04 - Rise of the Lycans (24 page)

He let go of her neck and she huddled atop the bed, weeping. Claw marks
scarred her throat. Blood stained the bodice of her gown. Violent sobs racked
her body as she realized that all hope was lost.

We are undone, my love.

Her father swayed upon his legs, seemingly overcome by the damning memories
he had stolen from her mind. For a moment she thought that he might collapse
altogether, then he stiffened and gazed down on her in judgment. A note of
sadness dispelled the anger in his voice. He shook his head mournfully.

“I loved you more than anything,” he said before sweeping out of the room.
The door slammed shut behind him. He barked at the guards in the hall. “She does
not leave this room!”

Sonja found herself under house arrest. How now was she to make her
rendezvous with Lucian? He would be expecting her in two nights’ time.

Her distraught gaze went to the shuttered window. Nearby, a hooded riding
cloak hung upon a hook….

Lucian smelled the smoke from the campfires even before he reached the
clearing by the river. The smell of roast venison made his mouth water. After an
exuberant night hunting wild game with the pack, he wasn’t exactly famished, but
he had worked up an appetite hiking back to the camp and a bite of breakfast sounded appealing. Chirping
birds greeted the morning. He savored the feel of the sun on his face; there had
been times last night when he had feared that he would not live to see another
dawn.

But instead I laid the groundwork for a new alliance….

He heard Raze, Sabas, and Xristo conferring around the campfire. A twig
snapped beneath his boot and the men leapt to their feet in alarm. They snatched
up swords and axes, then relaxed as they spotted Lucian emerging from the brush.
The young lycans called out to him enthusiastically, while the stoic African
merely raised a hand in greeting. Lucian appreciated their welcome, but was
mildly dismayed at how easily he had taken them by surprise. Apparently, he
needed to tighten security around the camp.

They were safe enough from the vampires by day, true, but that didn’t mean
that Viktor couldn’t hire human mercenaries to exterminate them.
I wouldn’t
put it past him,
Lucian thought.
If we can enlist mortal allies, so can
our foes.

Joining his comrades by the fire, he looked over his growing army. He was
pleased to see that their unlikely band of humans and lycans now numbered nearly
fifty men. Their arms had improved as well; instead of sticks and stones, many
of the rebels now sported swords, maces, bows, axes, scythes, pitchforks, and
other weapons, all presumably appropriated from the estates of their former
masters. He nodded approvingly at Raze. The mortal had clearly been busy in
Lucian’s absence.

“At this rate, we’ll have enough men within a week,” Sabas said proudly.

Perhaps,
Lucian thought.
And not just men…
He wondered when best
to let Raze and the others in on the results of last night’s expedition. They had
good reason to fear the wild werewolves. And might not welcome the idea of
casting their lot with them.

Another thought crossed his mind. “Has there been any sign of Sonja?”

Raze shook his head. “Nothing.”

“With respect, Lucian,” Xristo said, “I do not see the wisdom in waiting for
her.” He frowned at the thought of bringing Viktor’s daughter into their midst.
“She is not one of us.”

Lucian had anticipated this reaction. “She is the one who set us free.”

“But she is a vampire!” Xristo protested. Unable to contain himself, he
jumped to his feet. He glowered at the nearby river, where Lucian hoped to soon
rendezvous with Sonja. “If she has betrayed you, she could lead them to us!”

Betray us?
Lucian would not hear his beloved slandered thus. Rising in
anger, he grabbed Xristo by the throat and swung him into the trunk of a sturdy
oak. The jarring impact shook the tree, causing nuts and branches to rain down
on them. Xristo squirmed helplessly in Lucian’s grasp. All around the camp,
humans and lycans were riveted by their leader’s outburst. He raised his voice
so that all would hear—and understand that his love for Sonja was not to be
questioned.

“Death Dealers will undoubtedly be on the hunt,” he stated bluntly. “And they will eventually find us. But not by
her
doing.” He tightened his grip on Xristo’s throat to ensure that he had the husky
lycan’s full attention. “I trust Sonja with my life. And as long as I am in
command, so shall you.” Xristo nodded meekly.

The High Council convened in the crypt immediately after sundown. The tension
in the air was fairly palpable. It seemed to Viktor that Coloman and his fellow
malcontents could not wait to assail him with their usual litany of grievances.

“Lucian has sacked two estates in Brashov, milord,” Orsova reported. Carrier
pigeons had brought word of the rebels’ audacious raids. “And made off with the
contents of their armories. The human slaves have joined his ranks.”

Shocked gasps and exclamations greeted this dismaying news. Coloman was quick
to take the floor. “Freedom is as much a disease as William’s abhorrent
pestilence,” he declaimed. “You need to bring your unruly pet back.”

His acerbic tone clearly placed the blame for Lucian’s misdeeds squarely on
Viktor’s shoulders. That he had earlier argued for increased lenience regarding
the lycans had been conveniently forgotten, making him a hypocrite as well as a
conniver.

“Thank you, Coloman,” Viktor said sarcastically. “The obvious had escaped
me.” He sat brooding upon his throne, too absorbed in grief to want to waste
time parrying words with Coloman and his ilk. He had more serious matters on his
mind than the mewlings of these pampered weaklings. “But I need not lift a finger to quash this insurrection.
Lucian will return to this castle of his own free will.” His throat tightened
and his eyes grew dark with mixed anger and sorrow. “I have something he wants.”

Hoofbeats echoed through the forest.

Lucian and the other rebels seized their weapons. Fear swept over the
campsite, with many of the men looking poised to run. Others snarled as they
girded themselves for battle. Fangs and claws extended as several of the lycans
shifted into wolfen form. Lucian traded a worried look with Raze. Was this the
raid they had been expecting for days now? Had the Death Dealers found them at
last?

I think not,
Lucian thought. The resounding
clop-clop
coming
toward them sounded like the advance of a single rider, not the thunderous
charge of an invading force. He signaled the men to stand ready as he rushed
forward to meet the horseman—or woman. A thrilling possibility caused his heart
to beat wildly in anticipation. Could this be Sonja, one night earlier than planned?
Who else would
know where to find us?

He peered hopefully into the shadows, and was rewarded by the sight of a
solitary horsewoman riding into the clearing. A hooded burgundy riding cloak hid
the newcomer’s identity. Slender white hands gripped the reins of an ebony-black
palfrey.

Lucian’s face lit up. He raced to meet her.

Sonja, my love!

The woman pulled back on the reins, bringing her horse to a halt.

“Milady,” he greeted her.

She threw back her hood, revealing flaxen hair and cold violet eyes. Lucian’s
heart sank in disappointment. “Luka?” He recognized Sonja’s lady-in-waiting from
the castle. According to Sonja, the elegant blond vampiress had played a small
part in Sonja’s efforts to visit him in the dungeons. He feared to think what
Luka’s presence here meant for their hopes for the future. “What is it? Where is
she?”

Luka eyed with obvious discomfort the scruffy outlaws loitering behind
Lucian. No doubt she was acutely aware of just how vulnerable she was at this
moment. Tearing her fretful gaze away from the lycan band, she addressed Lucian
coolly. Both fear and anger peppered her voice. As a vampire, she had no love
for his kind.

“Sonja has been arrested,” she declared. “Her father knows… about the
two of you.”

The news staggered Lucian. He reached out to steady himself against a
moss-covered tree trunk. This was the moment he had been dreading ever since their first stolen kiss. He
could readily imagine Viktor’s virulent reaction.

“He will kill her.”

Luka nodded. Her acid tone made it clear that she held Lucian personally
responsible for her lady’s misfortune. “I thought you should know.”

Without another word, she wheeled her horse around and kicked it into motion.
Lucian stared bleakly after her as she rode off with all deliberate speed. The
horse’s pounding hooves left a cloud of dust and fallen leaves in its wake.

Oh, Sonja,
he lamented.
What have I done to you?

Raze watched unhappily as Lucian prepared for war. Black leather armor
encased his body. Twin swords were strapped across his back. The lycan’s eyes
burned with fierce determination, while all about the camp his followers debated
their leader’s sanity. Raze could feel the anxious eyes of the camp upon them. A
buzz of angry mutters and complaints simmered in the background. Intent on
rescuing his woman, Lucian seemed oblivious to his army’s discontent.

“It is a trap,” Raze warned him. “You know that.”

Lucian did not dispute this, but showed no sign of abandoning his suicidal quest.
“I will not let her die alone.”

Raze remembered glimpsing the vampire during the battle at the crossroads.
Lucian had challenged an entire pack of werewolves to defend Sonja then; now it
seemed he was willing to take on Viktor and his entire army in the same cause. The giant admired his friend’s devotion to
the lady, even as he feared that it would lead Lucian to his death. And perhaps
bring about the end of everything they had achieved so far.

He gestured at the lycans gathered behind them. “They followed you here,
Lucian. If you go, we will lose them.”

“No, we will not,” Lucian reassured him. “Let me tell you a secret, my
friend. They only
thought
they followed me. What they truly followed was
the idea of being free. That is why they are here. Not me.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance, warning of an impending storm. The unsettled
atmosphere matched the turbulence building within Viktor’s soul as he brooded
upon his throne in the great hall. Sensing the Elder’s mood, the other vampires
kept their distance. Only a handful of courtiers and courtesans populated the
hall, most preferring to mingle elsewhere. Even Tanis was nowhere to be seen;
the scribe had sequestered himself in the archives following his close call in
the armory. A goblet of fresh steer’s blood, still warm from the slaughterhouse,
did nothing to lift Viktor’s mood. There was nothing left now but to wait.

And to wonder mournfully how he might have averted these dire events.

The captain of the guard entered the hall. Viktor had sent for him in hopes
of news. He cocked his head expectantly.

Yes?

The soldier knew what the Elder was waiting for. “Nothing yet, milord.”

Viktor nodded grimly. He took another sip of blood.

Soon,
he thought.
Lucian will be here soon enough.

Castle Corvinus loomed upon the mountaintop like the gateway to hell. Lurking
at the fringe of the forest, hidden behind the trunk of a naked elm tree, Lucian
peered up at his former home and prison. He had hoped never to return to this
place except at the head of a conquering army, yet circumstances had dictated
otherwise. His men were not yet ready to lay siege to the fortress and he dared
not risk their own lives and liberty for the sake of his own love. Indeed,
despite the allegiance of Raze and the others, Lucian suspected that he might
well have driven his troops to mutiny had he asked them to fight to the death
for the sake of an endangered vampire.

No,
he mused.
This task is mine, and mine alone.

Lightning flashed to the south, briefly turning the night to day. A strong
wind whipped up the twigs and leaves around his boots. Skeletal branches creaked
and rustled before the oncoming gale. The air was tense and electric. A second
boom of thunder sounded louder and more near. The storm was obviously close
behind him.

Good,
Lucian thought. With luck, the tempest would mask his approach.

Peeking out from behind the tree, he spied an alert Death Dealer patrolling
the battlements above the front gate. Loaded ballistas waited to rain down death upon the winding path
leading up to the castle. The vampire looked out over the desolate terrain, but
apparently saw nothing amiss. Lucian waited until the sentry moved on before
darting from the shelter of the forest toward the base of the mountain. He
sprinted with preternatural speed, fearing all the while the cry of a watchful
guard or the fatal pang of an arrow through his chest, until he reached the
steep gray cliff beneath the castle’s walls. Breathing hard, he flattened
himself against the solid granite. Only four nights ago, he recalled, he had
scaled these very walls to enjoy his passionate tryst with Sonja. If only he had
known then what ghastly trials lay before them next!

We should have fled that very night,
he thought,
and never returned.

He took a moment to ready himself, then began to climb.

Thankfully, the rain had not yet begun to fall.

Vayer was relatively new to the Death Dealers, having served as a squire for
some seventy years before being elevated to the corps by Marcus himself. He
wondered why he had been assigned to stand guard over the lycan blacksmith’s old
forge, but he was not about to question his superior’s orders. If Captain Sandor
wanted him to spend the night watching over an abandoned smithy, then that was
what he was going to do.
Could be worse,
he thought.
I could be
risking life and limb fighting werewolves in the woods.