The Island of Wolves

by Elizabeth Avery

  Another one fell, then a third, until the space was large enough for a pointed scarf-wrapped head to poke through.

  Skeever’s beady eyes narrowed in on us. “There you are.”

  His head vanished, and a moment later, a pair of long-toed feet appeared, before he dropped down into the room. He landed in a crouch and straightened just as a second figure landed behind him, shirtless and shoeless, but familiar.

  Risk looked terrible. His ribs were concerningly prominent through sickly, pallid skin. He was covered in a collage of grime and old bruises. There were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, and he was shaking like he was standing naked in a snow drift. I ran to his side and wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

  “Nice to see you too,” he said and underneath his snark, there was sincerity.

  “So this is who you were signalling,” said Conon. “Why?”

  “Back up,” said Skeever simply.

  “But why him?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Conon rolled his eyes and shifted his attention and questions to Risk. “How did you even get up here?”

  “I ran.”

  “Through the jungle and up a mountain?”

  “Yes.”

  “In an hour?”

  “I’m faster than I look.”

  “Fine, I don’t care, just tell me you’ve heard from the woodcutters.”

  “They were arriving with the tree when I left,” said Risk, to the minotaur’s great relief.

  I pulled back from the hug. “But I thought you were in the brig?”

  “I was. Until an hour ago.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Risk gave a sigh as deep as the grave, but seemed to be gearing himself up for a long explanation. Before he could get even a word out, a scream echoed from somewhere down the temple’s many hallways. It was Harmon.

  We raced out of the room and back into the corridor, trying to follow the direction of the screams. Risk ran ahead of us, his head turning this way and that like a dog, and he seemed to know exactly where he was going.

  We came out of the temple’s maze into an overgrown courtyard, under a sky of swirling blood-red clouds. In the centre of the yard stood a great stone fountain. A deep water trough, long gone dry, was set in the ground and a pack of wolf statues surrounded the inside edge of it, mouths open wide to eject water that no longer flowed. In the centre of the fountain was a large white marble sculpture shaped like a rocky cliff peak. At one point, it probably held more statues, but their pieces now littered the ground around it.

  “There,” said Risk striding forward, the word coming out of his mouth as an inhuman growl.

  Harmon was in the process of being dragged up the fountain’s cliff sculpture by his ankles and wrists, each one clamped in the jaws of a wolf skeleton. Blood was leaking from the teeth marks in the minotaur’s flesh and leaving fresh red trails over the previously pristine marble.

  The apparition was waiting at the peak, standing up on its hind legs with its paws and head resting on the edge of the cliff. As the smaller wolves approached with Harmon, the apparition opened its huge mouth, once again revealing its gleaming, razor-sharp teeth.

  “Stop!” I screamed.

  The single glowing eye inside the apparition’s skull snapped in our direction, and when it spoke, its mouth didn’t move.

  Ah, the thieves have returned.

  Risk stepped forward and the apparition’s eye focused on him. Behind him, Conon stepped in front of me, an arm out to keep me back.

  Child of the Wolf, it spoke. Why do you come into my temple?

  “I’m here for him,” said Risk, pointing to Harmon, his voice still resonating with a deep growling timbre.

  The apparition’s eye rolled in its socket to look at Harmon, and then back to Risk.

  And why would you come for the thief?

  Risk’s fists clenched at his sides, his words sounding forced as he spat: “he’s my pack.”

  The apparition’s eye flared in anger. Then you can stand there and watch him die!

  The skeleton’s dragged Harmon forward, the minotaur screaming out for help as his head was forced into the mouth of the great skull. Top row of teeth poised over his neck like a monstrous guillotine, the apparition’s eye flashed eagerly.

  “Wait!” growled Risk.

  Save your breath, wolf child! This thief shall pay for what he has stolen!

  “But he doesn’t have it anymore,” I cried around Conon’s arm. “He dropped it back in the hall—”

  Then return it to me!

  “I… I don’t have it,” I stammered.

  Then still your tongue!

  “Let us get it for you,” said Skeever quickly. “We know where it is, we can go and get it and then—”

  SILENCE!

  The courtyard trembled, a fork of orange lightning cracking across the red clouds above.

  You think it so simple, mortal. That just returning what was taken shall right this one’s wrongs? This one has no regrets for the insult it has given Us. Blood must be paid!

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” screamed Harmon.

  “Please have mercy on him!” I begged. “He was wrong, but he didn’t know the gems belonged to anyone. I know he shouldn’t have, but please, he doesn’t deserve to die!”

  You chatter loudly, mortal. But would you give your blood for his? Your life for his? Perhaps it is your neck that should rest upon my jaws?

  Risk’s hands clenched into fists at the suggestion. He was shaking again, almost vibrating with fury. The apparition’s eye swivelled back onto him.

  Do my words anger you, wolf child? This one is your pack too, yes? Or perhaps… the apparition trailed off, its eye rolling between us. Is this mewling female your mate?

  Risk looked back at Conon and I, though his gaze was locked more on the minotaur than me.

  “She is,” he said, turning back to the apparition.

  Conon nudged me in the side with his elbow before I could say anything, pushing me gently towards Risk. I went and stood next to him, and my bodyguard looped an arm around my waist.

  The apparition’s eye was focused entirely on Risk and I now, the flaming wreath around it flaring eagerly. Is she with childe?

  I blushed. “I’m not—”

  “Not yet,” interrupted Risk firmly.

  The apparition’s head tilted slightly in curiosity, the creature’s teeth pulling away from Harmon. Why wait? Seeds are best sown while the field is fertile.

  There were so many things I wanted to say to that, I didn’t even know where to start. The tight grip Risk had on my waist kept me quiet.

  “Pups need a safe place to grow,” he said. “Also, we’re not bonded yet.”

  Hmm, I suppose you were travelling to see your Sire for your bonding, then, yes?

  Risk’s hand tightened further on my waist, and when he spoke, the levelness in his voice seemed forced. He looked pained. “Yes.”

  The island does not give up its inhabitants easily.

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  The massive wolf skull tilted further. Very well, as a child of the wolf spirit, I shall bind you.

  “You honour us,” said Risk hesitantly. It was clear that there was more he wanted to say, but the glint in the skull’s eye seemed to change his mind.

  He took a deep breath and turned to face me, taking one of my hands in his, his other reaching up to gently cradle the back of my neck.

  Wolf child, in the names of Khanesi and Lunaris: Watchers of the Pack, will you take this woman, bond with her in blood and spirit, have her as your own, and give her all that she needs?

  “I swear to it,” said Risk.

  And you, woman, said the apparition, eye flicking to me.

  “Y...yes?”

  In the names of Volana and Kyuu: Servants to the Higher Ones, will you give yourself, to bond in blood, and join in body, with a loyal and submissive spirit, desiring only what he gives and wanting no other?

 
I’m getting married, I thought as the apparition spoke. I’m actually getting married here.

  I looked to Risk for guidance, but his expression was impassive. The apparition growled impatiently.

  “Uh, ye—”

  Before the word had completely left my mouth, Conon charged up the cliff sculpture. My head swivelled around. When had he moved from behind us?

  He lunged at the wolves holding Harmon, jumping, and landing on one with a bone-shattering crunch. Its spine shattered into a thousand fragments, its jaw going slack and releasing the bound minotaur’s leg. Conon swivelled and kicked another one, sweeping its head off its neck. With a hand freed, Harmon rolled, his fist lashing out at the other wolf on his arm.

  The apparition’s eye flared in fury, another lightning bolt crashing through the sky above. Its head whirled back around, jaws hovering over the still-prone Harmon. Conon lunged forward, grabbing the young minotaur by the shoulders and pulling him away just as the monstrous skull’s teeth descended upon them. There was a sickening crack, and a roar of pain, before the marble cliff was splattered with fresh blood.

  I screamed.

  Risk grabbed me around the waist and started to pull me away from the fountain. “Move!”

  I felt numb, my legs refusing to move the way I knew I needed them to. I stumbled and he caught me.

  “Come on!”

  He pulled me up, tossing me over his shoulder like a useless sack of grain. Which wasn’t far from what I felt like at the moment. I looked up, arms braced on his lower back. There was blood dripping from the edge of the cliff ,and the sight froze my heart. This couldn’t be happening. I wanted to scream, but all I could manage was a pathetic whimper.

  The sound of a gunshot made me jerk against Risk’s shoulder.

  The apparition, which had been slowly climbing up onto the fountain sculpture, fell back with a shriek as a bolt of orange light pierced the side of its skull, sending fragments of bone flying. It landed on its back, limbs flailing.

  The two minotaurs reappeared on the cliff. Harmon’s arm was around Conon’s shoulder, with the latter supporting most of his weight. Harmon’s wrists and ankles were bloodied, and one side of Conon’s face was drenched with blood, eye clenched tight against the torrent.

  My heart stopped. Conon’s right horn, the one that had been damaged in the fight, was missing. All that remained was a jagged chunk no longer than my hand. I’d never given much thought to what a minotaur’s, or even a regular cow’s horns were made of, so seeing blood pouring from the shattered edges of the break shocked me. By the look on Conon’s face, the bull was in a lot of pain.

  “Put me down,” I begged. “He’s hurt!” I had to do something! I had to help!

  The arm across my back tightened, pinning me more firmly to Risk’s shoulder.

  With a shriek, the apparition righted itself. Part of its skull was missing, and the remaining eye gem had fallen from the destroyed socket. The white mist which seemed to fill the inside of the skull was leaking out faster. The apparition wobbled on shaky legs, its misty body starting to dissipate around the edges like steam from a boiling pot.

  Another gunshot rang out, and this time, a regular bullet plinked off the remains of the apparition’s skull. Skeever scampered forward, his dagger in one hand, Risk’s gun in the other.

  When had he managed to get his hands on it?

  With Skeever covering their retreat, Conon and Harmon made their way down the side of the marble cliff. No matter how often he fired, the gun only shot regular bullets, though it never seemed to run out or need reloading. They hit the ground running, tearing away from the fountain as fast as they could.

  The apparition shrieked, and all at once, the dead flowerbeds of the courtyard burst open, fresh skeletons crawling out of the dirt and into the open. These ones weren’t as clean as the ones from the main hall, with bits of decaying skin and patches of matted fur hanging from muddy bones. Unlike the other skeletons, who’d been quick on their bony feet, these wolf corpses could only limp their way across the garden, the fire in their eyes much dimmer than their brethrens’ had been.

  When the minotaurs reached us, Harmon pushed himself away from Conon. “I don’t need your help,” he whined petulantly, though he stumbled on his bleeding ankles.

  “Fine,” snapped Conon, pain-laced irritation laying thick over his words. “I won’t bother next time.”

  “I didn’t ask in the first place!”

  “You were screaming like a taken calf—”

  “Enough!” snapped Skeever, pushing between them. “Have your lover’s spat once we’re out of here!”

  Conon adjusted the strap of my bag over his shoulder. It had slid slightly in all the commotion, though I was more surprised to see it still there at all. I wanted to offer to carry it again, but that wasn’t really possible when I was acting the potato sack over Risk’s shoulder. As if reading my mind, the bull lay a gentle hand on my head.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

  You’re not, I thought. And I do worry.

  We fled back into the temple, Risk once more leading the way. I wanted to ask how he seemed to know where he was going, but the others didn’t seem bothered by it, and it didn’t feel like the right time.

  The ground shook again. Dust and debris fell from the trembling ceiling, and I could hear the sounds of stones crumbling not too far away.

  “Is it getting hotter in here, or am I just imagining it?” asked Skeever hesitantly.

  But it wasn’t just him, as sweat was beading on my forehead as well. The temperature in the stone corridor was rising rapidly. The temple trembled again, and a massive crack shot up the stone wall ahead of us before the entire corner of the corridor crumbled away in a cloud of dust and brick fragments. Orange light flooded the room along with a fresh wave of heat and the heavy smell of burning sulphur.

  Chapter 18:

  The Volcano

  The mountain that towered over the temple was ablaze, its pointed peak gone and replaced with a deep crater that was already oozing rivers of lava down towards the jungle. The rumbling continued, the caldera spitting a great column of ash into the sky, and it didn’t look like the angry mountain was done yet.

  “We need to get moving,” said Risk, an edge of urgency in his voice.

  “How?” demanded Skeever.

  “Off the edge,” said Risk, nodding at the hole in the wall.

  “We can’t just jump down a mountain,” exclaimed Harmon.

  “I can,” said Risk.

  Skeever looked thoughtful for a moment then nodded. “Alright then—”

  “No,” said Conon as Risk set me down.

  Harmon and I stared, shocked at the vehemence of his objection.

  “Look,” growled Risk, and I could almost see his hackles rising. “If you have any better plans for getting us down the mountain, then I’d like to hear them!”

  “We don’t have a lot of time to be arguing,” said Skeever. “We need to move quickly.”

  “Do you want him to endanger—”

  “I’m not going to bite them!” snarled Risk. “I’m in control!”

  “Are you?” asked Conon.

  Risk was trembling again and I realised his constant shaking wasn’t from anger or fear, but the strain of keeping himself contained.

  “Mr Skeever’s right,” I said. “I don’t think we have time to be picky.”

  “Nina, this is serious.”

  “I know. An ancient wolf spirit and its army of skeletons are out for our blood, and the island we’re on is erupting. I don’t think the situation could get any more serious at this point. Which is why if Risk can help, let him.”

  “It’s not like whatever it is, is going to make the situation worse,” added Harmon.

  Conon took a long breath through his nose. “Fine.” He turned to Risk. “Do it.”

  Risk stepped up to the edge of the section of broken floor. He took a few deep breaths, and rolled his shoulders and neck.
He looked like someone getting ready to perform a high dive. Suddenly, he shuddered, a shiver going through his body like someone had licked a cold line up his spine.

  Then he hunched over, his breathing ragged and strained. He sounded like he was in pain, but before I could even move, Conon’s hand was on my shoulder and keeping me back. I looked up at the minotaur, but all he did was shake his head.

  A dark fog seemed to be surrounding Risk now, though I couldn’t tell from where it was coming, blurring him and making him appear fuzzy around the edges. Through the cloud, I could see his body growing. He hunched further, almost bent double, his lengthening arms meeting the floor. Raising his head, his eyes cinched shut, he worked his jaw as it elongated into a thin pointed muzzle. When he opened his eyes again, they seemed to glow in the shadows cast by the mountain’s orange light. He shook his body, and the dark obscuring mist dispersed, revealing the form of a massive wolf.

  My eyes widened. A shifter?[13] I’d had no idea. In school, a not-quite-friend, dorm-mate acquaintance of mine had often amused herself and others on slow study nights by shifting back and forth into the form of a tortoise-shell cat. I remember her transformation being a lot less flashy than Risk’s, but then, shifters weren’t the most common things, so I had no other comparison.

  Risk was huge in his shifted form, bigger than a horse, and though without them being side-by-side I couldn’t tell. I was almost certain he would give the apparition a run for its money. His long shaggy fur was the same colour as his hair, but it was matted and missing in places. Places, I realised, that correspond to where I’d seen scars on his human form.

  Risk turned, sharp predator eyes focusing on us. The others tensed. A moment later, a long pink tongue lolled out of Risk’s mouth as he sat and lifted a leg to scratch behind his head. I couldn’t help but laugh.

  Ignoring Conon’s exclamation of protest, I stepped forward and pressed myself to Risk’s fluffy side. So soft! Even with the occasional bald patch, he was still incredibly huggable. But as I wrapped my arms around him, I realised he was almost all fur. His malnourishment had carried over into this form as well, and I could feel the outline of every rib under my fingers. When was the last time he ate? We’d had breakfast that morning after the mysterious beast had… I looked up at Risk. The long dark hair, the sharp teeth glinting in the light of the burning mountain.