Phantom of the Heart

by Stein Willard

  “Milord?”

  “I am fine, Clemes. Just keep an eye on her and keep me informed. I would also like to know as soon as Rom returns.” He had turned and started down the pathway which would lead him to his palace when the soldier spoke again.

  “Romulus has been seen camping in the valley for the past two nights. I personally hunted with him the one night.”

  The nobleman swung around, his pale eyes sharp. “Then why does he not come here directly?”

  “He mentioned that he needed more time to break the news to the princess about the Ulvs, before compromising our safety.”

  Dear heavens, Gentro thought, the princess actually followed a stranger into a strange land where two wolf clans feuded. She must really love his daughter very much. He was suddenly eager to meet this woman who had captivated his daughter so much that she decided to give up humanity so she could hide her loss behind the slowly disappearing memories when in beast form.

  “Would you like me to accompany you, milord?” Clemes' voice broke through his reverie, and Gentro blinked at the man before he remembered the question.

  “No need, but thank you.”

  Gentro slowly made his way down the path. At the place where it split, he came to a stop. His head turned just in time to see the large dark shadow bearing down on him.

  ***

  Ridat loved being in wolf form. With the change, all inhibitions and reason bled away leaving a euphoric sense of freedom. He lifted his nose and sniffed the air. He caught a faint whiff on the breeze and a soft whine escaped his lips. The females would soon be in heat. He had found himself a mate and over the years, had added greatly to the expansion of his pack. Sadly, none of his offspring had inherited his Ulv gene. They were all shape shifters and could move between wolf and human form, but that was it. It was rather saddening that they would never be able to assume the majestic bipedal Ulv form. Brainless dogs! That was all they were. As a result, many of his sons were not here today. They had been killed off during battles. Strange, but he did not really feel anything when they died. He was more relieved than anything to be rid of the insult and ridicule they had brought him.

  He shook his fur and slowly made his way down from the ledge to where a group of wolves were playing. Although he knew it was part of the wolf nature and a favorite group activity, seeing it irritated him immensely. One particular wolf trotted over and bowed, an impish invitation to play.

  Without any warning Ridat's claw shot out, catching the unsuspecting wolf under the chin and flinging him a few meters away. He was not like them. He was different, superior. He commanded respect at all times. Maybe it was time to refresh their memories. With his head held high, his ears forward, and his tail raised, he made his way over to the injured pup. The pup rolled over to expose its belly, paws folded across its chest and hind quarters lifted off the ground.

  For a few seconds, Ridat stared down at the male and then he lowered his head. A grunt escaped his lips as his body stretched, his snout bulging out as his eyes grew larger. When the shift was complete, Ridat stood over six feet high on muscled hind legs, his arms hanging like tree trunks at his side. He threw back his bulbous head and let out a mighty roar. When he lowered his head to look at the pup, he could smell the sharp, sulfuric scent of urine.

  He planted his paw on the smaller wolf's belly, physically pinning it down, while his eyes skewered the pup. With a quick movement his claw flicked out, ripping the smaller wolf’s head off. Lost in the sudden craving for more blood, Ridat continued to rip the wolf's carcass to shreds. Only when his blood had cooled down to simmer did he let up. By then, there was only a bloody mass of tissue strewn around him.

  He turned his gaze to the other wolves only to find them all crouched in a submissive posture, their ears flat against their heads. Those who were still in human form were shaking so bad he could hear their teeth clattering. A lesson so long overdue, he thought. He roared again and lowered himself until he was on all fours. Now it was time to take them all for a run. The pack has been idle for too long and he had missed his Ulv so much.

  ***

  The night was quiet, too quiet. Sterling slowly opened her eyes and scanned the area around their campsite. Rom was lying on his back, his head turned away from her. He appeared to be fast asleep. Sterling's eyes moved back to the darkness around the fire.

  Something was there. She could feel it. Feel it watching her. She carefully tightened her grip on her sword, its presence a definite comfort. Her eyes roamed the perimeter outside the firelight again and this time she swore she saw movement.

  “Rom,” she whispered softly.

  “I saw it too.”

  “What is it?”

  “I am not sure.” This time she heard a little concern in Rom's voice. “Just be ready. We might have to leave here in a hurry.”

  ***

  Mesmeria jerked awake with a scream on her lips and her hands clawing at the air.

  “NO! NO! NOOOO!!!” She fought harder when she felt two arms curl around her.

  “Easy, my love. It is just me.”

  At the sound of Cybralle's voice, she threw her arms around her wife's neck and climbed into her lap. The tears came in deep wracking sobs that made her feel as if her insides were torn apart.

  “Shush now. It was just a dream.” Cybralle whispered close to her ear. “I will not let anything happen to you.”

  The sobs deepened. “Ster…Sterling…” she gasped between sobs.

  “Oh love…” Cybralle's arms tightened around her and, even in her state, she swore she could feel a shudder go through Cybralle's body.

  Since Sterling left, Mesmeria had been restless. The thought of her daughter accompanied by a stranger into an area where giant, man-eating wolves roamed freely was not the most assuring thought for a mother. Cybralle had offered countless times to march a battalion of soldiers across the border and bring their daughter back. Even as her heart screamed yes, Mesmeria had refused to place the lives of innocent men and women in danger. Her duty as queen was first to her subjects and then her family. No matter how painful, it was the truth. She could not risk her army on a personal quest, not knowing if the one they searched for was alive. As the days passed, her nights became unbearable. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Sterling's torn and broken body lying abandoned somewhere with buzzards crawling all over her.

  As she relived the dream, she tightened her hold as she sobbed into Cybralle's neck. Mesmeria did not know how long she had been crying in Cybralle's arms, but the tears slowly subsided after a while. Her arms, though, were still locked around her wife's neck.

  “How are you feeling?” Cybralle asked gently as she brushed her hand over her hair.

  Mesmeria could only nod. Her throat was a little tender from all the crying. Cybralle pressed a kiss to her ear and lifted her off her lap, helping her back under the covers. Mesmeria frowned when Cybralle swung her legs off the bed and stood to grab her clothes and begin dressing.

  “Where…where are you going?” she asked. Her voice sounded hollow to her own ears.

  “To get our daughter,” Cybralle answered with stern determination.

  “I will not risk any more men than is necessary.”

  “Then I shall go by myself. But I will not stay here and watch you die a little every day.” Cybralle walked to the door with purposeful strides.

  “Cybralle—?

  “My mind is made up, woman. I leave within the hour.” Cybralle left the room.

  Still a little stunned, it took Mesmeria a while to process what Cybralle had said. She was going to go after Sterling alone! Mesmeria exploded out of the bed and dressed quickly. She had to stop Cybralle. This was suicide.

  She found her in the armory, being helped into her silver armor by one of the men. One look at her wife's stony face told her that no amount of begging or reasoning would make her change her mind. Instead Mesmeria nodded and made her way to the palace kitchen to make up a food parcel. Her hands were shaking, as she w
ent through the pantry. If she did not think about why she was making up the parcel, her apprehension was less. In less than a week, she could lose the two women who meant the world to her.

  Mesmeria stumbled back against the wall of the pantry as a sob tore through her. She could not remember a time when she was ever so scared. Cybralle was always there to vanquish any and all threats. But Cybralle was willing to go on her suicide mission to save their daughter. As a mother herself, Mesmeria had no right to stand in the way of Cybralle's quest. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and pushed away from the wall. She would be strong for them both, especially for Cybralle. This was a great risk she was taking, but this was not for country and honor. This was for love. Cybralle deserved her support, and she would get it. Mesmeria reached for a hunk of cheese, some apples, and two loaves of bread. She found a leg of smoked pork and a wineskin, then wrapped it all in a cloth and rushed out of the kitchen.

  As she rounded the corner of the training yard, Mesmeria came to an abrupt halt. The yard was packed with men—close to five hundred by quick estimation. She could see even more shadows coming down the cobbled streets toward them.

  “Cybralle, what is this?” She pushed the food parcel into her wife's arms. Not caring about her informal dress, she turned to the men. They all bowed deeply. “As your sovereign, I strictly forbid any of you to accompany the royal consort on this trip. This is not your fight, and I will not have any of you risk your lives for this. Go back to your families, and let my family deal with this.” Her voice was hard and authoritative. “Now be gone with you lot.”

  Instead of moving, the men all sunk onto one knee and stayed that way. Rattled by their blatant defiance, she turned to Cybralle.

  “Your queen has spoken,” Cybralle barked. Still, the men remained motionless. For a moment, Mesmeria wondered if she would have to call in her Royal Guard. One of the men climbed to his feet.

  “Permission to speak freely, Your Majesty.” The man looked nowhere near the age to be in the army, but his eyes held the look of one who had seen many battles. Out of curiosity, she decided to grant his request.

  “Granted!”

  “My name is Inhard Weller. A few years ago, I was severely wounded in battle against the Hurians and left for dead. The princess refused to leave me behind and carried me on her back over five miles to safety. With your permission, I would like to take this opportunity to show my gratitude, Your Majesty.”

  Before Mesmeria could respond to the soldier's request, another rose to his feet. “Wilon Gress, Your Majesty. Two months ago the Princess took an arrow in the side to save me. Ten minutes later, she was back on her horse and fighting alongside me again. If I have to risk my life, it would be for her.”

  Mesmeria could only stare at the soldier, completely at a loss for words. Oh Sterling…

  “Alky Minder, Your Majesty. A month ago we were stranded in the Hurian desert and fast running out of rations. All the men here can attest that the princess refused to be served unless all the men had been served first. Some days she even went without so we could eat.”

  A sudden ‘aye' from all the men, startling Mesmeria.

  The soldier continued. “Each and every one of us has a personal reason as to why we would lay down our lives for the princess, Your Majesty. We beg you to grant us your blessing to bring the princess back.”

  Mesmeria did not know when the tears had started. It was only when one slid down her cheek that she realized she was crying. She quickly wiped them away. Was this the daughter they had raised? She glanced at Cybralle only to find her wife blinking hard to keep the tears at bay. When their eyes met, they both smiled. Pulling herself together, Mesmeria returned her attention to the waiting men. “I grant you my blessing and send my prayers with you.” She tried to make eye contact with as many as she could. “Thank you.”

  A loud cheer split the air, when Cybralle pointed to the armory.

  “You have an hour.”

  Mesmeria's sight was blurred by tears, as she looked up at Cybralle. In the predawn light, her wife looked even larger in her armor.

  “Did you hear that?” she asked, as she cupped her wife's face. “We managed to get it right the first time.”

  “I have never been so proud to be a mother,” Cybralle leaned into the caress, and Mesmeria smiled into her eyes. “She is twice the commander in chief I was, and she will become even greater as she grows older.”

  Mesmeria pulled Cybralle's head down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, before she rested her forehead against her wife's. “You were a great example for her, my love. I just wish we were wise enough to have had another child.”

  Cybralle chuckled softly. “Did you forget that your mother threatened to kill me if I ever got you pregnant again?”

  “Oh, how can I forget?” With a playful leer, Mesmeria's hand slipped around Cybralle to gently pinch her butt. “I told her you were an impressive specimen and that the baby was likely to be big. We just never expected Sterling to be that big.”

  “And seeing that big baby coming from your small body almost drove me insane with fear. As joyous as the occasion was, it was also my single most terrifying experience.”

  Mesmeria grinned. “The Spear of the Gods has not been used since. What a pity.” She laughed, as she saw Cybralle's pupils dilate. “Come back to me, and I will see if we can get the priestess to allow us to use it one last time…without any lasting repercussions.”

  This time, it was Cybralle who leered at her. “I will definitely come back for that.”

  A short silence fell between them, and Mesmeria swallowed hard. All this talk about family was what she wanted Cybralle to take with her into battle. She wanted her to remember what she was leaving behind and what she would be coming home to. She stood on her toes and gave her wife a deep, loving kiss.

  “I will wait for you. Now go and bring that stubborn girl back with you.” With one final look into those brilliant, silver eyes, she turned and walked away. Just before she entered the palace doors, she chanced a final look and smiled when she saw that Cybralle still stood where she had left her. Mesmeria gave her a small wave and walked on.

  Now the hardest part would begin—waiting.

  Chapter 18

  Gentro's eyes flickered open and almost immediately, he sat up.

  A sharp pain through his head made him groan softly, but he pushed through it as he took in his surroundings. He frowned as his eyes darted around him. He appeared to be in some sort of a rundown, windowless cottage. The interior was dusty and smelled of decay. The place was bare except for the crude fur pallet he sat on and a crudely constructed fire pit.

  Where am I? And how did I get here? He mentally retraced his steps and surged to his feet, ignoring the pain the swift action caused. Something had attacked him. He sniffed the air, picking up a familiar scent.

  The door flew open and Gentro was surprised to see daylight streaming in. How long had he been unconscious? His eyes narrowed, as a dark silhouette filled the doorway. Clever, he thought. Pushing the door open and stepping to the side was a fine ploy to draw him out if he was to attack. Would he ever stop being amazed by her?

  “Why did you bring me here?” He wished she would come closer so he could see her face. With the sun behind her, her face was shrouded in darkness. “You know that I am not the enemy?”

  She rolled her shoulders and Gentro almost smiled at the gesture. He liked doing that too. It just helped him relax. He took a step closer to her, eager to have a peek at her face.

  “Stop.”

  The word was uttered quietly and in a nonthreatening way, but Gentro had experienced her strength before. She would not need to resort to threats. She was quite powerful. He had not seen her in Ulv form yet, but he was sure she would be magnificent.

  “I simply want to gaze upon your face. I will not attack you,” he said soothingly.

  “You would lose.”

  Gentro marveled at the deep, rich sound of her voice. It wound itsel
f around him and brought a warm smile to his face. “You are quite sure of yourself.” When she did not respond, his smile faltered a little. Rom had told him that she was not very talkative. “So, why am I here, Orla?”

  He saw her hands curl into fists. “Why did you bring her here?”

  For a moment he did not know who she was referring to. Then it struck. “I thought you might want to see her again.”

  “You thought wrong.” A noticeable edge of menace had crept into her voice.

  “But you love her.” He was a little unsettled by her statement combined with the slightly threatening posture. “You need her to grow into your full power.”

  Orla took two steps, and Gentro was stunned by how fast she moved. There was something that he was missing here. The girl had evolved too soon, too fast. Close up, he could now see her face. Achingly familiar, pale eyes looked back at him.

  “Do you really think that she will want to be with a monster?”

  She was not screaming at him, but Gentro could sense her rising anger. If possible, it seemed to make her appear even larger than the last time he had seen her. He slowly held up his hand in a nonthreatening way.

  “Not a monster. You could never be one, not even if you tried.” He took a hesitant step closer. “If you will allow me, I would like to tell you more about yourself.”

  The ice-blue eyes hardened. “You do not know me.”

  “Oh, but I do. I was there the day you were born. I hid in the stables. When your mother fell into a deep exhausted sleep, I snuck in and picked you up. You were the most beautiful baby I have ever seen.” His voice caught. It was such a wonderful experience to have held his daughter in his arms while gazing down at the sleeping face of his beloved. “I was there when you took the position of blacksmith. I was also there when you got married. I only looked on from afar, because I knew that if I had been in the cathedral, I would have wanted to sit next to your mother and hold her hand while we watched you pledge your heart to another.” As he spoke, he watched her closely. He could see all the different emotions flitting over her face. “I have made it my duty to be there at the most memorable moments in your life.”