Pack of Wolves, page 19
“Then stand to the left with the rest of the ‘innocent’ and receive the same fate as them,” Wolf growls, pointing one clawed hand toward his healer. “I do not care anymore.”
Fox drops his mask, his pale face and silver hair shining in the light. “Gladly.” He paces to the side, his steps even and without fear. There is no tremor in his hands, nor regret in his eyes. A grim, determined set to his jaw mirrors the emotions running through the rest of the trapped House of Piranhas members. “I’d rather die than live like this anymore.”
“Rest assured, old friend, that will be your fate,” Wolf sneers as the first three captives are brought before him. “How do you plead?”
“Guilty.”
“Guilty.”
“Innocent,” whispers the young mother, still grieving the loss of her beloved, Tang. “And my baby will claim innocence as well. Better he dies with me than face life under your rule.”
“Fool,” Wolf snarls, snapping his fingers. Three soldiers step out of ranks, prodding the prisoners out of the way. “Take the child. Give him to one of the others who claimed guilt. The child is too young to have a say. I will give him a chance at a better life.”
“No!” the mother wails as the child is wrenched from her arms. “Then I change my plea! I’m guilty!”
“Too late!” Wolf declares, stepping off the podium to shove her back into place. She lands at Fox’s feet, crying hysterically. “Keep her over here, on the traitor’s side. She had a chance, and she squandered it. Let her suffer the consequences.”
Jackal steps out of line, grabbing the woman by the waist. “Listen, pretty lady, you either stay put, or I take you into the house and we have a little fun before you die.” She struggles against his hold, but Jackal’s iron grip is too strong. “Or maybe I’ll take your son out into the woods and leave him to rot. Oh, that shut you up, didn’t it, love?”
“Don’t hurt my son,” she whispers brokenly, her fingers stilling their protesting slaps.
“That a girl!” Jackal laughs triumphantly, ripping her mask off her face. “Carry on, Wolf. You’ll have no more trouble with this one!”
“Next set of prisoners!” Wolf commands, returning to his seat on the podium. “Isn’t this fun, brother? Don’t you wish you had this much power? I determine life and death, I hold ultimate control! I’m as good as a god!”
“You’re as crazy as a loon,” Cyrus mutters under his breath. Staring into the eyes of the damned, Cyrus begins to see his own reflection. He’s there in their hunched stances, in their tired, weeping eyes. He sees himself in every man, woman, and child. Shutting his eyes solves nothing, for their haunted expressions remain trapped in his memory. “I’m sorry,” he cries, the words repeating with every breath, growing louder each time until he shouts.
“SHUT UP!” Wolf demands, slapping Cyrus hard across the face. Wolf shakes Cyrus until his head snaps back hard against his neck, but the force does not stop his anxious words. Wolf brandishes his sword, threatening to slice Cyrus’s throat. He even presses the metal into Cyrus’s neck, leaving a tiny necklace of bloody stripes across its surface. “Set up a tent beside the House of Piranhas, and strap him down to a table inside it,” Wolf commands two soldiers who hasten to do as he wishes. They drag Cyrus’s screaming body away from the crowd, his frantic words lingering in the ears of the damned while they await their fate.
***
“I see them!” Wren shouts urgently as Suryc soars low over the scraggly trees that stand near the House of Piranhas.
“Cyrus!” Suryc roars, his deep voice colored with worry. “We have to get down there immediately!”
“Well, we can’t just drop in unseen, can we? Wolf has too many guards standing watch. We need to stay in shadows until the time is right.”
Cyrus, I am here, Suryc whispers into his Cadogan’s mind. Show me what’s been happening. Let me into your mind. Cyrus?
Suryc rumbles a growl deep in his throat as flashes of fragmented memories tumble from Cyrus’s thoughts. “Wren, you need to sneak into their camp tonight!”
“What’s wrong?” Wren demands as he slips down Suryc’s ebony scales, his feet squelching deep into the sand and mud.
“Cyrus’s mind is broken. I cannot fully understand his jumbled thoughts. He’s endured too many trials since our separation. Whatever has occurred has scarred him terribly, and since I cannot waltz into Wolf’s presence safely, it will have to be you.”
“I’ll go as soon as the sun fully drops, and I’ll find out what we’ve been missing,” Wren assures, carefully taking stock of the weapons in his belt. Five uniformly shaped blades nestle into their sheaths, waiting to be thrown so that they can bite and claw their way into their enemy’s flesh. “He should have let me pull him out weeks ago! Silly, stubborn fool!”
“Just make him remember that he’s not alone,” Suryc pleads as he curls up to wait for his Cadogan’s safe return. Despite his great size, the Ddraig looks vulnerable, dropping his head onto his front feet. “Do whatever it takes to help him remember.”
“I have an idea. I’ve used something similar before, and it worked,” Wren explains, silently offering a prayer to any of the forgotten gods, begging for the success of his half-formed plan.
“Just remind him—”
“I can do better than that! I’ll show him what he’s forgotten,” Wren boasts as he disappears from Suryc’s sight, weaving through the trees and searching for a flimsy piece of bark that might be used to create a new mask.
***
Cyrus clenches his eyes shut tightly as the folds of the canvas tent open to the night sky. It is the only form of rebellion left. At least this way I cannot see what tortures my brother will inflict upon me now. “Not another coffin,” he murmurs despite his strongest yearning to stay quiet. “Please.”
“Cyrus,” a voice whispers, its pitch a husky, falsetto that seems affected, but still familiar. “It’s me. Open your eyes.”
Cyrus’s eyelids slit open hesitantly. Iris’s white Mynah mask leers at him from beside the table, her mouth turned down to a frown. “Why are you wearing your mask?” His words are garbled by the relief and terror churning in his blood. “You shouldn’t be here! If Wolf finds you—”
“Suryc sent me to you,” Iris whispers, a gloved hand reaching up to trace the Dadeni lines on his face. “He told my Ddraig that you were struggling.”
“Siri’s here with you? Oh, get them out of here, Iris!” Cyrus wails, his hands straining against the bonds. “If Wolf finds her, he’ll kill her. Take Suryc and Siri and disappear!”
“I cannot leave you behind, Cyrus. Danger or no, I will not abandon you,” Iris insists, fumbling in those gloves, unsuccessful in each attempt to untie the ropes that pin Cyrus in place.
How desperately Cyrus’s heart longs to believe her words. Something’s not right, he reminds himself, hating the thought as soon as it has begun. “You’re not real. You’re just a figment of my nightmares. Leave me in peace! Do not torment me in my final days!”
“You will not die,” Iris hisses, leaning forward so that her mask is close enough to touch. “I will come back for you, Cyrus. I will save you!”
Cyrus observes the off-color blue around the sockets of the mask. His eyes roam the image, noting the dark undertones that mar the shock of white hair. You’re not my Iris. Before he can confront the stranger, Wolf’s boots rattle the canvas at the entry. “Get out!” Cyrus hisses as the imposter slips into a dark corner of the tent.
“Just remember that you’re not alone. Don’t give up, Cyrus,” the false voice whispers as the stranger disappears.
“Well, well…you’re awake,” Wolf muses as he strips off his shirt. “I’m glad. That makes my evening all the more fun. You’ll be able to scream when I cut you. You’ll cry when you bleed. I’ve always loved hearing the sounds of your pain.”
It wasn’t her…but it was a friend. Instinctively Cyrus knows it had to be Wren, for he is the only one who would attempt such a stupid feat. To waltz right into camp dressed as the object of Wolf’s obsession is suicide, even if it is well intended. Suryc? Are you here too?
Suryc sends a surge of calmness through their mental bonds, hoping to stave off some of Cyrus’s fears. She’s really coming, Cyrus. Don’t lose heart.
I’m glad you’re here, Cyrus whimpers, clenching his eyes shut once more. I thought you’d abandoned me to die. Thank you for coming back.
“Cat got your tongue? Or are you afraid that if I see it, I’ll cut it out?” Wolf laughs as he stalks over to Cyrus’s side. He raises a long, thin pick over Cyrus’s torso, feeling along his ribs for the fleshy space between them.
“What…what are you doing?” Cyrus mutters, his throat going dry. This is it, Suryc. He’s finally going to kill me. Feeling Suryc’s shimmering fear and rage, he adds, It’s okay, Suryc. It’s a relief, actually.
“So, you can speak still. You were just being rude,” Wolf replies as he continues his exploration, searching for the perfect spot on his brother’s body. “What’s your greatest regret, brother?”
A myriad of memories flutter through Cyrus’s thoughts at the question. The force of his regrets is strong enough to still his already taciturn tongue.
“See, I have a theory,” Wolf continues, holding his finger in the gap between Cyrus’s fourth and fifth ribs. “The thing that haunts your heart the most has nothing to do with Iris at all. Oh, don’t get me wrong, you torture yourself over everything that’s happened with her too. But I think that the greatest regret in your heart is actually about Warbler.”
Cyrus’s blood stills in his veins as Wolf uses a piece of charcoal to mark the spot in his ribs. Then Wolf sidles over to the opposite point on Cyrus’s other side. “What does this have to do with Warbler?” He questions, the shiver in his body making the words tremble as he speaks.
“Oh, she didn’t tell you, did she? Iris never shared the details of how Warbler died? I’m surprised she kept that information to herself,” Wolf explains with a grin, his pick gleaming despite the low light.
“She alluded that Creeper tortured Warbler, but she never got into the details,” Cyrus mumbles, remembering the horrible day when Iris had thrown Creeper’s mask at his feet. “I think everything was too much for her to bear at the time.”
“Interesting…because she told me everything. But then, she loves me, and we have very few secrets. Well, I will divulge the details for her,” Wolf exclaims, setting two clear lengths of tubing on Cyrus’s abdomen. “I’m a little shocked that you never discovered Creeper’s unusual proclivities. I mean, even I knew what he was doing!” Before another word is spoken, Wolf slams the pick-like blade deep into Cyrus’s chest. Blood bursts from the wound, slowing marginally when Wolf inserts a tube to re-inflate his brother’s lung.
Cyrus screams and writhes in agony, unable to stop the second attack. Wolf repeats the motion, puncturing Cyrus’s other lung easily. Cyrus gasps as blood fills the plastic airways, pooling in the tubes. “Wh…uh…why?” He chokes out as the rustling of his breath escapes from the tubing.
“I’m a visual kind of guy. Why listen to a story when I can recreate it for you? Why not let you feel what Warbler felt, right up until the moment when Iris held her death chilled body? Only I won’t weep over you, and I certainly won’t dig your grave with my bare hands.” Wolf quickly unsnaps the bonds keeping Cyrus in place. He lifts one end of the table so that Cyrus’s body tumbles onto his stomach. The impact forces the tubes in deeper while gravity drains the blood.
Cyrus gasps, his body seizing. “Please. Don’t—”
“Mynah said she found Warbler on her stomach so the blood in her lungs could drain. I suspect Creeper intended to return to her, and Mynah got there before he finished playing. I sincerely doubt that you’ll be that lucky.”
Cyrus lies in a pool of his own blood, the warmth of the liquid pulsing through his clothes. He can almost see his heartbeat rippling through the fluid around him. “Ki…kill me.”
“Not yet! Creeper tortured her for hours. He did all sorts of unspeakable things, some that I cannot even stomach. Rest assured that whatever little virtue you still have will remain.” Wolf sniggers as he lifts Cyrus’s body up and places him face down on the table once more. He picks up a razor from the table, stalking up to Cyrus’s head. Wolf slowly removes the hair from Cyrus’s scalp, the strands forming a dark cloud under the table. “He beat Warbler, though. Mynah said she was covered in bruises and blood. That is one pleasure that I can enjoy.”
Cyrus heaves at the sound of his blood splashing through the cracks of the table and onto the floor. The tubes in his chest make lying flat unbearable. He lifts his body up onto his elbows and knees, putting as much space between the tubes and the table as he can bear.
“Oh, that’s cheating, brother!” Wolf chides as he reaches for a long, heavy board. “That’s far too easy!” He slams the board down on Cyrus’s legs, breaking the bones in his shins. The force of the blow is strong enough that shards of bone protrude from his left calf. Cyrus groans, his body convulsing.
Cyrus! Suryc wails through his mental bond with his Cadogan. Hang on! She’s coming! Iris and the Ddraigs are coming to find you! Don’t give up!
Suryc, I’m sorry. Protect Iris and Siri, even when I’m gone. Tell Iris that I did try…and tell her I love her even still. The rest of his thoughts are lost to the Ddraig as Cyrus’s body falls hard, the tubes in his chest sealed shut against the table’s wooden surface.
***
“There you are!” Lerual screeches as she drops to land beside me and Siri somewhere in the marshlands between my former house and the House of Piranhas.
“We’ve been searching for you for so long,” Enomena explains, sliding down from her turquoise Ddraig’s back. Anemone immediately takes to the skies once more, no doubt in search of food.
“Is something wrong with the nomads?” I demand, immediately rising from my small fire and meager amount of stew. I don’t know why I even bothered to stop tonight to cook; my stomach has long ceased its protesting growls. Food does not satisfy me anymore, not when I am so heartsick. I won’t be able to eat until I make sure Cyrus is okay…that my actions haven’t broken him beyond repair.
“Ekard is trying to stir up a revolt, but that’s nothing new. So far Drake is unwilling to follow him, as far as I can tell. I’ve been trying to catch up to you for three days now, following Siri’s scent. And every time I think I’m close behind you, I’ve come up short. What’s the plan?” As Lerual speaks, she casually eyes a half-eaten deer carcass by Siri’s feet. Though she says nothing outright, her eyes speak volumes as they longingly follow the outline of every meaty contour, her belly roaring hopefully.
“Have at it,” Siri grumbles, spreading her wings wide. “I’ll catch up to Anemone and find something else.” Lerual does not need any more encouragement.
I wait impatiently, my chipped fingernails digging into my thighs while she finishes her meal. My mind screams with the desire to share my plans and keep moving, but I know that Lerual and Enomena will not be able to hear me over the sounds of the deer’s bones cracking under the weight of the Ddraig’s strong jaw. The first time I saw Siri eat, I barely managed to keep my own food in my stomach. Now, having many more horrors to occupy my mind, a Ddraig’s eating habits hardly affect me. When Lerual’s long tongue snakes out of her mouth to lick the blood off her lips, I finally find enough silence to lay out my next moves.
“I’m going to the House of Piranhas to free Cyrus and try to stop Wolf from becoming the monster I fear I’ve unleashed. Enomena, I want you and Anemone to hurry back to Ekard and the rest of the Ddraigs. Make them come to the House of Piranhas. Tell them to fly hard, even by the light of the moon. I need them there in five days.”
“Five days! Even by wings, that’s a difficult task,” Lerual exclaims, staring at me in wide-eyed horror.
“We’ll do our best,” Enomena declares when she notices the grim set to my lips. “Anemone, come! I need you!” Before I have the chance to blink, Anemone streaks through our campsite like a cerulean bolt of lightning. She barely slows her flight pattern before Enomena launches herself onto her Ddraig’s back, landing squarely between her shoulder joints. They are in the sky, disappearing into the clouds, before I can even draw a breath.
It’s amazing how quickly she’s grown adept to flight, I realize, feeling proud of my friend and ally. “Thank you,” I wheeze on the night air, unsure whether or not Enomena can hear my gratitude. Still, it feels better to say the words aloud, to acknowledge how much her unwavering loyalty means to me.
Lerual, still hungry from her long, tiring journey, sneaks off in search of dessert. I try not to let my mind wander down dark roads as silence settles around me. Five days is a long time when you are in the hands of a despot. Every heartbeat is a gift, and every next breath could bring your death sentence. Will Cyrus even be alive by the time I get there? My stewpot fills the air with the scent of burned flesh, most of the water evaporating out during my inattentive brooding. I toss the bowl aside watching the charred bits of meat and root vegetables roll across the ground.
“He’s in bad shape, but you already knew that,” Siri mutters as she lands behind my back. “Suryc shared with me that his Cadogan’s mind is shattered from all that he’s endured. He’s worried that the damage will be irreversible. I try to give him hope, but from the things he’s showed me, even I have my doubts.”
“I already blame myself for this mess,” I confess bitterly, leaning hard against my Ddraig’s warm belly. “I don’t need you and Suryc heaping anymore guilt on me than I already carry.” My hands knot into my hair as her words fall into my heart like stones. Irreversible. Shattered. It’s all my fault.
“Then how are you going to stop Wolf?” Siri interrogates me, shifting so that she can swing her head around to see the whites of my eyes. “I heard you tell the others your plan. It lacked practical application, if you ask me. So, either you don’t have a solid means of achieving your goals, or you didn’t want them to know because you’re going to do something stupid. I, however, deserve the truth. What are you going to do, Iris?”
