Wolf’s Cub

Chapter 3

The twins had been arguing – a daily event during their childhood – but this particular time it was over what type of power was “best.”  Rafael contended that the Second Kingdom’s traditional expertise at telekinesis was most practical, and Rafael was always a very practical person. Dominic claimed that illusion and mind-reading, skills at which the First Kingdom’s telepaths excelled, were the best to have. Of course, Mellisande suspected that if Rafael’s opinion had been that the First Kingdom’s skills were best, Dominic would have used his mind-reading skills to know his brother’s preference and chosen the opposite of his twin just so there could be an argument.

When the boys decided to have a tournament to decide the victor, Melli naturally wanted to be included. They had laughed, total agreement restored between them as they hugged her and told her that she could be the judge, but that as both a girl and as a Third Kingdom telepath, there was no way she could expect to compete with them. For once, it wasn’t her surrogate father, Colin, who had championed her against the arrogant boys, but stern Michael, who still tended to frighten the small girl.  He came upon her crying and was gentle as he dried her tears and won her confidence. And it was, he decreed, not only that the tournament take place, but that all three children would compete at tasks that he would set, with Colin as judge.

None of the children could claim that the tasks were beyond their age and skill although the tournament was quite challenging.  An island offers many diverse settings for physical and intellectual tests, not to mention tests of courage and character, the latter being attributes that the contestants might not have realized were being measured, but the wise judge most certainly did. What the two boys soon discovered was that a smaller person is not always a weaker person, and a showy skill is not always the best skill for accomplishing a task.

But, the true test came when Michael, using his own powers of illusion, created a situation for each child where a choice had to be made between winning the tournament – and possibly harming an animal, or seemingly losing. Michael trusted that none of their children would place winning above each other, but he wanted to be sure that neither would they value glory over any living creature. Mellisande had no trouble passing that test, and to the relief of the two men, the twins passed as well.  

Mellisande wasn’t sure how each twin was challenged on the final test, as they were silent about it afterward. For her, the test presented her with a large, ugly dog, lamed by a leg that had an oozing sore on it. Melli was afraid of dogs, and once had complained to Colin when asked to help him care for some of the islanders whose wounds were…unpleasant in smell and appearance. She liked pretty things, which was only natural. She had a kitten as a pet, which was soft and gentle, and she disliked the loud dogs that barked and jumped and seemed so rough.

And yet, before she could move on to the prize, a golden coconut sitting on a ledge, which she had to retrieve before anyone else and take back to Colin, she could see, off along a different path, the injured dog, whimpering from pain. There were some plants growing nearby that she knew from helping Colin would be good for the wound the dog had. If she could apply a poultice, she could prevent an infection. But maybe the dog would bite her?  Maybe it would be better to wait for the test to be over and ask Colin for his help?

But the dog looked to be in a great deal of pain. Looking longingly at the shining golden coconut, which seemed to beckon to her, Melli squared her shoulders, swallowed her fear, and walked bravely down the path to the whimpering dog.  The dirty, smelly, pus oozing dog, who was hurt needed her help now, not later.  To her relief, the dog remained still, except for a slight wagging of his tail.  He permitted her to help him. To her dismay, when she looked back toward the coconut, it was gone. But there was a small platinum dog in its place, so Melli took that back to Colin.

When the “tournament” was over, and the illusion revealed, Colin had three similarly odd platinum items in his possession, and the men transformed them into permanent pendants for the children to keep and remind them of their choice, always to value life over personal glory.

It was the boys who asked impatiently, “Yes, but who won?”

Michael and Colin looked at each other and laughed. “We thought you would have realized, boys...Melli beat you both to flinders. She can teleport anywhere faster than you could run, she was able to scry and predict where hidden objects were, and she was able to use her brains far better than either of you when it came to avoiding pitfalls. You don’t need to move mountains or create brilliant illusions when you have common sense.”

The twins looked at each other and then grinned at Mellisande, saying, in unison, “Good job, Melli.”  Of course, then, before she could even bask in her victory, they asked, “So who came in second?”

Mellisande smiled as she looked back on that day. They had been all of nine and eight then. Michael had stopped taking his trips away, spending all of his time with the four of them. Colin had become much healthier without the anxiety that had worn him down when Michael used to make those trips back to the mainland alone. Only Melli saw how Colin stayed awake night after night, peering into his scrying glass, monitoring even the weather, keeping close watch over the three children by day, doing everything he could to keep his friend safe when he was away from them, and safe-guarding the precious charges left to his care by day. 

Until the time that it was Colin who needed care. Melli had been just six, too young to know how to reach Michael, yet she knew enough not to let the boys try to reach him. Her inexpert scrying was enough to reveal to her that their father was in a tense spot and could not be disturbed even telepathically. So, she did what she could with the medicinal herbs Colin had on hand, but she was never so frightened in her life. Colin was father and mother to her. She loved Rafael and Dominic, and in time, she learned to love serious Michael, but back then, she couldn’t imagine life without gentle Colin. Thank the Goddess, Michael came home in time and was able to render Colin the aid he needed to get well.

Keeping watch once more, she gazed intently into her scrying glass for news of the older men and the missing twin, while her dear Rafael meditated by the open window behind her, much as Colin and Michael often did. Melli prayed to the Goddess that all three men came home to them again. 

Suddenly, she saw a movement in the glass. The druid circle outside Breslin came into sharp focus, revealing a man running, stumbling into its sacred space. He was wearing the soft dark robes of a druid, but it was not Colin. This man had white hair, worn long, down past his shoulders.

Melli called to her friend, “Rafael, come here, quickly!” She didn’t dare take her eyes away from the vision in the glass but she could sense the twin’s presence as he joined her.  She told him what she was seeing. Rafe didn’t waste time asking pointless questions. The twins were no longer nine and they no longer undervalued the small girl from the Third Kingdom.

“What can I do to help?”

Sometimes she loved Rafe so much for his calm good sense, never more so than at times like this, when she felt like she was flying apart at the seams. His deep voice steadied her as much as his arm around her did. She put her hand to her head and focused. The man looked hurt. And cold.

“Get my medical bag. Colin’s spare cloak as well.”

Rafe disappeared for just a moment, returning swiftly. The man was still in the circle but now she could see the ominous shadows gathering around the outside of the ring.

“We need to rescue him,” she decided. “The magic of the stones will only protect him for so long. If his enemies are strong, they will be able to break through soon, especially with his obviously weakened state. Let us go to our circle, I can teleport us from there.”

Melli was the strongest teleporter next to Colin, although Rafe was stronger at it than Nic. She would be able to get them there most quickly, and more importantly, return them home with a possibly injured man. That went without saying as far as she was concerned – but this time, Rafe did pause to question.

“Do you think it is wise to bring someone back here? With Michael and Colin both away? Especially an adult. We are never to reveal the island to outsiders, Melli! Not without specific consent. You know that as well as I do.”

Melli’s gentle nature was not prone to temper but it did flare on occasion, as it did now. Her blue eyes flashed at him as she threw on her cloak. She grabbed her bag from his hands as she hurried from the room. She continued the discussion on the run. “Rafael Emory! There is a hurt man, a druid, seeking sanctuary within one of the sacred stone rings? We must bring him to a safe haven! It is our duty! Do you have any other solution but to bring him here?”

Rafael kept pace with her, his mind frantically trying to come up with some alternative plan he could suggest. He knew what his father would say –  caution first. They’d just received the barest of telepathic messages from Colin and Michael letting them know that all was well for now. Unfortunately, they were going to be delayed returning while they “discussed” the situation with the Metamorphs, who were apparently allies in some fashion. Dominic had sent an even briefer message.  He was still weak, and Rafe was not satisfied that all was completely well with his twin.

And now he had Melli to worry about! She pulled herself free when he grabbed her arm to get her to stop and listen to him.  She looked over her shoulder impatiently as she quickened her pace.

“I’m going, Rafe! Are you coming with me or not?”

Put like that, he had no choice. Reaching the ground in front of Colin’s tower, they broke into a run towards the circle. Rafe concentrated on sending an urgent message to his father. Passing Fen on the way to the stones, he yelled to him, telling that shocked young man that he was in charge of the island for the time being.

Rafe hoped that someone older than fifteen made it back sooner than later.

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

Lycan smoothly made the transition back from his wolf form after returning to the boy. He really should stop thinking of him as a boy, he acknowledged to himself if not to anyone else. He recalled with pride how Nic had boldly taken his position in the front row, right next to Lycan. Nic’s brilliant eyes had challenged anyone to dispute his right to stand next to their leader but no one had done so, not even Lycan, although he’d worried that the cub hadn’t fully recovered from his exhaustion of the night before.  As they’d faced the seemingly overwhelming odds, Dominic had stood fearlessly between Lycan and Bran, his hands shimmering with magic.

There had been a great deal of magic in the air. Lycan had sensed it even before he saw its effect on the humans opposing them. He had been amazed, wondering if it was all the doing of the young man to his right. In answer to Bran’s query, Nic had shaken his head.  There had been relief in Nic’s voice as he said, “No, it’s not just me. Thank the Goddess, my allies have come.”

Seeing the results of their assistance, Lycan and Bran were glad that such assistance had taken their side and not that of the guards.  They could not fully see what had the humans so terrified, but looking around at their pack, they had a sense of how their appearance had changed. Lycan was also fairly sure that weather that targeted only their foes was not a natural occurrence.

“So, where are these allies of yours?” Lycan asked Nic, as he walked back from putting an end to that guard who had thought to put an arrow into his cub. Last idea that coward would ever have, Lycan thought, satisfied.

Nic held up his hand to shield his eyes from the sun, which shone brightly overhead now that the storm Colin had summoned was gone. He pointed, and was unable to keep the happy grin from his face.

“They are over there. Look, they are joining us now. Can you wipe away some of that blood from your mouth? It probably won’t bother Michael but Colin is really a very peaceable man.”

Lycan snorted. So much for saving the boy’s life. If his “allies” could not appreciate blood being shed for such a reason, he was ready to say they were not much of allies. The words did not get past his lips, as he took in the remarkable resemblance between Nic and the man who was opening his arms to pull him close to him. Except for their eyes. The man had eyes the color of the leaves in spring. Lycan’s keen hearing picked up references to Rafe – ah, the brother. He was safe at home, the man who looked like his cub was telling him as he hugged him so tightly. And Lycan was glad for the happiness he saw it bring to the boy’s face.

The taller man, also with dark hair, but with eyes the color of a cloudy sky, walked up to Lycan, his hand outstretched, palm up, in greeting.

“Thank you for aiding our Dominic. We are greatly in your debt. I am Colin Allym, Druid of the House of Dyad, of the Third Kingdom, and this is Michael Emory, Third Son of King Jerad, Assassin to King Adam, of the First Kingdom. We are yours to command.”

Colin then bowed low before Lycan. The other man, Michael, set Nic aside gently and he too bowed before the Leader of the Wolves.

“You have my deepest gratitude for your services to my son,” Michael said, his deep voice at its most solemn. Dominic was pleased, but also surprised by the honor Michael and Colin were showing Lycan. Not only were they giving their full names and titles, they were giving allegiance? To a Metamorph?  Something more was at stake here than he was privy to as of yet, but whatever it was, it was important. He hoped Lycan understood that, and was, well, polite.

Lycan did sense, whether from the pleased shock on Dominic’s face, or from the air of solemnity emanating from the two mind-twisters, that they were honoring him to an unusual degree for their kind. His kind did not bow except in defeat, but he went so far as to nod his head in acceptance of their introductions. He extended his hand and touched open palms with Colin, and then Michael. 

“I’m called Lycan. This is my pack,” he said simply, gesturing in the general direction of the other wolfmen. There really wasn’t any need to say anything more. Not any reason to say that much, to his way of thinking, but these mind-twisters seemed to like their rituals. Indeed, the one called Michael, who looked so much like his cub but for those leaf colored eyes, also seemed to think matters wrapped up quite satisfactorily. He turned toward his son.

“Dominic, please, thank your friend and anyone else you should, and ready yourself to leave,” Michael said briskly.

Lycan growled low in his throat. Nic put a calming hand on the large man’s arm as he said to his father, “Michael! I cannot leave just like that! Not right after a battle, especially not one fought for my sake! Some of Lycan’s men may need healing.”

Michael looked over the field of battle, where Lycan’s pack was harrying the guards in their retreat. He raised an eyebrow, his skepticism plain. In much the same manner that Nic had sought to sooth Lycan, Colin put his hand on Michael’s arm and the two men exchanged glances.  After a moment’s silent communication, Michael turned back to his son and the Metamorph.

“Would it be possible to talk somewhere more private? Colin can assist with any healing that may be needed, although I don’t believe your men sustained any injuries, Lycan. They’re a tough looking group. But certainly, we should make sure of that.  Before we take Dominic home.”

Lycan was not pleased with this turn of events but saw no way around it. What had he expected? That the young mind-twister would join his pack?  He was about to tell them to leave, there was certainly no need for them to help heal his wolves, the idea was laughable, when he felt Bran’s hand on his other arm, the one not already grasped by the Pup.

“Of course we’ll share a drink with our new friends, Lycan. The battle is over, victory won, and there is reason to be glad. The men are in the mood for a celebration. We were ready to die for you and your Pup – it is much better to share a drink in victory, don’t you agree?”

Dominic smiled cheerfully. “Michael, Colin, this is Bran, Lycan’s second in command. He is the man whom Rafe and I badly injured quite unintentionally–well, I mean, we injured him intentionally but the badly part was unintentional.”

Michael looked at Colin and sighed, murmuring under his breath, “Are we sure he’s the older twin?”  Turning to Bran, he smiled charmingly, which he was quite good at doing when he wanted to, Colin reflected; Michael said aloud as he clasped Bran’s palm, “Bran, it is a pleasure to meet you. I must say,  either you have remarkable powers of recovery or my son overestimates his abilities to injure.”

Bran laughed heartily.  “I cannot take credit for my condition. It was all your son’s doing. I was in bad shape last night. And that was your son’s doing too. Or I guess both sons’ doing. You have another one, looks just like this one, don’t you?”

Michael smiled again and nodded encouragingly, allowing Bran to take him by the arm and lead him away as he told the story of the twins’ adventures, starting with their entry into the tavern. Colin and Dominic were both surprised by this friendly side of the former King’s Assassin.  Lycan merely shrugged and asked, “Are you coming?” 

Colin looked after Michael, who was several meters away already.  He said to Dominic, “You are going to be in such trouble, you know. Rafael and I were very careful to edit the version of your adventure we let your father hear.”

Dominic paled while Lycan grinned. Nic punched the Wolf in the arm, and it was a toss-up who was more surprised, Colin thought, the pack Leader or the members of the pack who saw such familiarity toward their leader from a relative youngster.

“Don’t laugh! He won’t be mad at just me if Bran talks too much, you know. And you might think he’s just some small human – that would be a miscalculation on your part. That army was largely defeated by his magic, Colin and I just added some frills, and your pack just got to feast on the bones,” Nic snapped.

Colin was interested in the Metamorph’s reaction to that mostly accurate description of the battle. Many men would bluster and insist on touting the part they had played in a victory. Certainly many big men would have trouble seeing the power that could be wielded by a small man such as Michael appeared to be. Not so this Lycan. He listened to Dominic’s words, and then watched Michael closely, examining him, checking to see what he might have missed before. He then turned toward Colin.

“You are his consort?”  He indicated Michael with a toss of his chin. Colin flushed.

“No. We are....” He looked helplessly at Dominic, who was grinning mischievously at the druid. Taking a deep breath, Colin said in his most dignified manner, “We are good friends. Much like you and Bran. We have been through many trials together, not least of which has been raising this one and his brother to adulthood.”

Lycan feigned surprise. “He is an adult in the eyes of your kind?”

Colin laughed at Dominic’s chagrined face. “Well, sometimes.” 

Just then, Michael bellowed from within the cavern, “Dominic!”

Dominic’s expression was very much the same as it had been when he was five and needed Colin to run interference for him.  “I think Bran just got to the part in the tavern. Maybe I should....”

Lycan grinned and grabbed him firmly by his arm.  “I think you should explain to your father your idea of how to distract the Authority’s guards. I think he should hear all about it.”

“You wouldn’t if you knew him,” Nic mumbled, causing Colin to laugh.  

“So, what type of beverage do you enjoy after a battle?” he asked the Wolf Leader, hoping it was something that would mellow Michael’s mood.

The three of them entered together and Colin could tell from Michael’s expression that he was torn between amusement, disbelief, and outrage. He could see Michael eying the size of the strange man whom his elder son had basically propositioned, a man completely unknown to the outrageous boy except for that intimidating size, and Colin was amused to see that it was the disbelief that was winning on the father’s face.

Lycan certainly was a very large man, although no one could accuse him of having an ounce of fat on him, Colin noted, and he was something of a student of anatomy. The Metamorph was easily over two meters tall in his human form, with broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist, and muscular buttocks and thighs. He must have presented quite a mouthful, Colin’s wayward mind suggested. When he saw both Michael’s and Dominic’s faces flame bright red, he realized, to his shame, that his thoughts must have projected into the room for them to read.

How embarrassing.

‘Do you think so?’ came Michael’s thought – it was always easy to recognize Michael’s mind. Colin never knew anyone else who could imbue that much sarcasm into his thoughts – while the ‘Can you two change the topic please?’– was definitely Nic. There was a shade of mischievous pride mixed in with the mortifying awareness that his two parental figures were now privy to his sex life.

‘What in the Three Kingdoms does he have to be proud about?’ Michael asked Colin telepathically.

To which Colin couldn’t resist responding, ‘I’d say, as a conservative estimate, about ten inches, and his apparent lack of a gag reflex.’

Fortunately, before their private conversation could devolve any further, Colin was distracted by the badly injured Metamorph lying on a pallet in a corner of the lair. Excusing himself to their host, he asked permission to see if he could do anything to help the wolf, who was close to death.

Dominic and the two Metamorphs looked at each other. None of the other wolfmen seemed to be giving this wolf any attention, which surprised Colin, as he knew the wolves to be very caring toward their pack. Despite the excitement over the victory, he would have expected an injured wolf to be cared for.

“Michael...can you assist me?” Colin’s voice was sharp; he hated cruelty of any type. Michael looked at Lycan and when the large man did not seem to object, he went to join Colin. Michael would have done what Colin wanted in any event but he wanted to see what they might be up against, especially since Dominic seemed so fond of this Metamorph.

“Please, see what you can discover. I sense far more than physical injuries here, though those are serious,” Colin said in a low voice as he began to apply some salves to the worst of the bites. Curious, Michael placed his hands on the wolf. After a moment, he glanced at Colin, and said, his tone very serious, “Move away for a moment, Colin. Dominic, step back to at least twenty paces away please.”

Surprised but taught never to question his father, Nic did just that. Bran looked at him questioningly but Nic shook his head, motioning for him and Lycan to be quiet. Michael closed his eyes and remained very still, both hands on the injured wolf. A glow emanated from his hands and encircled the wolf.

Colin quietly asked Lycan, “What is his name? Speak it for Michael.”

Not understanding, but not questioning these men – yet – Lycan spoke clearly and strongly, “Chace.”

Michael nodded and began to chant in a language the wolfmen did not understand, although they could distinguish Chace’s name every now and then. Slowly, they saw Chace’s wounds close up, but more astonishingly, they saw a blackness leave his body, tainting the light that formed between it and Michael’s hands. As Michael raised his hands, his voice growing stronger, the black film tugged, almost as though it didn’t want to let go, but finally it left the Metamorph. It still clung to the light that came from Michael.

Colin moved forward then to Michael’s back, though he sharply told Dominic to stay with Lycan. He added his voice to the chanting, putting his hands together with Michael’s, his tenor joining in perfect harmony with Michael’s baritone, combating the black web until it dispelled completely into nothingness. Michael sagged then, exhausted into Colin’s arms.

“Now, Dominic, bring your father bread, and wine if they have it, or other beverage if they don’t,” Colin calmly instructed. “Give Chace water only for now, but plenty of that. He’s had a poison of the spirit.”

“Will father be okay?” Dominic asked, holding the cup that Lycan handed him to Michael’s lips, his worry making his voice break. 

“May I carry him to a more comfortable spot?” Lycan asked, his voice low. He did not know what to make of these strange men. Like the boy, they were willing to exhaust their strength for a member of his pack – that made them pack to him. They may not know it, but Lycan would now defend any one of them to the death, as would each member of his pack.

“Yes, thank you,” Colin said tiredly. He smoothed Michael’s hair back from his brow, Michael wrinkled his nose at the tender gesture but then gave Colin and Dominic a half smile before letting himself be helped up by the big wolfman.  Leaning back against cushions as he sipped at a delicious fruit drink, he looked thoughtful. 

“Lycan,” he asked suddenly. “Are there any other part telepaths in your pack besides Chace?” 

Lycan and Bran looked at each other in complete shock.

Colin smiled gently at his friend. “I don’t think they knew they had any telepaths, Michael, partial or otherwise. Nor that they’ve had a ‘mind-twister’ manipulating Chace and others in their pack for some time from the looks of what we found. There was far worse damage to your pack member than the physical injuries you inflicted, Lycan. Someone tried to destroy your pack from within, and from the extent of the damage, I would guess that he or she started weeks ago.”

Michael nodded.  Before he could say more, though, Dominic and he grabbed their heads and looked at Colin with identical expressions of alarm.

“Rafe and Melli...under attack at the Breslin Druid Ring!” Dominic cried, jumping to his feet. Michael tried to stand and promptly slid to the floor in a faint.

Colin looked from one to the other and tried to decide what to do. He turned to Lycan.

“How fast can you get to Breslin, and would you and your men be able to carry either or both of them?”  He pointed to Michael and Dominic.

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

Rafe held off the black robed figures with his telekinetic force while Melli rendered aid to the old man, who seemed to be in very bad shape.  He’d been able to deflect all of their weapons so far, but his mana was getting dangerously low. Rafe's sense was that his father was involved in something equally dangerous – at least, it would be if Michael weren’t the most powerful mage alive, Rafe thought, wishing he were stronger.

Given that his magical energy was so close to exhausted, he tried to send one more message to Nic, not even words, just a mental picture of Melli and him and where they were. And that they were under attack. 

Distracted by Nic responding to his call, Rafe almost missed an arrow that was headed directly for Melli and the old man. He was able to stop it in time, but missed a second one that struck his arm.

“Rafe!” Melli cried out, seeing the black stain spreading from where the arrow entered. Poison.

“Down, Melli!” Rafe snapped, sending a blast at the creature that tried to come in through the stones closest to her.

The druid they were trying to rescue struggled to sit up. “Young man, you must....”

“Sir, rest. Our teachers will be here soon,” Rafe said as sharply as he could and still be polite as one should be to druids. He was tired, his arm was burning and Nic was screaming at him in his head.

“Let me...I must help,” the old man said, as Rafe fell to his knees, no longer able to send offensive spells but keeping a telepathic shield around the three of them. He prayed to the Goddess that his brother, Michael and Colin arrived in the next minute or he’d have to let Melli take the man to their island.

Which was forbidden. But so was dying.

The old man cast a spell, and suddenly the numb feeling disappeared from Rafe’s arm. He was able to lift it to touch Melli, keeping the other raised to cast. He had just enough mana left to assist Melli in teleporting the three of them to the island. If he waited, only two of them would be able to go.

“Take us home, Melli,” he whispered, praying it was the right choice.

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