Wolf pack, p.2
Wolf Pack, page 2
Ferth had a brother. An identical twin. If he kept thinking it, would it start to seem real? Ferth didn’t want this to be real. He wanted to wake up and have Cal alive. But it was Ferth that had blocked Cal’s knife, saving his father’s life and dooming Cal. The burden of grief and regret slammed his slumping shoulders and snatched his breath away.
Gray fur rubbed against his thigh, the shared sorrow drawing them together like lost children. “This is not your fault.” The wolf spoke in Ferth’s mind.
“Are no thoughts my own?” The mental connection to the two wolves shocked and excited him despite the circumstances. He’d lost his beast. He was an abomination to the Draco Sang. But he did not feel broken, at least not in this thing. His mind was clear and sharp. Free.
“I didn’t have to hear you to see your guilt. Our father killed him. Laconius separated us from Cal and kept us from our mother.” The gray wolf’s voice in Ferth’s head was the same low gravelly tones as Ferth’s own.
“I killed him too.” Ferth thought back to the chase, when he’d hit his brother’s injured side. That’s when Cal had dropped. “I’ll spend the rest of my life atoning, and it won’t be enough.”
The wolf didn’t reply.
Ferth held the cooling body closer, his chest caving in.
Shale stepped nearer to his side. He leaned into her strength as she guided him along the path to camp. The same path Ferth had taken only days ago. He’d been going the opposite direction, toward Skotar, fleeing the scene of his crime after kidnapping the baby. Had the little girl made it back to her mother? He could only hope.
A man came forward, and the soldiers parted. Judging by the wild directions of his graying hair, he’d been roused from sleep moments ago, but he held himself with authority and steel, like Ferth’s father, but different.
His cobalt gaze cut into Ferth. Two scars striped his face, across his eye. His focus shifted to Cal, and pain crumpled his expression. Ferth stood paralyzed, clasping the corpse, as a muscled lion padded up behind the man.
The Lion. This was Titus. His father’s enemy. Ferth’s enemy—not anymore.
“Callidon.” Titus’s low voice was a whispered plea. Tears welled in his eyes as he laid his hands over Cal’s neck, feeling for himself the silent pulse. Stony seconds ticked by. “My son.”
Ferth’s gaze shot up to the man’s scarred face.
Blue eyes held his stare. “He found you. He brought you home. Our lost son.”
Warmth spread across Ferth’s icy heart as those powerful words struck deep. Titus gripped Ferth’s shoulder with a wiry hand. He didn’t hate the impertinent touch. In truth, Titus seemed to be feeding him courage.
“He vowed to kill his father and leave the Draco Sang leaderless,” Titus said. “Did he pass in the peace that he had avenged his ma?”
Ferth shook his head, pain shooting from his tight jaw to his cold feet. Ferth had destroyed Cal’s mission. He eked out the confession. “Cal’s blade went wide of Laconius’s heart. The chief will heal.”
Titus’s eyes hollowed out in grief.
“But I do not think Cal realized that. He found peace in the end.” Ferth could offer that slight hope.
“Because he found you.”
Heat swelled behind Ferth’s eyes. He held the stiff body closer to his heart.
“Your mother ...” Titus’s voice trailed off. Tears dripped down. He tilted his chin to look at the heavy body in Ferth’s arms. “Your mother,” he whispered to Cal, voice soft and full of anguish.
Ferth ached with hope and want, his hidden dreams suddenly appearing on the horizon. Hearing of her spoken with such love rocked him. Desire rose painfully within him. Could he finally meet her? Where was she?
Titus’s hand left Ferth’s shoulder to cradle Lyko’s narrow head. The wolf whimpered and nuzzled his palm. Titus dropped to his knee and drew the wolf against his chest, his arms wrapping white fur. The wolf who had lost his master, his human half, seemed to melt into the shared grief.
At Ferth’s side, Shale’s breath hitched. A quiet sound, but he was aware of her even in his trauma. Ferth flicked his focus to her weeping face and followed her gaze to a newcomer. He hadn’t thought his heart could hurt any more, but it throbbed as Shale soaked up the broad-shouldered, dark-haired soldier who came forward.
“Uriah.” She whispered his name like a prayer.
Had she found love so quickly?
His muscles coiled, wanting to fight the man. He flung the thought away. Not now. Not ever. He tore his gaze away from the swooning Shale.
No animal followed Uriah, but he exuded prowess. His gaze bore down on Cal as he came forward. Without a word, Uriah scooped Cal out of Ferth’s arms. Ferth sagged as the weight lifted. This was Cal’s real brother. The thought crumpled him further. He had no right to be here, to bring back the body of their fallen comrade. He’d killed their friend. He’d kidnapped their child. He’d been their enemy moments ago. Was he still?
Every face had turned away from him to follow Cal. With smooth steps, Uriah carried the body into camp, Lyko close at his heels.
Ferth thought perhaps he might disappear into the shadows. Forever. But Shale tugged him forward by the elbow she still gripped. Her touch was a lifeline, the only thing keeping him from drowning. The gray wolf slunk along at Ferth’s side, his tail between his legs.
A slow horn rang out. Sleepy humans stumbled out of tents to line the path. Each person stood with their fist on their heart as the procession seeped through. Grief rolled across camp. He wished again he could trade his brother in death.
Uriah carried Cal into a large tent. Ferth stopped in the shadows a few yards away. Shale let go of him and turned familiar green eyes up to look at his face, now furless and human. He wanted to draw her to his chest, hold her, smell her. Never let her go.
Without a word, she turned and went into the tent, no doubt anxious to be away from him and his shame. Cold isolation dropped over him like a cage. Rooted to the spot by exhaustion and indecision, he and his gray wolf went largely unnoticed. Except by the lion sitting in the darkness. Torchlight glinted off the blue gaze that guarded Ferth.
Men and women poured forward to see the body and share their grief. One woman with tears already washing her cheeks passed Ferth, and his wolf’s head shot up at the same moment Ferth saw the baby in her arms. The baby he’d stolen. He could not face that mother. He had no hope of forgiveness.
Her wail rent the air as she crossed into the tent. “Callidon!” Her cries pierced the thin canvas and cut into Ferth’s heart. Now he had taken Cal from her as well.
Still as a statue, Ferth watched and listened in horror as the night ebbed away.
Uriah and the mother left the tent. They stood together, the dawn basking them in pale colors as she wept into his chest. A panther glared at Ferth as it padded up to the mother. It was the one he had fought, and Thirro had injured. It hissed. Ferth almost wanted it to attack now. Standing here waiting for his punishment was torture on his nerves.
He needed to leave. He didn’t belong here. He didn’t belong anywhere. Except in hell. This was misery. Ferth eyed the lion still watching him. Maybe it would kill him when he tried to escape.
Titus left the tent and put his arms around the grieving couple. “Come.”
Dismay rose in Ferth’s chest as Titus led them forward to where he stood with his wolf. He wilted under their sad faces and heavy stares.
Titus stuck out his right hand, palm open and held vertically. “Captain Titus.”
Ferth eyed the human hand. What was he supposed to do with it?
Titus lowered his arm to his side. “What is your name?”
Ferth decided he’d better start learning the ways of Elysium. In Skotar, Dracos greeted each other by lifting their elbow out and holding a fist over their heart, above their Draco Sang brand. Or among friends, punching eachother’s chest marks with varying degrees of aggression.
Ferth stuck out his hand as Titus had done, holding the fingers straight. “Ferth.” He let his hand fall as Titus had, but Titus was bringing his arm back up as if to grab Ferth’s palm. Ferth quickly tucked his hands behind his back.
The woman’s brows rose at the exchange.
“It’s custom here to shake hands in greeting,” Titus said, voice calm. “You are meant to take my palm in yours.”
“Hold your hand?” Ferth’s voice rose in surprise.
Titus’s lips curved up, the hardness melting off his features. “I suppose you could say that.”
He held out his hand again, and Ferth reluctantly brought his up and touched his palm to the stranger’s. As Titus’s wiry fingers wrapped around his, squeezing Ferth’s stiff hand, warnings flared through him. This didn’t feel romantic; it was aggressive. Titus was expressing his dominion. Ferth should never have surrendered his sword hand. He ripped his arm free as his wolf rose to a stand at his side and took a threatening step forward.
Titus tilted back, his palms flying up in surrender. “We’ll work on that later.”
Ferth’s breath sped. This was it. They were going to kill him now.
He didn’t want to die.
At least he wasn’t alone, even if it were only he and his wolf against the world.
“Ferth,” Titus said. “Callidon’s brother. Mira’s son. It’s been nearly nineteen years. I’m very glad to see you again.”
Ferth blanched. Again? But before he could stutter out a question, Titus turned toward the broad-shouldered soldier.
“This is Uriah.”
Uriah didn’t extend a hand. His bronze eyes blazed as he looked over Ferth’s face, the face that matched his dead friend’s almost exactly. Ferth swallowed.
“And this is Zemira,” Titus said.
The woman looked as though she might speak, but a fresh batch of tears washed her face instead. She shifted the swaddled baby and wiped at her cheeks.
Titus put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
“I’m deeply sorry I wasn’t able to save Cal.” Ferth’s voice held steadier than he’d hoped.
Uriah’s scowl deepened.
Ferth wished his face wasn’t going to remind them how much he was not Cal. “I didn’t know who he was. I went to stop him from killing Laconius.” My father. His father.
“I blocked Cal’s knife from hitting the chief’s heart.” Ferth took the blood-crusted knife from his belt and handed it to Titus. “Cal wounded our fath—Laconius, but the chief gored him in the side with a horn. Once I realized …” Ferth’s voice faded. Could he say the words? Claim brotherhood in front of these people who had earned the title? No. “I tried to save him. I became human in the process, but I failed. I’m sorry. I was your enemy and behaved as such. I understand if you kill me. But I swear on my blood and my brother’s blood that I will fight with you. For you.” Ferth’s voice was iron, as was his promise. He looked at the baby and then up into the woman’s eyes. “I was the Draco that took your baby. I don’t expect forgiveness.” The look on her face told him not to. “But my life is yours.” He turned to the other grim faces. “All of you. Kill me if it will begin to pay the debt.”
Ferth expected them to. That’s what they would have done in Skotar. That’s what his father would have done. Make a celebration out of his killing. Boost the army’s morale. That’s what it looked like Uriah and Zemira wanted to do.
Titus’s voice cut through the heaviness. “I accept your offer to help us defeat the Draco Sang.”
Uriah bristled. “How can we trust him not to stab us in the back?”
Lyko appeared, dragging his sunken shoulders out of the tent and over to the group. He nuzzled his head against the gray wolf. Guttural groans sounded as the two wolves sniffed and licked at each other, their faces rubbing along furry necks and sharp jaws.
Titus studied the animals. “Lyko is not as destroyed as the hewans without their humans I’ve seen in the past. He has not run off in a grief-stricken rage, turning wild.”
Uriah squatted down and held a hand out to Lyko. Lyko licked the gray wolf’s nose before turning and trotting up to Uriah.
“He has me,” Uriah said. “I can’t replace Cal. He can’t replace Poe. But, we will take care of each other. Together.”
Lyko turned pain filled eyes on Ferth as Uriah ran strong fingers along his fur. “Just when I thought I couldn’t feel worse.”
Ferth’s tongue felt heavy. “He’s linked to me and to my wolf.”
Uriah’s face tilted toward the ground, and his hands fell away from the animal. What more could Ferth take from him? The surrounding air seemed to burn away, leaving him without breath. His heart shattered at the extent of the destruction he’d brought to these people. In silent agony, he watched the slumped Uriah.
Titus looked at the wolves, thoughtful. “What is your wolf’s name?”
Ferth’s mind blanked.
“Rom,” Lyko said in Ferth’s head.
“Yes,” the gray wolf replied.
“Rom,” Ferth said.
Titus nodded a greeting to the gray wolf at Lyko’s side. Rom nodded his sharp head. “Lyko,” Titus said.
The white head turned, and golden eyes blinked at Captain Titus.
“Ferth is your master now? You accept him? Trust him?”
The wolf nodded.
The scars on Titus’s face gleamed in the first rays of daylight. “I trust you, Lyko, and if you trust Ferth …” Titus turned to Ferth and extended a hand. Ferth gritted his teeth, not wanting to give up his right hand to this man again, but knowing he had to. “Then so shall I.” Titus’s grip tightened, and this time Ferth squeezed back. “You will honor your fallen brother and your mother.” It was a command.
“Yes, sir. To my last breath.” Ferth had sworn all sorts of things in Skotar, but never did he say it with every fiber of his being as he did now.
Uriah grunted as he stood. With a glance at Zemira, he marched away.
“I hope you and Cal share more than just looks,” Zemira said, her voice colder than Azure Lake.
“So do I.”
She scowled as she left.
“Let’s see about breakfast and rest,” Titus said, his voice somber.
Three - Gone
THIRRO
Thirro paced. Ferth’s stink clung to the tent, but Thirro grinned at the open space, the privacy, the stacks of uniforms, and pile of weapons. The fool had given it all up. Thirro couldn’t quite process it. Couldn’t be sure it was real. He hadn’t touched anything in Ferth’s tent for fear that the captain would come through the door as fearsome and wolfish as usual. He hated that a part of him wanted that. Wanted to see Ferth’s familiar face and infuriating grin. Thirro’s parents had abandoned him all those years ago. Now Ferth had left him too. Thirro chided his own weakness. He forced himself to take a bite out of one of Ferth’s persimmons. He set in back on the table, bite mark facing away from the door. Heart pumping, he snagged one of Ferth’s throwing knives and stuck it in his baldric. He froze at fast footsteps outside.
Keal stuck his ape-like torso through the door, the fur on his head matted on one side, eyes frantic. “There was an attack. The chief is injured. Six soldiers dead.” Keal looked around. “Where’s Captain Ferth?”
Thirro let out a tense breath. Ferth was truly gone. Time to step up. He whipped past Keal and out into the dawn. Camp buzzed with activity. Slaves carried the dead Dracos out of camp, toward the burn site.
“Are we attacking?” Thirro overheard one soldier ask another.
“No. The chief is unconscious.”
What had happened to Laconius? Thirro marched to the command tent, Keal close on his heels. A guard barred his entrance. Thirro’s nostrils flared.
“Only officers allowed in this morning.” The mole-ish Draco folded his arms. His haughty eyes might have been more impressive if he hadn’t been two feet shorter than Thirro.
“I have important information to deliver.”
“What is it?”
“I’m not telling you. Let me in.”
“I can’t do that.”
Thirro’s hands flew up, and he shoved the surprised guard to the side. When the mole Draco tried to draw a weapon, Keal put a massive palm on the guard’s skull and threw him back into the dirt. Thirro nodded his approval, and they stormed into the command tent.
Dara was there. Officers only, huh? Her blood-shot eyes and ashen cheeks made her look sick. Ferth didn’t deserve her grief. Like a mouse, she stood timidly near the wall, behind the unit commanders. Tense silence blanketed the room. No one acknowledged the new arrivals. No one moved. A grim-faced slave slipped in and out of the back room. Thirro’s mouth watered at the smell of the food laid out on the table. He wanted to sit and eat, but he remained standing with the rest, as if their discomfort might somehow help the chief.
A healer stepped out of the back room.
Blood coated her hands up to her elbows. Her gray hair flew wildly around her exhausted face. “He’s awake. He should be sleeping, but he refuses. He is asking for Captain Ferth. He insists on speaking with him immediately.” The healer slumped. “I’ll be back after I wash.” She shuffled out of the tent. A petite Draco Sang slipped in before the door closed.
Jade.
She’d arrived with Laconius and his small advance party ahead of the main body of troops. He would not soon forget the girl who Ferth had helped in the hunger pits, whom he had defended from Thirro’s playful hazing. Now she was a jackal Draco Sang, top of her class. Vicious and deadly, and one of the youngest ever claimed by the beast. Mottled fur coated her pointed ears, scalp, and neck, but her face remained shockingly human, not a strand of fur on it. He studied the attractive sharpness of her nose and cheekbones. Her transformation had darkened the skin around her purple eyes to black. Her freckles ranged in color from gray to amber. Her lips were a deep maroon.
“Who let you in here?” His voice was sharp with annoyance.
“Hello, Thirro.” Her pretty features twisted into a mocking smile.
He pointed to her face. “Looks like you’re missing some fur.”
“Where is Ferth?” Commander Mina asked.
