Pack of Wolves, page 21
“I have a friend in the guards,” Fox explains, covertly pointing a finger in the general direction of his ally. “I think I can convince him to bring me a last drink on the eve before our execution. He’s heavy handed with liquor, and I’m certain he’ll imbibe with me. It won’t take much prodding to persuade the other guards to join us. We’ll have enough of a distraction that we should be able to sneak away in the wee hours, as long as we stay quiet and use the darkness as our cover.”
“That’s it?” Goldeneye mumbles, unconvinced. “Ply them with booze and hope for the best?”
“Complex plans are not always the best route to success. Now’s not the time to discuss strategy. Are you willing to try?” Fox hisses, his eyes darting toward the corral’s perimeter. Coyote, the only guard that has enough cunning and trickery in his blood to grow suspicious of their huddled whispers, cuts his eyes in their direction and stalks closer to the corral.
“How do we know that this isn’t a scam? What assurances can you give that the moment we’re outside the corral you won’t turn us in to regain favor with Wolf?” Grouse demands, her voice raising too loud.
“Shh!” Fox pleads as Coyote edges around the corral, searching for a better eavesdropping point.
Goldeneye coughs, attempting to mask the sound of Grouse’s swearing. “Make a scene,” he suggests, subtly point toward Bittern.
Grouse jumps up, immediately grabbing Bittern’s collar. “I told you we were fools to ever turn against Wolf! But no! You took one look at Condor’s pitiful face, and you just had to go back to him! It’s all your fault!”
Bittern sputters, shoving Grouse away. “Get off me! If anyone is to blame, it’s you!” Launching herself at Grouse’s face, Bittern attempts to claw her mask away. Fox and Goldeneye step in between them, pretending to stop the theatrical fight when Coyote moves away from the corral.
“You scratched me,” Grouse accuses as she holds her bleeding wrist up to Bittern’s inspection.
“Sorry,” Bittern replies, genuinely meaning her words. “At least the guards aren’t watching us now.” Facing Fox, she continues, “If we’re going to attempt this escape, we need to trust each other. If we share our true names then we might stand a chance. Can you agree?”
“I can live with that; those naming bonds might even save our necks in the end. However, after we share our names, let’s continue to use our masked names in public until we are safely away from this place.” Fox hesitates, searching the eyes of the guards once more before adding, “My true name is Sly.”
“As sly as a fox,” Goldeneye muses with a dark chuckle. “Grouse?”
“Why don’t you go next?” Grouse whines, fidgeting in her seat. When Bittern says nothing, she huffs and replies, “Fine! I’m Olive.”
“Aspen,” Bittern mutters under her breath, cringing as she says the name aloud. The word conjures up an unwelcome memory of the beautiful white trees that used to cover the land outside her house. She recalls every detail of their graceful shapes, each one’s bark scarred by dark lines and eyes. And the glorious yellow halo they’d leave on the ground every autumn. Bittern gulps, fighting back the reminders of her past. The memory of those trees carries the more painful remembrances of all she’s lost. Cutting her eyes to the only other member of their party who hasn’t spoken, she asks, “Well, Goldeneye?”
Goldeneye sighs, leaning his head against a wooden fence post. “Okay, but you all have to keep quiet. I was kinda hoping that one of you had been as foolish as me, but your names aren’t bad.”
Grouse grins, a mischievous light dancing in her eyes. “And just what did you choose for your name, Goldeneye?”
“Remember how young we were when the naming rituals took place? Well, I was a stupid child, and I didn’t take it seriously. I didn’t fully understand that I’d be stuck with whatever I chose. And since I knew that I’d have a mask name too, I didn’t think it really mattered. My real name is….” Goldeneye stutters over the word, a hand covering his eyes. “Swampy.”
Grouse hoots with laughter, unable to contain herself as Goldeneye turns an indignant glare on her. “Oh, that’s horrible! What the hell made you pick that?”
“I lived in a swamp, I played in a swamp, and I thought, why not name myself after the cursed place?” Goldeneye snarls, finding no humor in the situation. “Just forget I ever said anything.”
“Oh no, this little tidbit of information is the best thing I’ve heard in a long, long time.” Grouse wipes tears from her eyes as she whispers, “I’m a little sad that I can’t call you that on a daily basis, Swampy.”
“Shut it!” Fox murmurs as Coyote looms up and leans over the fence, his sword lashing out to silence them. If you can hear me, shut up! Get behind me so that guard’s weapon can’t reach you. Move now, he commands through their newly formed mental bonds to test them. The three waste no time to follow his wishes. “Sorry for the disruption. Won’t happen again,” Fox announces, waving a hand at the guard. “You have my word.”
As Coyote skulks away, all four of them breathe a sigh of relief. Good, now we wait until our moment comes, Fox declares through their shared mental connection.
Escape or die trying, Bittern agrees, and as one the group falls silent.
Chapter 14
“We came as quickly as we could,” Drake announces as he rolls off Ekard’s back and saunters up to my side. “What can we do?”
“You made good time,” I remark, not as happy to see the rest of the Ddraigs as I should be. The nameless unchosen and I made it to the House of Piranhas yesterday. A couple of the braver men decided to sneak into the guards’ camp before we attacked, just to get an idea of what to expect. I’d been waiting for their return ever since. Dread eats at my peace of mind. What if Cyrus is dead? What if he hates me? What’s keeping those nameless spies? Were they caught? Are they still alive?
“I wouldn’t let the Ddraigs rest,” Lerual explains, lowering her eyes as a sheepish smile crosses her scaly lips. “I knew this was important to you, Iris.”
“Thank you,” I mumble dryly, wishing I could color my words with gratitude. “I know you all must be exhausted, but I think we should go ahead and fly into the House of Piranhas’ camp this evening. I can’t keep waiting for information. If all goes well and our task is easily accomplished, you will be able to rest a while there.” Turning to the nearest nameless unchosen that I can find, a short squatty little woman with piercing dark eyes, I announce, “Tell your people we are flying ahead. Follow behind us and stay in the fringes of the trees. I’m going to try and end this peaceably. I will call for you if I need you to fight.”
The woman bows to me slightly, hurrying off to follow my wishes.
“Lead on,” Drake agrees, calling out to the other nomads in their strange, clicking tongue. Without complaint, all of the Cadogans find their ways back onto their Ddraig’s backs, waiting for the order to fly. The way they spring to follow Drake’s commands irritates me all the more. Is everyone a better leader than me? Ekard sneers at me as if he’s thinking the exact same thing.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get moving! Siri exclaims, fluttering her wings in exasperation.
We take to the skies in a flurry of colorful scales and thunderous roars. Within minutes, the smell of sea brine stings my nose as we near the ocean’s unending waves. Worry gnaws at my stomach even as I try to rationalize my greatest fears. Surely the Cane that I remember didn’t become so ruthless! Maybe all of this is just a huge mistake….
“You still seek to deny what you saw in the Carreglas?” Siri demands as she glides through the air, lifting us out of earshot of the others. “You cannot trust what your own eyes saw at the House of Vultures? You will not hear what Suryc and I are saying? Why are you fighting this, Iris?”
“I…I just can’t believe—”
“You don’t want to believe it,” Siri accuses with a roar. “Things are easier for you if the Wolf is a good man, aren’t they? That way, you’ve not placed your affections with someone unworthy. You don’t have to admit you were wrong!”
“It’s not just that,” I grumble, leaning back and trailing my hands in the clouds that cover our passage. “Cyrus has always been my enemy, and Cane has always come to my rescue. Cut and dried, Siri. I like it when things are clear. But now, my thoughts are muddy. Suddenly I’m supposed to force these men to trade places? Can’t you understand how difficult that is?”
“Truth is never easy,” Siri mutters under her breath. “Sit up, Cadogan, and we shall soon see what your precious Wolf has done.”
Smoke and ashes flutter in the wind as the House of Piranhas looms closer. As I wonder what’s burning on the breeze, four Ddraigs screech and plummet toward the ground. Within minutes, another three follow them, barely managing to stop their freefalls to the earth. “What’s happening? Were we attacked?” I demand, searching the ground for any signs of danger.
“Their Cadogans are dead, Iris. They can smell their lost ones on the air. The memories of the dead have returned to them, and they are grieving,” Siri whispers, tears welling like liquid glass over her silvery eyes.
Seven Cadogans all at once? It’s so much worse than I ever imagined. Terror burns in my lungs as though I am drowning and sucking water in an effort to breathe. “Suryc? Cyrus?”
“Still fine as far as I can tell,” Siri answers, her jaw clenching as she watches the mourning Ddraigs keep flying, heads bowed in sorrow. Four more cry out and flutter, panic filling their eyes.
“She’s hurt! I can feel her agony!” One of the Ddraigs cries, her tail whipping the clouds behind her. “I can’t give her my strength! She hasn’t bonded with me! Oh, someone save her! Someone please—” She shrieks, her wings freezing mid-flight as she feels the passing of her Cadogan.
“Get us down there! We have to stop this!” I wail, tears freezing on my cheeks as we reach the House of Piranhas. I can smell the funeral pyre burning. The smoke of it clings to my hair and clothes, my eyes bleed their sorrows with the pungent ashes. “Cane?” I mutter as I observe the bodies being tossed into the pit. Three new victims are quickly tied to wooden poles in front of the pit, their pleadings reaching my ears despite the distance between us.
“What are you waiting for? Fire!” He shouts over the sobbing prisoners’ cries. Archers stand with arrows pointed at the prisoners’ hearts, and on the command of their leader, they fire. Quickly they yank more shots from their quivers, preparing to strike again.
“What’s he thinking? Take me down to speak to him immediately!” I demand as understanding makes the food in my stomach turn sour. Cane, my savior so many times before, is purposefully killing those people…in my name. “Does he really think this is what I wanted from him? Surely there has to be another way to gain allegiance than at the point of an arrow.” My heart breaks under the weight of the guilt crashing down on me. I caused this! I sent him here! All this pain, all this loss! Their blood is on my hands, all because of my own foolishness!
“No surrender? No begging for a second try? You care so little for your own lives?” Cane howls at the bound men, women, and children. Children, I recognize, heaving until bile coats my tongue with its bitter regret. “Ready, archers!” Cane howls, his hand raised high.
“No!” I scream as I writhe on Siri’s back. How many more Cadogans are down there about to die? “Wolf! Stop this madness now!”
My voice carries far enough to stay his firing order. His eyes snap to the skies then, searching until he finds us spiraling down to his side. The gentle smiling face I’ve grown to care for is not there. Instead, a cold, calculating grimace observes us as we drop to the ground. He’s not the Cane that I knew at all, is he? That horrible Wolf carcass and all its ruthlessness has bored its way into his soul.
He’s always been the Wolf, Iris. The gentle man you try to remember in him is the real disguise he’s worn, Siri whimpers, and I can feel her empathy brushing over me. It shames me; I do not deserve her kindness. She should ridicule my foolishness and punish me for my blindness. Each one of the grieving Ddraigs beside me should demand that I be beaten, exiled, or killed outright for my stupid choices. Yet each set of Ddraig eyes that lands on me is full of pity, as if their suffering is not a direct result of my decisions.
“Mynah. I wondered when you would finally deign to join us,” Wolf calls, waving his hand to me, allowing me to approach his throne.
My body shivers with rage as I try not to scream. “What are you doing?” It’s a silly question, but I cannot form another for the shock I feel stirring in my bones. The ground is slick with bloody mud. My boots slide in gore as I trudge up to Wolf’s platform, my hands itching to grab my knife. I can almost hear the blade singing in its holster, begging me to slide it across this madman’s throat.
“You wanted unity for all of the houses. This is part of the price,” Wolf replies, holding a hand out to help me up to his side. He sighs as his eyes scan my face, drinking in the sight. “You don’t know how badly I’ve missed you,” Wolf growls, the ache in his head drifting away as though it was nothing more than a turbulent wave. “I’ve saved a spot for you, right here beside me. Come! Let us observe the last executions for today. Then we shall celebrate the return of my future queen. Executions can continue tomorrow.”
I make no move to join him on his throne. The very idea of becoming his queen freezes me in place. Through gritted teeth, I manage not to lose my temper as I plead, “Just wait, please. Let no more death sentences be dealt. When I sent you on this mission to unify the houses, I did not intend it to occur with bloodshed. Please, stay the executions, at least until the Ddraigs have tested the people and found their Cadogans.” Until I can figure out a better way to stop this insanity! I hold my hands out in a gesture of mercy as I search for some semblance of the man I’d known all these many years to appear. Something flickers in his countenance, a flash of feeling at odds with his commanding presence.
“I would have thought that one death more would be expected by you. I’ve been keeping him busy until you returned. Waiting until you were by my side to mete justice on his worthless head. I cannot believe you allowed my brother to last as long as you did! But I’ve thoroughly enjoyed getting to take my turn with him. Rest assured, my darling, I have made him suffer for his crimes.” Wolf smiles, a fever bright gleam in his furious stare. “Now, it’s your turn.”
“Where is he?” I ask in feigned nonchalance, unnerved by the jealous hatred I see brewing in Wolf’s eyes. The images from the Carreglas do not leave me. So many warning signs were there! How did I never see this side of him? Even as I say the words, I hear Siri’s accusations ringing in my ears. I didn’t want to see it. Oh, what an idiot I have been!
“My brother is in that tent.” Cane points over his shoulder to a single white canvas tent in the shade of the House of Piranhas. “Do what must be done, Iris. Add his body to the pyre. Then find me. We’ll discuss what happens next when I am king.” Wolf hops down from the throne, invading my space as his lips drag over my forehead. “I have missed you, love,” he whispers softly. His hands graze my hips as he pulls me closer, his nose trailing down my cheek into the hollows around my collarbone. “I’ve been nearly mad without you.”
It takes every scrap of willpower in my body not to scream and claw his eyes out. I stay very still while he holds me, keeping my face turned aside so he cannot see how much I hate him. When Wolf saunters away from me whistling a lively tune, I know my charade worked well enough that he didn’t suspect my true feelings.
I force my feet not to break into a run as I move toward Cyrus’s prison. There are no guards to be found, and the flap of the tent drifts lazily with the breeze. Not a good sign. I prepare myself, slowing my breathing as I ready my nerves. If they think that no guards are needed, then they had to have beaten or shattered Cyrus to the point that he cannot fight back.
Sorrow fills my heart as I throw open the tent, shedding some light into the space. It is immediately obvious that Cyrus’s legs are broken, one exposed bone gleaming in the sunlight cast by my entrance. His arms are also swollen from unseen fractures, and bound across his chest as though in a strait jacket. He turns his head my way as I inch closer, his jaw opening in surprise. Pain fills his moaned whine, and I can tell this joint has been broken too by the way it hangs open to expose his teeth.
“Cyrus.” My hands quiver uselessly beside me. I long to apologize, to tell him that I never intended for him go suffer all of this, that I had no idea the kind of man he truly was. Yet all I can do is say his name.
“W…ren,” Cyrus wheezes, coughing blood. That’s when I see the tubes jutting out from his lungs. “L…leave me….to die. ‘S all…I want.”
“It’s me, Cyrus. My gods!” My stomach revolts, emptying its contents on the ground. Seeing the wounds that are so painfully similar to Warbler’s torture is an extra blow to my heart. How despicable! I hate Wolf all the more for this! How could he think that I would condone his actions?
“Iris? Get out…of here!” Cyrus’s fingers twitch as though he attempts to reach for my hand. His body is just too broken to fully execute his brain’s commands.
Drawing on my strength, I feel the tenuous connection of our minds. Easing up to his side, I whisper, “Cyrus, heal yourself. You can draw on my energy to assist you.” Take it all, I beg, fully prepared to die in his place if need be. I’m so sorry, Cyrus.
His jaw snaps loudly, an excruciating jerk lifting his body off the table. My own strength diminishes quickly, especially when Cyrus’s bone resets into the skin of his leg. I feebly cover his swollen mouth to stifle his groans. He thrashes hard against my grip, using the brief moments when his mouth is uncovered to exclaim, “The tubes. Take them out!”
Staring hard at his chest, I curse as my fingers reach for the first bloody piece of plastic. In this moment I am grateful my stomach has already emptied. Gagging even as I attempt to detach my mind, I yank on the tube, watching Cyrus’s face turn green as the length of the plastic grows in my hands. Inch by painstaking inch, I carefully slide the tubing out of his body like I’ve captured a rattlesnake by its tail just before it disappears into its den. It finally pops out of his skin with a sickening gurgle. It takes all the willpower left in my bones not to run away screaming or fall to pieces in tears. “One more,” I whimper as I begin on the second tube. When it is finally done, neither of us is fit to move very far.
