We have a far better option than either this boy, who is highly unlikely to be a virgin, given who his father is, or the Metamorph, who can be put to a better use. Both are better as lures. You forget, Veris is undoubtedly a virgin, High Druid as he is, or was, and he was once of Royal birth, long ago though that was. He is old but I do not recall age being of import to the sacrifice.”

The taller man shook his head. “I think we would do better to use the young Emory. Let me ask Dynene what he thinks.”

Rafe was barely conscious during this discussion. He knew only that the dreaded fate that had been planned for Melli now seemed to be his lot. What to do now, he wondered, struggling to get up from his knees. A voice came into his head.

Do not move, I have one chance to get this right. Stay as still as you can until help comes.

Rafe could not tell who it was, Benra or not, but in the next instant, Benra leaped forward, his sword out. Rafe stayed still...and found himself being teleported. He blacked out as he felt himself leaving the druid room.

Benra stood alone facing the two men and the bewildered guards, who were looking around, wondering where the young Royal had gone.

“I am ready for you to do your worst,” Veris Benra proclaimed bravely. He used the room’s magic to good advantage but he was very old, and could not last long against two such skilled Telepaths. He was bound and taken to the room that had been prepared for Mellisande. He had expected nothing less, but he knew, if his evil captors did not, that the spell cast with the blood of an old, wizened druid such as himself, rather than that of a young virgin Queen, would be far weaker. Certainly the Demon brought forth would not feast well on his bones!

And he thanked the goddess for that, as it might make all the difference in the Kingdoms’ survival.

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

Dominic sat on Ice easily, riding coming as easily to him as it did to Michael. Colin and the others were not as comfortable but were learning. It was preferable to running, Colin thought with a sigh as he cantered next to Nic. His horse, Thunderfall, neighed softly in encouragement. 

“There lies Candone,” Nic said, pointing. The gleaming walls of the city could be seen in the moonlight. The tower gleamed in the distance, shining in the very center of the city, the pillars of the Council House, the building that used to form part of the Royal Palace, also visible from the high bluff they stood upon. Behind them, the Metamorph army stretched out for two leagues. They waited now for the slower travelers to catch up, although Colin did not think Nic would wait much longer.

He was right.

“If Michael agrees, I would like to begin our assault,” Nic said, not turning to look at Colin but keeping his eyes focused on the tower. “My brother is close to death, I feel it. Lycan went on ahead to scout. I would wish to rush on ahead myself to save my brother but cannot. I know where my duty lies. Can Michael or you do anything to help him?”

The eyes that Dominic turned toward Colin were filled with such pain, the Advisor caught his breath. 

“We must stay our course,” Colin answered, his heart thudding. But, as he felt Nic’s anguish pierce his heart, he felt compelled to say, “Let me consult with Michael. He may be able to do something. He is checking with the other leaders, confirming one last time that they know their roles; I can bring him here.”

Come, Assassin, your King needs you.

The summons was formal, as the situation merited. Michael was there on his fleet horse instantly. His eyes went directly to Dominic’s bleak ones.

It is not too late, Michael insisted.

Rafe’s life force is almost gone. I am trying to send him strength but he is too weak to accept it. Or the walls of that damned tower block it. We must get to him. There is no more time.

Do you feel Melli? Is she....

I feel her...she is...not with him. She is safe, I think. But hiding. It is he who is dying. Lycan is looking for her as he believes he has her scent. Rafe is still in the Tower.

The news that Melli was somehow outside the Tower was a surprise to both of them. Nic’s thoughts were disjointed; he was still concentrating on trying to help his brother, but he needed to be focused on the task before him. Michael looked at Colin. They made an instantaneous switch in their plans.

Nic, Michael will go in search of Rafe immediately, but you must turn all of your attention to the fight ahead of you. Can you do that?

Nic looked at the two of them, then just Michael. Aloud he asked, “Are you sure you do not wish to trade?”

Michael leaned forward from his horse so that he could hug his son tightly. “More than ever before, am I sure that I am not the right person to be King. But you are, son. You can do this. And you will make Rafe, and all of us, very proud. I will find your brother and bring him to you, and your mate will bring Melli to us also. The goddess is with us tonight. Now lead these good people who have put their trust in you.”

Nic touched his forehead to his father’s and then straightened his back. Go, I’ll give you a three minute lead and then we shall proceed to take the City, he told Michael.

Michael flew down the mountainside; so fleet was his stallion Winddancer that they were just a blur in the night, a wisp of wind against the moonlit sky.

Exactly three minutes later, Dominic Emory, King of the First Kingdom, rode forward to claim his throne, an army of Metamorphs and a handful of telepaths at his back.

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

Lycan crept forward in wolf form, his dark fur blending easily into the shadows of the night. He morphed into a man in order to climb over the city’s wall, some distance from the guard’s lookout, dropping lightly onto the ground thirty feet below. No one guarded that point of the wall – its height was considered deterrent enough.

For a human, Lycan thought, amused despite the seriousness of the night. Even now, he could feel his mate’s distress and wished he had Michael’s ability to send calm through his mind’s touch. He sensed the cause of the new pain – his Cub’s brother was close to death. He wished he could do something to help but he was already on a mission. The sister, Mellisande, was lying lost, somewhere in the dark. Lycan was sure of it. Finding her would go a long way to making this night a success in his Cub’s eyes. And she might be able to lead him to his Cub’s brother. Something vital must have happened to cause those two to separate, Lycan surmised. He knew he would only push his Cub away if....

If he had to give his life to save him and knew that Dominic would not allow it.

The thought gave speed to his four limbs as he morphed once more to his wolf form and sniffed the air for the scent of the young queen even as he ran. He headed for that gleaming white tower. There was demon smell there – but also the smell of his mate’s kin. He was close to them.

Lycan slowed his pace, keeping to the shadows of buildings as he made his way to the tower. He heard the sound of Nic and his army’s approach, though the city’s guards had not yet given the alarm. Stupid humans – did they not stay awake on guard duty? Then Lycan realized that Nic and the telepaths were using magic to hide their approach; it was his Metamorph nature that enabled him to hear the sound that was muffled to human ears.

Momentarily distracted, Lycan almost missed the type of sound he was listening for – that of two guards who were awake and looking for trouble, or rather, looking to make trouble.

“What do we have here? A wench from the tavern?”

“Looks too skinny to be a tavern wench. Too clean too. Probably one of those country girls, runaway to the city for adventure. Think we should show her some adventure?”

“We’ll have to wake her up first. Looks out of it, she does.”

“Well, if you do it right, she’ll wake up – at least she would if you knew how to do it right.”

Crude laughter followed the bawdy comment. Lycan’s wolf face did not lend itself to the expression of disgust he wished to make at two such specimens of human. He’d like to turn them over to a few of his she-wolves to handle. They would not be so arrogant about what hung between their legs, he thought, seeing the way they grabbed at themselves suggestively while they moved forward toward the bushes where the white robes of the sleeping Mellisande had caught their attention.

Lycan regretted that Melli’s eyes flew open just as the first man was reaching for her – he would have spared her the sight of his large hands closing around the man’s neck and twisting it sharply, breaking it. The other man already was dead; his friend never noticed that he was no longer replying to the crude jests that covered the sound of the first neck being snapped by huge wolf jaws. He had not taken the time to morph until he had gotten rid of the first threat.

Melli clamped her hand over her mouth, silencing the scream she wanted to make. Lycan nodded his approval.

“Good girl. It’s best you not make a lot of noise. All hell is about to break loose here and while the rest of the guards should soon be busy defending this foul city, we don’t want to be delayed fighting off any when I could be busy getting you back to your kin and me back to Nic’s side.”

“Rafe,” she whispered. “He needs help.” 

Lycan frowned. He glanced toward the hillside which looked like it was swarming with ants from this distance – the assault on the City’s main gate was underway. His keen eyesight told him that the spot of white at the front was his mate, but there was no black horse nearby. Michael should not have broken off just yet. Colin was there, he was sure that brown dab of color was the Druid on his horse. Where was Michael? 

Wolves stuck to their plans, simpler though they were, he thought impatiently. Goddess, he hoped that Beren and Elkind stayed by Nic. He knew that Bran would. Could he reach his Cub with his mind speech? He really needed to know what Nic would want him to do.

Cub, I have your sister.  She wants me to help your brother.

Lycan suspected the message went through more as sister..., brother..., help...? But the essence must have been clear because the answer certainly was.

YES!

Lycan looked down at the small female in front of him. She looked so frail. And hungry. To her credit, she no longer seemed troubled by his naked form, he thought, thinking that the Lady Mellisande was growing up. Difficult winters make the learning of hard lessons easy.

“Let me try to find you food and a safe place to wait, child, then I will break back into your prison and find my Cub’s brother.”

“I do not need food. We must get to Rafe.”

Lycan stopped. He placed his hands on Melli’s shoulders. She blushed and carefully looked up at his face. Ah, maybe not so easily learned, he thought with a sigh. Letting go of Melli, he reached down and yanked the pants from the first guard, who had been a large man. Stepping into them with some difficulty, he then thought to loot the pack the man had dropped and was pleased to find cheese, bread, and a bottle of wine. These guards were well supplied, he noted with some surprise. The Authority was not known for its generosity to its guards. These two probably stole from the citizenry.

“Eat and drink,” he ordered. “Then we will discuss why you are here, outside on your own, rather than by young Rafe’s side. He must have had a good reason to allow such a thing, or even, to bring such a thing about. Is your going back inside to rescue him going to make his sacrifice pointless?”

Melli paused midway through a bite. How could an uneducated Metamorph make her feel so stupid?

“You are right. I cannot go back in to help Rafe,” she whispered, stricken. “Rafe has given all so I could escape, to prevent...to prevent...”  A great burst of black smoke exploded from the Tower.

“Dear goddess,” she whispered. “The spell has been cast without me! A great demon has been summoned.”

“Sure smells like one,” Lycan agreed equably. “Which means that you are coming with me and I am taking you out of here and returning to fight with my mate. No more arguments. If you can fight by Nic’s side, good. But you must leave it to Michael and him to save Rafe now. I am told you three have been taught to do your duty when it is hardest. This is a time when it is hardest, for you and for me.”

“But Nic wanted you to help Rafe!” Melli cried out to him, her large blue eyes pleading. Lycan looked down at her. Then he looked up at the black smoke coming from the Tower.

“Can you do that magical travel to get to the top of that mountainside? Not to where Nic and Colin are, but behind them, to where the second line is?”

Lycan pointed to where a row of fighters could be seen gathering at the top of the bluff. An opening was widening between them and those who had already started down the hillside. She nodded, hope rising that the big Wolf man might stay and look for Rafe.

“I want you to go there. Help to organize the medical teams who are gathering there. Gain your strength. I will bring Rafe to you there as soon as I can – or die trying. But you must not leave that area unless told to do so by Colin, Michael or...no, leave it at that.”

Melli frowned. “Why not, if Nic tells me?”

“I do not want you nagging him for permission,” Lycan told her. “Now, see if you can get strength from me as the Cub and his Sire can.” 

Tentatively, Melli reached out and touched the arms that Lycan held out to her. He felt for her mana as Michael had taught him – it was much more difficult to find than it had been when he did so for the twins and she was not as skilled in guiding as his Cub’s Sire, but after a few moments, he was able to find that fire they called mana. He concentrated on adding power to her fire, building it higher and stronger, until she pulled away, her eyes bright.

“You do that for Nic and Michael?” she asked wonderingly. She had received a slight boost from Rafe in order to teleport, and knew that Michael and they could share power, but she was amazed at the great wealth of power that the Metamorph had in him. She received but a portion of it and felt greatly renewed; she could sense its potential was far greater. This then, was how Rafe had been healed so quickly after the demon spell at Breslin....That thought reminded her of her first rash mistake that ultimately led them to this pass.  She raised humble eyes to Lycan, whom she had misjudged from the beginning.

“Thank you, dear brother, for your strength, and for your care of Nic...and for your promise to find Rafe. And for helping all of us. The goddess blessed us when she brought you into Nic’s life, and to all of us.”

“Sweet words from a sweet lady,” Lycan teased lightly, though he was in truth moved by her words, knowing they came from the heart and were not easily said. “Now, do your magic travel and get to a safe place.” He swatted her bottom, causing her to squeak and frown. But then she did as he bade her to do.

Lycan morphed back to a wolf, more tired from his encounter with Melli than he let her see. He had been giving strength freely to Nic for the past two days, gone without sleep, and now strengthened the small sister. But, he knew he would manage for as long as he was needed by his Cub. He would regain strength more quickly in his wolf form, though the animal balked at walking toward the demon tainted Tower.

That was because animals have more sense, he told himself, and forced himself forward.

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

Michael felt the black magic rising in the tower and feared the worst. Reflexively, he sent his mind’s touch out, searching for his family – Colin and Nic, fighting but safe.

Rafe...weak but thank the goddess, alive.  Rafe was still in the Tower but alive. Michael slipped from Winddancer’s back. He had to go after his son. But...one more to account for, and he prayed that the goddess had spared their third child, the daughter she had given him to replace the one taken....

Mellisande, child, where are you?

Michael! I am safe. Lycan found me, gave me strength to make it behind the fighting lines. He said I could not join you to help Rafe but he needs you, please, may I...

Colin joined Michael in answering her, No! Stay where you are! Thank the goddess, Melli, you are safe!

Michael continued, I am going for Rafael. Please wait for him to be brought for you. Aid if you can by healing when you regain your strength.

Melli tried to tell him, Michael, my vision....

But Michael had closed his mind to her. Perhaps that was best, she thought, accepting food from an elderly Metamorph who told her he was one of a Beren’s people. She thanked him with a wan smile and he beamed back at her. Another Metamorph, this one part of a Deer Clan, brought her water and a blanket. They showed her where they had set up a rough field hospital and asked for her advice. This was something she could do, she realized. She saw where the herbs and medicines were still sitting in boxes and she instructed the Metamorphs who were either too young or too old to fight in the methods for preparing the draughts they would need to treat the wounded.

Goddess, let there not be many wounded. Though wounded was preferable to...worse than wounded.

Looking below, at the apex of the battle where the Metamorphs, led by – could it really be Nic? –the King, battled to enter Candone, the capital of the First Kingdom. Armored and heavily armed Authority guards were finally showing up, just as the City’s gate was falling, broken by the onslaught of hoof, claw and telepathy.

Now it was man against beast, human against Telepath, evil against good. She wished she had the keen eyesight of the Metamorphs, or even of the Emorys, as she could barely distinguish from this distance which was which.

However, did the goddess, in her palace of white marble in the sky, know the difference?

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

Nic swung his sword, cutting deeply into the arm of a large Authority guard who was about to slice deeply into Bran’s neck. At the same time, he was using his telepathy to block the arrows from a row of archers who lined the walls of the City.

Eamon, Donal, Keir, take care of those archers to the left...the gunmen too. Neutralize them before they take out the Elks and Bears!

Cena, Cera, can you frighten the group on the right? Perhaps a really large contingent of wolf men?

The Telepaths signified their understanding and put his suggestions into action at once. Slowly but surely, they were moving forward. Nic was distracted momentarily by a sharp cry from Fen – he was hit with an arrow as he was lobbing boulders at the archers’ turrets, knocking them from the wall. Before Nic could go to his aid, or even notice that he had been hit himself by a bullet from one of those guns, Bran in his wolf form had reared up and blocked the swordsman who sought to finish Fen off while he was busy pulling the arrow from his leg. Fen had left his horse outside the city gates, being more comfortable on foot, swinging his favored weapon, a battleaxe, and trusting to his own two legs. But it left him vulnerable to the mounted guards, Nic fretted.

Cena and Cera had cleared one section of wall and commandeered it for themselves. They were doing a fine job of making Lycan’s wolves look like Hellhounds, Hellhounds that were systematically disarming the guards and trussing them up or knocking them out.

Beren yelled over to Nic, “This area is won, King Dominic, let us move on to the Council House. I have some redecorating I’d like to do there.”

Nic nodded. The Council House was close to the Tower. Looking around and seeing that the area at the gate was well under control, he made the cawing noise that would bring Ran close.

The Raven Master swooped down within moments. He morphed to his man form, settling behind Nic on Ice. Nic murmured a calming word to his stallion to get him to accept the intrusion.

“We are going in, Raven Master, how fare the others?”

“Colin has his area well under control, Your Majesty,” Ran answered, his eyes narrowed as he looked over the field ahead of them. “I would say....”

The burst of black smoke from the tower left Ran’s words unsaid.  Nic looked to the sky above the tower – the cloud was as black as anything he had ever seen and made his heart feel chilled. For a long moment, he and everyone on the field of battle just stared, wondering if the world had come to an end. The guards were not sure at first if this blackness were from their side or the side they fought but they knew it boded ill for anything living. But then, as though truth had hit them on the head, people were running out into the street, looking to the young Royal for salvation, and crying to him for help.

“Merciful King! Royal Emory, have pity on us and save us from the evil that is coming.”

“Help us, save our children!”

“Blessed goddess, please Royal one, save us.”

“The Royal King has returned, he will save us.”

Hearing the people, many of the guards were inclined to follow suit. Guns, bows and armor were tossed down, as one by one the Authority’s guards threw themselves on Nic’s mercy.

“Please, Emory King, have mercy, save us!”

Beren shook his head. “What in the three Kingdoms? First they want to kill you now they want you to save them?”

Ran turned around so he could spit without hitting Nic or Ice.

“Humans,” he said. “I’ll go see what I can see.” With that he morphed back to a raven and took flight, bravely heading toward the black cloud.

Nic looked after him.  He’d heard the messages flying back and forth between Michael and Colin, and Melli, as well as Lycan’s question about Rafe. He sensed that he too should head for the tower. Though he did not trust this surrender by the guards to last any longer than the danger – unless the danger were truly terrifying. He too knew the limitations of humans.

“Beren, I am going to ask Colin to meet you by the Council House steps,” he said quietly. “Watch over our people as best you can. I must join Michael in facing this...threat...that is coming from the Tower. If I do not return, Queen Mellisande has been rescued. She and Lord Colin should be followed as the Royals of the First Kingdoms if no Emorys survive.”

“But...but....” The large Metamorph looked with shock at the beautiful young Royal as he sat tall astride his stallion.

Nic smiled. “Do not fear; I have every intention of returning. I have the most amazing mate to live for.”

Raising his voice, Dominic Emory announced to the people of Candone, “I, Dominic, son of Michael, heir to King Adam of the House of Emory, hereby claim the throne of the First Kingdom, and also, as eldest son of the slain Queen Suzanne of the Second Kingdom, I claim her Throne. My heir is my brother Rafael, betrothed of Mellisande, daughter of Cendall, of the house of Dyad, and Queen of the Third Kingdom. I demand all guards to lay down their weapons, unless they be needed to guard against a demon of the Black Hell, and I pledge to protect the citizens of Candone as a Royal of the First Kingdom, but hereby declare all citizens of the Kingdom, human, Telepath and Metamorph, to be equal under the laws of the First and Second Kingdoms, and on behalf of Queen Mellisande, do so declare for the Third Kingdom as well. May the Bards make note of this and be it so recorded throughout the lands.”

Nic turned to Beren; Bran and Fen had joined him as well by that point. “Well, now I can go join a fight to the death in good conscience. Fen, keep the children safe. Bran, Beren, keep Fen safe. I love you all.”

He gave his friends his sweetest smile. To the people, who were cheering, he waved as he rode off toward the tower, busily sending messages telepathically.

Colin, take over at the Council House for me – the citizens and guards have just surrendered to me, scared into wanting Royals back by the black cloud – why did we not think of that?

Michael, do not try fighting whatever it is on your own, I am coming.

Brother, where are you?

Wolf...I need....

That last thought was cut off as Nic was swept from his horse by the force of the Black Hell Beast that greeted him as he reached the steps that led to the Tower.

“Go,” he managed to whisper to Ice, and sent the loyal horse flying away with a psychic push to find his twin, Fire.  Nic managed to get to his feet before the Black Beast took another swipe at him with its terrible claws.

Good thing he named his heir, was Nic’s last coherent thought before he began to fight in earnest.  He had never seen a Hell Hound as large as a standing stone. 

Until now.  

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