by Candy Nicks
"The best."
Naima resisted the urge to rush away. The ripples on the pond were widening to touch the lives of the innocent. Song owed Finn nothing, and still she was being asked to make sacrifices.
"He needs to do this,” Naima said, cringing inside at the patronising tone of her own voice. “He and Father have unresolved issues regarding Carine. They'll never move on if they don't come to terms with them."
Song nodded, mutely and flipped the tea-box closed.
* * * *
An uncomfortable, prickling sensation lapped at the edges of Finn's awareness. Down there, somewhere in the tree-line. Pushing forward, the wolf let out a low growl and trained its eyes on the slope below. Can you feel it? Is it him?
Too far away to know for sure, although, the faltering footfall was heavy enough for that of a man. The scent was of lust, greed and a single-minded need to possess. Be on your guard. He's coming.
Finn pressed his back to the hard rock of the ledge. Using his wolf in a controlled manner was a learning curve for both of them. It hadn't quite grasped how much it drained the man. Then there was the issue of clothes and their destruction by the wolf's exuberance.
The growling hollow pit of his stomach signalled the need to feed. With a quick prayer to the Goddess that she stop him eating anything poisonous, Finn quickly stripped a nearby bush of its berries and stuffed them into his mouth. Letting the wolf out to hunt would be too distracting, right now. He needed to stay focused.
And he needed to stop thinking about Naima. Leaving her had been much harder than he'd anticipated. But wondering if she had followed him was driving him insane with worry. Of course, she'd be following. He only hoped she'd had the good sense to bring Brynn and Ancel for protection. What use was the prospect of life if he lost her now?
Personal happiness or higher purpose? He'd set out with nothing, as instructed, but what now? One misstep and he'd fall to his death. Become the wolf and he would lose his humanity. His boot skidded over the loose shale, sending a shower of rocks rattling down the rock-face, like a drum-roll announcing his presence to the madman lurking below. Finn froze and waited for a response. The footfall below quietened and tendrils of the man's thoughts reached out to him, weak only because of his father's injuries. The injured man's will remained as firm as the rock beneath his feet.
Wait for me son. We'll do this together.
Hell, far too close. And little left for his wolf, unless he stopped to rest. Hunkering down, Finn closed his eyes to shut out the distracting midday light and let his body go limp. Try as he might, he couldn't close off his thoughts. Resting was a trade-off between gaining ground and letting his father get close enough to read the final destination in his mind. The man was injured; he must tire soon.
Finn tuned in to the erratic heartbeat, the wheezing breath, carefully judging the time to change and run. The pulse speeded, slowed. Speeded up again. Frowning, Finn opened his eyes and inched his wolf forward. Not one heartbeat. Two. The first, heavy and laboured. The second swift and light, like an animal caught in a trap. The wolf growled softly. Fresh meat would be welcome right now.
Rest, he told himself and pushed back the wolf. Hunting would certainly rob him of all of his preciously-stored energy.
The stricken creature's frantic pulse continued to race, the panic a tangible thing now. Finn listened again, reaching out to his father's mind in an attempt to see through his eyes. His father's long fingers curled tenaciously around the forearm of a struggling blond-haired child. Finn groaned in disbelief.
Sol. What in Hell's name was he doing here?
The ice running through his father's veins chilled him to the marrow. With growing horror, Finn noticed the belt looped around the boy's neck, the buckle nicking the tender skin of his throat. The stream of curses pouring from Sol's mouth gave him grim satisfaction as he slid from his jacket and quickly twisted open the fastenings of his shirt.
No. Don't come down, son. The boy's safe for now. You just keep moving upwards. I see hide or hair of your wolf and the boy's going over the cliff, got that?
Finn's fingers stilled. He shook his head and continued with the task. Dropping the shirt, he started on his pants, his wolf already straining at the gate.
I mean it son. Stay at that distance and keep walking. I'll be right behind you. Looks like we got us our sacrifice.
* * * *
"He's escaped."
"Finn's father? How?"
"Just found Egray half-senseless on the infirmary floor next to that useless wife of his. Says the man jumped him while he was checking the key in the restraints. Gods, those two should be in a circus. Must think I'm an idiot.” Brynn curled back his lip in a feral grin. “I've hand-cuffed him to the bed. He can answer for it when we get back. Right now we need to move.” He raised a finger to the bedroom door. “You want to tell Ancel? Or shall I?"
Naima hesitated only briefly before rapping her knuckles on the door. “How much of a danger can he be? The injury will slow him down."
"It was pretty superficial. Don't think Finn was seriously trying to kill him. Knock louder."
"Father.” Naima banged on the door with her palm. “We need you, Father. Open the door."
They heard the metal slide of the bolt and, after a heartbeat, the door swung open. Ancel's gaze took in Brynn.
"Why is he here?” he said, his voice dangerously low and controlled.
"Brynn's a part of this.” Naima met his challenge with one of her own. Glancing past him, she saw Carine pulling on a knitted sweater, her expression determined and grim. When Naima lingered, attempting to catch her eye, Carine turned away.
"Carine,” she said. “I'm sorry. You must realise you can't shut us out any more. We're all a part of this, and now we need to see it through to the end. Tell me you understand."
"You don't have to ask me that.” Carine turned, hand on heart, weariness etched into every feature. “I have Finn's sins in here now, as well as Vin's. You don't think I want him to succeed?"
"You've what?” Both Ancel and Brynn spoke at the same time. Brynn tensed, holding back, while Ancel placed a hand on each of Carine's shoulders and gazed at her fondly and a little sadly, as one would a recalcitrant child.
A good sign, Naima thought. Acceptance might bring him the peace of mind he sought.
"When do we leave?” Naima waited for her father to deny her request, a retort on the tip of her tongue. “The sooner, the better,” she added.
"We leave at once,” Carine replied her gaze firmly tangled with Ancel's. Slipping her Crystal from its velvet bag, she took one of his hands and dropped it into his palm. “Feel it,” she urged. “It's sending me healing. And it will help us to find him."
Ancel's fingers twitched and closed around the stone. “I'll take it with me. Tell me what to do."
"It has to be me. Ancel, I love you very much, but I'm coming whether you want me or not. I would have carried this burden to the grave for you. Now I have the chance to put things right and get my power back.” Deftly, she opened his palm and retrieved the Crystal. “This is me. It's what I do. Are you ready to finally accept that you are worth the price of my soul?"
"I'm not worthy of such a sacrifice.” Ancel pulled her to him, half-suffocating her with his fierce embrace. “How will I ever be worthy?"
"You already are, you silly man. Let me go, I can't breathe.” Carine replied from the depths of his padded shirt. “I'm feeling better by the moment. Well enough to come with you, and you need me. When the Crystal speaks, I can't ignore it."
Ancel shook his head, eyes distant, as if he were remembering something long past. “You'll never change, will you?"
"Statement or request?” Carine asked, a smile curving her lips. “Naima,” she said. “Prepare yourself. And Brynn, we want you with us, don't we Ancel?"
Ancel managed a nod. Acceptance wasn't an easy path, but he had taken the first steps. “Arm up,” he said. “Only the Gods know what we'll encounter."
"Oh Hell,” Brynn said pushing a hand into his hair. “Finn's father. I forgot. That fool of an Egray let him escape. He's taken a blast-gun and disappeared."
"Blast-guns, short swords and daggers.” Ancel said without missing a beat, the battle commander in full flow. “Let's see the bastard fight his way past this. Carine see to supplies, Naima organise Tragiria and the children."
"Done,” she said. “Song's collecting Tallin and Sol from school. I'll tell Tragiria we're going after Finn and ask her to look after the herb stall."
"Brynn, find Kandar and tell him he's in charge until we return.” Ancel lifted his sword from the table and, half-drawing it from the scabbard, inspected the blade. “Oh,” he called to Brynn. “You'd also better go and tell your wife where you are."
"She already knows,” Brynn muttered and left the room.
* * * *
Let me come down, Father. You're weak and I can help you. We can do this together, like you said.
Keep walking. Little lad's getting very distressed and me, you know how twitchy I get. You wouldn't want anything to happen, would you?
Not Sol. He's braver than that. Almost too brave, Finn thought with a sinking heart. Don't do anything stupid, he prayed and heard his father's distant chuckle echo in his mind.
They'd broken through the forested part of the slopes and now the vegetation had thinned, just the odd thorn bush to tear at his hands and wiry clumps of the yellow flowers that gave the mountain its distinctive spring-time livery. He remembered his spirit-self comparing them to Naima's hair.
At this level, the rocks were smooth, hand-holds few. Once they reached the snow-line, climbing would become treacherous as well as difficult. It took all of his strength to keep ploughing forward. Nothing at all for his wolf, now; his father must be able to sense his fatigue.
Sol was safe, as long as his captor didn't panic. While he believed the boy had value, he'd keep him. When the odds stacked against him, he'd cut and run. Finn knew him well.
Finn reached out with his senses, scouring the landscape for signs of Naima, or anyone. Carine and her Crystal must know which direction he'd taken. Ancel would show no mercy to the man threatening his son.
You're a dead man, Father. From the moment you touched that child. Let him go. It's your only chance.
By the time Ancel finds the place, we'll be long gone. Keep moving.
Stop. You're pushing me too fast. I can't get my bearings without the wolf. I need to be able to see.
You're doing okay. If I so much as smell the beast, I'll make the sacrifice right here.
Bastard! Finn heaved in a painful breath and re-applied himself to the incline, no longer so sure of the direction. Talking mind to mind with his father muddied the waters when he needed a clear channel to the Collective Memory. Instead of calm waves, his aura was a jagged mess of contradictory sensations. Every cell in his body prickled with agitation.
Sliding his palms over the smooth rocks, he inched gingerly forward. Without the stability of his other senses, disorientation was beginning to unbalance him and make his head spin.
No use in asking for help from up above, I suppose? He listened for the clear tones of the Goddess and heard only the wind singing its melancholy serenade and the answering cries of the sea-birds circling the high peaks. An achingly lonely sound—like lost souls yearning for Paradise.
There lay one answer to his problem, Finn thought with a bitter smile. If he dropped off the cliff with his soul gleaming like a new-born babe's, his entry to Paradise would be swifter than an arrow loosed from a bow.
Once he would have jumped at the chance. Now he understood the true meaning of irony. Jaw clenched, he pressed on, missed his footing and slid down the rock-face scraping his chin, his elbows and knees. Nothing for it but to pick himself up and go at it again. He felt his father hesitate, synchronising their movements. Reached out to the boy, heartened to feel a healthy dose of rage and defiance mixed in with the child's fear.
Eventually Finn stopped and dropped onto the stony ledge, unable to move another step. In a few hours, the sun would set over the Ocean and even if he did have anything left inside, he'd be a crazy man to contemplate climbing at night as anything other than a wolf. When he tested the wolf's response, it barely came forward enough for him to see.
That's it. My lungs are shot to Hell. I have to rest. Father, let the child go. I'll do just as well as a sacrifice. You don't need him.
His father's reply was barely audible, his fatigue as deep as Finn's. No tricks.
Finn lay on his back eyes closed against the brightness of the sky. Had he just offered himself as a sacrifice, with no qualifications? No thoughts at all that life was grossly unfair for making him do this? Well, of course he'd sacrifice himself for Sol. Any one of them would want to save an innocent child. Doing the same for someone like his father? Finn shuddered at the thought. He'd surely fail that test.
He managed to drag himself over to a thin stream, which tumbled down a crevice in the rocks, and drink away his thirst. Most of all he needed sleep. Rubbing at his face and lips, raw from the constant bite of the wind, he fought against the gnawing ache of hunger deep in his gut. He should be charging down the mountain-side to rescue Sol but could hardly raise himself from the ground.
Sleep flowed over him like enveloping blanket, carrying him away to dreams of a fire so hot a man could melt just looking at it. Unless you were a blind man. He awoke to the red glow of the setting sun, clutching one more piece of the puzzle that was his life. What you couldn't see couldn't hurt you. Is that how it worked?
Where was Naima? Perhaps Ancel hadn't believed her tale of men who transformed into wolves. Any normal father would have locked her up until she stopped ranting.
Ancel would certainly come for Carine's sake, if not for his. Closing his eyes, Finn let his wolf creep forward and concentrated on the sounds of the wind and the distant Ocean, the rustling of the dry grasses and soft bickering cries of the birds settling in their roosts. Gradually he brought his awareness to the spaces between the sounds, searching until he sensed the presence of lives other than those of his father and Sol.
Too far. He shook his head to clear away the clutter he'd picked up from the Settlement, and the traveller's camp beyond, and moved his awareness nearer, to the foothills of the mountain. The noise thinned and the pounding of the combined heart-beats died away. Finn picked his way mentally over the lower slopes and into the thick line of trees foresting the Ocean side. Pulsing warmth suffused him as his mind focused and zoomed in on the irresistible pull of the Crystal. His spirit-self swooped downwards, towards the small group circling the camp fire. Just as quickly, he jerked back, the astral and the man merging with a jolt that left him dizzy and gasping for breath.
The only person to see his spirit had been Carine and he'd managed a single word before shooting back into his body. Sol. Her startled expression told him it was enough.
After a short rest, he reached out with his mind once more, this time moving upwards towards the high peaks. Apart from the sound of the wind, the upper slopes hummed with sound audible only to those gifted to hear them. Frantically beating hearts of small rodents. The ghostly whisper of batwings and night-hunting birds disturbing the air. The soft pad of his wolf-cousins as they trod the earth with careful, reverential steps.
They wouldn't allow their mountain to be sullied by man's destructive greed. The alpha wolf paused and then lifted its head to howl a greeting. The pack followed suit, hearing Finn's silent plea and immersing him in their ageless song.
Moments later, hot, moist breath fanned Finn's face and the damp wiry scrape of fur brushed his cheek. Back in his body, Finn opened his eyes and focused on the dark shapes now standing sentinel around him. The alpha stepped forward and tilted its head in question, tongue lolling.
"I need help,” Finn said, cutting straight to the chase.
The alpha looked back at his pack before fixing its steady gaze to Finn. Its voice echoed in Finn's head. You
or the wolf?
"Both. We're one and the same."
A good answer. Your words will please Her.
"Below is a man, holding a child. He means him harm, and I can't stop him alone."
We are merely watchers. We cannot directly interfere.
"Then come and watch,” Finn said. “Walk with me and cloak me with your scent. That's all I ask.” Without waiting for a reply, he pulled off his boots and socks and stripped off his jacket, shirt and pants.
All except the alpha prostrated themselves before the large, dark wolf now standing in their midst, Finn's pants grasped between its jaws. Finn's wolf dipped its head briefly and returned the alpha's steady gaze, careful not to infer a challenge.
Will you help?
Lead on. We will follow.
* * * *
Wolves.
Finn's wolf read the injured man's startled panic. The scrabble of his mind attempting to work out exactly what was closing in on him. The man's contagious fear transferred to the boy and the wolf stretched its legs, eating up the ground below its feet with a sure-footed stride, feeding on the energy of the pack until they emulated a single creature, moving as one. When they neared their quarry, quivering with the excitement of the hunt, they dropped to their bellies and inched their way through the sparse trees and vegetation.
The man Finn called Father lay, propped on one elbow, blast-gun braced between his arm and body, finger hovering over the trigger-button. With his other hand, he clasped the belt holding the boy. Sol's eyes were wide with fear. Watchful too, his gaze flickering from his captor to the trees. The injured man's chest rose and fell rapidly as he studied the shadows for movement, his brow creased in a puzzled frown.
The wolf remembered the words of the Goddess. She'd given this man's life to him. With a heaviness of heart, it acknowledged the reckoning that would one day come. Staying in the shadows, it circled the clearing, flanked by the alpha and the beta wolves. The man Finn called Father snarled an order. Sol dropped low to the ground, hands covering his head.
