by Ted Striker
“And Branna!” demanded Phelan angrily. “She has come in violation of the Laws of the Clan and Council, and she has brought strangers into our affairs! Will judgment not fall upon her?”
Connor sighed heavily. “So she has. Lass, the Council must try you for your actions, more’s the pity. And worse, your companions will share your fate.” He signaled in some form Bryan couldn’t detect, and two brawny men in leather armor were suddenly beside him, gripping his arms. A yelp of shock told him that they had seized Afixio as well. Connor confirmed it. “Wizard,” he said gruffly, “do not try our patience. See, your comrade has acceded peacefully to the Council’s will. Do you likewise.”
Bryan and Afixio were taken to a small room in another large building, where Connor left them with food, wine, whiskey and water, “for washing up, it is.” He paused at the door. “Branna will come to no harm while you are parted,” he said, looking into Bryan’s eyes. “My word on it. Will you give yours to stay here peaceably until I send for you?”
Bryan searched the hazel eyes beneath the shaggy gray brows. Then he nodded. “We’ll wait for your summons,” he said.
When they were alone, Afixio rounded on him. “Are you really that ingenuous?” he demanded. “Do you really think that these. . . animals have any honor toward us?”
Bryan ate a few olives, spitting the pits across the room into the fireplace where they sizzled on the coals. “You may be a priest and a wizard, friend, but you are shot through with prejudice and ignorance. After these ten days with her, do you still think that Branna is a mere ‘animal?’”
Afixio opened his mouth, then hesitated. He shut it with a snap. “No. No, I do not.”
“So maybe it is a gross generalization to call her clan animals and accuse them of having no honor. I might agree with your viewpoint if my only reference were that guy Phelan. He thinks that what is good for him is good for everyone. He reminds me of a drug cartel leader I took down once.”
Afixio smothered a confused look by stroking his beard wisely. He obviously had no idea what a drug cartel was. “You carry more wisdom than I would have thought in one so young,” he said. “Where are you from, if I may ask?”
Bryan grinned at him. For all that the last ten days traveling with Afixio had fostered some level of friendship, complete trust was still a long ways off. “From some distance, as a matter of fact,” he said. “We were coming down from the northeast when we met your party.”
The wizard took the rebuff diplomatically. “I’m from Lakewoods, myself. Northwest from where we met, a trading town. The lake is one of the natural reservoirs that feed the Great River Karst, in the foothills below the Indigo mountains. I had only a middling talent for magic, but when the priest of Offet in Lakewoods chose me for his apprentice, my skills increased. As my skill level rose, so did my interest, and I began to study more than just the magical abilities required by my priesthood. In these past twenty years I’ve become a master of a great variety of the magical arts.”
“And…?” Bryan raised an eyebrow. Afixio flushed a little.
“Well, ah… I seem to be a priest without a temple,” said the wizard quickly. “If we survive this – if you’ll allow me, I’d like to accompany you on your quest, wherever that may take us.”
Bryan was taken aback.
Perkunas explained, {The wizard is attracted by your divine nature. You’ll find that happens to some people who are in your company for a length of time.}
He cleared his throat. “Well, I guess that it would be okay with me,” he said finally, “if Branna doesn’t kill you.”
“Of course,” said Afixio. “My offense to her was great. I cannot apologize enough, but I hope she will give me the chance to make some amends.” He sliced a piece of cheese and ate it, then poured a cup of the whiskey. He coughed violently after drinking, and wheezed, “This is for sipping only!”
Bryan, who had been drinking water, smiled. “Have some water?” he offered.
Afixio declined with a wave of his hand. “Thank you, no,” he rasped. “I’ll get used to this soon enough. And with enough of it in me, maybe I’ll be able to adopt your relaxed attitude!”
Bryan smiled again. If the wizard knew just how not relaxed he was, he’d be drinking his whiskey out of the pitcher. Bryan relied on his instincts, honed in years of covert ops. You had to trust someone; an operator couldn’t do everything on his own, especially in a foreign land. The trick was in knowing who was worthy of that trust and who you had to watch with eagle eyes. He had a feeling that Connor Maccon merited his confidence.
Of course, he’d been wrong before. Bryan pulled the Soul Sword closer to him on the table.
Chapter 17
Branna paced nervously in the chamber she’d been led to. In her mind’s eye, she’d seen this moment. She’d dreamed herself all the way through to where she stood with bloody jaws dripping above the corpse of her mate’s killer. Now she was almost there, but her feelings weren’t what she’d imagined. Her dreams had skipped straight past this part to the triumph of the kill, of wrongs set right. Reality was different. It was so much more. . . uncertain.
The door opened and Connor entered. “So you’ve returned,” he said, tilting his head curiously. “The Council is in an uproar, of course. I wonder that none of the others foresaw this turn of events. I certainly did. The troubling part is that you brought outsiders into Clan business.”
“One of them knows Phelan,” Branna replied. “It was Phelan who met with the wizard’s former master, King Porvir, to arrange for the killing of Conn, as well as many good Laignach. Then he helped them to capture me, certainly in order to kill me. . . after they humiliated me. He will speak of this.”
“Ah.” Connor was silent for a while, respecting the emotion that Branna suffered. Then he said gently, “And the other?”
“He is the reason I am here and not rotting in a shallow grave or tied down over a post for any to use.”
Connor looked deep into Branna’s eyes. Finally, he nodded. “I understand,” he said. Rising, he turned to the door. “You will be patient while the Council considers all this.” It was not a request. At her nod, he left.
Branna stood as soon as Connor was gone. She had been told to be patient, she thought. He hadn’t said to stay here. With a sniff, she caught Bryan’s spoor and followed it to the room where he and Afixio waited. The door was unlocked, as hers had been. Outside the room, an errant eddy of air brought another scent to her.
“Something is wrong,” she said as she came through the door.
“What?” asked Bryan. He stood, the Soul Sword half drawn.
“I don’t know.” Branna hesitated. “When I told Connor the tale, it was as if he already knew it. And the Council is deliberating far too slowly. We should already be presenting our case before them. Also, there is a smell of Wolf here. It is forbidden to Change in the Council House except for certain ceremonies.”
“Perhaps we should depart,” said Afixio. “When such proceedings are kept secret, it bodes ill for those not in the know.”
“That’s one option,” said Bryan. “But—” The door burst open and three Wolves bounded into the room, snarling as they attacked. Bryan swung the half-scabbarded Soul Sword just as the first wolf, a big gray the size of a small horse, slashed at Branna, the scabbard of his sword flying across the room. The now naked blade cut through fur, flesh and bone as if it were all soft butter and the wolf fell in two clean-cut halves. He felt the static-like shock as the wolf-man’s essence was absorbed, then turned to meet the next wolf.
He needn’t have bothered. Afixio snapped a curt command and pointed what looked like a short, pencil-length wand at the wolf. A narrow gout of pure blue flame the thickness of a finger leaped from the tip and burned through the animal’s head like a laser. It lost control in mid-leap, tumbling into the path of the third wolf. Branna Changed, her clothing flying from her in rags as her Wolf-form appeared. With a snap! of her jaws, she ripped the throat from the tripped anima
l.
As quickly as the attack had come, it was routed, the attackers all dead. Branna transformed back, blood dripping from her chin onto her breasts. She spoke, ignoring the gore. “We must find the Council,” she declared. “We – I – need to state the case directly to the full group. That is my right.”
“That would be the second option,” said Bryan. The blood covering Branna’s mouth and chin was horrifying, but somewhat exciting in a prurient way. He pushed those thoughts to the back of his brain, concentrating on the tactical situation. “And, in my opinion, it’s better than the running away option. If we run, they can hunt us at their leisure. Staying and facing things head on might give us at least a small edge. Better to face a pack of wolves where we can put our backs to the wall.”
“That hardly seems an improvement,” said Afixio. “Run and be killed or stand and be killed. How is there a choice in that?”
Bryan grinned. “Don’t be so negative,” he said. “Trust me. I have a good feeling about this.”
“As you wish, warrior,” retorted the wizard testily. “In more positive wording, we shall all positively be killed!”
Bryan slapped the wizard on the back, staggering him. “That’s the spirit! Gallows humor is a good sign. Now’s the time to shake out some more of your extensive magical knowledge; we may need a good bit of smash and burn magic before we’re done.”
The council wasn’t hard to find. Branna led them down a grand winding staircase to a large entryway, and then through a set of enormous double doors into a magnificent chamber where a large group of Laignach were gathered facing a curved dais upon which seven elderly men sat in ornately carved chairs. Phelan, standing before the central eighth seat, was saying,“—and, as I said, she has come in the company of liars to disturb—”
“—your power grab?” finished Bryan, pushing through the door. Afixio had been good to his word. A muttered phrase had made them invisible to detection as they passed the guards placed at the entrance.
Phelan turned as the three entered. “Disturb the peace of this clan with falsehoods and lies, I was about to say. You make my point.”
Bryan half-stepped forward, but Branna put her hand on his chest, moving in front of him. “Keep still, my friend,” she said warmly. “Let me speak. Here, you have small standing.”
“You have little standing yourself, Outcast!” Phelan snarled, moving toward the trio. “Have you come to beg for a place among us? Perhaps you could be my serving bitch!” Several in the crowd laughed at that sally.
Branna narrowed her eyes at the insult. “I have come to beg for nothing,” she said flatly. “I had thought simply to kill you, usurper. Murderer! You hadn’t even the courage to challenge Conn. That would have been your right, to challenge for leadership, to fight and take what you desired. But you chose to use Men to do what you couldn’t. You conspired with that evil, wretched King Porvir to ambush and murder Conn and me.”
Branna’s words had stilled the laughter. Some looked at her, considering. Others looked nervous. One or two gnashed teeth in anger, growling. A murmur arose among them. Bryan wondered whether they were angry about what had been done to Branna or what she was saying.
Connor stepped forward. “Enough! Did I not advise you to patience?”
Branna laughed bitterly. “Aye,” she said, “Patience. Patience while Phelan poisoned the ears of the Council. Liars, he called us, but while you have been listening to his false accusations, Wolves attacked us in our chambers. Send there, now, and you’ll find the bodies. My friend Bryan spoke well, I think. This is a power grab.”
She took a step toward Connor. “I hope that you are not a part of this,” she said. “I remember that you did not approve of the path Conn chose. He wished to create peace among the clans of the Laignach, but you called that foolishness. Did you decide to take power back by putting this one in the place of your own son?”
Complete silence fell over the group. Branna lowered her voice to embrace the quiet. “The truth I brought about Phelan’s treachery should have gone before the whole Council as soon as I spoke it to you.”
Connor drew himself up to his full height, the years appearing to fall from him. His green eyes flashed in anger and a low, warning growl came from deep inside his chest. The growl modulated into quiet, firm tones as he replied. “’Tis true that I did not look upon the world with Conn’s optimism. Yet I never interfered, as he was the rightful Leader of our pack and Clan. I never wished for his death, and it was not I who laid the term ‘serving bitch’ at your feet. It certainly was not myself who sent to have you murdered. I acknowledge your right to protest such a heinous act, although it seems that you weathered the attack rather well.” He paused then pointed at Phelan. “If, dear Branna, you had heeded me and waited, this one might have tripped over his lies and been torn asunder by the pack according to our law.”
Phelan snarled and phased into wolf-form, leaping at Connor. Bryan expected the older man to change himself to meet the attack with his own teeth, but the Council leader merely waved his hand and spoke a single word: “Stad!” Phelan fell naked to the floor in an embarrassing stumble, suddenly human again. Connor continued, his deep voice managing to growl and be melodic at the same time, “But you, girl, have impatiently inserted yourself into Council business. Furthermore you have inserted outsiders into it. Bad enough that you banished yourself rather than stay to do your best to guide the destiny of the Clan as mate to the new pack leader.
“But by coming here to the council meeting, you force us to abandon our power as a council. Now the matter must be settled by a Challenge to combat.”
Branna grinned savagely. “That is all I have desired, Connor!” she declared. “To have the chance to sink my teeth—“
“No, Branna. You are no longer Laignach. By leaving, you became just another outsider; by returning here, you place yourself at the mercies of the pack. There is much to be settled by this Challenge. Not only your rights, but the fate of these outsiders, lie in the balance. Phelan will defend himself, but you must choose one of your companions to be your champion. He will fight to restore your rights as Queen as well as to save all your lives.” He looked at the other six Council members, who nodded in agreement.
“But I am the one best suited to do combat with another of our kind!” Branna was aghast. “You know that a Human warrior has almost no chance against a Laignach!”
Connor sighed. “Even so,” he said, “you must choose between your friends. Which will face Phelan?”
Branna turned to Bryan and Afixio. “You heard the Council’s decision,” she said heavily. “I am sorry, Bryan. I regret that I involved you. If it had only been you, priest, I would regret it less, but one of you must fight Phelan. Otherwise we will all die tonight.”
“As opposed to one of us positively dying during the fight and the other two positively dying right after,” said Afixio. “I hate being right all the time.” He looked at Bryan. “Is that positive enough for you?”
Bryan grinned. “Touché,” he said simply. “I’ll fight Phelan. If the fight lasts more than a minute or two, I’ll have a better chance to finish it than you, old man.”
“True, because magic is forbidden in a Challenge,” agreed Afixio. “If the rules here are like those in North Keep or in the Elven Kingdoms, any Challenge must be purely physical.”
“But it will not matter in any case,” said Branna. “Phelan is in a different class than those he sent. He may have underestimated you before, but he will not fall into that trap again. He is faster, stronger, more ruthless than any other Laignach I know. Moreover, he hates me because I chose exile rather than to be his mate. He hates me all the more for bringing Outsiders into this. He will use this rage to defeat you.”
Branna walked with Bryan over to the dais. Connor studied Bryan as they approached. “So,” he said, “you are the chosen Champion? You do not seem afraid. You should be terrified. We Laignach are a terrible foe, renowned and feared for our ferocity throughout the k
ingdoms. Phelan is among the most savage. You obviously know nothing about our kind Have you never even heard of Fenrir?”
“I’ve heard a story about how a wolf called Fenrir was defeated and chained with an unbreakable chain. He bit the hand off of one of the heroes that did it,” Bryan said.
“You have the story wrong,” replied Connor. “He was never chained, and he did not stop at biting off a hand. Fenrir destroyed eight of the warriors that came to capture him. Thor and his remaining companion, Loki, were sore wounded and barely escaped with their lives. Then he kidnapped the wife of one of the fallen and begot our race upon her. He was my ancestor, and we regard him as the father of all Laignach.”
{What?}
{That is the unfortunate truth,} confirmed Perkunas sadly. {He kicked our collective asses. Of course we had to change the story. How discouraging for Men to have their Gods defeated, eh? But Fenrir and most of his descendants came to this side of the Curtain and so, in our version of the story, we chained him and exiled him, thus preventing him from becoming the scourge to your world that he might have been.}
“Well, now I’m officially afraid,” said Bryan to both Connor and his father. “But I’ve got no choice; I’ll just have to defeat Phelan anyway.”
The Council Leader shrugged. “Well, then,” he said, “since you have no choice, you will fight Phelan in the town square in the morning.”
Chapter 18
Morning came all too soon. Bryan, Branna and Afixio followed Connor to the town square. It was lined with men, women and children. Connor extended his hand. “Your sword, please.”
Bryan hesitated. Connor waited, insistent. “The Change takes a moment. You, an experienced swordsman, could unsheathe your sword and slay Phelan before he completes the Change. I will place your blade in the center of the square, so that you will need to cross over to claim and use it. It makes the fight fairer.”
