04 - Rise of the Lycans (10 page)

“Lady Sonja! Your father has ordered you to stay behind.”

Irritation flashed across her face as she pulled back on Hecate’s reins. The
horse snorted indignantly in the scribe’s face.

“I intend to see our guests safely through the gates,” Sonja declared. She
lowered her helmet over her head, so that its masklike visor concealed all but
her eyes. A mane of horsehair crested the helm.

Tanis stood his ground. “This is not a request. Your father is ruler of this
coven.”

“Yes, he keeps reminding me of that.” She drew her sword from its scabbard
and pointed its tip directly at the scribe’s heart. Her cold brown eyes dared
him to defy her. Hecate’s hooves pawed impatiently at the paving-stones. “You
are in my way.”

Tanis looked anxiously to the other Death Dealers for support, only to see the armored warriors draw their own swords, as well.
Despite her strained relations with Viktor and the High Council, she clearly
enjoyed the loyalty of her men. His eyes searched Sonja’s grim, implacable
expression, and he came to the unmistakable conclusion that she was not
bluffing.

He got out of the way.

Dismissing him without another word, Sonja locked eyes with the master of the
gate, a burly lycan slave whose bare chest was liberally adorned with battle
scars. His valiancy in holding back the werewolf hordes had earned him a
privileged status second only to Lucian’s. He stood to one side of a massive
steel bolt, shrewdly keeping his silence while his superiors quarreled. He
lowered his head before Sonja’s gaze.

“Gatemaster!” she commanded. “Do your duty!”

The obedient slave drew back the bolt and pulled open the ponderous double
doors that served as the castle’s last line of defense. The portcullis beyond
rose slowly until nothing lay between Sonja and the lowered drawbridge beyond.
Thick fog hid the winding road leading down the side of the mountain. The
untamed wilderness rose to meet the lower slopes of the hill.

Her sword at the ready, she spurred Hecate onward. The horse’s hooves
thundered across the drawbridge, followed by the other two Death Dealers on
their steeds. Tanis sullenly watched them depart, his ego still smarting from
Sonja’s brusque and insulting treatment.

She might not be so arrogant,
he thought sourly,
if she knew that her
sordid little secret is mine to expose.
He looked forward
to flaunting that knowledge in her face someday soon.
When the time is right.

Turning away from the gate, he found Lucian standing only a few feet away. A
loaded crossbow, perhaps the same one he had employed to save Sonja the night
before, resided in the lycan’s grip. He stared after the galloping horsemen with
a look of obvious concern.

Tanis remembered an old adage.
Speak of the wolf and you will see his
teeth.

He could not resist taunting the foolhardy slave a bit. “Careful,
blacksmith,” he whispered in an insinuating tone. “Lest your eyes betray your
secret.”

Lucian’s startled expression was a thing of beauty. Tanis savored the worried
look that came over the other man’s face as the scribe casually turned his back
on Lucian and strolled back toward the keep.
Let him wonder what I could
possibly know, and whom I might tell.
No doubt such questions would prey
cruelly on Lucian’s mind.
As well they should.

It was the least the filthy lycan deserved for presuming to dally with one of
his betters.

Sonja heard the carriage trundling through the fog before she caught sight of
it. She and her men met the envoy at a crossroads along a lonely forest trail
that reminded her of her thrilling adventure the night before. The driver of the
coach started in alarm at the sound of their hooves, then relaxed at the sight
of the armored trio. He slowed the carriage to a halt, giving his weary horses a
much-needed rest. Sonja did not envy the poor animals the task of having to pull the heavy, steel-plated carriage over
these bumpy roads.

She pulled up to the coach and greeted the two Death Dealers escorting the
delegation. The was just the first of several caravans expected this evening. “I
thought you could use some company.”

The knights looked grateful for the reinforcements. These woods could be
perilous at night, as she knew better than most. A pair of wide green eyes
peered from a narrow slit in the side of the carriage; from the look of them,
the eyes belonged to a frightened young girl on the cusp of womanhood. Sonja
removed her helmet and smiled tightly at the girl, hoping to reassure her,
before circling the caravan. The sight of the hooded prisoners chained to the
rear of the carriage brought a scowl to her face. The mortals were doubtless
intended as gifts for her father, but that hardly excused such reprehensible
treatment. Her love for Lucian had opened her eyes to the often cruel inequities
of the world they lived in. For all she knew, these unfortunate slaves no more
deserved such abuse than Lucian himself.

When I become an Elder,
she resolved,
such injustices will not he
permitted.

For now, however, the best she could do was see to it that they reached the
castle in one piece. Her eyes scanned the shadowy wilderness surrounding them. A
thick gray mist drifted through the underbrush, obscuring her vision. A wind
rustled the shrubs and branches. Nothing stirred in the brush. Clouds drifted
past the moon and stars. All seemed in order, and yet…

One of the Death Dealers, a grizzled veteran named Ivan, sat up straight up
in his saddle. His head swiveled to the right, as though he had heard something
from the encroaching woods. His hand went to the hilt of his sword. A note of
alarm crept into his voice.

“Milady?”

Sonja peered into the darkness. Lucian’s ominous warning echoed in her
memory. Perhaps she should not have dismissed his fears so readily? The shackled
slaves grew restive, perhaps sensing a change in the atmosphere. Muffled cries
and whimpers escaped their hoods. Fear showed in the bulging eyes of the girl in
the carriage. Ardent prayers issued from inside the armored coach.

I don’t like this,
Sonja thought. Her eyes had yet to detect any obvious
threat, but she felt a distinct presentiment of impending doom. The sooner they
left these accursed woods, the better she would feel. “Get it moving.”

Before the procession could start rolling again, however, a blood-chilling
howl shattered the tranquil stillness of the night. Adrenaline rushed through
her veins. Her eyes widened.
Hellfire,
she cursed, experiencing an
unwanted sense of what the Franks called
déjà vu.
Her voice rang out
urgently.

“FORM UP!”

All five Death Dealers spread out to establish a defensive ring around the
carriage, with Sonja taking up a position near the head of the wagon. Hecate
whinnied in alarm and Sonja took a moment to try to calm the worried destrier.
Inspecting their meager forces, she wished that she had brought a larger complement of soldiers.

Forgive me, Lucian,
she thought.
I should have paid more heed to your
warnings.

She wondered if she would see her lover again.

Lucian paced restlessly in the courtyard. His eyes probed the fog beyond the
gate for any sign of Sonja’s return. He listened anxiously for the sound of
hoof-beats or the clatter of a rolling carriage. Assorted Death Dealers and
courtiers milled about by the gateway, waiting to welcome the mortal delegation
upon their arrival. Viktor and the High Council were notably absent; no doubt
they considered it beneath their dignity to wait in attendance upon mere
mortals. Any visitor to the castle was required to present themselves to the
Elder and his illustrious court instead. They would be escorted into the great
hall at Viktor’s convenience and not a moment before.

Just as well,
Lucian thought, grateful for Viktor’s absence. He was tense
enough without having to worry about the Elder’s scrutiny especially after
Tanis’ vague insinuations earlier. He recalled the unsettling feeling that had
troubled him before, as though he and Sonja had been watched right before they
had parted. Was it possible that the ubiquitous scribe knew of their secret
liaisons? The very idea was enough to fill Lucian’s soul with dread. Tanis had
Viktor’s ear. What might he have told Sonja’s father already?

Perhaps he only
suspects
the truth?

A faint noise, coming from beyond the castle’s walls, immediately drove such concerns to the back of his mind. Lucian threw back
his head, straining his ears to make out the disturbing sound, which nobody else
in the courtyard seemed to have noticed yet. He sniffed the air.

Was that a howl he heard?

And the smell of a hungry beast?

“No,” he whispered. His heart sank. He knew with certainty that his
apprehensions had been fulfilled.

Sonja was in danger.

A mud-covered claw erupted from the floor of the forest. Razor-sharp talons
sank into the leg of Ivan’s horse, grabbing onto it with preternatural strength.
The Death Dealer swore in surprise, and the horse neighed in panic, as his steed
was yanked violently to the ground as though being sucked into a mire of
voracious quicksand. Hundreds of pounds of screaming horseflesh hit the earth
with a thunderous impact. Ivan was thrown from his saddle. His armor crashed
loudly against the rocky soil.

What’s happening?
Sonja thought in confusion. Her helmet slipped from her
fingers, ringing out as it bounced off a nearby boulder. Shocked by this sudden
turn of events, she barely noticed its loss.
I don’t understand!

The stallion’s collapse panicked the horses drawing the carriage. They backed
away fearfully, shoving the entire coach backward. A back wheel slipped into a
deep rut at the edge of the road and the carriage lurched to one side. Fragile
bodies smacked against the interior of the toppled coach. The girl and her
family shrieked in fright. The driver shouted uselessly at the distraught
horses.

“God preserve us!” the nameless maiden cried out. “I don’t want to die!”

Unlike the Death Dealer’s armored destriers, the carriage horses were not
trained to ignore the tumult of battle. Gnashing at their bits, the frenzied
animals thrashed wildly in their frantic desire to escape the terror that seemed
to have struck out of nowhere. They tugged at their restraints until, with a
resounding crack, the harness rod snapped in two. The reins were yanked from the
driver’s grip as the terrified team bolted for safety, leaving the stranded
carriage behind. The horses vanished into the fog but did not get far. Seconds
later, a cacophony of savage growls and agonized wails made the team’s gruesome
demise horribly clear to anyone with ears. The doomed horses sounded as though
they were being ripped apart by bloodthirsty fangs and claws.

Which was precisely the case.

The death cries of the butchered horses did not escape Lucian’s keen ears. He
realized at once that Sonja and her companions were only moments away from
suffering the same fate. He ran up to the nearest Death Dealer and shouted
urgently.

“Get your men out there, NOW!”

The vampire looked puzzled, and vaguely annoyed, to be addressed so by a mere
lycan. Lucian realized to his dismay that no one else had heard the howling yet.
The Death Dealers exchanged puzzled looks between themselves, confused by the
blacksmith’s intemperate outburst. No one was taking him seriously.

Fools!
he thought angrily.
What’s the matter with you? Can’t you hear
them dying?

“Down, boy!” Kosta rode up on his horse and snatched the crossbow from
Lucian’s hands. He sat lazily astride the great black stallion. “I think your
leash is too tight.” His silver-tipped bullwhip was coiled at his side. He
fingered the grip of the lash as he glowered at Lucian. The scornful look in his
eyes made it clear that he had not forgotten yesterday’s confrontation. He
appeared eager for an excuse to teach the upstart lycan a lesson. “Step ba—”

“There are too many of them!”
Lucian shouted. He tried desperately to
make the sneering overseer understand.
“They’ll be massacred!”

But Kosta merely snarled and grabbed onto his whip. Lucian realized that
there was no reasoning with the man, nor time enough to bandy words with the
uncomprehending Death Dealers. Without a second to lose, he leapt at Kosta and
knocked the startled overseer from his saddle. The vampire grunted in pain as he
landed hard upon the pavement. Moving swiftly, before any of the other Death
Dealers could stop him, Lucian took Kosta’s place within the saddle. He thrust
his boots into the stirrups and spurred the steed with his heels. Although he
had seldom ridden a horse before, the stallion got the message. It took off at a gallop, nearly trampling
a cluster of vampires lingering before the gate. A Death Dealer raised his sword
in surprise and Lucian snatched the weapon from the vampire’s hand. His other
fist held onto the reins for dear life as the horse raced out of the courtyard.

“Stop him!” Kosta hollered in rage. “Don’t let him get away!”

Lucian half expected to feel a crossbow bolt strike him in the back at any
moment, but apparently the disorganized Death Dealers were too taken aback by
the lycan’s unexpected move to respond with the necessary promptness. Lucian was
well beyond the drawbridge, and out of range of the castle’s archers, before
anyone fully grasped what had just occurred. The horse’s racing hooves tore up
the ground beneath them. A damp, clammy fog enveloped both horse and rider.

He didn’t even look back. Nothing mattered now but getting to Sonja in time.
The ferocious sounds of battle filled his ears, driving him onward. He kicked
savagely at the stallion’s flanks.