Under the Wolf's Shadow

by A. Katie Rose

  “Ah, my dear child,” Darius said, his tongue brushing her cheek in affection. “Sometimes great love can move mountains.”

  “Mountains, yes,” muttered Kel’Ratan. “Gareth, not so much.”

  “Can’t you make him change his mind?” I asked.

  Darius shut his teeth on his tongue. “No. Things don’t work that way.”

  “Gods above and below–”

  “Watch your language,” Darius said. “I’m right here.”

  “Bloody hell.”

  “Have faith, my children.” Darius’ eyes gleamed as he laughed. “Ly’Tana has many friends who love her dearly.”

  “But–”

  “Enough, my son,” Darius said firmly. “One day your questions will be answered. Come now, I must greet my children appropriately. They have waited with much patience as we conversed.”

  Stepping past me, Darius walked amid the joyous Silverruff, Thunder and Little Bull. They may have been fierce hunters and savage warriors, yet those idiots gamboled about him like puppies. They licked, danced, waved tails, slobbering like starved mastiffs. In joy, they heralded the return of their god with love, devotion and absolute loyalty.

  “You shall take your sire’s place as my chief priest,” Darius told Silverruff. “I would have you mate again, as your sire wished.”

  He turned to Thunder and Little Bull. “I will bless you two with fine, fit mates and many, many children. As I will all the others who fought hard for their Chosen One but didn’t come here this day.”

  The rest of their conversation Darius muted for privacy, for we heard nothing of it.

  Ly’Tana and Kel’Ratan eyed them sidelong and edged closer to me. Rygel ran his hand through his wheaten hair and pursed his lips. The diamond in his earlobe winked under the sullen light.

  “What was it like?” Kel’Ratan asked.

  “What was what like?”

  “Being dead.”

  I cocked my head, considering. Before I could speak, Ly’Tana pressed her fingers to my lips. “Don’t answer that. It’s different for all of us.”

  I quirked my brow. “What makes you say that?”

  She shook her head, her gleamed red-gold hair dancing across her furred hood. “When I died, I knew you waited beyond the light. But you couldn’t have been there, for you still lived. I heard someone say, ‘it’s not your time,’ and that’s when Rygel’s magic brought me back.”

  “She is the Beloved,” Rygel said slowly. He glanced from Darius conversing with the wolves to me. “Like you, she has tasks to perform before her life ends. In time, Nephrotiti will judge her, just as Darius will judge you. And I–”

  He broke off, his smile fractured. “Let’s just say I know where I’ll end up.”

  I opened my mouth to gainsay him when Darius turned around, flanked by his three wolves.

  “Let us leave this place,” he said. “It’s time to reenter the world of the living.”

  Darius walked toward the tunnel we had emerged from less than an hour ago, his muzzle directing us to follow. With my arm across Ly’Tana’s shoulder, I obeyed. In a loose group, the seven of us trailed behind the great silver wolf.

  “Darius?” asked a fine voice from behind us. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

  Darius paused, glanced back over his silken shoulder. I hesitated, Ly’Tana’s expression suddenly tight with anxiety. Kel’Ratan took his bow from his shoulder as Rygel stopped, his amber eyes widening in dismay. Silverruff, Thunder and Little Bull, pacing at Darius’s side, halted in their tracks. Like puppies caught piddling on the den floor, they froze, petrified with fear.

  All our eyes turned toward the young, beautiful blond man who stepped out from the light that surrounded him. He appeared extraordinarily attractive with perfect features, pale skin, and a lithe dancer’s body. His azure eyes, thick with dark lashes, swept over us and made my soul cringe. Who was he? Who else could walk the throne room of hell and not be dead?

  He owned the stunning poetically perfect features of a pagan god of ancient lore. I suddenly realized he was a pagan god of ancient lore. His flaxen, wild hair fell across his shoulders to his chest and back. Mantled in a white robe, a belt of gold silk tied across his waist kept the simple cloth together. Nothing graced his feet as he walked barefoot across the cavern toward us. I shut my teeth as I suddenly guessed who this stranger was.

  He clasped his hands together in front of him, regarding us with mild reproof. Ever so polite, he waited for his answer with elegant patience and aplomb.

  “My son freed me, Calphalon,” Darius said. “He killed the Guardian and I’m going home to my children.”

  “You aren’t going anywhere.”

  I caught my breath and Ly’Tana’s frantic glance. Must we now fight the God of Hell himself? Wasn’t killing the Guardian enough?

  Darius checked his step, turning back. “Whyever not?”

  “You’re not leaving that awful mess on my floor.”

  Darius glanced at the bloody corpse of the Guardian. “Oh, so sorry. I’ll clean it up immediately.”

  The corpse vanished. As did the blood spilled during the fight and stained the grey stone of the cavern. ‘Twas as though the battle never happened. The cave, lit with the single torch and the light of the two gods, appeared as pristine as new-fallen snow. Kel’Ratan’s sword, stuck in the Guardian’s corpse, fell to the stone with a ringing clang. He picked it up, studying the stainless blade with his lips pursed.

  “Much better,” Calphalon said, his tone lighter. “I truly hate to see you go. I shall miss our conversations.”

  “By your leave, my good friend,” Darius said, striding back toward the young god. “I’ll be back to visit. Give me a few hundred years to settle matters? Too much has gone wrong in my absence and I must set things straight.”

  “Of course you must,” Calphalon replied gravely. “You’re welcome anytime. I look forward to your visit.”

  Those beautiful eyes turned toward the three of us. Ly’Tana, Kel’Ratan, Rygel and I knelt, bowing low.

  “Rise, all,” he said gravely.

  We obeyed, standing in a row before him like soldiers under inspection.

  “Greetings, Prince Raine of Connacht,” the youthful god intoned. “And congratulations on your victory. I did cheer for you, despite it meant my losing the best conversations I’ve had in eons.”

  Calphalon dipped his head in a grave nod to Ly’Tana, his long hair waving with no wind to move it. “Beloved, I greet thee well. I, too, answer your prayers and willingly.”

  Ly’Tana dipped low in a curtsey, her face down, her hair swinging to hide her expression.

  “Hail, Duke Kel’Ratan of Kel’Halla and Prince Rygel of Khassart,” he went on, his tone both formal and friendly. “Right glad I am that you pair shall not reside within my halls, although you both would do quite well here.”

  “I beg your pardon, Divine One,” Rygel replied. “I am so cursed and therefore will join you, here, in your realm when my time comes.”

  The god of the damned regarded Rygel gravely. “There is no curse on thee, noble Rygel. None that follow you to strike like a dagger in the dark. Unless you commit some grievous sin between now and the hour of your death, you shall reside with your gods in their halls. Not mine.”

  “But, Divine One, I slew with magic.”

  “Oh, that.” Calphalon half-smiled and rubbed the side of his nose with a slender finger. “There is a tiny loophole in that particular directive, I believe. Killing with magic while saving the life of another is considered, er, justified.”

  “But–I have done great harm, great evil–”

  Calphalon smiled fully, revealing even white teeth. “Consult with your gods on that score, my friend, for perhaps I am mistaken. In my book, if one is forced against one’s will to commit evil and commits it under duress, that isn’t a crime deserving of hell. What you have done, and sincerely regret, doesn’t constitute a place in my halls.”

  Rygel staggered
. I gripped his shoulder to steady him when I thought he’d fall. His face turned a waxy white, bloodless shade as his amber eyes slitted nearly shut. His mouth bowing down in an unrecognizable emotion, he turned aside and shambled away from my grip. Standing with his back to us, he dropped his chin to his chest.

  “What about those like Chovani?” I asked. I flushed, realizing I spoke to the God of the Damned as casually as I spoke to Kel’Ratan. I bowed low. “Divine One.”

  The god’s head dropped and his smile vanished. “Yes, well, Chovani and her ilk operate outside our laws. Something will have to be done about them.”

  Ly’Tana curtseyed again. “If it please thee, Divine One,” she asked, her voice hesitant. “May I ask–may, er, is Kael here?”

  Calphalon’s blue eyes regarded her somberly. “He is, Beloved.”

  Ly’Tana’s face fell. Her hair concealing her sudden grief and dismay, she dipped low once more. She rose with the young god’s finger under her chin. Her head tilted back as her tears slid down her cheeks, her emerald eyes met his blue.

  “Fear not for him, brave lady,” Calphalon said gently. “Very seldom am I moved to mercy and he managed to so move me. He swore an oath to return to my halls should I allow him to depart long enough to make things right with you. I granted him such time. True to his word, he returned.”

  Ly’Tana nodded, tears spilling from her eyes.

  “He will do well here,” Calphalon went on softly. “He will rise high and perhaps one day earn the right to leave, forever.”

  “One can earn the right to leave hell?” Kel’Ratan asked, rudely it seemed, given the circumstances.

  Calphalon nodded. “On occasion. Rare, but it does happen.”

  The ruler of hell regarded Ly’Tana once more. “I must ask you, Beloved. Do you wish to rescind your curse?”

  Ly’Tana gaped. Glancing briefly at me, she stared up in bafflement to the young god. “My curse?”

  “On young Ja’Teel of Khassart,” Calphalon replied. “In your own words, you said, ‘You are thrice damned. I curse you to the furthest reaches of hell. The agony you caused others will be visited upon you a thousand fold. Your victims’ pain ended when they perished. Yours shall never end, but will continue until the world is broken and made again. You are so cursed.’”

  “I did say that,” she replied, softly, wonderingly.

  I myself had forgotten that moment, in Brutal’s trap, when Ly’Tana cursed the dark wizard for his evil. By Rygel and Kel’Ratan’s expressions, they, too, had forgotten it.

  “Do you rescind it?” Calphalon asked. “Even in hell, that is an extreme punishment–reserved for only the most evil of creatures. Chovani is such a one who might incur that punishment.”

  “I do not,” Ly’Tana snapped, her eyes sparking green fire. “He is truly evil. He deserves that and more, as does his master Brutal. One day when King Brutal is dead and removed from the world of the living, he is to share Ja’Teel’s fate.”

  Calphalon bowed low. “Your will, Beloved.”

  Suddenly realizing she barked at a god like she might an erring servant, Ly’Tana blushed and curtseyed again, her hair swinging low.

  “Are you done, Calphalon?” Darius asked, striding up, his wolves pacing behind him with tails waving.

  “I will miss you sorely, my brother,” Calphalon said, real regret in his tone. “Come by and visit as often as you can. But take your folk away. This is no place for the living. Especially people as courageous and devoted as these. Leave me to my wretched souls and lonely existence.”

  “Don’t play the guilt game, brother,” Darius laughed. “You requested this realm from the Lords long ago.”

  Calphalon grinned suddenly. “I had to try, you fool. Begone with you. I have work that needs my attention. A certain soul needs to suffer.”

  With a wink tipped toward Ly’Tana, the young wild god, the ruler of hell, turned his back and gracefully walked away. His light vanished with him as the darkness swallowed him up.

  “Come,” Darius said, striding firmly toward the tunnel that led to the world of sun and light and the living.

  We came that way on our arrival, taking nearly an hour to traverse. With Darius, we walked for less than five minutes before hitting the barrier between worlds. The grey, stone-like gate dissolved before Darius’ sheer power and divinity. Taking us with him, Darius passed it by, leaving it to return to its former place. I watched as it bounced back, the gateway between the land of the living and the land of the damned.

  Behind my ultimate sire, we emerged into the frigid blast of the northern arctic. Time stood still during out sojourn into hell, for we emerge into the same blinding sunlight. Noon sharp.

  Turning my back to the light icy wind, I shivered, needing my warm pelt. My arms held my trembling mate close to me, offering her my warmth. Kel’Ratan cursed under his breath, his arms clasping his chest to retain his body heat. Only Rygel seemed unaffected as the icy cold hit us full in the face.

  Silverruff, Thunder and Little Bull stood beside Darius as he sniffed the winds of freedom.

  “Oh, by the way,” Darius said conversationally. “I agreed to Black Tongue’s request.”

  “But Black To–” Is dead.

  Ly’Tana buried her face in my chest, shivering with more than the cold.

  “What was his request?” I asked, my teeth chattering.

  “He begged to be allowed to remain with Alun and his Sele, under Nephrotiti. As my sister didn’t mind, I agreed. He’ll not join me, but will spend eternity with Alun.”

  “I must leave you all,” Darius said, turning his back to the blustering cold and faced us, his body shielding us from the ice. “Before I go, however–”

  His golden eyes laughed down at Ly’Tana. “I have a gift for you, Beloved,” he said, his tongue lolling.

  Ly’Tana raised her head from the shelter of my arms. “A gift?” she asked, her lips blue with cold.

  “I give you the gift of language,” Darius replied. “From here on, you can understand any wolf. And all wolves shall revere you as their queen.”

  “You, too, Kel’Ratan of Kel’Halla,” he said, his tail waving in the icy blast. “You, also, will hereby understand any wolf and all wolves will come to your aid should you call.”

  Kel’Ratan bowed low without speaking.

  His kind, almond-shaped, golden eyes rested on Rygel. “Your gift, young wizard,” he said, “you shall find at a later time.”

  Rygel bowed low. “Serving you is its own reward, Holy One. I expect no gift.”

  “I know,” Darius laughed. “Which is why I give it to you. But it’s my secret. For now.”

  “Your will, Holy One.”

  Darius laughed again. “Of course it’s my will.”

  His luminescent eyes smiled down on me. “Fare thee well, my son. I’ll look in on you from time to time.”

  Unable to form words, I merely bowed low.

  “I must be about my business,” he said, turning away. “Silverruff, I’ll instruct you as to your duties soon. Thunder and Little Bull, I’ll be checking up on you, so mind your manners. By the by, visit the dragons on your way south. I’ll be popping in to visit their Mother one day soon. Do me the favor and tell Ananaya that, will you?”

  He leaped into the wind and danced, high above our heads. “Have you need of me, just call. I’ll be there.”

  With that, Darius bounded up, mounting the wind, his swift leaps and jumps taking him further from my sight. After a final howl, he vanished into the bright sunlight and was lost from sight.

  “Wow,” Kel’Ratan said, on a gusty breath.

  “Holy wow,” Little Bull added.

  Kel’Ratan glanced at him sharply. “How weird is this,” he muttered, swiping his wind-driven hair from his face.

  “You understood me,” Little Bull said, his tone worried.

  “I did,” Kel’Ratan agreed. “I wish I didn’t.”

  “Come on,” I said, changing back into my wolf form and sendin
g a very cold Ly’Tana into her warmer wolf body. She breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief. “We’ve a long way to travel before we sleep tonight.”

  Rygel changed himself and Kel’Ratan at the same time.

  “I’m hungry,” Thunder complained, trotting behind me as I led the way south. I took us toward our south, toward human lands and territories and not the other side of the world. Because of the distance, I couldn’t see the dragons’ mountain. But I knew exactly where it lay. For I had a new beacon inside my heart and her name was Ananaya.

  “You’re always hungry,” Kel’Ratan replied, trotting beside him.

  “So?” Thunder growled. “Being hungry isn’t a crime.”

  “It should be,” Silverruff said. “You bitch about it often enough.”

  “I don’t bitch,” Thunder protested.

  “You do,” the rest of us answered in chorus.

  Laughing, I lead my followers home, my fur protecting me from the icy blast of the frozen north at winter solstice.

  Epilogue

  The band of horsemen approached at the gallop, stirring up the local meadowlark population.

  Many rose on swift wings, shrieking their displeasure at the interruption. Sleek horses grazing the undulating waves of knee-high spring grass raised their heads and paused, mid-chew, to stare. No few whinnied fair greetings to either us or the oncoming riders, but none wandered closer for a better look. Perhaps the sight and scent of wolves deterred them. Yellow daisies and buttercups nodded under the light breeze as honey bees trundled from their delectable pollen to that of the dancing bluebells. Startled deer bounded away from us as we cantered across the grassy plains, spotted fawns at their sides.

  We reined in at the sight, sitting our mounts amid the green spring grass, complaining birds and retreating deer. I counted twenty riders rapidly closing the distance between us. The leader rode a big grey, its coat so pure the sun reflected shards of light back into my eyes.

  Beside me, Ly’Tana gasped.

  I glanced at her curiously. “Do you know who that is?”

  Sliding down from her saddle, Ly’Tana glanced up at me. “It’s the King,” she replied tersely. “My father.”