Harbinger: Fate's Forsaken: Book One (55 page)

He was shocked
to hear the wolf speak, and leery of getting close to him. Then he remembered
what Jake said about the slaving spell: pain could sometimes clear a man’s head
and give him back his mind. He looked in the wolf’s eyes and saw that the
monster was gone from them. He was looking into the eyes of a man, not a beast.

And he wouldn’t
let a man die without hearing what he had to say. It was the least he could do.

He put his hand
over his heart and willed it to keep beating. “I can’t heal you,” he admitted.
Amos could have — he could heal just about every organ in the body. But
Kael had been too busy being rebellious to learn anything other than skin, bone
and the first few layers of muscle. Now he regretted it deeply.

“I want …
death,” the wolf said. Then he touched his chest. “Bloodfang.”

It took Kael a
moment to realize
Bloodfang
was the
wolf’s name. “Kael,” he said in return.

“Kael … of the
mountains.” Bloodfang’s eyes rolled back and he closed them. It was a long
moment before he spoke again. “My pack is gone, all gone. Only two … remain.” His
snout bent in what could have been a pained smile. “Soon … only one. I ask a
warrior’s boon.”

Kael had no idea
what that was, but he nodded.

“As my …
defeater, I ask that you guard … guard my kin. My last sister.”

Somewhere in the
back of his head, Kael knew time was running out. He only had a few more
minutes left to clear the upper floors before the shifts changed and someone
found those guards dead around their card table. “All right, where do I find
her?”

Bloodfang’s
laugh turned into a gurgle as he fought to stay alive. “You wear her scent …
her very skin. Do you not … know?”

In his sheer and
utter disbelief, Kael’s concentration slipped. Blood leaked out from under his
fingers as he tried desperately to regain his grip. “Kyleigh? Do you mean
Kyleigh?”

But Bloodfang
didn’t answer him. The light in his eyes was fading fast; they rolled aimlessly
in his skull. “Until the last … sun … rises,” he whispered. Then he lay still.

Kael sat back
and his hands hung limp before him. The lantern flames had consumed the rug and
were making their way down the tapestry. He beat them out before they could set
the whole room ablaze. As he sat in the darkness, a horrible feeling tore at
his heart.

A voice suddenly
came from the other side of the door: “I ain’t going in there — I’ve seen
what that thing is capable of. He’s probably just irked about being locked up,
anyhow.”

“But what if
that ain’t it?” another man said. “What if there’s been a real intruder?”

The first man
snorted. “Then I’m sure he’s been taken care of.”

“Yeah, and if he
ain’t been, it’s
our
necks in the
noose.”

The first man
considered this for a moment, then grunted in defeat. They opened the door just
a crack, just wide enough to stick their heads in, and that was all Kael
needed. Two well-placed arrows ended their argument forever.

He moved through
the halls numbly, killing every guard he came across without a second thought.
All he could think about was the horrible thing he’d just done and how Kyleigh
would never forgive him. Now he understood why she hadn’t killed Bloodfang when
she had the chance: she’d been trying to save him.

The guards were
shocked when he kicked in the barrack doors. The first few to rush him got
knives in the chest. While the rest struggled to climb over the bodies of their
companions, he had time to get his bow drawn. After that, things went quickly.

A few sprinted
down the stairs and away from him, no doubt heading for the wall. Kael
retrieved his knives and followed them at a walk. He heard Harbinger’s
shrilling cry and a few startled gasps. Only one man escaped Kyleigh. He dashed
up the stairs, heaving under the weight of his armor, and skidded to a halt
when Kael’s shadow crossed over him. He looked up, and fear ringed his eyes.

Kael put an
arrow through the left one.

“Is that all of
them?” Kyleigh peered through the doorway at the foot of the stairs. She held
Harbinger loosely. Blood trickled off its blade and sank into the mortar.

“Yes,” he said
without looking at her. “What about the mages?”

“They’re all
dead. Looks like none of them survived their dinner.”

“Good.” His
steps were heavy as he made his way towards her. When they were only a stair
apart, he stopped.

He didn’t look
at her, but he could feel her eyes on him — moving from the top of his
head and down. If she could smell Lysander’s blood inside a corked bottle,
there was no doubt she could smell the deed that stained his hands.

After a moment,
she stepped back. Her boot scraped the ground and he knew the full, heavy
weight of what he’d done finally hit her. When she spoke, her voice was the
smallest he’d ever heard:

“So he’s …?”

“Yes,” Kael
heard himself say. “I killed your brother.”

She turned away. Her whole body
shuddered as she clamped a hand over her face. He wished she would’ve broken
his jaw, slit his throat, run him through. If only she would take blood for
blood, then he wouldn’t have to stand there while she cried — while he
wasted away under her tears.

Then she grabbed
him by the shoulders, and he braced himself for the moment when she would fling
him into the sea.

“Thank you.”

Astonishment
drove his eyes to hers. He’d been expecting the tears on her face, but never
the gratitude. It didn’t make any sense. “Don’t thank me, kill me! Kingdom
knows I deserve it —”

She put a hand
over his mouth, gently. “No you don’t. You did what I should have done —
what I couldn’t do. He begged me to kill him in the Pass, but I …” She ducked
her head and came back with a glare. “I refused him. I thought there might be a
way to save him, but I realized too late that he never wanted to be saved.”

“He said he was
your brother.”

She nodded. “Not
by blood, of course. Bloodfang’s thrice great grandsire found me wandering
through the forest four hundred years ago. I don’t remember who I was before …
the pack is all the family I’ve ever known.”

Kael was silent.
He was afraid to breathe. He let everything she said sink into him and tried to
understand it. He was afraid if he asked her anything that she would stop
talking, and then he’d never get to hear her story. So for once, he kept his
mouth shut.

“There are few
who know this,” she continued, her voice gaining strength, “but King Banagher
captured many of the shapechangers at the start of the Whispering War. He
thought he might be able to use us as weapons against the rebel army —
but he could find no way to control us. And so he locked us in his dungeons for
safekeeping. My pack was among those captured … I thought I could free us, but
Bloodfang made me swear not to show my other shape to our captors, and I
couldn’t ignore the alpha’s command.

“Because I
didn’t look like the others, Banagher never suspected my powers. He released me
to his most trusted advisor, Setheran, who taught me the way of the sword. My
fighting prowess earned me knighthood at the end of the War. Finally, I thought
I had enough power in the King’s court to free my pack.” She smiled hard. “I
was knight for a day — and then Crevan took the throne. He bound my
brothers in magic … and I realized I could never free them — not unless I
killed Crevan. I tried, and though I very nearly succeeded, I failed. And I’ve
been on the run ever since.

“I realize now
that Bloodfang saved my life when he told me to hide my shape … though he
always blamed himself for what happened to us.” She took a deep breath and
wiped her tears away. “But that’s a story for another time. Thank you for
giving him the peace he longed for. I know that he’s in the eternal woods now,
hunting with the pack mates who’ve been waiting so long for his return. You’ve
put my heart at ease.”

Kael realized
that he’d been holding his breath. He couldn’t believe how selfish he’d been.
Had he stopped worrying about his own quest for half a moment, he might’ve
realized that he wasn’t the only one who’d lost something dear to him —
that his wasn’t the only cause in the Kingdom worth fighting for.

She may have
been relieved that Bloodfang was at peace, but that wasn’t good enough for
Kael. Now that he knew her story, and knew how much she’d sacrificed to try to
free her family, he felt Kyleigh deserved more than relief. And there was no
putting aside the fact that he’d just murdered a man who didn’t deserve to die.

The debt between
them was great … and there was only one way to settle it.

He stepped past
Kyleigh and grabbed a torch out of its sconce. All across the sea, the waves
were covered in deathly white fog. The air was quiet. Then he waved the torch
in a series of arcs and all at once, a dozen rowboats crept out of the mist,
drawn to his signal. They made their berth on the rocky shore and dark fingers
scrambled up the iron ladder that jutted out from the waves. Moonlight caught
the glint of the cutlasses strapped to their hips.

“Come on,” he
said to Kyleigh. “Let’s finish this — for Bloodfang.”

She smiled
through the tears that still wet her cheeks. “Agreed. I wouldn’t let you clap
me in irons for anyone else.”

*******

Margaret’s
resolve was crumbling, he was sure of it. “The ballroom’s getting rather
stuffy. Why don’t we go for a stroll? I could give you a tour of the castle,” Reginald
said in her ear. He could feel the heat coming off her blush.

“But Sir Duke,
what would the others think of us?”

He tightened his
grip around her waist, pulled her closer. “My dear, what could they think? I’m
their ruler — their very lives depend upon me. Anyone who speaks ill of
me has his tongue cut out … and anyone I favor will have power unimaginable.”
He dropped his voice to a growl. “Come with me, Margaret.”

She was
teetering on the edge, he could see the struggle behind her clear blue eyes. But
he already knew what her answer would be. In just a few moments, she would be
his.

BANG!

The ballroom
doors burst open and the music screeched to a halt. Reginald spun around. If it
was some guard coming in to complain about the fog, he’d have his head lopped
off. But as the crowds parted, murmuring to one another, he saw something he’d
never expected.

A young man
strode across the floor like he owned it. He wore rough spun peasant’s clothes
and a bow across his back. The candlelight from the gold branches of the
chandelier touched his hair, revealing deep red hidden within his curls. His
face was smooth, thin, and not particularly handsome. He tugged roughly on the
chains gripped in his hand, and his prisoner stumbled out of the crowd behind
him.

Reginald may not
have recognized the man, but he certainly recognized the prisoner. He saw her
eyes, his blood turned to ice. He shoved Margaret aside and she toppled into
the crowd with a squeal. “Bartimus!”

“Hold on a
minute, Sir Duke!” the young man called after him. “She’s no harm to anyone:
I’ve got her in enchanted bindings.”

“Do not be
deceived,” Bartimus countered. He stood by the throne with one leg already
through his magic door. He held out his hand and glared at the young man from
over Reginald’s shoulder. “The boy could be her agent — sent here to trap
and kill you.”

The young man
snorted. “Her agent? She’s a barbarian, mage. She thinks of nothing but red
meat.”

“And who are
you?” Reginald said, half-turning.

“A hunter, Sir
Duke,” the young man bowed, “from the Unforgivable Mountains.”

The room lit up
with the frenzied buzz of voices. Men and women whispered over their shoulders,
leaned across their circles. Barbarian? Surely not. The Unforgivable Mountains?
Impossible!

But Reginald
ignored them. His eyes were on the irons clamped to the Dragongirl’s wrists. He
squinted and thought he saw the symbol of Midlan etched into them. “Where did
you come across those shackles, boy?”

The room fell
silent.

“I picked them
up out of a shipwreck,” the young man replied with a shrug, his thin face
untroubled. “Surely you wouldn’t begrudge a man the right to reclaim lost
goods?”

A hundred heads
swiveled to Reginald for an answer.

“No, of course
not,” he said through pursed lips.

Behind him,
Bartimus grunted. “Be quick, Sire. My strength fades fast. I’m not sure how
long I can keep the door open.”

“Close it,”
Reginald said, his mind made up.

“But Sir Duke
—”

“Just do it.”

Bartimus gave
him a hard look, then reluctantly stepped out of the portal as Reginald took a
step towards the young man. “Do you have some proof that she is truly bound?”

He smiled wryly.
“I think if she weren’t, I’d already be dead.”

There were a few
patches of nervous laughter, but Reginald silenced them with an upraised hand.
The longer the Dragongirl snarled at him, the more confident he became. Surely,
if she were free to do as she wished, the curtains would already be ablaze. He
decided to have a little fun.

“Ladies and
managers, this young woman who stands before you is not what she seems,” he
said, thrusting a finger at her. “She’s a monster of the woods — a
shapechanging barbarian!”

Gasps rang out.
People stood on their tiptoes, craning around each other’s wigs for a better
look.

“But she is more
than that — in fact, you may know her as the Dragongirl.”

This news gave
him the reaction he was looking for. The tittering grew to a rumble and every
eye in the room went wide. Several people took backwards steps towards the
door, but most surged forward for a better look.