Pack of Wolves, page 14
“Stay on it,” Cyrus whispers, his voice barely registering as pain stabs his belly like a thousand needles. “We’re moving tomorrow,” Cyrus informs his friend when he can speak without screaming, bowing his head in exhaustion. “I heard my brother arguing with Fox just after he declared his plans. We are going to the House of Piranhas.”
“Eat this,” Wren commands, unceremoniously shoving another hunk of bread between Cyrus’s teeth. “You’re in bad shape! What has your brother been doing to you?”
“I’m surviving,” Cyrus protests weakly, another pain lancing through his middle, “Though for how much longer, I cannot tell.”
“You’ll never be able to survive a long journey,” Wren chides, his hands clenching as though his strongest wish in that moment is to box Cyrus on the ears. “Is being a spy for your girl so important that you’ll die for it?”
“I’m in too deep now to quit,” Cyrus gasps, his vision blurring in agony. “Something’s wrong with me, Wren. I’m sick or dying or something.”
“Probably got an infection,” Wren diagnoses, carefully examining visible wounds that crisscross Cyrus’s arms and legs. “We need to get you out of here and properly treated. Surely Iris will understand if you get out now! I know she had her issues, but I can’t believe she’d want you to die trying to follow her wishes.”
“She doesn’t care about me,” Cyrus groans, his shoulders beginning to tremble as agony burns through his veins like a wildfire. “Anyway, there’s bigger problems right now. Did you hear me say we’re going to the House of Piranhas?”
“That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it?” Wren questions as he holds a water skin up to Cyrus’s lips. He slurps greedily from the pouch even as pain lances through his feet.
“Not like this, Wren. She’d never condone the building of a master house on a throne of genocide,” Cyrus babbles, trying to distract his mind from his feelings. “My brother is planning to battle with the House of Piranhas. Rather than persuade them to join him through diplomacy, he’s planning to take control by force. He’s going to slaughter them, Wren, I know it! This isn’t what Iris or the Ddraigs want at all!”
“Cyrus, you’ve got to calm down. We’ve got to get your fever under control!” Wren hisses, brushing the sweating temples of his former leader.
“She wanted a master house built by the people, to unify them under a common goal. And she wanted Wolf to lead them as a good and gracious king. Iris didn’t expect the people to be trampled and beaten into submission by a tyrant. She has no idea what kind of monster my brother truly is!” Cyrus’s body twitches, his head shaking violently from side to side as his fever spikes. “I blame myself for this, Wren. If only I’d told her to be careful! If only I’d trusted her when I had my chance!”
“Come on, man!” Wren slaps Cyrus hard on the cheek in an effort to get his attention. “You’ve got to help me! We need to get you out of here before your brother comes to move you!”
“Will you travel too? Or will you stay behind and live among the nameless?” Cyrus’s words slur as hallucinations begin. In the corner, he envisions the dark, twisted body of Wolf’s Vibría creature. Its eyes glow red and silver as its body weeps blood from its pores. Another wraith walks haltingly toward Wren, inching closer as though to snap his neck from behind. It sneers when it notices Cyrus’s attentions, its grimy teeth gleaming in the darkness. “No! Wren, get away!” Cyrus howls, straining against the bindings around his wrists.
Wren whirls to face the unseen danger. Cyrus watches Wren’s hands pass through the body of the phantom like he is made of shadow and mist. “What? Cyrus?” Wren hisses, confused when he finds no approaching adversary.
A giant yellow eye appears at the window. Suryc’s nostrils flare with billowing smoke, and the sight nearly sends Wren screaming out of the room. Cyrus, you have no choice in the matter. I am forcing your body to use our bond to heal. You will allow me to save you! Yet despite Suryc’s intentions, nothing manages to stave off Cyrus’s fever.
“You can’t fix it,” Cyrus mumbles, his eyes unfocused as he shudders in his chair. “I’ve been attempting to draw healing powers from you for hours, Suryc. Whatever this is, it’s beyond even you.”
“Tell that creature that I’m a friend,” Wren warns, sure that Suryc intends to cause him harm. “Tell it that I haven’t hurt you and that I am doing all I can to save you.”
“He knows,” Cyrus mutters, closing his eyes, tensing as the lids scald his achingly dry eyeballs. “Suryc would have killed you already if he thought you were a threat.” Wrenching his neck so that he can glimpse his Ddraig at the window, Cyrus wonders, “How do we fix this, Suryc?”
“I think…I think that whatever is happening to you is not a sickness at all,” Suryc answers thoughtfully, probing his connection to his Cadogan. “That’s why you don’t need to heal.”
“Then what is it?” Wren butts in, reaching a hand up to Cyrus’s forehead. “He’s burning up, and you can’t tell me that it’s just shock wearing off from whatever Wolf’s done to him.” As Cyrus’s whole body begins to quake, Wren adds, “He won’t last much longer if we don’t get that fever under control.”
“You remember how Mynah’s eyes turned white and she was declared a Gwen? I’m guessing that something similar is happening to you. You’re not ailing…you’re changing. And your body is fighting it,” Suryc announces to Cyrus, his words mixed with fear and anticipation. “Try to relax.”
Without another word, Wren carefully slinks into the kitchen and out the back door to the water trough. Thankfully, the chill in the early hour hasn’t frozen the water completely. Dipping his ragged shirt sleeve into the trough, he hurries back inside to Cyrus. Cyrus’s body jerks violently, rattling the legs of the chair across the floorboards. “Shh…shh,” Wren coos, attempting to calm him as he wipes his brow with the frigid water. “You’re going to wake up your brother with all that noise!”
“He already has,” Suryc’s deep voice rumbles through the house, vibrating the window pane closest to him. “Get out of there, friend of my Cadogan. He comes!”
“We can’t just leave him like this!” Wren balks, staring at the Ddraig exasperatedly.
“No choice,” Cyrus mumbles through teeth that are clenched so tightly Wren fears the enamel will break. “Just go!”
Wren hears the sounds of boots scraping on the floor. Not hesitating, he races out the front door toward Suryc. “You need to hide!” he cries at the Ddraig.
Without a word of warning, Suryc grabs Wren around the middle and hauls him up into the sky. They barely reach the canopy before the front door of the house creaks open. A yawning Wolf peers outside, his senses disturbed by an unrecognized noise. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he assesses his brother in the living room. “You look like hell, brother.”
“Leave me alone,” Cyrus’s voice rattles with his haggard breath. “Stay away from me.”
“Oh, believe me, the last thing I’d want to do is end your suffering,” Wolf quips as he kneels before his brother. “But having you die from a natural illness is not a part of my plans. Use my strength to heal yourself.” Wolf pushes his body’s healing energy toward his brother. To his surprise, nothing happens to speed his recovery. With a grunt of frustration, Wolf tries and fails a second time. “How are you blocking me?” he snarls, surging forward to grasp Cyrus’s throat.
Cyrus opens his eyes wide at the contact. “Your skin burns me! Get away! Get away!” He howls as he attempts to put distance between them. With only his teeth as weapons, Cyrus snaps at Wolf’s fingers, biting down hard enough to draw blood.
“You son of a bitch!” Wolf shouts, wrapping his free hand around his bleeding fingers. Jumping back from Cyrus’s body, his anger changes abruptly to fear at the sight of his brother’s face. “My gods! What’s wrong with your eyes? They’ve gone completely black!”
Wolf’s words sound small to Cyrus’s ears, his mind and body far away from his present situation. “I see you very clearly, brother mine,” Cyrus whispers, yet the voice is strangely distorted. It does not hold the same growling pitch that it normally does, and the words are spoken with an expressionless, distant tone. “Or rather, I see every lie that you’ve ever spoken. They pour out of your mouth as easily as air. Tell me, what do you intend to do when you go to the House of Piranhas?”
“Cyrus, you’re sick,” Wolf replies, his voice betraying his fright with its tremoring pitch. “Let me help you get—”
“What do you plan for the people?” Cyrus repeats, his unnervingly hollow eyes focusing intently on his brother.
“I…I am to be their king like Iris wants. I will help them fight—”
“Lies!” Cyrus howls, his voice growing in volume and pitch until it seems to rattle the very foundations of the house itself. “You are in league with the people of Déchets!”
“No, I—”
“You betray us all with your double dealings! Traitor!” Cyrus’s mouth foams white with spittle from his rage. “What have you given to our enemy?”
“I’ve only given them trivial things, just to—”
“Liar!” Cyrus cries, pounding his hands against the chair’s arms until they creak and splinter under his attack. “Every word that you speak leaves your mouth poisoned! I can see it as clearly as if you are spewing black bilge into the air. There is a cloud of oily deception pouring from you!”
“I don’t have to answer any of your questions!” Wolf growls, gripping the couch to hide the quiver of fear in his limbs.
“True enough,” Cyrus replies, his voice turning cold. “But I will make sure that everyone knows of your treachery. You’ve sold out your people. By the time I am through, all of Cassé will have a death bounty on your head!”
Wolf startles and falls to the couch, his eyes wide with fear. “Whatever you may think, everything I did was with good intentions!”
“It may have started that way, but your motives have changed. You’re setting our land up to fail, and when it does, you’re expecting high favor from the Déchets’ king.”
Cyrus shatters the legs of the already compromised chair, launching himself toward his brother until he has him cornered.
“What do you intend to do?” Wolf cowers behind the couch, watching Cyrus approach.
“You will tell me what information you have shared with the border guards!” Cyrus lifts the couch as easily as if it was formed from cottony clouds. “I will know every time you lie. You will pay for every fib you attempt.” Cyrus grabs his brother by his hair, hauling him up to standing.
Wolf, seeing an opportunity for surprise, launches himself at Cyrus. They fall to the floor in a grappling frenzy. “You will die before you get the chance to rat on me!” Wolf snarls as he wraps his arms around Cyrus’s neck.
“What good could you have done?” Cyrus wheezes, seizing an opportunity to slip through Wolf’s grasp as his hands grow slack. “How could you ever have believed that betraying your country was right?”
“I did what was necessary.” Wolf’s haunted words sound empty as he slumps down the wall until he collapses on the floor. “When I became the pack leader, I was young and stupid. I did not realize how much people depended on me to keep things in order. It was a matter of months before what little money we had was gone. The pack was in trouble. People were going mad with hunger, and we were losing key trades on Market Days. When grumbles of new leadership began to rumble through the ranks, I panicked. We’d always traveled near the Devil’s Spine to trade, and I’d gotten to know some of the border guards from Déchets. So, one night I snuck away from the pack and found a willing ear.”
“You traded Cassé secrets for money.” Cyrus finishes his brother’s explanation with a sneer. “I knew you had to be dirty dealing, but I could never figure out who it was with. I never thought you’d stoop to treachery.”
“You’ll do anything to keep your people alive.” Wolf’s hand covers his eyes with his shame.
“But it wasn’t just money, was it?” Cyrus accuses, his unnerving, black eyes carefully scrutinizing Wolf for any signs of deception.
Before Wolf has the chance to respond, a thundering crash ripples through the living room. Cyrus’s body falls limply to the floor. The clatter of a skillet echoes loudly as it hits the ground next, and a wide-eyed Jackal observes his leader’s hiding place. “What the hell happened down here?”
“My brother knows too much, Jackal,” Wolf replies, relief washing over him as he skirts around Cyrus’s body. “When we travel to the House of Piranhas, he has to be controlled at all times. Drug him until he’s unconscious. Bind him with irons. Set two guards outside, and tell them that only you and I are allowed inside.”
“Excuse me for saying it, but all this for one man that you already despise? Why not kill him outright?” Jackal counters, hoisting Cyrus’s body over his shoulder as he considers where to incarcerate him. “Is your hatred of him that strong that you must continue to torture him?”
“Just do what I command,” Wolf growls, raising a threatening hand toward Jackal. “Keep him alive but sedated. I’ll decide if and when he dies, not you.”
***
“He made it!” Suryc howls with delight as he lowers toward the rocky ground. “He’s still captured, but at least he’s alive.”
“How do you know?” Wren wonders, eyeing the steadily approaching terrain under his feet. They’ve been flying for ages, and Wren’s arms are beginning to go numb in Suryc’s clutches. “Careful! Oh gods, I don’t want to die!” Wren begs as he hoists his feet over a scraggly tree limb that reaches up as if to jerk him back to earth. “Please!”
“Such a baby!” Suryc clicks his tongue in annoyance before plopping Wren into a nearby creek. The bushes surrounding Suryc’s dark form shiver with his laughter as Wren sputters out of the water. “Not very adventurous, are you?”
“I prefer the shadows,” Wren replies as he flicks droplets of water at Suryc, his boots squelching with every step up the bank. “Where are you taking me? And what happened to Cyrus? We should be getting back to him, don’t you think?”
“They are two sides of the same coin,” Suryc muses cryptically, drawing strange symbols in the dirt with his huge, sharp claws. “Iris and Siri—creatures of the purest white and lovers of truth. Iris’s desire for veracity is so strong that she’s a Gwen. She will be a powerful truth reader once she’s fully trained. Then there’s Cyrus and myself—creatures of the darkest black, haters of deception. It’s only fitting that Cyrus should become an Asíle. Poetic, really. The Gwen and the Asíle, the truth reader and the deception seeker.”
“I don’t understand any of that,” Wren confesses, carefully turning his head from side to side to observe his strange surroundings. “And where are we, exactly? Nothing about this place looks familiar to me.”
“It seems that there is much you have missed by living your life in the shadows,” Suryc announces, briefly explaining recent events to Wren. As he finishes his tale, Wren sinks to his knees under the weight of all he’s learned. “Now, Cyrus has become an Asíle—a Cadogan who can always tell when someone is speaking lies. False words leak out of the deceiver’s mouth like an oily stain in the air. They’re visible to him—tangible and infuriating.”
“I see. So, what do we do now?” Wren questions as he wrings out his shirt to prevent his body from catching a chill. “Why have you brought me so far away from the House of Vultures?”
“Cyrus said that the pack travels to the House of Piranhas. After this detour, we will follow them, and be careful to stay out of sight. We need to get close, just in case my Cadogan needs us before Iris finds him.”
“Let me dry out before we fly again,” Wren quips as he paces up to the Ddraig. “The last thing I need is pneumonia.”
“You know, you’re awfully calm about all of this,” Suryc announces, his suspicions mounting as Wren stills. “Why? Blind acceptance? Or are you hiding something?”
Wren shrugs, a small smirk tilting his lips as he replies, “I am as surprised and distrustful of you as you are of me. I’ve just learned to keep my mouth shut and my ears open.” Wren carefully shifts his head, eyeing the terrain for areas of weakness, blind-spots for predators, and any other potential threat. It’s as natural an instinct as breathing for him. “I’ll stay on your side until it is no longer in my best interest to be here.”
Suryc nods his huge head in understanding, no judgement clouding his words with anger. “I thought as much. It is a dangerous game to play both sides. Cunning, but not without its disadvantages. If you choose to stay with me, I will keep close watch on your movements. I do not trust those who have no loyalties.” Suryc snaps his tail quickly, knocking Wren down to the ground with the effort. He plants his feet on either side of Wren’s head, leaving no room for an escape attempt as he growls, “If you betray my Cadogan, I will hunt you down. Nothing will stop me, and the life of a Ddraig is a long one. If you give me a reason, I will haunt your blessed shadows for the rest of your days. Do you understand?”
“I don’t intend to hurt Condor,” Wren cries, searching for a means of escaping the Ddraig’s grasp. “Please, let me up!”
“I do not doubt your current sincerity,” Suryc answers, his claws securing Wren to the ground when he tries to scuttle away. “In this moment, your words are truth. However, if you are only out to save yourself, your word is changeable and means very little to me.” Suryc raises his head, fire erupting around him to illuminate their surroundings.
All along the ground, tiny Ddraigs frolic in the tall grass fronds. They jump and stomp their way through the fields, some wheezing smoke in an effort to start fire. The smallest ones still stumble clumsily, learning to walk as they navigate the uneven grounds.
“What is this place?” Wren wonders aloud, turning his head to better view the babies. “How far did we fly exactly?”
