Wolf’s Cub

Chapter 17

 Author's Note: This Chapter is dedicated to Thyme, with my thanks for her help, input and continued encouragement on this story!

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Michael had been swimming as he did most evenings after the children went to bed. Colin meditated to relax and commune with nature; Michael sought relaxation in challenging himself in ever more strenuous physical tests; he seemed to have a need to always be in motion. Even when he could be convinced to practice yoga, it was more kinetic than Colin had ever seen before. No sooner did Michael attain a position than he was exchanging it for a more complicated one. He was not a soothing partner to practice with, the druid found to his regret, as he enjoyed Michael’s company.  And indeed, once Michael exhausted himself, he proved to be a good companion, willing to sit and talk for hours sometimes, rocking on the chairs the island men had built for their porch. It was a good way to pass the time.

On this evening, however, Colin had not sought Michael out to share his company. For the first time in all their years on the island, just over ten now, Colin felt as frightened as he had before leaving the First Kingdom.  He’d had a vision that was so disturbing,  he’d needed to share with Michael right away.  Leaving the children in the care of the Adejeunes, he’d run to the beach.

And that was when he found Michael standing on the beach, his long hair dripping down his bare back. His arms were lifted high above his head in the position for prayer. Colin hated to interrupt him – he could not recall another time when he had found Michael in prayer, on his own, that was. He always participated with the prayers Colin led and insisted on the children doing so as well. Colin had rather assumed he was not especially reverent but was trained to observe the formalities of religion, as most Royals were.  Now he realized that the other man had simply deferred to Colin as druid to lead in their family’s spiritual life.  He felt ashamed for judging him, and even more did he regret not ever taking the opportunity to get to know this side of his friend better, but this was not the time to remedy that. Wrong as it was to interrupt a person in prayer, he felt compelled to interrupt Michael, it was as though the vision still held him in its thrall. The vision that had been like none other in his life.

“Michael....”

Michael turned, his face aglow. His beauty almost took Colin’s senses away...almost. But the vision was stronger than his love and attraction for the man whose strength kept them all safe, protected. It was the vision that spoke.

“Two strangers  arrived at the dancer’s sanctuary, and both rode on destiny’s wings, but one brought danger and the other salvation.”

The smile left Michael’s face; it was the Assassin who strode forward purposefully, grabbing his sword in the same motion in which he picked up a short robe. He belted both around his slim form before speaking.

“Tell me everything.”

Michael sent the fire flaring high with a wave of his hand, then pulled Colin down to sit next to him on a blanket.  He handed his druid friend a bottle filled with fine wine. Michael’s trips to Kelway meant that he did not have to make do with skins of homemade wine. Some of his “gifts” came originally from beyond the Third Kingdom and tasted wondrously fine.

After drinking deeply, Colin spoke slowly.

“Now that I’m with you, I find I can hardly describe it in words, as it was so different from any vision I ever had. It was almost as though I were being told a vision by someone else, or being shown a vision....”

Michael’s eyes looked into Colin’s intently.  “There is a way, friend, to make this easier, but only with your consent....”  He hesitated.

Colin nodded at once. “Anything. I need to convey this vision to you in full and I fear I may miss something. Will you question me as you do Mellisande?”

Michael smiled. “Not quite. She is never at a loss for words, it is sifting the sand out of the seaweed that is difficult with that one. No, with you, and I want you to tell me if it is too intrusive, but I hope you can bring yourself to trust me...I....” Again, Michael paused a moment.

Colin reached out and took Michael’s hands in his. “This is vital for the safety of our children and there is no one I trust more to keep our children safe than you. Please Michael, whatever you can do to help me show you my vision, just do it.”

Michael sighed in relief. “That is what I can do. Enable you to ‘show’ me the vision. If you will let me into your mind, completely, and then just run the vision again through your mind as though you were remembering it, I will see it too.”

“Let you into my mind? We have shared thoughts before, frequently.” Colin was confused.

“More than that, Colin. I must come inside your mind completely. Much as I would do if I were...invading someone’s mind, but it would not be an invasion if you allow it. You must not only refrain from fighting it but it is best if you can enable yourself to invite my mind’s entry...do you understand?”

Colin did, but did not. He had only heard of such a process as an attack, a violation of another person by a more powerful Telepath.  Still, his trust in Michael was complete. If there was a way for him to do it without harming him, or even if he had to do so to retrieve the information, well, so be it. The safety of the children was paramount.             

“Do it.”

Michael laughed shakily. “I believe you would let me do anything to you, would you not, my friend? But in this case, your trust is well placed. I will not harm you, I promise.”

Moving closer, Michael sat so that he was behind Colin, placing his muscular legs on either side of the druid’s hips, and resting his arms on his shoulders so that he could place his hands lightly on his temples.

“Comfortable?” Michael asked softly.

“Yes,” Colin answered, the word difficult to get out. Comfortable was not really the right word for how he was feeling, but deliciously warm and aroused was not what he was asked. Then Colin realized that Michael was about to enter his thoughts and he tensed, reflexively shielding his mind.

“Colin?” Michael’s tone sounded almost hurt. Surely not, Colin thought. But then it occurred to him that by raising his defenses just then, Michael may have interpreted it as mistrust. Colin forced himself to calm down, falling back on his training. He steadied his breathing, taking long, slow breaths, trying to ignore the closeness of Michael’s body, except to the extent that his friend’s presence meant security, reassurance, strength. He wanted to show Michael the vision so that together they could decide what to do, he told himself.

The sense of Michael being inside his mind was an intensely intimate one, but he forced himself to focus on reliving the vision, which proved a deterrent to any other thoughts.

Again, he saw himself standing in his tower. Two men had come to the island, arriving the same day. Their faces were in shadow but one was large, a tall, well built man, golden skin, long golden hair, wearing no clothes yet standing comfortably in front of the three children, though they were not children any longer, they were young adults, even Mellisande, who was looking bewildered by the strange man.  The boys were there, one leaning on the other, and the man was reaching for them. There was another stranger there also, a druid by his robes. The two men seemed at odds with each other, but that was something Colin sensed by looking at the grouping. He could not hear any words, just see them vaguely.

Suddenly, the two druid brothers from his past were standing before him, handing him a sword and a chalice, and Venerable was telling him, “you must err on the side of mercy” while Vengeance was insisting “take no chances, trust no strangers.” 

In the vision, Colin took the sword but did not wield it. He just looked at it blankly, and asked them, “But which is the danger and which is the savior?”

A large bird flew in and took the sword from his hands, It settled on the ledge of the window, and, still holding the sword in his claws, began to speak in the most melodic voice he had ever heard, saying:

“Two strangers arrived to the dancer’s sanctuary, and both rode on destiny’s wings, but one brought danger and the other salvation.”

Michael withdrew from Colin’s mind as gently as he had entered, sending calming, soothing thoughts to his friend as he rested his forehead against Colin’s back and tried to gather his own thoughts.

“What do you think?” Colin asked after several minutes passed and Michael had not said a word.

“I think that visions can be damnable things,” Michael whispered. 

Colin caught his breath and felt almost as though he should apologize for having brought this disturbing vision to Michael. But his friend’s next words made clear that Michael was not regretting knowing whatever information the vision might give them, only....

“Why cannot visions be more straightforward!” Michael yelled to the skies, jumping up. He looked at Colin. “Do not mistake me, Colin, I am grateful for your gifts, and Mellisande’s also, but I cannot help wishing the goddess were not so stingy with the peeks she gives of the future! She shows us a druid and a Metamorph but....”

“Is that what the large man was?” Colin was intrigued. He had never seen a Metamorph in person, only pictures of them.

Michael raised an eyebrow. “You can have a vision of something you’ve never seen? What a wonder being a seer is. But then, I guess that makes sense. It is the future, which none of us have seen. But does that mean the boys and Melli will look like that in...do you realize, Colin!”

Michael spun on the sand, unconsciously dancing in his excitement.

“We can estimate when this will take place by the children’s age! And yours, though you do not age much my friend. But I would very much guess that Nic and Rafe were no more than seventeen – they looked like I did at that age, wouldn’t you say? Except taller, and with Suzanne’s eyes.”

Colin nodded. They were very much the image of Michael as he had been when Colin first met him. And Mellisande looked to be about sixteen, a woman full-grown, and as lovely as her mother had been. Colin had only the vaguest memory of Cendall’s wife but she had been fair-haired and blue-eyed, like his daughter. There was very little resemblance to Cendall in Melli, though her kind heart was very like the brother he remembered.

Michael was moving, spinning as he spoke his thoughts. “The vision bothered me at first because I saw it as the standing stone I once balanced over your head – remember? Afraid to move it for fear of dropping it on you but afraid not to move it because you were under it.  A prophecy such as this creates a risk of reacting like that. But, if we do not allow any strangers, we keep away the one who could save us, yet, if we allow strangers, we allow in the one who brings danger.  Still, the worst thing we can do is to do nothing, and try to cheat destiny. We have to move forward, just as I did with the stone and you with your tasks, and hope that we each move in the right direction.” Michael’s spinning came to a stop.  A beautiful sand sculpture of a wolf stood next to the fire.

Colin stared at it wide-eyed. “How did you do that?”

“Magic.”

**********

Rafe heard voices, faint voices, which sounded as though they were coming from a long way away. He tried to open his eyes but he did not have the strength; indeed, he found he did not have the strength to care about that either. After all, he was not in pain. He could distinguish a golden voice, one of particular beauty although the words were not clear and he wondered if he were dead and lying in one of the seven heavens. Even that thought did not move him to open his eyes. 

But no, he could not be dead. Melli and Nic still needed him. That thought was enough to pierce the lassitude that filled his body and soul.

“So you are alive,” the golden voice said.

“Lord Rafael, can you drink? I have fresh water for you,” a vaguely familiar voice added. Rafe tried to answer, he really did. It took the golden voice coaxing him, “Come now, Rafael, I am sure you can lift your head for Hil, we really do need to get going, and he is lacking a hero today, though I tell him he is fully up to the task.”

Rafael opened his eyes. The owner of the familiar voice holding a goblet of water toward him was the Metamorph Nic had sent to them, Hildebran. He managed a smile and bent his head to drink.

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely. After a deep drink, he lifted his head and looked at the other man in the room; he must be the imprisoned Metamorph they had spoken of. So, was Rafe now imprisoned also?

The Metamorph with Hildebran guessed Rafe’s concern and reassured him, albeit in a heartless way. “Relax, we are free. More or less. You did appear in my humble prison cell but Hil had managed to get the key from the guard. You almost ruined our brave escape, but Hil managed to carry you while I hobbled in his wake.”

Rafe looked around. “Where are we? What is going on?”

Hildebran handed him a loaf of bread. Rafe took it, but then, taking note of the emaciated form of the flippant Metamorph, he ripped it in half and offered part of it to him.

“I am Rafael Emory and I am forever indebted to both of you for your help,” Rafe said, before bowing his head in thanksgiving to the goddess...grateful for his delivery and Melli’s escape....and the bread. He missed the bemused look on the Metamorph’s face. Hildebran did not.

“Not what you expected?” Hildebran quietly chided his nephew, bothered by his rudeness to the Prince. He tried to make up for it. “This is Ren, my nephew. He has been held by the hooded men for a long time, Lord Rafael, so you must....”

“Forgive me for my uncouth manners,” Ren smoothly interjected. “And I thank you for the offer of the bread but you need it more than I do. I know I look starved but I have eaten sufficient today. This is leftover from the feast I was brought for agreeing to betray my father. I beg that you eat all of this loaf, though I suggest you take it slowly. And if you feel up to it, we need to continue. We are still in the wretched Tower and my senses tell me that the spells are underway to bring forth the demons. I can smell the dark evil getting stronger.”

Rafe had been about to try reaching out telepathically to see if his family had found Melli, but that speech stopped him.

“What do you mean – demons? More than one demon?”

Ren laughed harshly.  It changed his beautiful voice, the noise sounding as though it came from someplace deep inside him, a dark hidden place. Rafe looked at him closely but the Metamorph was difficult to read and he felt so very weary. However had Michael handled this type of responsibility and stress for so long, from such a young age? Rafe tried to find strength from inside himself – the reservoirs of power that had never failed him before – but he came up empty. Even with the water and bread, he had nothing. No mana, no strength. He felt weaker than he had when the black poison had crept through him after the battle at the Breslin Circle. His very soul felt cold.

“There are more demons that you can imagine – and then one who is more than you ever envisioned in your worst nightmare.”

Hildebran lifted him up, and helped him stay upright.

“Ren is right,” the Starling Metamorph said apologetically. “We do need to keep moving. The hooded man who spoke with him before you arrived revealed their plan was not only to summon a very large demon. We learned that the druid who serves their leader has been practicing. He had been raising smaller demons, foul hellhounds, for weeks. He has used guards as the sacrifices, and the deaths are blamed on Metamorphs or ‘mind-twisters’, which is what has been inciting the townspeople, as well as the Councils against your kind. The plan is not to kill the Metamorphs in this battle, it is to have the demons kill all the humans in Candone, and let the Metamorphs and the King bear the blame, turning all of Terrafyn against our peoples. We need to warn your brother and the others. Can you reach him, you know, with your mind?”

They were both looking at him expectantly. Rafe shook his head. “Alas, I am depleted.” Seeing them exchange dismayed looks before nervously looking around, Rafe made up his mind. He was still able to make strategic choices even if he could not take the actions he would want to put battle plans into effect.  He shook off Hildebran’s supporting arm.

“The two of you must morph to your bird forms and get out of this Tower, without further delay. The spells my brother placed on you, Hildebran, will lead you to him or failing that, to my father or Colin.”

“We cannot leave you,” Hildebran exclaimed, shocked. He reached for Rafe again but Ren stopped him.

“Yes, Hil, we can and we must,” Ren said, respect in his eyes and his voice for the first time. “Rafael Emory, if your brother is half the hero you are, then perhaps he deserves the allegiance our people are giving him. I did not look to see self-sacrifice in a Royal.”

Rafe looked at him steadily. “Then you speak of what you do not know. My brother deserves both your respect and your allegiance.  The Metamorph Leaders would not be following him without good reason. I am willing to believe they are worthy to lead even though I have not met them, because the Leader I have met is brave and true beyond the measure of most men. I speak of the Wolf Leader Lycan, whom I am proud to call brother. But I do not have time to convince you now of Dominic’s merit as King; you must hurry to warn him. You will have the chance to judge him for yourself.”

“I will do so and hope to find him worth your words...and your courage, mind-twister,” Ren said, uncowed by Rafael’s chastisement. He shifted to his raven form, relieved to be able to do so again after so long. He circled above their heads.

Hildebran wavered. “I do not like to leave you,” he said unhappily.

Rafe smiled faintly. “You must. It is your duty to complete your mission. Find my brother...and please make sure Queen Mellisande made it safely to his care if you wish to aid me further. Thank you for your bravery in coming here. You were a great help to us. Go now with your kinsman. I am glad that you were able to find him. I will make my way out as soon as I’ve had a chance to rest. I have ways of staying hidden so you need not worry about me.”

In truth, Rafe had little hope of remaining hidden from the hooded men if they came looking for him, or from any demons – not in his current condition – but there was no need to worry the brave Metamorph. He sent Hildebran on his way with a final salute and a cocky wave, then collapsed against the wall in weary relief. His mana was still gone. He had well and truly used it up. He and Nic had always wondered if there would be a consequence of taking their level of mana too low, now he knew – the answer was yes. Michael had been known to lose consciousness when his fatigue was extreme and Colin had hinted that the Assassin had taken his mana dangerously low on some of his missions, but Rafe and Nic had always had each other’s reserves to draw upon. So they had no conception of how low was “dangerously low.”

Until now.

Rafe thought he had come near to dying before he had been teleported by some strange other power. He was not sure if it had been Benra or something or someone else. But whoever had done it, either by intent or accident, had sent him to the escaping Metamorphs. He hoped he was now close enough to the outer walls of the Tower that he would be able to get away on his own before all hell broke loose. Literally.

Resting his head against the stone wall behind him, Rafe closed his eyes. Visions of his childhood on the island, playing with Nic and Melli, running and swimming with the island children, listening to Colin’s reverent voice as he taught them their prayers, learning how to fight from Michael, and so much more passed through his mind. It had been a good childhood.

Rafe didn’t realize he had drifted into a dream-filled sleep until he woke to find himself being lifted by strong arms. It took him a moment to realize that he was no longer that small boy being carried by Colin while Michael took the more boisterous Nic up to bed – he was a man grown and in the most dangerous situation of his short, eventful life. He struggled in vain for just a moment, until a deep voice growled low in his ear.

“Keep that up and I’ll drop you on your buttocks, which I have a feeling my Cub will blame me for doing, so please cease your wiggling. If we are to escape this den of demons, we must be quiet...and swift.”

Rafe stilled at once. Lycan?

To his relief, he could feel a slight stir of his mana – he had almost feared he had forever extinguished his magical core.  Actually, there was no almost about it – he had feared it, and the faintly amused touch of his brother’s mate’s mind was a blessed relief, even if he was being chastised.

Know you many Wolves who are this familiar with your person?

The humor even at a moment like this was pure Lycan, and while it normally would irritate him, at this moment Rafe felt nothing but...a strange desire to weep, which took him by surprise and made him feel worse than his weakness of limb.

“I am...sorry,” he muttered, rubbing at his face.

“No reason to be,” Lycan said matter-of-factly, but in a lower voice than Rafe would have thought possible for the Wolf Metamorph. “You have crossed a difficult stream, as my people would say, and we are not yet to the other side. Hold onto my neck and if I need to morph, well, hold on even tighter.” 

Rafe had to ask, “Melli?”

“She is fine. Far better than you. She is safe with the second line, well behind the fighting. Now be quiet and let us get out of here. The demon scent grows too strong for my liking.”

Rafe knew he should be more concerned about allowing Nic’s bondmate to carry him like this – it was not as though he were a child – but it felt natural to just rest against that broad chest and he was so exhausted.

Rest.

It seemed like a good idea. Rafe relaxed and despite the very clear danger that still loomed over them, he fell asleep.

Lycan was glad that he did. It saved him the trouble of having to keep up any pretense that they were not in a very dangerous situation. The wolf in him was increasingly frantic to get out and run, as the scent of demon was almost overpowering. But Lycan knew that the longer Rafe slept, the sooner he would recover. He could not detect any spark of that thing they called mana when he first came upon his mate’s littermate, and had believed that he was too late. He had been picking the body up to return it to the Pack – Nic’s family – for the proper mourning and farewell. His shock when Rafael opened his eyes and moved almost did make him drop the young man! As was his way, he masked his joy and relief with gruff humor.

Lycan paused at the end of a corridor and sniffed. The closest way out also held the strongest odor of demon. But it held the scent of something else that made him growl low in his throat.

Dominic.

Lycan looked down at the young man in his arms, so like in appearance to his mate, and yet, so different. Honor demanded that he do all he could to return Rafael to safety before going to Nic’s aid, and yet....

He had to go to Nic’s aid.

“How do your people choose?” Lycan muttered to himself. At least, he thought he was muttering to himself.

Again surprising him, Rafael answered him, as he too had sensed his twin’s nearness. His voice was quiet but firm, “The King’s survival is the first duty of his Assassin...or if you prefer, his Protector. Go to him.”

“He will never forgive me if I leave you,” Lycan pointed out. “Nor is it the way of my people to leave a Pack member behind.”

Rafe managed a half-hearted grin. “Then bring me with you. Maybe the goddess will show us a solution. If nothing else, I would rather die by Nic’s side than alone in this Tower. But Nic dying without either of us is not an option.”

Lycan had not considered it that way. Saying only, “Now is the time to hold on tighter,” he changed swiftly to his wolf form. Rafe had not thought it would work all that well, hanging onto a wolf as it ran, but that was because he had forgotten just how large Lycan was in his wolf form. Far larger than an ordinary wolf.  He was able to lie along his back, and with his legs on either side, his knees pressed lightly against his flanks, and his arms wrapped tightly around the thick fur of his neck and his head pressed in the space between his ears, which were laid back – it was not a comfortable ride but it was fast and secure.  

Feeling the Metamorph slow down, Rafe raised his head, and felt as though his heart would stop. Lycan had successfully found his way back out of the Tower through a side exit and run past the mutilated bodies of dozens of guards. Those broken, bloodied bodies had been a blur to Rafe as he clung to Lycan, the smell being the primary sensation that told him something horribly wrong was taking place.

It was not until they rounded the corner of the Tower and came within sight of the front of the Council House that the full horror struck him. Nothing but a field of dead bodies lay in front of the building, and on its steps stood a huge black Hellhound; it was easily the size of a standing stone.  The foul creature was laughing  as it looked down at its remaining opponent.

Dominic.

Rafael saw his twin struggle to get up from the ground, the white horse presently galloping away from him told the story of how he had ended up there, alone and in such a vulnerable position.

Rafael jumped from Lycan’s back. “Go to him, quickly,” he urged. “I will summon the others.”

“They will not come,” Lycan said grimly, already in his man form. He pointed.

On the hillside that led from the City’s gated wall, they could see Colin’s distinctive robed figure standing on the wall that encircled the City, arms raised, attempting to draw an army of large hellhounds away from the city to where the Metamorph forces waited to fight them. Ran’s bird Metamorphs could be seen circling around the opposite side of the city, where another onslaught of demons was headed. Michael on his black horse was heading in that direction to lead the defense of the harbor. Nic was alone – but for them.

Rafe turned to Lycan. “Stop wasting time! Go to him, run!”

Lycan did not need to be told again.  He was already heading straight for the Demon, who had struck at Nic and had him pinned to the ground.

Rafe looked on helplessly. But then, an idea came to him as he clutched the pendant he wore, the pendant he’d kept since childhood. He knew that Nic would be wearing its counterpart as well, despite the major change in his life since bonding with Lycan. Their pendants never came off. With a grim smile, Rafe spoke the words of an incantation taught to him by Colin years before, for use only in an emergency, and only under very limited circumstances..

Before the Demon could smite Nic, he disappeared from the spot on the tower steps. The Demon ended up striking the stone, the force of the blow causing a deep chasm to open in it.

**********

Michael, we need to focus.

Colin tried to get Michael’s attention, while his own was torn in twenty different directions. Michael had been about to head after Dominic when the message from Hildebran and Ren reached them –  all of five minutes before the onslaught of demons began.

Those five minutes were crucial, as it gave them some time to reassemble their troops into a fighting force. From celebrating an “easy” victory one moment, they had to switch to fighting for their lives the next. And not just their lives. Part of the change involved making the mental adjustment needed  in order to start defending the very people against whom they had to fight for their right to exist a bare hour before.

Without the intervention of the Telepaths and Metamorphs, the hellhounds would slaughter every man, woman and child in the city. Colin and Michael used their advance warning, slight as it was, to confer with Ran, Beren and Elkind and formulate a plan. First of all, it was agreed – they would defend the humans. To do otherwise would be an affront to the goddess as it would be tantamount to offering human sacrifice to the demons, Colin had argued passionately when it was suggested by Elkind that they withdraw until the demons were done. Beren pragmatically pointed out that such well fed demons would be all the more difficult to kill, and would want something else to eat after the humans were gone. So they may as well do what was right sooner than later. So the Metamorphs agreed to save the citizens of Candone. Some more begrudgingly than others.

It was easier said than done. The Metamorphs retreated time and again as the black hounds proved difficult to fight. This was especially true since biting was ill-advised for the Metamorphs, but favored by the demons. Metamorphs fell, blood gushing from large gashes, but they continued to fight bravely, their comrades jumping in to defend their fellows.

Their Pack.

Colin took charge of the group that was nearest the Council House, telling Bran and Beren to have their people lure the demons toward the City wall, away from the humans as best they could. He instructed the young Telepaths to make themselves bait and they courageously followed his orders, darting in front of the leaders of the dark horde, taunting them with their innocence and purity. Cena and Cera caused flashing stars to trail through the air behind them as they rode just ahead of the running demons, steadying their horses with their mind bond, leading the demon hounds onward.

Toward Colin.

The powerful Druid stood calmly on a turret as chaos reigned below him, his arms stretched up to the sky, where the first streaks of dawn were just peeping out from the darkness. His dark hair flowed behind him as he gathered the wind around him, swirling air currents that circled upward,  his magic crackling with force as it charged the currents above and burst into streaks of lightning, which he finally sent hurtling earthward as strong bolts – picking off the Demons, two and three at a time. As the beasts realized what was happening, they started to flee. Fleet Elk Metamorphs grouped together and cut them down, four to a hellhound, bowmen striking true until the foul beasts fell and did not get back up.

No longer serving as bait, Cera and Cena continued to play a role, watching closely to see who was in trouble and needed intervention in the form of a timely illusion. But one shrewd Demon, smarter than the others, had been watching them just as closely, and saw that they were mages, causing confusion amongst his fellow demons. One final trick that caused the demise of three hounds caused him to change course midway toward a group of Wolf Metamorphs and instead charge directly toward the two young Telepaths, who had turned their backs, already helping a different group.

But Elkind also had been watching; he had been keeping an eye on the two fair sisters throughout the day’s battles. When this danger threatened, he was ready, and the noble Metamorph Leader charged across the field in Elk form, jumping as the Hellhound was about to crush Cena with his large clawed hoof. The Hound whirled around and the two creatures twisted on the ground, jaws closing on flesh, mighty hooves slamming down but no match for the wicked claws that ripped through skin.

“No!” Cena screamed, and she and her sister sent a psychic blast at the evil creature that was killing the Metamorph who had been so protective of them, so like a father. The hellhound flew back from Elkind’s body and lay smoking on the ground. The smell of sulfur filled the air.

But Elkind lay still, his bloody form still.

Colin, oh no, Colin, we need help here! The Elk Leader, Elkind....we fear....we fear....

Cena could not finish the thought. Colin tried to send a comforting thought to her but he did not have one.

Goddess, no, is this when it comes, he wondered, his mind still caught up in the dozen tragedies he was trying to prevent. He wanted to do something, to stop what he feared was going to happen, but he also wanted to help Michael, to go to the twins, to help Michael, to go to Melli....

To help Michael.

As Colin worked feverishly to defeat the demons and save as many of their allies as he could, part of his mind watched the tragedy unfold that he had foreseen on their voyage to rescue Rafe and Melli.

The boy Keir, the newest and youngest of the Telepaths they had brought with them, was running to the girls’ aid, as another hellhound headed over to finish what the first had started. Keir had been helping Eamon lob boulders at the fearsome creatures, but Eamon had left to help Michael down by the harbor. Before leaving, the older boy had told Keir to continue to help by taking the injured to the medical area – but only if he could do it in safety. This he had been doing, more or less safely, until he saw Elkind’s rescue of the girls, and then he saw the new danger threaten them.

Keir knew that Lord Michael did not quite trust him, but had given him this chance anyway. And more than anything, he wanted to prove himself worthy of that trust. He felt guilty because he had been so relieved to be rescued by Nic and Rafe. When everything had seemed so desperate, those two laughing young men made even the scariest of situations seem like an adventure. But then when he arrived at that wondrous island, brought the final leg of the journey by the serious redhead, Fen, while the twins led their pursuers away from them, there had been so much worry when the two laughing young men did not soon join them. Keir felt as though everything that followed that fateful night was his fault, even though Lord Colin said he was not to blame – destiny had her plan long before he was ever born, Lord Colin told him.

But Lord Michael still looked at him sternly.

Until that day he danced on the wind – then he had smiled at Keir and even ruffled his hair later and told him all would be well. And Keir had understood why the others loved Lord Michael so. For the first time, when on the ship, Keir had felt he belonged to something grand and important, and that being a Telepath was a very good thing. And he was proud that he had power that the others were impressed by. Finally, he had learned to be proud that he could do the things he could do with the power of his mind.

And he could help people with his power. Seeing the large black hellhound threatening the two girls who were his friends as they cried over Elkind, Keir did not think twice. He ran to help.

I will keep the beast away while you move the Elk Leader to a safer place, Keir told them confidently. Cena and Cera did not look to see who had answered their plea for help. They did not recognize the ‘voice’ that answered their call but it sounded strong so they did not hesitate. They used telekinesis to move Elkind gently while keeping a protective shield around him. They did not look back to see that they were leaving young Keir behind to face a hellhound on his own.

Keir, quick to learn, reinforced the telekinetic shield the sisters had placed in their wake so that the beast was discouraged from following them.

“You will have to deal with me,” he taunted the creature.

It was perplexed by the shield but soon enough decided to go after the closer prey.  Keir was not skilled at illusions but he was excellent at telekinesis and as long as he had mana, he did wonderfully well against the beast – far better than any thirteen year old could be expected to do. As well as Nic or Rafe themselves would have done at that age, certainly, lending credence to the belief that he was indeed of royal blood.

But, Keir’s skills were mainly defensive, and eventually his mana ran out. No one was near to see his brave stand; this part of the battle had been nearing its end as Colin had been swiftly vanquishing the foes, and the Metamorphs had been returning to the medical area with their wounded. The small Telepath fighting his solitary battle went unnoticed by all but Colin, whose sense of urgency was unrequited even as he “saw” through his mental link with Melli that the girls had made it to the medical area with an Elkind who barely clung to life.

Colin called Thunderfall to him and rushed to the area where he sensed the child Keir. With a blast of lightning, he killed the beast that stood over the child. 

Colin jumped off Thunderfall and knelt on the bloodied ground. A huge gash practically split the child’s body in two. He would be gone in a moment but for yet a moment, lived. Colin touched his head, and sought to ease his pain.

My child, Keir....I am here with you....

Did you see, Colin? ....I helped....

Yes...I did see. You saved Cena and Cera, and Leader Elkind. You are a hero.

Tell...tell... Lord Michael will you?

He knows, and honors you, Keir. The goddess bless you, son.

A beautiful smile came over the child’s face as Michael’s “voice” was heard in both his mind and Colin’s. Colin could barely see for the tears that overflowed from his eyes but he knew that he had to keep going. This bloody field was done but there was more to finish.

Michael? Your fight?

I have finished here for now. I tried to get to the child, Colin. I am sorry I could not. But I must now go to my other sons if we are not to have more deaths. Lycan fights the large beast alone.  Nic and Rafe are together but Lycan cannot fight for long so they will try to join him. Once you take the child to Melli, I think you must see to healing or our losses will be heavy, too heavy, among our allies. If I need you – I will call you.

I am trusting you to do that, Colin warned him, his heart longing to be by Michael’s side.

I love you, was the answer he got. Colin suspected Michael was giving him this reprieve from the fighting because he knew how soulsick Colin felt. Once he arrived at the medical area, he knew that he would not be leaving unless the need were dire. The casualties were high and the injuries were serious. With a prayer to the goddess, he laid the child Keir’s body down with the dead to be properly prepared later, and turned his attention to those whose need was most urgent.

**********

The battle by the harbor was bloody. Bran and Beren stood back to back, members of their Pack and Slough at their sides, as they fought the hellhounds with maces and pikes, with those skilled with bows and slingshots perched on nearby roofs to harass and distract the hounds. Donal held a similar post, retrieving arrows and stones for the Metamorphs and lobbing larger stones. He cleverly made it appear that they were coming from the opposite direction so that the hounds did not head toward them but stayed confused as to where the aerial attacks were coming from.

The Hounds were powerfully strong and their bite so poisonous that fighting them was extremely difficult. The Wolf and Bear Metamorphs were the most successful due to their size, the Dog and Deer suffering serious injuries as the black poison quickly turned injuries into fatalities.

Ran appeared on a roof near Beren. “Lord Michael is working his way over here. He says for all smaller Metamorphs to fall back toward the wall where Lord Colin is. He has a plan for these.”

Beren grunted as he ducked a blow and swung the mace he was able to hold in his bear form. His thick fur provided a measure of protection against the claws and fangs of the demons but made fighting with weapons awkward. During the journey to Candone, Nic had fashioned special handles on their usual weapons that were easier for their paws to grip and they were making all the difference in this battle. Unfortunately, most of the Metamorphs only relied on their physical strength and refused to use weapons, which put them at a major disadvantage against this foe.

The mace hit true, slamming against the demon’s head with a force that took its head from its body.  The hot black oil that served as its blood sizzled down from the opening at its neck as the creature fell over. The head sailed toward the bay where it landed with a plop and sank. A black cloud of steam rose from the water, which bubbled and hissed.

Bran glanced over. “Kind of reminds you of Ran’s spit, doesn’t it?” 

Beren choked with laughter. Ran started to make a comeback to the smart aleck Beta but another hellhound took advantage of their distraction and slashed at the laughing Bran, who was in his man form as he was using two large maces.  He staggered from the pain and the demon was quick to press the advantage, knocking him to the ground and preparing to bite down on his exposed throat.

Ran and Beren were so shocked by the suddenness of the attack that those seasoned fighters were frozen in place for the crucial seconds in which they needed to be acting.

“Heowww!!!”  Donal screamed out a battle cry as he jumped down to the ground. In a single swift telekinetic move, he raised the two dropped maces and slammed them forcefully against the hellhound’s face, sending him backward, off of Bran, which was good because the blow split the creature’s head open and splattered the vile black oily substance as it fell back, much of it falling harmlessly to the ground, but one large splash landing on Donal’s shirt, which dissolved instantly.

The small young man paled as the pain hit him. Brawny Jax morphed into his man form to catch him as he passed out. He looked at the flesh that was burning away.

“We must get him to one of their healers or this will surely kill him,” he whispered, appalled at the fragility of hairless flesh. Just then Eamon came riding up, a forcefield keeping the attacking demons away.  He saw the fallen Bran and the small body Jax held and his heart sank. He sent a message to Michael as he jumped from his mount and bowed to Ran as Leader.

“Lord Michael instructs me to take Bran to the healing area at once, Master Ran, unless you request differently, as well as Donal – he is, he is alive, is he not?” The young man’s voice shook slightly but none of the Metamorphs faulted him for that.

Ran told him, “The boy should go first. Bran will survive, though he will need care soon, as well Beren. Take the boy on your horse and if you can come back and perhaps bring another with a horse who will bear a Metamorph, that would be good. The poison is in all of them, but this young one saved Bran, and we would grieve as your people will if his brave action should cost his life.”

“Michael is headed here now to....”

“I will help Donal now. Take Bran, Eamon, thank you and be careful.”

Michael suddenly appeared on Winddancer. Before any of them could blink, Beren and Bran were on the two horses and whisked away, with only the young Telepath Eamon leading them, though Ran sent an Eagle Metamorph to escort them. Ran was frankly astonished to see the horses bear the injured Metamorphs, who bore the stench of demon blood. That smell was evil to all living creatures but all four-legged creatures were especially sensitive to it.

What came next was even more amazing. In the middle of the bloody field, the man the First Kingdom had known as “The Assassin” took the mortally injured Telepath boy in his arms, and raised him to the sun, and then....

And then...Ran was not quite sure what happened next. The world seemed to spin, or perhaps it was Ran himself who did, but when he regained his equilibrium, he was conscious of Michael calling to him quietly.

“Master Ran, Raven Master....”

Ran ruffled his shirt and blinked. The demon bodies were gone from the immediate area and the noise of the battle had receded. Michael was holding the boy Donal out to him. The two horses stood near, Winddancer as well as the horse the other young Telepath, Eamon had been using.

“The horses are back? How? Why...”

Michael’s eyes held great sadness. “I did not want to lose two on this day – even one was too many. Nor did I want to see brave Bran and Beren perish. But I must leave now. This battle is done. Would you take Donal to the healing area? He must rest now. Colin could use your help and I believe your son awaits you there.”

“I will of course take him. And I would like to see Ren. Are you sure you do not need me to continue?”

Michael smiled faintly. “I think there is nothing more important for you to be doing now than seeing the son who has been denied to you for five years. Thank you for taking Donal. Cimarron will carry both of you.”

Ran accepted Donal’s slight weight. “Be careful Dance Master.”

Michael nodded but Ran did not see it; Michael was already riding the wind on his way to his sons.

**********

“What in the three Kingdoms....!” Nic yelled.  Then looked at his brother from where he found himself, flat on his back on the ground, a few feet from the Tower wall, a couple hundred feet or so from the step of the Council House where he had been a moment before. 

“Rafe?” Nic breathed the name.  He scrambled to his knees and crawled over to his twin to hug him, crushing him tightly.

“How did you just do that, where have you been, what just happened, where is....?” Nic paused his stream of questions to turn his head and look toward the step again where Lycan had just engaged the large Hellhound.

“Oh dear goddess. That’s Lyc! He’s going to get killed!” Nic looked at his brother, a dawning awareness lighting his eyes. “The pendants. Why did I not think of them? Use yours to go to Melli now and....”

Rafe was shaking his head. “No, I will not leave you or your Bondmate! Let us go to him. I am feeling much better,” he said bravely, getting to his feet. He did feel better – at least two steps removed from death, he decided. Nic eyed him doubtfully, then glanced toward the combatants.

“We have no time to argue. Try to reach Michael or Colin, though I suspect they have their hands full.  I must join Lycan – if I fall, you must survive. Surely you thought of that? Unless you had time to ensure the next generation of Emorys during your captivity?” Grinning, Nic waved and ran back toward Lycan.

I love you brother – and thank you for the save, you may well have changed my destined death.

If you could only be serious, Rafe replied.

Oh, I can be, as in now. Your duty is to leave... and I command it as your King and as your elder brother, Nic told him. The brothers knew the seriousness of those words. They knew the significance words like those had played in their personal history when their uncle commanded their father to take them with him instead of sending them with their mother to seek refuge with Colin on that fateful day when destiny brought their world crashing around them.

Rafael knew better than to disobey a direct order from his brother when it was given in that manner...but he disobeyed anyway.  He told himself he would just wait and watch, in case Nic were in desperate straits again. Rafe was still very weak but his mana was slowly returning and he might be able to help in some way by watching the creature, give some idea of how to defeat it.

By the goddess, it was huge.

Nic was having the same thought. He ran up next to Lycan, who was dodging the creature’s large paw, and Nic took the opportunity to slash at the paw with his sword. A black oily substance spurted with a hiss. Lycan’s agility enabled him to dodge the evil sludge. Nic wrinkled his nose at the smell which was enough to make him gag. 

“Good to see you, Wolf,” Nic gasped as he jumped over the swinging tail of the beast as it whirled around.

The Wolf did not banter. It growled menacingly, whether at the Demon or at its stupidly flippant mate, its stupid mate was not sure, but Nic decided perhaps he should forego the cheerful banter. He felt magic swirl around them and knew that Rafe was helping, casting a slowing spell at their foe. It enabled him to strike it several more times.

“I appreciate your help, but you cannot do much without risking yourself,” he told Lycan, between panting breaths. “You cannot use tooth or claw. A better aid would be if you can fight with a sword; you could  borrow my brother’s, or if you cannot, make him go back to the medical area and get my father. You should have allowed me to make you a special weapon as I did for Beren’s men.”

Lycan was already feeling the frustration of being unable to use his best weapons against this foe. He was able to distract it from attacking Nic, but it was a lot of effort for little gain. His strength would be better spent given to Rafael, he realized with dismay. His mate’s brother could better defend him with magic if he only had the strength, which Lycan could give him. Lycan’s strength was useless against this foul demon.

Stay safe until I make him strong?

Nic was distracted. Wolf, what are you doing? 

Lycan threw a body block against the beast as it tried to dive against Nic, who had turned toward his mate. The wolf and beast rolled, and then Lycan fell into the chasm caused by the beast’s earlier blow against the stone.

“No!” Nic yelled, using his telekinetic power to force the beast back from following Lycan. The force it required took a great deal of power, the strength of the beast being so strong that Nic was once more forced to his knees.  Suddenly, he crumpled down.

Rafael, from his point on the hill was ready to follow, still staggering a bit, when a smooth voice behind him said, “I think you should sit this one out.”

And everything went dark.

**********

Once he was close to the Council House, Michael used Dominic’s pendant to locate him so he could teleport directly to his side. His knowledge of Melli’s visions had prepared him for the sight of Dominic’s crumpled form on the steps. Michael raised his sword as he ran up, the hood of his cloak still around his head. He stopped as he saw another figure run up and start fighting the Demon in earnest.

Could it be Rafael, he wondered, watching the slim figure fence with the huge beast. But no, he knew his sons and this was not his son who fought so fiercely over Nic’s body. Lycan could be seen crawling out of the hole in the stone and the sight made the man stumble, giving the beast the opening it sought, sore wounded though it was. It swiped at the unsteady fighter.

And Michael moved through the air with unworldly speed, reaching out just in time to jerk the fencer away from the beast.  He glanced down at the face but to his amazement, found himself looking at his own face.

Never knew you were so handsome?  The voice was cocky, brash, and yet hauntingly familiar.

I know you, Michael said, wonderingly.

No, actually, you never really did, was the reply, with a note of genuine sadness.  You do not have time for this, Dancer, focus on the fight or I am afraid your sons will die, and worse, so will I. 

Michael brought his concentration back to where it belonged.  He eyed the beast and forced it to look at him even as he sent telepathic messages to his sons.

Dominic, take Lycan and move away.  Rafael is still near, go to him and wait for me.

Michael moved away from the unknown but familiar man and away from his son and his son’s mate, his body swaying, his hand moving his sword through the air in wide arcs that had nothing to do with fencing. He kept his eyes on the monstrously large Hellhound and it was unable to look away from him.

Nic could not say how it was that Michael moved; he only knew that one moment, Michael was there, between him and the Hellhound that was as large as a standing stone, and the next moment he and the Demon were not. Nic had been trying to watch as he tugged on his exhausted mate to drag him away from the Council House, to the Tower wall where Rafael’s slumped form could be seen. But Michael’s movements somehow got faster and became such that Nic could not see them, he only could feel them all around, like a protective covering, shielding him, his brother and his mate. That other person, the one who seemed to have his father’s face one moment and his own face the next, slipped out from under the protection and scurried away. Almost like a black cat, Nic thought sleepily.

Nic felt so very tired. With a sharp crack, there was a burst of acrid smoke and the huge beast was gone.

“Where did it go?” Rafael asked, leaning against Nic as he struggled to sit up. 

“The Dance Master cast it to oblivion,” Lycan murmured, and made the sign of the moon. “The goddess be praised. Let us go to him. There is much work to be done.”

“We are too tired.” Nic started to explain that they were too worn out to work any more that day, now that the great danger was gone, but he found to his amazement that his fatigue was gone.

Michael was running toward them as though filled with energy and Nic thought that he could do the same. He looked at Lycan with wondering eyes. His mate opened his arms and Nic walked into them while Michael closed his arms tightly around Rafe.

Michael looked over Rafe’s shoulder at Nic and could see the questions in his son’s beautiful eyes. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“Let’s return to Colin and assist in the healing before we start with all the questions and answers that must be shared. We have sustained sad losses today, sons, and the injuries are grievous, so the losses might still go higher. But for the bravery of some, including you three, the day’s losses might have been much worse, so we have much to celebrate. Still, we must first allow our grief its proper time.”

Nic’s face looked tragically young as he looked across the blood soaked field that stretched for leagues in front of him.

“I actually thought, for a short while, that all would be won without any deaths today,” he confessed in a quiet voice. “But to think that all this bloodshed had to happen before it was all done, it is grievous indeed.  I am glad it is over.”

Michael looked at him sadly. “It is not over, Dominic. This was only the very beginning. Come now, let us attend to the injured and assess the damage.”

Michael summoned the horses, just Winddancer and Ice for now. Rafe rode with him while Ice accepted Lycan and Nic on his back for the short ride to the medical area, where they joined with Melli and Colin in a subdued, but joyful reunion. There would be time for grief later, over Keir’s death, and Elkind’s too, and weeping over Bran and Donal’s injuries, as they prayed for their survival, but in this first aftermath, the survivors rejoiced, as survivors must, that they and their beloved ones lived and could hold each other close.

Wolf, I am cold.

I will warm you, Cub.

I know. But it will take a long time tonight.

We have the time.  

We are the lucky ones then. I thought you lost.

The Wolf tightened his hold on his Cub.

You will never lose me, Cub. I am your Wolf.

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