Rise of the Wolf

by Curtis Jobling

  He was awoken when he heard a chair being pulled up next to him. Dragging himself up from his slouched position in his chair, he rubbed his eyes to revive himself. A gentleman who looked every inch the dashing sea captain had joined Hector at their table.

  The stranger looked to be in his third decade, with a shock of thick black hair that was tied back in a ponytail. He wore a long seafarer’s cape, black on the outside and red within, that hung three quarters of the way to the floor, and high-legged black boots rose to his knees. At his hip Drew could see the basket pommel of a cutlass. When he smiled, he revealed the most dazzling white teeth Drew had ever seen. The man held out a tanned hand to Drew, and Hector gestured with a nod he should take it.

  ‘Captain Cane,’ he said in a warm, smooth voice. Drew didn’t recognize the accent, but it was unmistakably exotic and spoke of foreign lands and sunnier climes. ‘Your friend here says the two of you are looking for passage on a ship?’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Drew, willing himself awake. He took the hand and winced at the man’s vice-like grip. ‘I presume he’s already told you we’re not fussy about where to. We think our fortune lies in the south so were hoping to jump aboard a vessel that was heading that way.’

  Hector leaned forward, whispering. ‘The captain is setting sail south tomorrow morning; he’s a Spyr Oil merchant, so his trade route takes him right down the Cold Coast virtually all year round. What luck!’

  ‘Spice oil?’ asked Drew. At that, Hector shook his head. ‘Forgive me,’ he said, turning to Captain Cane. ‘I’ve lived on a farm for most of my life and the only oil we had was the kind we’d use in a lantern.’

  ‘You wouldn’t want to be using Spyr Oil in a lantern, my friend,’ chortled the sea captain quietly. ‘It’s highly flammable, certainly, but it’s of more value for its … let’s say … euphoric qualities!’

  ‘It’s a drug,’ explained Hector cagily.

  ‘You’ve secured us passage with a drug smuggler?’ said Drew flatly.

  ‘Not a smuggler,’ replied Cane, grinning. ‘I can assure you, the wealthiest folk in all of Lyssia can be counted as customers of mine. Surely if I serve lords and ladies with this valuable commodity I can’t be considered a lawbreaker? These people make the laws, young man.’ He smiled, again flashing his exceptional teeth.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Drew to Hector. ‘Have you asked around thoroughly?’

  The sea captain leaned back in his chair, ordering a tray of mulled wine, which the barmaid promptly brought over. As the man paid the lady and passed round the goblets, the two youths continued their whispered discussion.

  ‘Believe me, I’ve asked around. This chap seems the most likely captain to take us, and he claims he knows his way around the White Sea better than any sailor who’s ever sailed.’

  ‘Oh, they all say that,’ chided Drew. ‘Can we trust him? Do you think he’s being straight with us?’

  ‘Is your lady friend not joining us?’ asked Cane, interrupting their conversation.

  ‘No,’ replied Drew curtly. ‘She’s retired for the evening.’

  ‘But you said you required passage for two, not three,’ went on the captain.

  Hector leapt in. ‘Yes, she’ll be staying here while we depart. She has family in the town with whom she’ll be meeting up.’

  ‘Shame,’ said the captain. ‘A lovely young lady on board would really raise the morale of my boys.’ He took a large mouthful from his goblet.

  ‘I’m not entirely sure a ship is the place for a lady,’ returned Drew defensively.

  ‘Quite the contrary, young man,’ said Cane. ‘My old mother gave birth to me at sea, and she was as wonderful a lady as one could dream of meeting. No, it’s a dangerous place for sure, but I’ve worked with enough lasses on my ship down the years to know that you’re a fool if you discount someone on account of what’s down below, if you know what I mean?’ He winked at the two of them, nodding conspiratorially before laughing heartily, joined by Hector.

  Drew felt slightly irked that Hector seemed to find the man tremendously entertaining. To Drew he was an over-confident loudmouth. ‘Really,’ he said, his nerves on edge, ‘I’m not sure about this. Maybe it’s best if we wait a little longer, Hector. We’re in no hurry and a couple of days in port won’t hurt us.’ It was a lie, but he felt there was something not quite right. He didn’t know whether it was the lycanthrope within, but warning signals seemed to be firing off in his brain in quick succession. Was this smooth-talking captain to be trusted? Could they take that risk, knowing they’d be trapped on board a boat if Drew’s instincts were correct? But whatever the reason for his distrust, it appeared Hector had no such worries.

  ‘It’s a bit late for that,’ said his friend, about to explain when Cane interrupted.

  The sea captain waved a leather purse in the palm of his hand. ‘So, it’s the five gold here now, and five when I get you to the Shanti Isles?’ he said, clenching the purse as if to emphasize the fact that the deal had already been struck while Drew was napping.

  Drew sighed. It appeared the decision had already been taken from his hands.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Hector, ‘but I think this is our best option, Drew.’ The Boarlord’s mind was set. Maybe it was just Drew being over-cautious. He’d never liked folk like this. Every man he’d ever met who’d liked himself that much had turned out to be a heel of one kind or another.

  ‘Very well, sir,’ said Drew to Cane. ‘I apologize if I appeared to doubt your credentials. I’m just a little wary when it comes to deals like this.’ With this Drew focused a small element of the Wolf, allowing his shoulders to rise and broaden just a fraction, enough to appear intimidating. He also felt his eyes mist over a little, a hint of the Wolf appearing in an amber flash. ‘One hears stories about poor innocents being taken advantage of. Tricked. You understand?’

  The man seemed to sober in his chair, reappraising the situation. Hector bristled with anxiety.

  ‘You have the word of Captain Cane, young man,’ said the sea captain. ‘I shall grant you swift and direct passage to the Shanti Isles, may Sosha drag me to the depths if I say a word of a lie.’ The man looked back to them with the sternest and straightest of faces. Drew felt himself relaxing, and Hector breathed out an audible sigh.

  ‘Marvellous,’ said the Boarlord.

  ‘Let’s drink to it,’ suggested Captain Cane, raising his goblet. The three of them downed their mulled wines and clattered the wooden cups into one another.

  ‘What time do we sail?’ asked Hector.

  ‘At sun up,’ said the sea captain. ‘I have some further provisions to secure for the journey – bread, spices, fruit – but we’ll be at sea with the sun at our backs at the earliest.’

  Drew leaned back in his chair, edging closer to the fire and the warmth it was throwing out. He’d leave the rest of the conversation to Hector for the evening. He wasn’t happy about the choice of passage, but it was passage nonetheless, and beggars couldn’t be choosers. His body still ached with the exertions of recent weeks, and he wasn’t yet fully recovered from Vala’s venom. He could feel sleep approaching fast.

  ‘I say again, it’s a great shame the lady can’t join us on this journey,’ said Captain Cane, withdrawing a cigar from a pocket within his cape and lighting it swiftly with a match. ‘It would have made for a far more pleasant journey with such an unusual lady on board.’

  Drew turned his head to look at the man, and noticed that Hector was also slumping in his own chair, head lolling as his temple drew ever closer to the table top.

  ‘What’s the name again?’ said the sea captain, scratching his chin with a hooked thumb. ‘Gretchen, isn’t it? Such an enchanting creature.’

  Drew’s mind went blurry and he tried desperately to focus his thoughts. How does he know her name? He stared at the empty goblets and then to his drowsy friend. Oh no.

  Cane leaned forward and patted Hector’s right hand, stroking an elegant finger over the signet ring with the boar’s
head. ‘Which would make you, my portly young friend, Hector, would it not?’ Hector’s head slumped with a thump on to the tabletop.

  Drew couldn’t keep his eyes open. Though he fought the oncoming sleep with all his might, he couldn’t resist the power of whatever sedative the captain had used to lace their drinks. He just had time to see Cane lean in closer, blowing smoke into his face.

  ‘And you … would be the Wolf.’

  3

  The Maelstrom

  When Drew came round it was to the motion of a pitching ship as it rolled with the sea. Raising his head, he winced. With each movement, each jostle, it felt to him that his brain was loose inside his skull, thumping with each shifting lurch as it hit the sides. His body cried with pain and his eyes were clenched shut as if to keep the headache locked in place, but it was a hopeless gesture. He squinted, looking through the matted hair of his fringe.

  He was suspended by a hook from a thick beam in the belly of the ship, his hands clasped in manacles, a link of chain keeping him secured in an uncomfortable slumping stand. His legs were buckled beneath him with the weight of his body. He stood up, taking the weight out of his strained arms and letting the blood course through them again. Looking about the darkened room, his eyes adjusted to the dim light as the sound of the sea roared past outside.

  Crates, sacks and barrels held in place by thick webs of netting lined each wall, allowing little room for passage through. On the floor, tossed to one side, was his armour and cloak. There was no sign of his backpack or the Wolfshead blade and he’d been stripped bare-chested, left with only his breeches. Looking up he saw a metal grille some twenty feet overhead, where he caught sight of booted feet walking past.

  ‘Hello!’ he cried out. ‘Can anyone hear me?’ It was useless, the thunderous sound of the sea and the creaking and groaning of the timber walls obscuring his shouts. He checked himself over, looking for wounds or injuries that Cane had inflicted while he was unconscious, but found nothing. He shouted out once more, his dry and parched lips cracking as he screamed.

  Drew could feel the anger building inside. Who did they think they were, locking him up like this, chaining him like an animal? Well, he thought, if it was an animal they wanted it was an animal they were going to get. Let’s see how these kidnappers fared with a monster on their ship. He let his mind focus, channelling the Werewolf. The dark shape of the Wolf leapt forward into his mind’s eye, teeth flashing and claws slashing. He felt his back arching, and took deep breaths as he brought the animal forth.

  Recoiling in fresh agony, he shook with tearing jolts of pain as he felt the manacles cutting into his wrists. Foolishly he’d thought he could break his bonds, but he’d reckoned wrong. Blood streamed down his arms, mid-change. Lurching and bucking with pain, Drew managed to pull the hook from the beam, but still the handcuffs threatened to tear the flesh and muscle from his arms. He dropped to the floor, rolling about in torment as he tried to refocus, tried to reverse his transformation. Thrashing, he kicked out, entangling his ankle in a loop of netting and bringing a procession of boxes and crates tumbling down on him with a crash. Spicy hot liquid poured over his eyes, into his face, into his mouth.

  The blackout was instantaneous.

  When Drew awoke for the second time, he found his accommodation had improved remarkably. He was lying in a bed and looking up at a chandelier that was swaying to and fro, the telltale sign that he was still aboard a ship. Looking down to his hands, he saw they were still manacled. But there were no fresh wounds and scars circling his wrists, instead they were healed and clean of scar tissue. How long had he been asleep?

  He turned his head one way and then the other, loosening the muscles, then pulled himself gently upward to rest against the ornately carved wooden headboard. The room was handsomely furnished. A writing table was secured to the wall with a porthole directly above, and a richly upholstered red leather chair stood before it, the seat swinging lazily on its swivelled frame as the sea gently rocked the vessel. A door marked the exit and, easing himself out of the bed, he made straight for it. He grabbed the handle: locked. Drew hammered his fists on it, bound together as they were, shouting beyond for attention. When no one came he walked over to the porthole to peer out. The White Sea lay beyond as far as the eye could see, with no sign of land.

  There was the sound of a key turning in the lock and Drew hastily picked up the only thing he could that resembled a weapon: a porcelain chamber pot from the foot of the bed. Raising it high he slipped behind the door as it opened inwards, ready to strike down at his captor.

  He was astonished to see Gretchen step into the room, looking about. She wore a finely tailored emerald green dress that was cut at the shoulder to reveal her smooth ivory skin.

  ‘What?’ he gasped in shock. ‘You’re my jailer now?’

  She spun about, obviously surprised to see Drew poised to strike her with the antique lavatory pot. Before she could speak she was shepherded further into the room as three more figures entered. First came a short wiry-looking man who had a shortsword held cautiously forward in his hands now that he knew where Drew was hiding. Behind him came Hector, a wary look on his face as he stood by Gretchen’s side. Finally, Captain Cane entered the bedchamber, closing the door behind him with a confidence that said he didn’t fear Drew in the slightest.

  ‘You liar!’ gasped Drew. ‘You gave us your word you wouldn’t harm us, that you would deliver us safely to the Shanti Isles!’

  ‘No,’ corrected the sea captain. ‘I gave you the word of Captain Cane, a man as fictitious as a child’s fairytale. He was a flight of fancy, nothing more. A whim, if you will. No, that fellow doesn’t exist,’ he went on, tapping his forehead, ‘except in here.’

  Drew could feel the anger welling up inside him again.

  ‘Steady, pup,’ said the man. ‘We really don’t want another accident like we had in the hold now, do we? It took all your friend’s knowhow to ensure those pretty little paws didn’t pop clean off your body. And while we’re at it, you might want to put the pot down. That’s an antique, you know.’

  Petulantly, Drew threw it against the wall where it shattered into a myriad magnificent pieces.

  The captain shook his head wearily. ‘Is he always like this?’ he asked Hector.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Gretchen for her cousin.

  ‘Who are you?’ demanded Drew.

  ‘He’s Count Vega,’ answered Hector, ‘of the Cluster Isles.’

  ‘Prince of the Cluster Isles, if you will,’ corrected the sea captain.

  ‘Pirate prince, you mean,’ said Gretchen.

  ‘Oh please,’ protested Vega, striding to the porthole to look out to the sea beyond. ‘I’m no more a pirate than this lad is the son of Wergar, my lady. I’m a businessman, an entrepreneur; I see opportunities and I take them.’

  ‘Like you took us?’ challenged Drew.

  ‘Yes,’ replied the man shortly. ‘You are a business arrangement, nothing more.’

  ‘And what do you intend to do with us?’ asked Drew, glancing back to the door and a means of escape. Count Vega seemed to read what he was thinking.

  ‘There really is nowhere to run, Drew. So long as those steel bracelets are firmly about your wrists you are of no threat to anyone. Unless you count yourself – one more attack of the wolfies and I shan’t be letting your friend attend to your injuries. You can make do with two paws instead of four. You are both my guest and my prisoner.’

  ‘Where are you taking us?’ Drew played catch-up as he tried to work out precisely what danger they were in.

  ‘He’s delivering the three of us to Highcliff,’ Gretchen said sadly. ‘To the king, Old Brenn only knows why. You do realize, Vega, that you are banished from Highcliff under pain of death, don’t you?’

  ‘Ahh, my lady,’ said the count, stepping forward to run a hand through her hair. She flinched, pulling away, and Drew felt himself step forward. ‘I believe that by delivering your pretty face and your kidnappers to the king
I shall prove my loyalty to His Majesty and shall receive his gratitude in the process. Then I shall take back what is rightfully mine.’

  ‘You’re a fool,’ said Gretchen.

  ‘No,’ answered the count. ‘I am an opportunist. It is not every day that a trio of wanted therians lands squarely in my lap. I shall make the most of this while the sun shines and the seas surge.’ He made for the door, taking the handle and opening it wide. ‘Come, Figgis,’ he said, and the wiry old fellow, who had remained silent throughout, followed him. ‘My lords, lady, you have the freedom of the Maelstrom. Please enjoy your stay. And try not to break anything else.’ With that the two men strode from the room, leaving the door creaking open on its hinges.

  Drew sat down on the bed, his head thumping with anger at their fresh predicament.

  ‘What on earth happened?’ he asked, finding it hard to believe what was going on. ‘We came so close to getting away – how could this be?’

  ‘Firstly,’ said Hector, full of embarrassment, ‘I have to apologize for what I can only describe as an appalling lack of judgement …’

  Drew waved him silent. ‘Hector, what’s done is done, don’t worry about that now. Tell me what happened.’

  ‘Well,’ the Boarlord went on, ‘once Vega had drugged us he had us taken to this ship, the Maelstrom. And then he sent his men back to get Gretchen.’

  Drew looked to the Werefox, concern etched on his face. ‘Did they hurt you?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Although I hurt them. You’ll see some of them still bear my claw marks when you get up on deck.’

  ‘They set sail that very night, by all accounts,’ continued Hector. ‘It appears we woke around the same time, you and I, because I heard all the commotion from my cabin.’

  ‘Am I the only one who they chained up?’ asked Drew upon hearing Hector mention his cabin.