The Wolf On The Run (The Wolf of Corwick Castle Book 3)

by Terry Cloutier

  “I was even younger when that bastard destroyed my village and killed my family!” I spat, unable to contain myself any longer as I gestured toward Desh with my manacled hands.

  The First Son’s eyebrows rose and he swiveled his head on his scrawny neck to stare at Desh. “Advisor, what does he mean? Does he speak the truth?”

  Desh smiled. “Yes, your Eminence. The worm is correct.”

  I stared at Desh in surprise, wondering what he was up to. Why would he openly admit to the killings? I felt the first stirrings of alarm, realizing that something wasn’t right.

  “You acknowledge his claim, then?” the First Son muttered, looking taken aback by the news.

  “I do,” Desh said. He grinned at me. “Though I can’t take all the credit. There were others there as well.”

  “Well, this is most peculiar,” the First Son said, blinking rapidly. “Most peculiar indeed.” He stood, wobbling as he held the arms of the throne for support. “I must think about this.” He started to walk unsteadily along the dais, heading for the back when Desh held up his hand.

  “There is one other thing, Eminence,” Desh said. He strode toward the First Son, offering his arm to the older man, who took it gratefully. Desh looked over his shoulder at me and smirked.

  I felt a premonition of disaster, but was helpless to do anything.

  “What is it, Advisor?” the First Son asked.

  Desh leaned close, whispering just loud enough for me to hear. “I murdered the Son and Daughter in that filthy village too.”

  The First Son gasped and drew back just as a knife appeared in Desh’s free hand. He grabbed the priest’s sleeve and pulled him forward. “I enjoyed it immensely,” the Advisor said as he plunged the knife into the old man’s chest.

  I shouted in protest, about to leap onto the dais, but two soldiers with drawn swords appeared by my side, holding me back as the First Son collapsed to the floor. Desh casually stooped and wiped his blade on the priest’s robe, then returned to his original position beside the prince. I glanced at Prince Tyrale, but he remained as he’d been, unmoving, his head propped up by his fist as he stared at me.

  “You seem surprised, Hadrack,” Desh said as he tucked his knife away in his clothing.

  “You bastard!” I whispered. “What have you done?”

  Desh shrugged. “It’s not so much what I have done,” he said. He pointed at me. “It is more about what the heathen Outlaw of Corwick just did that matters most.”

  I glanced at the old priest’s corpse, understanding now. “No one will believe you.”

  “Of course they will believe us,” a voice said from behind me.

  I turned, rocking back on my heels as Lord Corwick strode into the room. Behind him walked Son Oriel, his ugly features beaming with delight. I growled with hatred as the soldiers to either side of me tightened their grips on my arms. I spit on the floor in impotent rage.

  “Tut, tut,” Lord Corwick said reproachfully. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

  “What are you doing here?” I managed to rasp out.

  Lord Corwick stopped in front of me. “You have gotten bigger,” he said, examining me. He lifted my chin, peering at my face. “Bigger and older.” He clucked his tongue. “There is sorrow and death in your eyes, Hadrack. More so even than when we last met. Have you been having a bad time of it?”

  “Let me loose, you bastard!” I hissed, struggling against the men holding me. “For once, be a man and fight me.”

  Lord Corwick slapped my cheek gently twice, shaking his head. “I think not. As enjoyable as killing you would be, I have better plans for you.” He headed for the dais, pausing to pluck the crown from the unmoving prince’s head before sitting in the second throne. Son Oriel moved to stand beside him, glancing down at the dead priest in triumph before focusing on me. Lord Corwick put the crown on and smiled at me regally.

  “Do something!” I shouted at the prince. Prince Tyrale just stared blankly at me. I snorted in disgust and glared at Lord Corwick. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Why, nothing,” Lord Corwick said innocently. “My cousin tends to nod off sometimes. He really needs to get more sleep.” Desh smirked as Lord Corwick continued, “But fear not, young Hadrack. The decision-making of the kingdom lies in the capable hands of the King’s trusted advisor.” Lord Corwick swept a hand toward Desh. “A man who I believe you remember with fondness from years gone by.”

  I shrugged off the soldiers to either side of me, glaring in warning at them. Lord Corwick stroked his beard, then motioned that they should back away. “I’m going to kill you both,” I said, my voice low, steady and calm.

  Lord Corwick tapped his chin several times. “That would be a most unfortunate error on your part,” he said. “Assuming, of course, you could manage it somehow.”

  “The Mother will see to it,” I promised.

  Lord Corwick glanced up at Son Oriel in mock surprise. “Did you hear that, Son? The Mother will see to it.”

  The ugly priest sniffed, looking unimpressed. “The boy is talking out of his arse.”

  “Of course he is,” Lord Corwick said. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he focused on me. “Tell me about the codex.”

  “There is nothing to tell. It was gone.”

  Lord Corwick sat back, studying me. “You wouldn’t lie to an old friend, now would you Hadrack?”

  “What reason would I have?” I asked. “If I had found the codex, it would have been on me. It wasn’t. That should be answer enough.”

  “True. True,” Lord Corwick said thoughtfully. He accepted one of Waldin’s scrolls from Son Oriel and tapped it against his leg. “Yet, you kept these worthless rants. Why?”

  “I thought they might help people understand more about the times he lived in,” I said, even though I knew it was a poor explanation.

  Lord Corwick chuckled, handing the scroll back to the ugly priest. “Well, I think it would be more prudent to worry more about the here and now, don’t you agree?” I said nothing, waiting, for I knew there was more. Lord Corwick stood and he began to pace, his hands behind his back. “I have a proposition for you, Hadrack. One which will prove beneficial to both of us.”

  “Whatever it is, forget it,” I grunted.

  Lord Corwick looked surprised. “Forget it? Don’t you even want to hear what I propose?”

  “No.”

  Lord Corwick raised his hands in the air and then slapped them against his sides in defeat. “So be it. I guess my forces outside of Witbridge Manor will just have to go ahead and raze the place to the ground, then.” I tensed in alarm. “Oh, does that thought distress you?” Lord Corwick asked when he saw my expression. He shook his head. “I am sorry about this, Hadrack, but sometimes bold moves are necessary to bring about change for the better. I don’t relish any of this, of course. I am by nature a squeamish man, but I also have a responsibility to the kingdom that I cannot shirk.” He paused, his hands on his hips, his head hanging. “Sadly, I understand from my scouts that innocent women and children live in the village outside the manor walls. My men are usually well behaved, but with the pressure from the war and all, I simply cannot guarantee what they might do. I’m sure you can appreciate that.”

  “You bastard!” I hissed.

  Lord Corwick pursed his lips. “Perhaps you might wish to reconsider helping us if this bothers you so much?”

  “What do you want?” I growled.

  “This war has dragged on long enough,” Lord Corwick said. He paused beside Prince Tyrale’s throne, clucking to himself with concern as he shifted the prince into a more comfortable position. “But my dear cousins are stubborn men, and I know neither one of them will give up until the other is dead.”

  “He looks most of the way there,” I grunted, glancing at the prince.

  “That he does,” Lord Corwick agreed regretfully. “We do what we can for Tyrale, of course, but the situation is dire. Were he to die, the gods forbid, then his brother would become
king by default. A situation that none of us in this room finds palatable, to say the least.” Lord Corwick turned to me, his expression all business now. “Help us to rectify that, and you have my word no harm will befall Witbridge Manor.”

  “How?” I asked suspiciously.

  Lord Corwick motioned for Desh to answer.

  “We sent assassins to kill Prince Tyden four times already,” Hervi Desh said. “All four attempts have failed. The prince is guarded day and night, with only those closest to him allowed to be anywhere near. His food is tasted first, even his ale and wine, so poison will not work.”

  “What has that got to do with me?” I demanded.

  Lord Corwick smiled. “We need you to meet with Tyden. Use whatever excuse you can think of to get close to him, then kill him.”

  I gaped at Lord Corwick. “You’re insane,” I said. “I won’t do it.”

  “Not even for Witbridge?” Lord Corwick asked.

  I hesitated. Could I condemn all those people to death in favor of the life of one man? I closed my eyes, trying to come up with a solution, even though deep inside, I knew there wouldn’t be one.

  “There is one other thing that might sway your decision,” Lord Corwick said. He snapped his fingers and Desh produced a cloth bundle. “I understand you and my sister have become close this past year,” the lord added as he accepted the cloth.

  I felt my heart lurch in my chest as Lord Corwick grabbed an end of the cloth with each hand, then snapped the bundle open in front of him with a dramatic flourish. Long, shiny black hair cascaded outward, falling in glistening strands across the dais.

  “Shana,” I whispered in dismay, knowing without a doubt that the hair belonged to her.

  “Indeed,” Lord Corwick responded gravely. “She is still alive, for the time being.” He looked up as footfalls echoed within the grand room. Four House Agents were heading toward us down the corridor. “Ah, just in time,” Lord Corwick said. He turned to me. “The news of what you have done today is even now spreading throughout the city, Hadrack.” He grinned smugly. “They will hunt you down from one end of the kingdom to the other for murdering the First Son. The only chance your people and my sister have to live is for you to do as I say and kill Tyden.”

  “How do I know you won’t kill them all anyway even if I manage it?” I demanded.

  Lord Corwick smiled condescendingly. “I’m a man of my word, Hadrack. Everyone knows this.”

  I glowered back at him. “If I do it and Tyrale becomes king, do you swear on The Mother and The Father that you will honor our agreement?”

  Lord Corwick laughed condescendingly as he spread his arms. “What nonsense is that, now? I never said anything about my dear cousin gaining the throne.” I blinked in confusion as Lord Corwick grinned mockingly at me. “With Tyden dead, I will have no further use for Tyrale. I’m afraid my cousin’s fragile health will take a dramatic turn for the worse shortly after his brother’s demise.”

  I closed my eyes and groaned, understanding it all now. “Which leaves you the next in line to the throne,” I said, feeling sick to my stomach.

  “Precisely right,” Lord Corwick agreed. “But only if Tyden dies before Tyrale. That’s imperative. So, the choice for you is quite simple, really.”

  “Do you promise to release Shana if I do what you want?” I asked bleakly.

  “Come to Gandertown on the day of my coronation,” Lord Corwick said. “The moment I am crowned king, you and she will be free to go wherever you wish, with a full pardon from the King himself.”

  The House Agents arrived in a clatter of armor, surrounding me, and I lowered my eyes to the floor. “I’ll do it,” I said, feeling demoralized and helpless.

  “Of course, you will,” Lord Corwick grunted. He motioned to one of the House Agents, who guided me up the dais toward a narrow archway that stood at the back. “Hadrack?” I turned to look over my shoulder. “They will be coming for you,” Lord Corwick said. “So, you better not get caught, or my sister dies.” He smiled. “Off you go now. Run, my little wolf, run.”

  25: Witbridge Manor

  My escape from the palace was a well-planned affair. I was whisked along various abandoned passages to a small courtyard, where horses and a change of clothing were waiting for me. The House Agent in charge was a gruff man named Flidion, who had a no-nonsense way about him. I was disguised as a fellow House Agent, and with me riding in the middle, the five of us made our way through the streets. Bells of sorrow were ringing across the city, with the most prominent coming from the Holy House. People wept in the streets, pulling at their hair as they screamed for vengeance against the Outlaw of Corwick. Rioting had begun in places as well, as men, women, and even children encircled the palace, demanding my head on a pike. We turned down an ally, heading for one of the lesser gates as a knot of men fought each other in front of a burning building. I had no idea why the men were fighting, but soldiers arrived in a solid mass, only to have the two warring factions unite and turn on them.

  “Madness,” I heard one House Agent say through his closed helmet as we circled around the surging mob.

  We reached a street lined on both sides with stone houses, where a woman beat an old man with a reed broom in front of one of the dwellings. The woman paused to stare at us suspiciously, saying nothing, then resumed the beating once we had passed.

  “Be thankful they can’t see you for what you are,” Flidion said to me as we left the two behind. “If they will do this to each other, imagine what they would do to you.”

  I said nothing, staring straight ahead through my helmet. My hands were still manacled, but the House Agents had thrown a cheap blanket over them, hiding my bonds from prying eyes. I had to escape these men soon, I knew, but after seeing the lunacy that had taken hold in Gandertown, waiting until we were away from the city seemed the more prudent move.

  We continued on through the narrow streets, twice having to detour around mobs of angry, chanting citizens. Finally, we reached the outer gates and passed unchallenged through them, leaving Gandertown behind us as plumes of black smoke rose from within her walls. We rode for three miles over sloping hills and across fields of long grass, until finally we reached a small inn standing alone beneath a giant aspen. Several men were waiting for us inside the inn, looking tense and anxious. I saw gold change hands, then bundles of clothing were produced. We changed into light tunics, cotton trousers, and heavy cloaks, then headed south at a gallop.

  The House Agents were not men interested in idle chatter and we rode in silence, leaving me plenty of time to think about what had just occurred in Gandertown. Lord Corwick had assured me he would let Shana go, which, coming from that bastard, meant he had no intention of doing so. Shana was his half-sister and had royal blood in her veins, so there was no chance he would let her live. Lord Corwick had also said he would keep her safe until his coronation, and, on that, I believed him. Shana was his leverage over me to ensure I came back to Gandertown. I knew he intended to kill the both of us when I did. I needed to come up with a plan to make sure that didn’t happen, but first, I needed to be free. The House Agents were alert right now, but hopefully, a chance would present itself once night set in.

  Days went by, always with the hope that my escorts would make a mistake, but though I was watching for it, an opportunity never arose. The House Agents worked in tandem, with two of them close by me at all times. At night, I was tied propped up against the nearest tree, with my ankles lashed together for good measure. I was treated well enough, though with a certain amount of disdain that I knew was a familiar trait of House Agents. They might work for the Sons, but these men were no different from men like Malo and Odiman. Being a heartless bastard seemed to be a requirement to join their order, regardless of which side of the House they supported.

  “Do you know Halhaven well?” Flidion asked me on the fourth day.

  We were riding along a barely seen trail through browning scrub brush, skirting a forest of thick trees.

 
; “Not well, no,” I said grudgingly.

  “Have you met Prince Tyden?”

  I shook my head. “Never had the pleasure.”

  “How do you intend to gain an audience with him, then?”

  I frowned. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I’m not sure,” I admitted.

  Flidion glared at me. “Well, you had better be sure by the time we get there.”

  I looked away, staring down at the dusty path in front of my horse. The House Agents were intent on coming into Halhaven with me. How they expected to get in was a mystery that Flidion wasn’t revealing. I wasn’t sure how I would get in myself, let alone them. I wasn’t sure about anything, actually. All I knew was I couldn’t let Shana and my people at Witbridge die.

  Dusk was settling in as we crested a rock-strewn hill and started down the other side. Thick bushes grew in bunches here, and suddenly a guttural bawling sound arose from one of them. We halted our horses, watching warily as the shadowy branches began to shake as something moved inside. The noise repeated, then a snout emerged from the bushes, followed by a mass of black fur. A bear cub, I realized.

  The cub stared at us, wrinkling its nose and shifting back and forth on its paws uncertainly. I glanced around, tensing. Where was the mother? One of the House Agents muttered something and drew his sword as he trotted forward to dispatch the bear. The cub shrank back from him, huffing loudly and clacking its teeth just as something big and dark appeared from the forest line, hurtling toward us while grunting and groaning in distress. I have always found bears to be ungainly looking, but they are deceptively quick for such large animals. I remember as a boy seeing one run down a deer. My father had told me the bear would have to be starving to do that, as they rarely waste that much energy to obtain food. This bear wasn’t starving, but instead was defending her cub from predators. Us.