04 - Rise of the Lycans (18 page)

Lucian’s stomach growled. He had eaten nothing since his beating yesterday, and his depleted body required sustenance, yet
he was reluctant to take part in the degrading feeding frenzy. He kept his
distance, hoping to salvage a few scraps after the rest of the pack was done
gorging themselves. Perhaps there would still be a few rancid vegetables or
half-chewed bones left.

To his surprise, however, Xristo snagged a meaty rib and, instead of tearing
into it himself, lobbed it over to Lucian. The tempting morsel flew over the
heads of the other lycans, who snatched at it unsuccessfully, before landing in
Lucian’s outstretched hands. He was both moved and startled by the young lycan’s
generosity; apparently Xristo had not forgotten how Lucian had stood up for him
before.

Who would have guessed,
Lucian thought,
that an illiterate lycan slave
could show more character than Lord Viktor himself?

He nodded gratefully at Xristo, then sniffed the bloody rib, which seemed
rather fresher than the lycans’ usual victuals. His eyes widened in surprise.
This is not horsemeat,
he realized. His finger traced the curve of his
own rib cage as he examined the bone more carefully.
By the moon, this is
human flesh!

Such was hardly their customary fare. Lucian could only wonder what some
mortal had done to end up on their menu. Whom had Viktor literally fed to the
dogs?

He sniffed the meat again. Its mortal origins gave him pause, but ultimately
he decided that he was in no position to be finicky. He needed to regain his
strength if he want to escape this hellish prison. Putting his scruples aside,
he tore at the bloody rib with his teeth.

After all, he rationalized, this was hardly the first time he had tasted
human flesh.

It was even more delicious than he remembered….

Still, he thought it best not to illuminate Raze on the true nature of his
repast. After feeding the lycans, the guards moved on to provide the human
prisoners with moldy vegetables and loaves of stale black bread. As before, Raze
sat across from Lucian as he chewed on a wilted head of cabbage. The iron bars
between them had proved little impediment to their growing friendship.

The giant remained impressed by the speed with which Lucian had recovered
from the merciless flogging. By now, the welts left by Kosta’s cat-o’-nine-tails
had vanished entirely.

“Will you live forever?” Raze asked.

“I have been asking myself that question for nearly two centuries,” Lucian
admitted. “I feared that today I might find the answer.”

Raze was obviously intrigued by his strange new ally. “You were born like
this?”

“The first of my kind. I grew to a man and have aged little since. And all in
captivity,” he added bitterly. Indeed, for all he knew, he had been born in this
very cell, or one very much like it. “Viktor’s little experiment. Our bite, it
seems, is infectious. He used me to create others. They created more. And soon
he had his ‘daylight guardians’, as the vampires call us.” He snorted at the
lofty-sounding appellation. “Daylight guardian? Sounds rather more tasteful than
slave, does it not?”

Before Raze could answer, a fierce fight broke out in one of the adjoining
cages. Two surly lycans vied for a hefty chunk of meat that bore a suspicious
resemblance to a human heart. A bear-sized older lycan by the name of Vasily
clutched the dripping heart under one arm, while fending off a younger
challenger, Ferenz, who was determined to wrest the tempting prize from him.
Vasily’s hair had been shaved by the lycans to rid him of lice, while Ferenz
boasted a mane of greasy red tresses. Bestial growls and snarls came from the
men as they circled each other like crazed mastiffs fighting over a bone. Ferenz
grabbed at the heart, despite the slashing nails and bared fangs of the larger
man. Tufts of hair and skin went flying as they traded vicious scratches and
bites, to the tumultuous delight of the other lycans, who hooted and hollered at
the frenzied combatants. The gleeful prisoners clustered around the ferocious
brawl, rudely jostling each other in their eagerness to get a better view. Blood
splattered the faces of the spectators, which only excited them further. Such
barbaric spectacles were what passed for entertainment in these quarters.

“Get ’im!” a jubilant lycan roared, although it was unclear which combatant
he was rooting for. “Rip his guts out!”

“That’s it!” another called out. He stamped his feet upon the floor and waved
a bloody leg bone in encouragement. A plump black rat, which had come sneaking
in for scraps, scurried for safety. “Don’t let him get away with that! Go for
his throat!”

A handful of guards lingered to watch the show as well. They laughed and
applauded, while placing bets on which lycan would come out on top, and whether one or both would end up
dead or maimed. “Fifteen coppers says the bald one loses an eye,” a soldier
wagered, provoking another round of furious betting. Crude jeers mocked the
lycans’ respective prowess and ancestry, until an impatient shout from the
vampires’ commander forced them to reluctantly abandon their sport. Rattling
coins were thrust back into purses.

Disgraceful,
Lucian thought. He watched the grumbling soldiers exit the
dungeons. Tossing aside the human rib, which his bloody teeth had already
stripped to the bone, he waited until the brawlers in the next cage came within
reach, then grabbed Vasily through the bars and locked his elbow beneath the
man’s neck. Seeing his opportunity, Ferenz started to lunge for the heart, but
Lucian warned him off with a threatening growl. His fierce gaze drove the
red-maned lycan back and quieted the raucous crowd, although not a few of the
overexcited lycans glowered at Lucian for interrupting their fun. Disappointed
faces bared their fangs.

“We are not animals,” he whispered intensely, then raised his voice so that
all could hear.
“We are not animals!”

A hush fell over the dungeons as his words struck home.

“Is this what you want?” he challenged his brothers. “To be their
entertainment? Their playthings? Their pets?” Scorn dripped from his voice as he
forced them to confront the harsh reality of their wretched lives. “Cowering
beneath the whip and then fighting amongst ourselves? Is that what you truly
desire?”

Vasily struggled to free himself from the headlock Lucian had him in. His
hairless skull bounced against the hard steel bars. He snarled spitefully. “Easy
for you to say, blacksmith!”

Lucian ignored the brawler’s rebuke. He released Vasily and shoved him away.
The man staggered into the crowd, while massaging his bruised throat. He crammed
the pulped remains of the coveted heart into his mouth. Blood trickled down his
chin.

“I have lived by their rules for my entire life,” Lucian confessed. “I have
envied them, protected them, even crafted the weapons they use to slay our
brothers in the forest. And for what? To be treated like an animal?” He shook
his head. “No.”

Not anymore,
he vowed.
Not even if I live for centuries to come.

The other lycans listened to him in rapt fascination, as did Raze and his
fellow humans. Any lingering resentment faded from the faces of the audience as
they fell under the spell of Lucian’s words. Xristo and Sabas came forward,
nodding in agreement. Lucian was glad to see that their wounds also had healed.

“We
do
have a choice.” He gestured at their sordid abode. “We can
choose to be more than this. We can choose to be free—in here.” He thumped his
chest, directly above his heart, then tapped the side of his skull as well. “And
in here.” He paused to let that provocative notion sink in before spelling it
out for them. His voice rang out passionately as he raised his arms in
exhortation. “We can be slaves—or we can be lycans!”

His oppressed brethren stared at him in astonishment. No lycan had ever
spoken like this before. Even Vasily was now gaping at the former blacksmith in stupefied awe.

“Which is it?” he demanded of them.

Their dumbfounded silence encouraged him. Had he succeeded in stirring
something within them? Perhaps a newfound desire to aspire to better things? To
stop acting like the uncivilized beasts the vampires had reduced them to?

Lucian could only hope.

The moment was broken, however, when the vampires returned to the dungeon.
Four stone-faced Death Dealers stomped toward Lucian’s cell. Both humans and
lycans scurried back to the corners of their cells, save for Sabas and Xristo,
who lingered near Lucian. Raze stood by Lucian as well, albeit on the opposite
side of the iron bars.

Now what?
Lucian wondered. He cursed the knights’ miserable timing.
I was getting through to the others. I know I was!

Three of the soldiers stood guard with crossbows and raised whips as the
fourth unlocked Lucian’s cage. Rusty hinges squeaked loudly. The barred door
swung open.

The leader of the guards nodded at Lucian.

“Out!”

Xristos and Sabas tensed, as though inclined to come to Lucian’s defense once
more, but Lucian quietly caught their gaze and shook his head. Now was not the
time; he had no desire to see the two men brutalized on his behalf again.
Keeping a wary eye on the guards’ crossbows, Lucian let himself be escorted out
of his cell—perhaps to his execution? Raze clutched the iron bars of his own cage as he watched the guards take Lucian away.

Lucian silently bid his new friend farewell.

He had no idea what the Death Dealers wanted of him and knew better than to
ask. Any unsolicited query would doubtless earn him nothing more than a smack
across the face or perhaps a fresh blow from their silver-tipped lashes. Still,
he could not help worrying about the vampires’ intention.
What does
Viktor have in store for me now?
he fretted.
More torture, or perhaps a
summary beheading?

Not even an immortal could survive having his head parted from his shoulders.
Or being drawn and quartered like a common thief.

The guards led him to a lonely cell on another level of the dungeon. They
locked him inside, then departed wordlessly. Lucian found himself alone in a
cage of his own. A quick inspection of the premises revealed that the cell had
once been used as a torture chamber. An iron maiden, its interior lined with
rusty spikes, reclined against one wall. A dilapidated rack had once been used
to stretch human or lycan bodies apart. Metal pincers lay beside an overturned
brazier. Suspicious brown stains covered the floor, walls, and ceiling. A
fractured human skull rested in a niche upon the wall. A spider had made its
home in an empty eye socket. Uncertain what was happening, Lucian morosely
surveyed his solitary new domain. Was he was destined to live out the rest of
his immortality in this isolated chamber?

He would not be the first to meet this fate. Legend had it that William
himself, the savage progenitor of their breed, was even now buried alive in some hidden dungeon whose true
location was known only to Viktor himself. Lucian wondered if he was also
destined to become nothing more than a cautionary myth for others of his kind.

How ironic,
he reflected,
that the first of the werewolves and the
first of the lycans should come to the same end. And both at the hands of the
same draconian Elder.

Lucian had just about convinced himself that he was condemned never to look
upon another living soul again when a key rattled in the lock. He spun around to
find Tanis standing outside the cell along with another figure. A hooded cloak
concealed the other vampire’s face and figure. The scribe opened the door to
admit his companion to the cell. He glanced about nervously, as though fearful
of being discovered at any moment. He tucked an iron key back into the folds of
his robe.

“Two minutes,” he said in a low voice. “Any more is too risky.”

The hooded figure nodded and entered the cell. Tanis closed the door and
wasted no time vacating the premises. His stealthy footsteps receded into the
distance.

Lucian faced his visitor. He sniffed the air, catching a whiff of lavender.
The familiar scent proclaimed Sonja’s identity even before she threw back the
hood to reveal her beautiful face. His heart leapt at the sight of her. He
rushed forward to embrace her. They clung to each other as though their immortal
lives depended on it.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. Her voice was hoarse, as though she had been crying for hours. “I would have come sooner, but it took
time for Tanis to arrange this meeting. There was no other way….”

He silenced her apologies with a passionate kiss. For a precious moment, they
lost themselves in the kiss, their mouths hungrily seeking each other out. The
fire of their desire welded them together like metals in a forge. Lucian wished
they could make the moment last forever, but he knew they had vital matters to
discuss in the brief time remaining to them. He reluctantly tore himself away
from her cool red lips.

“Tanis?” he asked.

“You were right,” she confirmed. “He’ll help us for a seat on the Council.”

Lucian was impressed by the scribe’s ambition. “And your father knows
nothing?”

“I’m sure of it.”

That was the best news he had heard in days. As long as Viktor remained
ignorant of their love, he and Sonja had time to plan their escape. For the
first time since feeling Kosta’s silver arrowhead pierce his thigh, Lucian
allowed himself a flicker of hope. “This can work.”

“Lucian.” She hugged him with all her vampiric strength. “It has to.”

The sheer determination in her eyes and voice inspired him anew. All her
doubts seemed to have melted away since last they spoke. He felt his spirits
soar.
Our love cannot be conquered. Together, we can make this happen!

And not just for the two of them alone.