The Red Wolf (The Wolf Fey #2) (3 page)

I staggered back, falling into the snow. “What the...”

A spry figure leaped forth, raising his hand as if to punch me again.

“Not so fast!” I rushed towards him, tackling him to the ground. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

The creature responded with a laugh. “Hey, let me go!” His words were slurred and his breath smelled like firefruit whisky. “Let me out of here! Want no trouble with you.”

He wriggled under my grasp.

I looked down at the figure. It wasn't a fairy, as I'd feared, nor was it a wolf. Rather, this diminutive creature – half-man, half-goat – was a satyr, and a particularly hairy one at that. He smelled strongly of alcohol and unwashed fur.

“What was that all about?” I stared him down.

“Nothing, nothing...just let me go!” the satyr squealed. But before I could make a decision about whether or not to show mercy, the satyr kicked me squarely in the groin, making me flinch just long enough for him to jump up and vanish behind a tree.

“Come out!” I called towards the tree. “What do you want with me?”

I took a step forward, only to receive a square kick from behind.

I tumbled forward. “How did you...?” I looked up, only to see the satyr's shadow before mine. I dashed at him, my hands aiming for his neck, only to see him vanish before my very eyes. “Stupid Wolf!” the satyr cried. “You think you can best me? Big dumb lumbering creature – you haven't got a chance!”

“Not so fast, you little twerp,” I muttered. When the satyr reappeared a few yards off, I was ready for him, leaping on him in a full-body tackle.

“Skinny little goat!” I couldn't resist striking back with words as well as force. “Is this how you really talk to your betters?”

“You ain't my better!”

“I could sink my teeth into your neck if I wanted – only I don't want the taste of filth on my breath all afternoon...”

“If I was sober, I'd put you down like the dog you are!”

We continued fighting a while longer – the satyr combating my strength with his incredible agility – but at last I managed to restrain him. He kicked and wriggled beneath my grasp, but this time I was ready for his trickery. I sat down square upon his chest, squeezing his lungs with my knees. I grabbed one ankle in each of my hands, pulling his goat's legs up from the ground. “Now,” I said, “I think it's time you tell me what you're thinking by attacking me.”

“Peace! Peace!” the satyr squeaked. “It's nothing – you shouldn't be here. Under orders, I am! To let every single passerby go by...I mean, to
not
go by...” He hiccupped loudly. “I mean, I'm supposed to stand guard. Only nobody's come. So I got a little bored. Figured I'd drink a bit of firefruit brandy to keep warm, you know what I mean? Not a single person allowed to pass. No sirree. Not one!” He let off a pungent belch.

“Guard?” I said. “What are you guarding?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all. What makes you think I'm guarding something?” His eyes grew wide.

“You just said...”

“No I didn't –
hic
! - no sirree. No guards here.” He laughed a little too loudly.

I looked down warily at this pathetic creature. Once subdued, it became clear that this satyr wasn't much of a threat. And I was probably more likely to get the information I needed by letting him talk.

“So you're not a guard,” I said.

“No! Just an innocent passerby, just like you!”

“But you attacked me!”

“So it was just a casual misunderstanding. Nothing personal, sirree! Nothing personal. Now if you'll just let me go and be on my merry way, I won't bother you any more...”

“Going anywhere interesting?” I asked, mock-casually. The satyr seemed to have slipped back into a bit of a drunken stupor, his adrenaline evidently wearing off. “I'm sure a satyr like you has an interesting life – what did you say your name was?”

“Pan,” murmured the satyr.

“I'm Logan,” I said. “And you look awfully tired. Maybe you want another drink?” I handed him my flask of warming brandy juice. I had hoped to keep it in case the weather got too cold even for wolf fur, but a bit of espionage seemed like a more pressing reason to use it.

“Thanks!” Pan gulped down the liquid gladly. “Hey, you're not so bad, Logan. No matter what Kian said...”

“Kian doesn't like me?” I asked, as nonchalantly as possible. I didn't want to let Pan figure out that I was onto him.

“Thinks you're going to steal his girl,” he laughed. “And he needs her as bait. If he wants to get his sister back from Summer Court. He plans to use the girl as a hostage. But he told me you'd be coming after her. Said he sensed wolf on his trail.”

“Must be hard being a Winter Prince,” I sighed. “So stressful. He must try to get away from the palace sometimes. I know when I'm overwhelmed by wolf duties, I escape to my hiding place.”

“Yeah, a hiding place,” murmured Pan. “Somewhere nice, warm. With brandy juice.”

“Kian must like having a hiding place like that. I have a cave near the Purple Mountains. Such a nice, warm place. So comfortable. Where do you and Kian go?”

“Not so far,” sighed Pan. “Just across the Black Pass. A few miles up the road. He's got a hunting lodge there. A nice place. Big fire. Full cellar! Emerald roof.” And then his eyes opened with fear as he realized what he'd said. “Uh, forget what I've just said,” he added quickly. “I didn't say anything.”

“I'm sure you didn't.”

“You forgot what I said?”

“I forgot,” I patted Pan on the shoulder.

“Good,” said Pan, passing my flask back to me. “I think I'm going to head off now, if you don't mind.” He staggered off.

I took a sip of the brandy juice myself. It was getting cold now, and although I didn't want to get drunk, I wanted something to heat my blood.

And then I started to grow sleepy. Very, very sleepy.

That little...

Even while drunk, that hairy-legged bastard had managed to sneak a sleeping potion into my drink.

“You come back here!” I staggered forth but it was too late. The effects of the drug had taken over, and I fell into the snow, snoring before I even hit the ground.

Chapter 3

T
he dream had overtaken me again – the very same dream. This time the path I traveled was familiar to me – I was gliding once more over the jagged mountains, overlooking the lush green valleys. Even in my dreams I could smell their fresh and intoxicating fragrance: jasmine, lavender, honeysuckle, rose. I breathed in deeply, inhaling the delicious aroma of the flowers. I knew this place now; the cave I felt myself enter was familiar to me. I was now standing once more in that same opulent cavern: the cave of the Red Wolf. The frescoes were still all around me; the mosaics still shone in the lamplight, casting shadows around my feet. But the cave was empty now. My ten thousand soldiers had all vanished.

“Hello?” I called out.

This time the echo traveled through the whole cavern, repeating itself again and again. “Hello! Hello! Hello!” The very walls of the cavern seemed to shake with my cry. Where had everyone gone? I looked up, beyond the stalactites, to catch a narrow glimpse of the sky through the single, small hole drilled through the top wall of the cave. It had gone dark now, and I could see a few glittering stars amid the inky black veil of night.

And then I was gliding again, unable to control it, traveling faster and faster out of the cave and across the snowy plains. The landscape was deserted; I could make out neither birds of the air nor creatures crawling upon the earth. And then, in the distance, I spotted what looked like a black forest on the white side of a barren mountain. My feet seemed to move even faster towards them, and as I flew closer I realized that what I was seeing was not a forest at all, but rather an army.

Ten thousand strong.

And the Red Wolf, his hair long and matted but still golden, his eyes flashing with desire for battle was leading them. I flew closer and closer to the Red Wolf, until it seemed that I was about to collide with him, but he did not see me.

And then we had collided – and yet did not collide – for now I was
inside
the body of the Red Wolf. I was looking out through his eyes, seeing what he saw, just as I had done in my first dream. I
was
the Red Wolf again.

“It is time to fight,” I heard myself say. “Men, women, soldiers all – now is no time for fear. Say your goodbyes to the life you knew; prepare yourselves for the most difficult fight you will have to face. The Dark Hordes are here.” My wings –
his
wings – spread wide. “We must fly, soldiers! We must survey the battlefield.”

And then I was flying – not merely gliding but actually
flying
– my wings flapping to keep me aloft. My heart started beating faster. To be able to
fly
, fly as the Fey could do – for centuries Wolves had mourned this lost ability, dreaming of the ancient days when wolves could fly alongside fairies. Grandfather used to tell me that he knew another Wolf in his youth who had, as a child, seen his own grandfather fly – but the idea that any one of
us
could be lifted into the air like this...why, it was unbelievable.

But here I was, flying against the wind, with ten thousand wolves flying too, their enormous scarlet wings bearing their human bodies aloft. We flew up the mountainside, and as we reached the peak – at last able to survey the enormous fields below – I heard a collective gasp coming from my men.

For we all saw it at the same time: saw the swarm of darkness that spread like locusts across our land. Banshees, minotaurs, giants, witches – all these creatures and more filled the valley. Villages and castles all through the valley lay in ruins and desolation; bodies of wolves and fairies alike lay strewn on the ground. Vampires were sucking at the necks of the wounded; banshees were filling the air with their shrieks. Witches were cackling; giants were stomping five or six houses into the earth at a single furious step.

So, this was the Dark Hordes. The most ancient and evil magic in Feyland. Nobody knew how they had come into existence – for the stories all conflicted with each other – but in one thing all the accounts of the genesis of these foul creatures agreed: the Dark Hordes had been created by an act of unspeakable evil. Some said they were born of the rape of a pure fairy, others said that they emerged from the blood of a murdered Wolf child.

Whatever they were, they thrived on hatred, on agony and despair. They killed for the sake of killing; they enjoyed making their victims suffer as they slaughtered whole families for no other reason than that they could. They scorched the earth and salted the fields, burning livestock and crops – their hatred was not restricted just to Fey and Wolves. Rather, they hated all life, and sought to destroy all living things. Even the grass, I noted, had turned black; they had set the blades aflame and watched as pastures blazed out to char and dust.

My heart constricted with pain, and as I heard the agonized sighs coming from my soldiers, I knew they felt it too. The pain of losing the places they loved, of seeing once-familiar villages – their homes, perhaps, or perhaps their families – reduced to desolation and despair. I could feel their suffering, and my heart broke for them.

“My sister was from that village!” one of the Wolves cried out. “Her whole family, slaughtered!” His voice was shaking.

“I grew up in the sight of that castle,” another cried, pointing at what was now little more than a pile of blood-soaked stones. “And now look what those fiends have done to it!”

We retreated back to the mountainside to plan our attack, now more eager than ever to fight, to avenge those the Dark Hordes had killed.

“What are we waiting for?” cried one soldier, tears streaming down her face. “Let's attack now! Even if we die, it's better than living another second while letting those bastards destroy everything we love...”

“Halt!” I heard myself say, motioning towards the sky. For there, coming towards us upon gossamer wings, was another army, waving a banner of peace. My heart leaped within my chest: I knew these men. They were fairies, led by a man I knew well. The most noble and the bravest of all fairies. My half-brother. The Midnight Knight.

He wore a dark suit of armor blacker even than ebony; his face was obscured beneath a visor trimmed with gold. He rode upon a winged horse as black as he, a proud beast with a noble, determined face. “Heel, Steel,” the Knight said, pulling the reins of the horse.

Steel descended onto the mountainside, along with the rest of the fairies, and the Midnight Knight dismounted, walking towards me. “Brother,” he said swiftly.

“Brother.”

“It's getting bad.”

“Is it true?” The Midnight Knight looked my soldiers up and down. “Are the rumors true? Can your men really shift? Are they wolves, now?”

The Logan-part of my brain was utterly confused. What did the Midnight Knight mean “now” - surely we had always been werewolves? But the words coming out of the Red Wolf's mouth confused me even further. “I sought the advice of the ancient Fey Queen,” I said. “Queen Panthea.”

“Panthea, alive?”

“She was not easy to find,” I was now saying. “I had to undergo many trials to even reach her – and more still once she heard my plea for help. But in the end I prevailed, and she granted me and the rest of my army a gift: a chance to defeat the Dark Hordes. We can all shift now, as we choose. Into wolves.”

The Midnight Knight took a step closer, looking me up and down. I could not see his face behind the visor, and so the intensity of his stare unnerved me. “Wolves are known for their strength as well as their loyalty. Can I count on both in you, my brother?” He placed his gloved hands on my shoulders. “Can we trust in you now, Connell?”

“You can trust me,” I knelt before him.

“Queen Panthea is a wise and powerful woman,” he said, “and yet – how did she manage to transform you? Ascribing powers to fairies is a dangerous and difficult thing to do – I've almost never heard of such a thing.”

“She said there would be sacrifices,” I said, and as I spoke I felt a great sense of foreboding within me: a nameless, terrible terror. “She said that my men would sacrifice a great deal for the great gift she was giving us. And then she took my blood, running silver, pricking me with a dagger on the thumb. She caught my blood in a vial and then she mixed my blood with the red blood of a wolf, chanting all the while. And as she mixed the blood, turning my blood red, I looked at the wound she had made upon my flesh and saw that there, too, I had begun to bleed red, not silver.”