Silence of the Wolves

by Hannah Pole

  With a curse, she let go of the metal as a bright light flashed from her palms, singing her skin, the hot metal blistering her. The barred door swung open, clattering against the rock wall on the other side.

  Tam spared a confused glance at her palms, which were red raw from the heat. These little bursts of energy really took it out of her; she made a mental note to make sure to spend more time training with Sapphire when this was over.

  Shoving confusion and fear aside, Tam pushed on, all but running down the broken stone steps that led from the dungeon.

  There were voices up ahead and Tamriel forced herself to stand still, to take a deep breath, to listen intently. Leyth might be running out of time, but there was absolutely no point her rushing in and getting captured and killed too; what good would that do?

  ‘Start the ritual,’ she heard someone say, though his words were ragged and muffled; it was almost like he was talking with his hand over his mouth. Blinding pain hit her in the chest; it was Leyth’s pain. It must be the silver.

  As she reached the bottom of the jagged steps, the rock opened up to reveal a large open space; torches lit the cave and the flickering light bounced off the walls. Slowly, she peered around. The space was huge.

  There were several magi; the three she counted were rushing around lighting candles and sprinkling herbs all over the place. There was a large pentagram drawn on the floor, with a candle at each point, and a fourth magi was at the side, stirring something in a large bowl. She hesitated as she looked at him; his shoulders filled the space he was in nicely, and his skin was healthy-looking compared to his friends, who were all gaunt and grey.

  But there was something about him. She’d never seen that man before in her life, but the way he held himself, his mannerisms were so familiar, that she almost couldn’t help but grin at him. Who was he? Why did she recognise him?

  Why did the sight of him make her inner child do a stupid happy dance and bring tears to the surface? Tears and age-old pain?

  She shoved those thoughts and the strange happiness mixed with pain aside. Now was not the time for confusion.

  At the head of the pentagram was a large stone chair in which sat a gaunt, haggard old magi who was gingerly fingering his mouth. Blood was pouring from it, running down his chin and dripping onto his robe.

  Tamriel slapped a hand over her mouth to hold in the gasp she couldn’t help but let out.

  In the middle of the pentagram was a large stone slab, on which was a very naked, very unconscious Leyth.

  He was absolutely covered in blood, his body marked with large cuts and bruises. His right arm appeared to be free, but his left was slowly turning grey, lifeless. They must have injected the silver into that arm.

  ‘My lord, the ritual is nearly ready,’ the magi leaning over the bowl announced.

  ‘Good. The silver is nearly at his heart. Once he dies, bring me to him so I can drink.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  Tam was running out of time, but hell only knew what she could do. She was outnumbered five to one, and she had only a bolo as a weapon.

  Leyth let out an almighty moan, his free arm clutching his chest. Tamriel knew she had to do something.

  ‘Hello, boys,’ Tamriel said calmly, walking into the cave.

  All heads whipped around to her and she cringed under the weight of their gaze.

  ‘How did you get here? Kill her. We don’t have time for this.’

  The three magi turned on her instantly, and a wash of magic tingled her skin. She barely had time to move as a bolt of electricity flew past her head.

  She ran forward, dodging the blows they were throwing at her; launching herself into a flying leap, she swung the bolo and caught the first bald-headed, grey-skinned magi she came across in the skull. The knife sank through bone and wedged itself into something soft; with a tug, she slid it back out again, pushing down the bile that rose within her.

  The magi she’d caught sank to his knees, an almighty scream ripping out of his lungs as blood gushed from the slice in his bald head.

  Tamriel briefly wondered how he was still alive; a blow to the brain was supposed to kill you instantly. As the man started to writhe around on the floor, the shadows seemed to engulf him, wrapping around his head, his body. He shook as he began to chant quiet words.

  Tam could do little more than gape as she watched the fatal injury heal itself, right before her eyes; the cracked and bloody top of his head re-knitting, becoming whole and relatively healthy once more.

  Snapping back to reality, she realised that she’d been standing motionless, staring at the magi on the floor and no one had attacked her.

  What’s more, as she tried to lift her bolo to decapitate the bastard, figuring that was her best bet at taking him out permanently, she found her limbs frozen to her sides, unable to move.

  The remaining two magi stood on either side of her, holding their hands out. Magic singed the air, caressing her arms, her skin.

  The air surrounding her felt thick as mud, restricting her, keeping her from movement. Stuck in mid-air with nowhere to go, she fought the confines of the magic with all her strength, but to little avail. Even her face seemed frozen; it took most of her energy just to move her mouth. ‘Let. Him. Go,’ she bit out.

  ‘He’s nearly dead, little wolf.’ The High Lord sneered at her.

  She let out an almighty roar, fighting the magic holding her in place, throwing her body forward, but nothing happened; she couldn’t move.

  ‘You must be Tamriel.’ The High Lord grinned, the flickering light bouncing off his bloody teeth.

  ‘Yeah,’ she spat, ‘and I’m here to kill you.’ The High Lord laughed, he actually laughed, the cold noise crackling its way out of his chest.

  Tamriel searched the room for anything that might help her in this ridiculous situation. The magi on the floor was just lying there, sweating and panting but fully healed by the looks of it.

  His two companions were deadly focused on her, their stare never wavering, their hands poised and concentrated.

  In the far corner there was the other magi. No. He was a male; there was nothing remotely magic about him. She knew that if nothing else. She recognised him right to her very soul, but she just couldn’t work out why.

  He was bent over a large bowl and he was going through the motions, adding herbs and grinding them together with liquid into a paste, but he wasn’t concentrating; his attention was focused on her. How she knew that, she wasn’t sure; she couldn’t see his eyes, just the back of his head and his robes. For some reason her heart leapt at the sight of him. She knew this man.

  ‘Centre yourself, focus on the energy. Use it,’ he whispered, just loud enough for her wolf ears to pick up.

  Tears ran down her face as she recognised her father’s voice, the words he had always spoken to her in training when she was young.

  ‘Dad?’ she whispered, oh so quietly, tears streaming down her face as confusion flooded her. She watched the male intently; slowly, he nodded, only slightly, but enough for her to be sure.

  ‘This is the woman that is supposed to bring me down? I think not,’ the High Lord spat, obviously tiring with the seemingly silent delay.

  The magic surrounding her intensified, burning her skin, scalding her.

  ‘She’s no threat,’ he snorted, eyeing her, his bloody mouth twisted into a snarl. ‘Make her watch.’

  He pointed a bony finger at Leyth, who barked out a curse, rolling his head around in pain. Then, for a second, his eyes opened, looking straight at her. ‘Tamriel, I lov—’ he croaked, reaching out to her; he couldn’t finish the sentence and that near broke her heart, she needed to hear it.

  ‘Leyth, don’t worry, I’ll get you out of here,’ she whispered, tears filling her eyes and spilling over once more. With that Leyth let out an almighty scream, clutching his chest as his body convulsed. His breathing slowed, the harsh, ragged gasps of air he was taking in became shallow, further apart. Finally he stopped moving, hi
s hand falling limp next to his body.

  ‘No!’ Tam barked. ‘No. You can’t die on me, Leyth.’ Tears were rolling freely now.

  ‘Too late, little wolf, the silver has hit his heart,’ the bony magi jeered.

  Tam desperately watched Leyth’s chest, hoping like hell it would rise and fall once more.

  Nothing happened, he remained completely still; his breathing had stopped all together.

  Tamriel snarled, tears blurring her vision, a scream ripping from her throat. Heat boiled from her core, warming her skin, latching onto the magic holding her in place.

  Finally she understood what her father had always tried to teach her, what Sapphire had tried to tell her. She couldn’t create magic, but she could manipulate magic. And there was a lot of magic in this room. Opening her eyes, she concentrated on the invisible wisps wrapped around her; she felt them, felt the sting of their power, the tension of it.

  Even with her heart breaking as it was, she forced all her energy into ripping the magic apart, shaking it free.

  She dropped to her knees as she gained movement again, eyeing the room just in time to see the man in the corner – her dad? – whip round, silently pulling out a large ritual knife from his belt.

  He looked completely different to how she remembered him; long, white hair cascading across his shoulders where brown hair had once been, a wrinkled face, though his body was still broad and filled out his robe nicely. His muscled arms were tense around the blade.

  Then fear stabbed her in the gut as she realised that she didn’t know who this man was going to fight for. Her gut told her he was her father, though lord only knew why; she hadn’t seen the man in well over a decade and had always assumed he was dead. After all, this could be a magic trick to make her trust him.

  As she looked into his eyes, however, she had no doubt. His features had changed, as had his hair. Even his scent had changed. But his eyes were the same; kind, brown eyes that smiled and comforted. Eyes she had looked into a hundred times as a child and had wished she could see again as she grew older. He grinned at her. ‘Hello, daughter,’ he said, this time loud enough for everyone to hear. ‘Do what you need to do, I’ve got your back.’

  Tamriel hesitated as confusion flooded her. It was only when her eyes passed over Leyth again, that she knew what she had to do. She faced the High Lord at a dead run, not stopping to take out the two remaining magi. Launching herself at the shrivelled grey bastard on his chair, she called to the wolf inside, shifting, her skin, her bones cracking and reshaping mid-leap, the magic at her core wrapping around her to form a protective shield.

  The High Lord actually screamed as she leapt towards him, throwing all manner of magic at her; streaks of blue and red flew from his fingertips, brushing past her and singing her fur.

  One or two of the electric bolts hit home, scalding her skin, but she didn’t feel it, didn’t care. She was deadly focused on her target, her prey.

  Tamriel landed at his feet in wolf form, snarling.

  ‘Red wolf, you cannot kill me! I—’

  She didn’t even let him finish his damn sentence.

  She launched herself up towards him, bracing her paws on his knees to give her extra force; she snapped her jaw around his neck, teeth sinking in deeply.

  The High Lord screamed, his voice strangled as her canines sank further into his flesh. Weak hands tugged at her, but she shook them away. This man had caused so much pain, so much death.

  He had to die.

  With that she ripped flesh free, tearing his throat from his body. He hissed as she tore him apart, his eyes rolling back in his head.

  Tamriel didn’t waste time, spitting the twice-dead flesh out on the ground beside her, she launched at him again, teeth cracking through bone, completely decapitating him.

  The world was a daze; she could hear fighting in the background, but she didn’t care. With the High Lord dead, she slowly pawed her way to the slab Leyth was on.

  Jumping up onto the stone, she bit at the leather cuffs strapping him down, freeing his limbs and licked his face. Whimpering, she nudged at him, pawed his chest. He didn’t take in a breath, didn’t move. She rested her head on his chest. No heartbeat.

  Sitting back on her hind legs, she gingerly placed a paw on his chest and simply howled, the sound ripping out of her lungs and bouncing off the cave walls. Her heart was ripping to pieces, breaking at the loss of her male. Her soul mate.

  Slowly she changed back into human form, her beaten body breaking and shifting until her bare skin felt the coldness of the slab he was on, until her fingers were touching his soft skin, his chest. He was cold. Too cold.

  Tears were spilling freely as she cried his name. ‘I can’t lose you,’ she keened. ‘I love you.’

  Someone wrapped heavy arms around her waist, pulling her off of him.

  She scrambled, holding on to Leyth, her nails scraping against the stone slab.

  ‘Tam, you have to leave him.’

  ‘NO!’

  ‘Tam, listen to me, we have to leave.’

  ‘No, I won’t leave him.’ She was screaming and fighting Julian’s grip as he dragged her away.

  They must have found the cave after they’d fought their way through the rest of the building. They were here too late though.

  Doc bustled past her, taking a quick look at Leyth, then bringing out a long plastic tube and a metal attachment and plunging a knife into his chest. Tamriel screamed and fought against the alpha, as Doc mutilated her male’s chest, thrusting the metal object deeper towards his heart.

  ‘You’re killing him,’ she screamed.

  ‘He’s already dead,’ Julian snapped, holding her, comforting her.

  Doc grunted as something started dripping through the plastic tube onto the floor; he’d found the silver and was letting it escape Leyth’s body, drawing it out so it couldn’t burn him any longer.

  Then Doc tried CPR, transferring air from his own lungs into Leyth’s; he beat his chest with a fist trying to restart his heart, but to no avail. Finally, he stood back and shook his head.

  Julian let Tam go, and she ran to Leyth, tears still streaming down her face. The events of the last few weeks flashed past her eyes; she loved this wolf. She truly loved him; her heart and soul were his. He couldn’t leave her. He couldn’t walk into her life, turn it upside down, make her fall in love with him and just die. It was not happening.

  Heat from her core roared to the surface, the small amount of magic left in the air tingled her fingertips. Tamriel used the skill she was born with and the energy she didn’t yet understand came roaring to the surface, sparks rippling across her fingertips as she pressed them onto her male, her wolf.

  The energy struck him, making his body convulse. She screamed, sending more energy rippling into his chest. His body moved as the energy hit him. But his heart did not restart.

  With a roar that tore her throat, making it bleed, she hefted all the energy she had, her heart and soul, her life, into one final blast of energy, sending it ricocheting into his chest, making his body jerk so hard it flew off the stone slab and onto the floor. She ran over to him hauling him upwards, holding him to her chest, holding onto him for dear life.

  ‘Please,’ she croaked, rocking his body gently. ‘Please don’t leave me.’

  ‘I won’t.’ He coughed against her.

  She held him at arm’s length, his eyes were open.

  He was coughing and spluttering everywhere, but he was awake.

  ‘Leyth?’ She whispered.

  ‘Tam-riel, I love you—’ he whispered, letting his head roll back and his eyes close.

  ‘I love you too. Leyth, I love you so damn much. Hang on. Doc!’ Tam shouted, ‘Doc, he’s alive!’

  Doc ran over, pressing his palm against Leyth’s neck.

  ‘I’ve got a pulse!’ he boomed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

  What the hell was that noise?

  Leyth tried to scrub an
arm across his face but he was in so much frigging pain. Trying to crack an eyelid, he winced as the bright lights in the room hit him.

  ‘Sssshh, hang on.’ Tamriel’s soothing voice caressed his ears, as the bright lights were dimmed, soft gentle hands ran through his hair and a wet cloth dabbed at his forehead.

  ‘I missed you,’ she whispered.

  Leyth tried to speak, but nothing came out. He opened his eyes and had to blink to clear his vision.

  Tamriel’s beautiful face came into view; her green eyes were sparkling with unspilt tears, even though she was smiling.

  To hell with the pain, his female needed him! He took a sharp in-breath as he lifted his right arm, the limb felt like stone and screamed in protest. Slowly, awkwardly, he stroked her soft cheek. She leant into his touch, the tears spilling from her beautiful eyes as she moved, and kissed his hand.

  ‘I’m going to get you some water.’ She moved away from him, but was back in seconds with a cup and a straw. Pressing it to his lips, he tried to take a pull but to no avail, it took another few tries and a lot of spilt water until the cold liquid was running down his throat. It felt like he hadn’t had a drink in years.

  Leyth cleared his throat again, it was raw, and the motion had him wincing, but he had to tell this female how he felt.

  But she wasn’t supposed to be near him, the Circle would find her…

  And, as far as he knew, she was supposed to be in a safe house hiding with Carl and Sapphire.

  ‘Tamriel, I love you,’ he choked out, his voice hoarse.

  ‘I love you too, Leyth.’ She beamed at him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he croaked.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Leaving you.’

  He didn’t even hear her response; broken memories hit him hard. Pain. A lot of pain. Tamriel screaming. Please. Please don’t leave me.

  ‘Leyth?’ Her voice brought him back to the here and now.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘It’s a long story, how about I fill you in over breakfast?’

  He grinned at her, or tried to grin anyway, his face felt sore and swollen.