Beast of Burden

by Alexandra Christian

  “I can go alone. I won’t be long, I swear.” She couldn’t stop desperation from creeping into her voice as she spoke. She didn’t want to beg, but the more she thought of her father lying in his bed dying, the more desperate she became. “If you let me go this one time, I promise I’ll come back to you and stay with you forever.”

  He seemed to think this over for ages, as if working out his options, before finally looking up. “All right, Sascha. Go to your father’s house. See if he is well and give your goodbyes.”

  Her eyes brightened and she threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “Wait. There is one condition you must agree to. I need you here for the full moon. You promised you’d help me.”

  “I haven’t forgotten!”

  “See that you don’t. The wolf moon rises in three weeks time. You must be here by then. Watch the sky well, little one. Don’t be late.”

  “Of course not.” She laughed, hugging him again.

  He pulled her arms from around his neck, gripping her shoulders so tightly that he nearly left bruises. Staring into his eyes, she saw the same fear and frenzy she’d seen before. “Do not be late.”

  Chapter 16

  Ioin Lescoux loved chaos. The spark of crazed excitement in the air, the smell of grit and grunge that accompanied murderous rage, it was all so intoxicating. He’d spent the last couple of weeks at the Goblet watching hysteria erupt around him. Commoners in this country village were so superstitious. All he’d needed to utter was werewolf and the whole town lost its mind. Every man of any size had been suspect. Priestly rituals and ancient amulets had popped up all over. It seemed that no door in Falkin was without a sprig of mistletoe, as they believed it would stay the beast. At the peak of the townspeople’s paranoia, the tavern keeper, Longwillow, had rushed into the middle of town screaming about his missing child, the unfortunate Sera. Immediately, a search party had been sent into the forest where she and Neesa were found torn to bits. He smiled at the coincidence. It was as if a divine spirit was on his side. Common wolves from the forest had apparently feasted on their bodies, dragging the pieces all over the countryside. It had been particularly touching when the hysterical father had returned to town clutching his daughter’s pretty, little head.

  The Golden Goblet had become the center of werewolf madness, and it seemed every man in town had gathered there to decide what should be done.

  “Double the watches at the gates!” an old man standing near the bar shouted. “That way, if one of those things is near, it can’t get into town!”

  “Do you really think a werewolf is going to use the city gates, Jacob?” another man jeered.

  “It’s better than doing nothing!”

  Ioin smiled. The chaos and panic was slowly descending into squabbling. It was interesting to watch, but fitting into his plan nicely. The opportune moment was coming on swift wings.

  “What would you have us do, Jacob?” another man, this one younger with the look of a soldier, shouted. “If a werewolf has chosen us as his feeding ground, there isn’t much we can do but stay out of its way.”

  “Kill every wolf in the forest! A hunting party!” This comment was met with a cheer from the assembled crowd.

  “None of you are trained in fighting a werebeast!” the soldier cried. “Even Lord Lescoux”—he gestured toward Ioin—“could not best the creature. And he fought in the Outland Wars!” More rumbling came from the crowd. “There is only one thing to do. Summon Lord Marek and let him decide!”

  The room went silent for a moment. These men feared Marek. That much was perfectly clear. Right now, their fear was masked with awe, but it wouldn’t take much to turn it.

  “Why should we trust Lord Marek?” someone finally said, breaking the silence. “He sits up there in his castle, collecting our taxes and rent, but no one’s seen him in more than a month! And before that, hardly at all. Why would he help us now?”

  “Why indeed?” Ioin spoke up finally. “What has my old friend done for all of you lately?” He rose from his place in the back, clutching his bandaged arm. “Other than collect your taxes and steal your women?” The crowd murmured again, trying to get their simple minds around his words. “Oh yes. The last time I saw Lord Marek, he spoke of a little slave girl he’d managed to dupe some poor innkeeper out of.”

  “Is she all right?” Everyone turned to look at the weak, tearful voice of Thaddeus Longwillow on the stairs. The old man was shrunken with grief and hobbled slowly down the steps. His eyes looked swollen and his white hair stood out at strange angles. “Is Sascha safe?”

  Ioin put on a grave expression and crossed the room to help the old man down the last step. “She is alive, good sir. But I am afraid that she is less than safe.” Longwillow hung his head and Ioin patted his shoulder reassuringly. “As are all who live in this village under his rule.” More chattering. “Asking for Lord Marek’s help would be like leading the lambs to slaughter.”

  “What are you saying, Lord Lescoux?” Longwillow asked, looking up at the man. “That Lord Marek could have killed these women?”

  “You all know that Cianan and I fought together in the Outland Wars.” Ioin began to pace, trying his best to look just as frightened as the rest of them. “King Sebastian sent him here as Lord Governor of Falkin after he was injured in battle.” He paused, letting his captivated audience mull this over. The room was boiling with confusion. As he spoke, people packed in through the doors, making the crowd seem to be a growing, boiling mass. Ioin, who’d always had a flair for the dramatic, stepped up on the bar and shouted with contained anger, “And why would the king send away his most prized defender after a full recovery? Good people, I was sworn to secrecy, but I fear that my old friend has gone too far this time.” He paused, looking down at the townspeople who hung on his every word. It was almost too easy. “Lord Cianan Marek is your werewolf!” A collective gasp seemed to suck the air out of the room.

  “Lord Marek has been here for years!” the soldier shouted. “If he were some kind of monster, we would have noticed before now.”

  “I have seen it!” Ioin shouted back. “It’s his teeth and claws that did this to me!” He turned toward Longwillow. “And your daughter. I tried to save her, but I’m no match for the beast.” He feigned some hollow tears of shame and sorrow, hiding his face in his hands for effect. “And my dear Neesa. My beautiful companion and friend.” Looking overcome with emotion and letting out a pained gasp, Lescoux sank to his knees. “Please...my friends...help me avenge her.” He gestured to Longwillow who had stepped up beside him, feeling a bond of kinship. “Help your kinsman, Thaddeus Longwillow. It will take all of us to root out this poison! Slay the beast!”

  ****

  Vasilia heard the bloodthirsty shouts from the tavern below and started to her feet. “Kali! What’s happening?”

  “Hush,” Kali hissed, “I’m trying to hear.” She crouched in the corner, listening to make sure that he wasn’t coming back. After their confrontation earlier, she wasn’t eager to see him again. It was true that she’d always been a little afraid of him, but much more over the last several hours. She now realized that Ioin was dangerous, and it would be in her best interest to get away from him as soon as possible.

  “But what’s happening? Where’s Neesa?” Vasilia whined. “It sounds chaotic down there.”

  “Of course it does. Chaos follows Ioin wherever he goes. He enjoys it. I only hope we get out of this place before he causes more than he can handle.” Kali rose from the floor and crept to the window, pulling the curtain back slowly to watch the crowd as they began to pour out of the doors like cockroaches in the light. “Everyone is leaving. Running into the street.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m not sure.” Kali watched as the mob of people rushed into the street, grabbing sticks and pitchforks on their way. Several pulled lanterns from their sticks outside the shops. Others lit torches as they made their way through town. Shouts of “Slay the
beast!” could be heard over the din of general confusion and panic. And there, bringing up the rear of the crowd, a snide grin on his narrow lips, stood Ioin, seeming to wave goodbye. “What have you done, you evil son of a bitch?”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  Kali turned to the over girl, her gaze wild. “We have to get out of here.”

  “But, why?”

  “There’s no time to explain—”

  “We can’t just leave,” Vasilia interrupted, her voice weakened with fear. Her eyes never left the window where she could see Ioin, still basking in the glow of the chaos created by his own design. Vasilia was petrified of Ioin, and that fear could hinder their escape.

  Kali grabbed the girl by the shoulders, turning her around roughly. “Listen to me, damn it!”

  “Stop! You’re hurting me,” she cried.

  “Not half as much as Ioin will if we don’t get out of here.” She narrowed her eyes at Vasilia sternly. “Listen to me. We have to leave. Now.” Kali looked over her shoulder, as if someone might be watching them. “We have no choice.”

  “But what of the master?” Vasilia asked as Kali released her and began grabbing her clothes off the floor. “He can’t travel yet. His arm—”

  “He won’t be coming along, you idiot,” Kali replied. Stupid little girl. After all the lies, torture, and beatings, she was still loyal to the bastard. “That’s the idea.”

  Vasilia’s eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open in disbelief. “You can’t mean that we’ll run away! Lord Ioin will—”

  “Listen, you empty-headed sow!” Kali snapped, backing the younger girl into the wall hard enough to steal her breath. “Ioin is dangerous—”

  “You never seemed to mind his proclivities before, Kali!” Vasilia shouted back. “At times you were just as bloodthirsty—”

  “Stupid games,” she hissed. “This isn’t a game! Murder isn’t a game!” She fixed her cold glare on the other girl, daring her to say more. “Get your things now, or I swear to the gods I’ll leave you here.” With that, she turned away, going back to gathering up her belongings. “Take only what you must. We’ll be on foot most of the way.”

  Vasilia didn’t say anything for a long time, simply watching her throw things into a small bag. After an eternity of silence, she cleared her throat. “Kali? What has happened? Are we safe?”

  “Not as long as we’re with Ioin,” she answered blandly.

  “But why? Do you think the beast will hurt us?”

  Kali snorted with laughter. “Beasts have many faces.” She began shoving some of the jewels into Ioin’s pack. “I just can’t believe it took me so long to see it,” she mumbled before looking up. “What are you waiting for?”

  “I’m not going anyplace until you tell me what’s going on!”

  Kali started to respond, then jumped at the sound of footsteps in the hall. She put a finger to her lips, listening intently until they passed the room. “Look...we don’t have time for this—”

  “Suit yourself, sister. I’ll see you someday when Ioin hunts you down as a runaway.” Vasilia started toward the door and Kali’s mind raced. As tough as she talked, the dark truth was that she was just as petrified to leave alone as Vasilia.

  “Wait.” She stayed the girl with a hand on her wrist. “Fine. I’ll tell you everything, though I had promised myself I’d never think on it again.” Her voice caught and she mentally kicked herself. She would not be weak now. She couldn’t afford it. The same little voice that had always whispered to her, “You can’t rape the willing,” was practically screaming now to be strong. “The night Ioin stole away into the forest with that barmaid, I followed them.”

  “Kali!” Vasilia gasped. “He’d have killed you if he’d known—”

  “Well I didn’t tell him, did I?” she snapped.

  “But why?”

  “What difference does it make?” She turned her gaze back to the window, searching for words and not wanting to admit that jealousy was the motive in following them. “I followed them even though Neesa had warned me not to go. That it was none of my business. But I couldn’t just…let it go…” She felt the tears burning in the corners of her eyes, and she wiped them away with that back of her hand. “Stupid...”

  “You love him.” Vasilia reached out to take her arm, but she jerked away, ignoring the statement.

  “By the time I reached them, they were struggling. He was crouching over the blonde girl. I don’t know what he did, but there was so much blood. So much...” Her voice died with a shuddering quiver. “Her hair...once so blonde it was glowing, had turned red with it. She gave one last strangled scream and I started to run to her. I had almost cleared the trees when Neesa came flying out of the darkness. She was screaming and clawing at him. They struggled and fought, me wondering the whole time if I should run or help her. But I was frozen. It was like my feet were nailed to the ground.” By this time, the tears were rolling over the apples of her cheeks, but she didn’t bother to try and stop them. She could still feel every pang of terror. It hadn’t lost its potency over the course of the days. “I heard Neesa scream, and I ran. I just kept running and praying that he hadn’t seen me. I guess I’d always known he was cruel, even capable of killing. After all, the Outland Wars were the bloodiest my country had ever seen. But to see what he did…that poor, innocent girl…” Kali broke, sinking to the foot bench and dropping the bag of jewels. “It was brutal. We just…we have to get away.”

  “Maybe it’s not like you think,” Vasilia began. “Maybe she fell—”

  “Don’t be stupid. I asked him this morning, tried to talk to him...”

  “And?”

  “And what?” Kali turned her head, bringing her gashed, blackened eye into view. “He told me I was insane. Seeing things. And how dare I question him.” She bent down and began picking up the jewels that had spilled out of the bag. “He told me that if I ever spoke of it again that I’d suffer the same fate as Neesa.”

  Vasilia’s face was frozen in a mask of horror and disbelief. “So he—”

  “Don’t say it,” Kali hissed, turning back to her hurried packing. “Just get your things.”

  ****

  Setting her broom aside, Sascha stretched her back in the glow of the dying embers by the fire. She was tired, having gotten used to the luxuriously easy life she’d slipped into with Cianan. However, it was a pleasant tired. The tired that came from accomplishment. She looked around at her father’s humble cottage in the woods. Apparently, her father had done well after leaving Kaspar. The cabin was constructed of heavy logs and river stones gathered from the brook that ran alongside the place. The front room where she now stood was massive, stretching the length of the cottage, dominated by a large fireplace that rivaled the one in Cianan’s dining hall. Simple rugs were strewn all over the wooden floors, giving the place a cozy feel that was, to Sascha, like coming home. She could hear her father snoring lightly in the loft room upstairs, and it made her smile contentedly.

  When Sascha had arrived at her father’s home a couple of weeks before, it was just as Kincade had said. The man was at death’s door. But upon seeing his daughter again after so many years, it was as if the old man’s heart was healed and he immediately began to feel better. Over the course of a few days under Sascha’s care, he’d even managed to get out of bed and sit by the fire. They’d talked of so many things that her head swam with long-forgotten memories. She’d just this evening worked up the gumption to explain about her new situation at Monkshood, save the details about Cianan’s condition. He’d been concerned, having always believed the rumors about Lord Marek, despite the connection through her mother’s twin. He’d even tried to convince her to forget the promise she’d made to return and stay with him. If only he could feel the kernel of loneliness that had burrowed in her belly the last few days. And it was growing. This empty ache was quickly becoming an unbearable throbbing. Her love for Cianan was all-consuming. It devoured all other thoughts at this late
hour, like the wolf devouring the lamb.

  She went to the window, gazing out at the shadowy forest that surrounded the house. Moonlight shone on the brook, throwing bits of stars across the surface. Sascha sighed heavily, thinking of that last night at Monkshood. Cianan had led her along those cliffs that had once ignited such dread, looking out over the vast sea that surrounded the kingdom. He’d professed his love for her and begged her to marry him when she returned. He’d promised her the moon if only she’d promise to live out her days with him.

  Her heart fluttered as she remembered his voice. “The moon,” she said aloud, trying to copy the movement of his lips with her own. Then pausing, she heard his words echo in her head.

  “Promise me, Sascha. You must promise to return before the moon is full.”

  Sascha gasped, knowing that she’d totally lost track of the days. She rushed to the door, throwing it open hard enough to crack the hinges. Running out into the clearing, she looked up through the dense canopy of trees. The moon had risen nearly to its peak in the night sky, so full that it lit up the clearing as bright as day. As the clouds moved with the breeze, she could see the orange orb hanging there in the sky, staring down on her in accusation.

  “The wolf moon,” she whispered.

  And then she ran.

  Chapter 17

  The change from human to wolf was a beautiful and terrifying process. When a victim was first bitten by the beast, a fever descended on him as his body temperature changed to accommodate the physical transformation. This went on for days with the victim feeling as if it would surely kill him. Their muscles and joints would ache as new tendons grew. The spine stiffened and burned, making comfort impossible. The body grew noticeably larger and taller. And even those dramatic changes of bone and musculature were nothing compared to the mental changes. The senses were heightened to such a degree as to drive the victim mad with the overloaded information flooding their brains. They suddenly realized that they could hear everything, see everything, even in pitch-black darkness. The sense of smell was so intense that even the slightest perfume could be nauseating. Every emotion was stronger, harder to control. Slight annoyance turned to vehement anger in the blink of an eye. People around the victim began to be afraid. In the days leading up to their first wolf moon, the victim underwent a complete shift in personality. It was inevitable and uncontrollable.