Mordred-Night Wolves

by Lisa Daniels

  Kiara's fist crunched right through the wood.

  Instantly, she withdrew her hand, and with it, the light around her continued to sparkle, showing a shape that had formed on the ends of her hand. Short and sharp. Confused, she pressed the light against the door and felt a pressure again. Like the dam. And when she pushed, her hand again sunk through the wood. It bent before her as if it were little more than paper.

  “What in the endless dark?” Winifred gaped. Her mouth hung open, completely unable to register what had just happened. Kiara, however, swiped her hand through the wood, and the door crumbled off at the hinges, dropping onto spongy ground below.

  “Huh,” Kiara said. “Neat.”

  “That's not possible,” Winifred said. “What you're doing is impossible.”

  “Guess I'm just an impossible person,” Kiara said, now clambering through the broken entrance. The connection in her mind stayed, like a light that had appeared in the murk, permanently illuminating her newfound thoughts.

  Now out onto the morass, Kiara tried revealing more of the area. Unfortunately, her newfound powers didn't seem to do the level three thing she needed to do. Even when she tried directing the energy to a small pebble, it just didn't work.

  “You can't just do that,” Winifred said, now clambering through and using her light to form into little fishes, revealing the darkness. “You just can't.”

  “What am I even doing, anyway?” Kiara briefly admired the kind of shield that seemed to stretch out from her fingers. Winifred braced her knuckles against it, and tapped. The shield rang with a clear, pure and high note. Like thin crystal.

  “It's...” Winifred touched it again. “It's solid. You've somehow managed to manifest light that's solid to the touch. You've basically just skipped about ten levels like they don't mean anything. And I bet you still can't even manage a level three binding!”

  Kiara shrugged, now examining the morass. The twisted, looming trees, the small lifeforms that skittered away in the dark. How did they even survive out here? How did anything?

  Now that she no longer had a desire to escape, the lightweaving began to dissipate, before vanishing completely. Now Winifred's magic encircled them, causing the dark-cursed creatures to skitter back. They couldn't stay still. The ground slowly pulled at their feet, so they waded and sloshed their way, water seeping out of the wobbling ground they stepped on, until they found a secure spot to stay. Or as secure as they could manage.

  “There,” Winifred whispered, pointing Kiara towards something lurking in the darkness. One of Winifred's fishes darted towards it, revealing a face with empty eye sockets and cracked, bone-like lips. The creature hissed at the light, instantly scuttling back further.

  “Light save us,” Kiara said, eyes wide, unable to comprehend what she had just seen. “What is that?”

  Her eyes rested on the long, jagged claws upon the humanoid creature's limbs. Ones that may have been used to gouge deep marks in the carriage, to try and access the contents. Thankfully, the creature appeared distracted by the light. Not that Kiara even understood how it saw anything without any eyes in its horrid face.

  “So,” Winifred said. “Mind doing the impossible again and conjuring up a weapon or two?”

  More of those strange, deformed creatures appeared, snarling and snapping at Winifred's fish. When one managed to close thin, bony hands over one blue fish, the light puffed out, dissolving into blackness. As if it had somehow absorbed the fish.

  “How about we run?” Kiara pointed at the sunken trail where the carriage had traveled, along with squelched hoofmarks. “Back the way they came. Since they were kind enough to provide for us a trail.”

  “Well, I can't think of any more brilliant ideas, so may as well,” Winifred said, forming more of her little fishes, using them as bait for the strange creatures.

  The issue with Winifred using the light to distract the creatures was, well—it drew more of them into the area. After all, they were now treading the grounds of places that had been untouched by light for decades. Maybe even centuries.

  They continued trying to follow the tracks. Those men had used the horses to beat a fast retreat, and probably distracted the creatures away from them as well.

  I could really use some protection, Kiara thought—and when her mind focused on this aspect, light oozed out of her body, forming a kind of floating shield that covered her right side. Oddly enough, it moved with her arm movements, even without her touching it. It also didn't seem to want to shift to any other form, like, say, an incredibly useful sword or bow and arrow or something. Also, the shield resembled a kind of uneven blob.

  It was solid, however.

  “I'd like to know what in dark's going on in your brain,” Winifred said. “Because this shouldn't happen.”

  “Yes, you've said that already. Do you think these creatures will be distracted if you form something really big with your weaving?”

  “I...” Winifred frowned. “I can't make big things that can move, really. It requires a lot of concentration to hold the weaving together—”

  “Just try, will you?”

  Perhaps some of Kiara's impatience and fear rubbed off on Winifred, for she sighed, trying to conjure up a large shape. This time she managed a cat, which dropped to the ground and sped off towards the creatures, leaping and twisting between them as if being chased out of the kitchens back in Fjorn.

  “That works,” Kiara said, watching the creatures go berserk over the cat. Winifred managed to conjure about five more before she ran out of personal light, having stretched it thin with the fishes as well.

  “I just... I don't have that much light.”

  The cats didn't by any means make their journey any safer. Just increased their chances of survival. One noticeable thing about the whole Endless Dark territory was that there were actually trees and bushes. These things should have died out without any light or heat reaching them, but remnants of plants remained. Except they oozed a kind of oily, smoky substance that snatched at the little light on display. They fed on something other than light and heat, it seemed.

  Both women let out a shriek of fright when an enormous shape bounded out of the black, fast enough to take them before they had time to even consider defending themselves.

  Except the shape skidded to a halt in front of them. Yellow eyes glared out of a shaggy wolf head, and huge shoulders lifted up and down from exertion, along with the breaths of a broad chest. It remained still for a moment, before sniffing, eyes focusing on the creatures of the night hordes.

  “Mordred,” Kiara said. And there was another werewolf, too, now catching up with them. One that Kiara didn't recognize, pure black compared to Mordred's light, creamy silver.

  The two werewolves tore through the creatures in a ripping, snarling fury. Winifred withdrew her weavings until just their glow-necklaces and Kiara's shield illuminated the darkness. Winifred reached for Kiara's hand, and they waited until the werewolves had finished their work.

  They appeared again in the gloom and morphed into their human shapes. Mordred, and a stranger.

  Winifred instantly shut her eyes and let out a squeak.

  “You won't have to marry me,” the second werewolf said, thin lips curling into a smirk. Light brown hair flopped over his forehead and ears. “Don't worry.”

  Winifred let out another squeak. Despite the fact that they happened to be deep within dangerous territory, she apparently wanted to walk around now with her eyes closed. Kiara approached her and prised Winifred's eyes open. “Look. Now you see the werewolf.”

  The servant flushed furiously, and Mordred turned on his friend. “Thanks again for this.”

  “No problem,” the other werewolf said in a low, growling voice. “It's not the first time a foreigner's been taken away from us like this. Happened to my former bride, too.”

  “Oh,” Kiara said. “How did you two get here so fast?”

  “Had a few people in the city watching you,” Mordred said. “They came
to report as soon as possible, though I was busy patrolling the western borders at the time. Mika here chose to come help. Didn't know how far out we'd be going. Now.” He and Mika began shifting again. “No lights. It attracts the night hordes like moths to flame. Hide your necklaces. And sit on us.”

  Winifred gave a rather morose stare at Mika, who winked in a roguish manner, before blurring into his gigantic werewolf form—bigger than even Mordred's. Kiara shoved the necklace into the soft ground nearby, the light vanishing forever. She let her shield vanish as well. Mordred hugged her side, helping her to clamber on. Winifred did the same.

  “You know,” Kiara said, now feeling herself lurch with Mordred's movements, “we were doing perfectly fine before you two came here. I bet we would have made it back, no problem.”

  Mordred let out a bark that sounded a little like laughter, before he lunged forward, forcing Kiara to grip into his fur hard to avoid flying off.

  Honestly, the sensation of not being able to see a dark-cursed thing, not the mount she rode nor the ground they rushed past—it sent fingers of terror down her spine.

  They really could have done it, though. As long as Winifred kept her illusions going strong, no matter how many creatures they attracted.

  The werewolves seemed to know exactly where to step in the darkness. Using senses too weak in humans, along with bodies far stronger and more agile.

  It didn't take them long to return to civilization on the fast forms of the werewolves. They took a different path, avoiding the bustle of the city, loping fast through an intricate set of underground tunnels, which led towards the inner workings of the palace. They finally stopped at a set of doors guarded by a brown-furred werewolf, who promptly stood aside, admitting them in. Now they entered the palace, but a different floor to what Kiara was used to.

  Corridors that appeared entirely dominated by the “gods” of Kanthus, which made Winifred hide more in Mika's shoulders. Both women needed to slide off, however, and Winifred squeezed her eyes shut again as the werewolves transformed.

  “Just wait until I find and punish the miscreants who did this,” Mordred said with a deep snarl. “Thinking that they could get away with such an act. Stealing and trying to kill my wife.” He put emphasis on the last word, which gave Kiara a detached, odd feeling.

  Grateful as she might be for the lift back to Kanthus, she still didn't know what to make of the fact she was, well. Married. Without ceremony. Without warning.

  Kiara separated from Winifred, but not before the redhead found the time to hand over the book bought earlier. She clutched it in one hand and found herself steered to Mordred's quarters, where he gave her full run of the bathroom, of his bed, attempting to settle her down after her exhausting ordeal.

  He really wanted to play the part of husband, it seemed. She placed the book with the others on his ripple-covered bookshelf, though it appeared at odds with the tougher, manlier titles that existed.

  “Now,” Mordred said, tossing a blanket over her, offering to make a hot drink, and generally acting like a caring person, “you're going to tell me everything that happened.”

  She did.

  With a little flair, perhaps, and a cracked voice—but she told him everything, from her market stall adventure that led to the abduction, to using Winifred's cats as a distraction.

  Wishing, as well, she hadn't been stupid enough to wander off so far without protection.

  When she finished, he rested a soft hand on her shoulder, and she shivered from the touch. Remembering the power of his form, of the darkness rushing by her.

  “I'm sorry you had to go through that. Annoyed, as well, because you really shouldn't have gone to the main city without protection.”

  “No one,” Kiara said, wringing her hands, “bothers to tell me anything. Winifred didn't think to mention it until too late. Or try to stop me when I ended up going too far off the streets. Or telling me how marriage actually works here. And until someone thinks to tell me, I'm probably going to keep blundering along until I destroy this alliance! I've been here three nights, Mordred. How much longer until I land myself in another situation where there's no way out?” The frustration and fear left her throat, betraying the wish to keep such things secret. Not many things stayed silent when they pushed against her, scraping to be let out.

  Being herself just sometimes became too much. If only she didn't have such scattered thoughts. If she could just do things normally, like everyone expected her to. Instead of having some bizarre power that everyone claimed she shouldn't. Of having Winifred's eyes widen, her mouth at a loss for words, and the guarded expressions of the members of court. Of watching their faces cloud over when she tried to entertain them, but risked everything in the process.

  It seemed like a great idea at the time.

  All her impulses did.

  The werewolf now pressed both his hands into her shoulders. She wanted to push him away for a brief moment, to not allow him to touch her in this intimate manner. But, truthfully, she missed such tenderness. She missed the closeness of her friends, her sister, her mother. Though her mother stopped giving out hugs when Fjorn needed to see her as a proper young lady. She missed just being held, and found herself leaning into the touch instead, giving in to her exhaustion.

  Mordred gathered her then into his arms, letting her head rest against his chest. “Look,” he said, stroking her hair, “I promise you that you won't need to worry about such things.”

  “How can I,” she said, voice cracking, and a few stubborn tears now welling up under her eyes, “when I can't even sleep well at night? I'm just going to mess up again.”

  Drat. She didn't usually blub like this, but right now, she just wanted the world to go away. To have all the expectations just stop, just like she had always wanted.

  In a way, she grieved for her old life. And feared for her new one. It didn't matter that according to the Kanthians, she was now married. She didn't feel it. The words didn't mean anything. Everything here... just felt like a false life.

  Well, aside from the being kidnapped and dumped out in the middle of hostile territory and dancing a little too closely with death. That was pretty real. Also the whole werewolf thing, getting sort of rescued (though she still believed they would have done it alone), and being hugged by Mordred.

  The feelings all crashed, confusing, making her unsure whether she needed to cry, scream, or laugh. Maybe a combination of the three.

  “You know, if you're having issues sleeping, you can tell us. Any of the servants, me... it's possible to get some help for that.”

  “I don't think so.” Kiara decided to settle on a little bit of tears, and then she extricated herself from his arms, dabbing her wet cheeks on her sleeve. “I'm not completely honest about the sleeping thing, either. I usually have issues with it.”

  “So how do you deal with it?” He gave her such a serious look then. As if he earnestly wanted to help her. She wiped her nose in an unladylike manner.

  Then, shyer than she normally acted, she admitted, “Sometimes with some music playing in the background—the court minstrels would play for me. And sometimes by having someone read a story for me. Having something else going on helps my brain to stop being so... whatever it is. And sleep.”

  Mordred nodded. For a person who hid such a monstrous creature under his skin, he acted so, well... considerate. Kiara didn't know what to make of it, except she certainly didn't expect this.

  Not from a nation of people about whom she’d heard countless rumors, people who were supposed to practise ritual sacrifice and worship hideous monsters. Mordred might hide something like that in him, but he did have full control of it. And the werewolves like him were worshipped, sure.

  Good reason to do so, however. With that kind of power, no wonder Kanthus had protected its borders for so long.

  “Tell you what. If you want to sleep here again, I can read to you. I may not have the best reader's voice, but it's a start, right?”

  The offe
r made Kiara's heart pulse in a pathetic, happy way. “Please.”

  Mordred gave her a little smile before going to the bookshelf and picking out that terrible romance book bought earlier. “This one? Really?”

  “I bet it's a classic,” Kiara said, before being guided to Mordred's bed. He dragged a chair to sit beside her, and his glow-necklace helped illuminate the page perfectly. “It's probably one of the best Kanthian books...” she yawned, “ever written.”

  “My heart's desire has always been to be married to a rich man, one who can take care of me until I grow old, and love me always,” Mordred began. “Do you want to retract that ‘best Kanthian book’ statement?”

  “Oh no! Keep reading. I bet it gets so much better.” Kiara suppressed a grin, though trying to shut down that unexpected, giddy feeling inside proved difficult.

  Because out of all the things she expected from the world—she didn't expect a werewolf to offer to read for her. To help her sleep.

  She closed her eyes, listening to his voice, which slowly tumbled over the first few pages of the story. It sounded awful, but that wasn't the point. It helped to have that voice, quiet and soothing, letting her slip off into a pleasant sleep.

  Chapter Six

  The reading became a habit. A good one, which stopped her from struggling to sleep at night. If Mordred couldn't do it, Winifred took over instead. Both had a different way of delivering the words. Mordred preferred a soft, almost growl to his voice as he read, and he had less expression for the dialogue. Winifred, on the other hand, loved putting on different voices, though it did mean that sometimes Kiara got jerked away when Winifred became too excited over the material in her hands.

  She should have known Winifred would like the books, despite her constant complaining about how mushy they were.

  With the new pattern in her life, over the course of her next few months staying in the palace, she tried hard to stomp out the debacle of her first few days, and the miseries of her travel when she first realized that her father planned to sell her off to another nation. All for the price of a tenuous alliance, with a high chance of being sabotaged by her. And probably because he intended to marry Bethany off to someone beneficial. Someone whose help they absolutely needed. Kiara to her father was a shot in the dark.