Embracing Oblivion: Wolfpack Book 3

by Toby Neighbors

  “What is it?” Tiberius said out loud.

  “It’s a Forkus,” said one of the soldiers. “They’re nasty creatures.”

  “Why is coming up the mountain?”

  “Probably smells the water,” the soldier said. “There’s precious little clean water left in the wastelands.”

  “Could be controlled by a dark wizard,” said another. “They created the mutants after all.”

  “There’s no more wizards,” said the first soldier. “They all died in the cataclysm or were executed soon after.”

  Tiberius felt his chest tighten. He wasn’t sure if it was the sight of the huge beast lumbering up the mountainside or the conversation about wizards that bothered him more. He watched as soldiers began jogging along the city wall and taking positions nearest to the creature. The beast wasn’t close enough to attack the city yet, and Tiberius knew that it was doubtful it would make it that far before the soldiers turned it back. But if it did, the brave men on the wall would give their lives to stop it. He felt a swelling of pride for their valor, but also a sliver of fear. He didn’t think he could place himself in the path of danger the way the soldiers did.

  “Commander Grentz has the Ballistae manned,” said the first soldier excitedly. “They’ll show that bloody creature what we’re made of.”

  This was the moment that everyone in Avondale waited for. The city was known for its wealth, its resources, and its armaments. It was the only source of Hylum, the invaluable gas that made the sky ships possible. It was also where the greatest weapons in the kingdom were invented. The ballistae were huge crossbows that fired giant bolts as big as a tall man. They were mounted around the city walls and took whole teams of men to load, draw, and fire, but they were ruthlessly efficient at beating back the mutated monsters that sometimes tried to scale the mountain and endanger the city.

  The ballistae bolts were made of pine, with two triangular heads made of steel, one mounted up and down, the other side to side, fused together at the tip and honed razor sharp. The Forkus had a thick leather skin, but it was no match for the ballistae bolts. Tiberius watched as the first weapon was fired. Even high above the city on the massive watchtower, he could hear the thrum of the thick ropes that hurled the bolt as the tension was released. The first bolt flew true, hurtling down on the Forkus like an angry strike of lightning. The bolt hit the huge beast just inside its left shoulder, below the huge head. The resulting roar shook the city and made Tiberius grab hold of the wooden railing around the top of the watchtower.

  “That’s a hit!” crowed one of the soldiers.

  The ballistae were mounted at strategic positions around the city walls. More of the powerful weapons were being loaded as the teams that fired them worked feverishly while their officers barked orders at them. Two more bolts were shot at the Forkus; one hit on the creature’s shoulder, where it broke the skin, but then rebounded off the massive bone underneath. The other slammed into the beast’s side.

  The creature roared again—this time there was more pain in the deafening shriek. The beast turned its head, looking back down the mountain, then reared up on its hind legs, the massive claws pawing the air. Another bolt was shot and it sunk into the Forkus’ soft belly. The beast winced, then staggered to the side, before toppling over. It was far from dead, but the ballistae bolts were wounding it. The creature obviously wasn’t used to being harmed. It slowly turned back from the city and began moving back down the mountain.

  The soldiers on the watchtower cheered in triumph, and Tiberius saw other groups along the walls celebrating as well. But the soldiers who had placed themselves on the wall between the Forkus and the city stood like statues, watching until the huge monster disappeared in the thick fog that shrouded the wastelands.

  Chapter 2

  Lady Olyva

  Olyva was impatient. She hated being engaged to a man she didn’t know. She hated being sent across the wastelands in the floating ship, having to leave her home and family, only to feel like a stranger in Earl Aegus’ palace. But most of all she hated always waiting for everything. Why should she be forced to wait in her dreary chamber when everyone else was outside watching as Lord Aegus’ men fought whatever foul creature approached the city? Sometimes, she hated being a girl.

  She paced back and forth across the narrow space in front of the small fireplace that warmed her rooms. Her maid, an older woman named Hellen, sat quietly in the small wooden chair beside the hearth. She worked diligent on her needlepoint, as if nothing in the world was wrong. She had tried to calm Lady Olyva, but had received a withering glare for her trouble.

  Olyva sighed, letting her impatience breathe a little. Hellen clucked her tongue, but Olyva ignored her. She didn’t want to sit idly by while others risked their lives for her. She felt trapped, but unless she was escorted up to the castle walls, she knew there was nothing she could do. The decorum of court was clear. A lady spent her time on feminine pursuits and never ventured into danger.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered.

  Hellen ignored her, which was just fine with Olyva. She knew her maid not only followed the unwritten rules of court, she worshiped them. Hellen could sit for hours clicking her needles together or mending Olyva’s dresses, with no thought whatsoever of what she might be missing. Olyva couldn’t do that; her mind was filled with possibilities, always spinning and calling her to other pursuits.

  At the moment, she was doing her best not to think about Rafe. He was on the wall, she knew that. He would be in the thick of the fighting—he always was. It was a point of contention between them. He felt as though he must prove his worth and live up to his father’s reputation. Being the son of a master swordsman had its drawbacks, she mused. Her own opinion was quite different. She thought Rafe should be a commander, directing the Earl’s men from a point of safety. She thought he could be the captain of the Earl’s war band if he wanted, but Rafe was always thrusting himself into the most difficult challenges, pushing himself to prove he was worthy of bearing his father’s seal. She wanted to run to him, to make sure he was okay, but she knew she couldn’t do that even under the best of circumstances.

  Her mind switched back to Brutas, her oafish fiancé, and the Earl’s second son. Brutas was an important man now, hence the engagement, brokered by Olyva’s father and Earl Aegus to strengthen relations between Avondale and Hamill Keep. But once Leonosis, the Earl’s firstborn son and the de facto ruler of Avondale even though his father still lived, had an heir, Brutas would be nothing—just another noble-born soldier. A knight had some prestige in court, but as his wife, Olyva would have none. Her only job would be seeing that their household was in order. She wouldn’t even be invited to court unless Brutas escorted her. She fumed at the very thought of it. She was not a child, nor was she a maid to be tasked with common chores, and she certainly didn’t need a man—any man—to escort her anywhere.

  The fact that she hardly knew Brutas was another thorn in her side. How was she supposed to give herself to a man she would have trouble picking out in a crowd? He had certainly shown no interest in her. She had at least expected to be courted while they waited the customary three months to be wed after their engagement was announced, but Brutas was too busy courting his own brother.

  Leonosis was, in Olyva’s opinion, an ass. He cared only about himself and everyone around him deferred to his wishes, treating him as if he were Earl already, even though his father still wore the royal torc and was officially in charge of the city. She thought him a spoiled incompetent. He would ruin Avondale, which was truly a wondrous place. It was a tragedy in Olyva’s mind, not only because it was a great city, but it would be her home, and there was nothing she could do to keep the self-centered Earl’s son from wrecking it once his father was dead.

  A knock at her door interrupted her musings and sent her hurrying to see who was calling on her. Hellen should have answered the door. It was unladylike to answer one’s own door, but Olyva had no patience for the rotund maid,
who would take three times as long to do the simple chore as it took Olyva. She flung the door open to find Selma, the Countess’ maid, looking down her long nose at Olyva.

  “What is it?” she asked, ignoring the woman’s rude glare.

  “I was sent to tell you that the danger is past,” she said in haughty tone.

  “What was it?” Olyva asked.

  “How should I know,” the maid said, as she turned to leave.

  “You don’t know why the alarm was sounded?”

  “Because the city was in danger, I suppose.”

  Olyva wanted to run after the tall scarecrow of a woman, but she refrained. The Countess, Lady Wyndolyn, already thought her brash. Olyva knew that the Countess listened to her maid Selma’s opinions about everyone in court, and who could blame her. As the Countess’ maid, she could go freely about the city, while Lady Wyndolyn was kept behind closed doors in the Earl’s chambers of the palace. The fact that Selma found her to be unladylike didn’t bother Olyva in the least, but she knew she would have to deal with the haughty maid for years to come and she didn’t want to make things harder for herself than they had to be.

  “This is ridiculous,” Olyva said angrily, as she slammed the door.

  “We are safe,” Hellen said, not even bothering to look up from her needlepoint. “That is all that matters.”

  “No it isn’t,” Olyva said. “It’s maddening to be cooped up here. What if whatever was attacking the city broke past the Earl’s defenses? Do you really want to be trapped here with no clue that we are about to die?”

  “Ignorance is bliss,” the maid replied.

  Olyva started to argue, but realized it was just a waste of time. Her maid wasn’t even looking up from her needlepoint. Olyva resumed her pacing, thinking once again about Rafe. The danger was over, but did that mean everyone was safe? She tried to force herself not to care, but it was impossible.

  There was another knock on the door, then a slip of parchment was slid underneath. Olyva picked it up and unfolded it. The parchment said five minutes.

  Olyva’s heart began to race. She recognized the handwriting—it was Rafe’s. He was okay after all and coming to see her. She needed to get rid of Hellen. Olyva cleared her throat.

  “I want figs,” she announced.

  “Figs? They’re not even in season yet,” Hellen complained.

  “They aren’t in the castle yet, but I’m sure they’re selling in the market. You don’t mind to go find me some, do you?”

  Hellen sighed as she set her needlepoint down. Olyva knew that her maid would do whatever she asked of her, even if that meant leaving the castle and walking halfway around the city to the market to look for figs. She didn’t want to be mean or mistreat Hellen, but she needed time alone if Rafe were coming to see her.

  “Figs,” Hellen said as she straightened her dress. “Is there anything else you need?”

  “No, but thank you. Figs would calm my nerves. You’re such a dear.”

  “Of course, my lady,” Hellen said.

  Olyva watched as Hellen left the room. Then she resumed her pacing. A few moments later, there was a knock at the door. She flung it open and pulled Rafe into the room. He was the exact opposite of Brutas. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a head full of thick dark hair which he kept tied back with a leather thong. He was thin and moved with a grace that Olyva both admired and envied. He wore a long narrow sword on his left hip, and a dagger was tucked into his belt on his right side. Olyva flung herself into his arms.

  “Oh, I was so worried about you,” she said.

  “I’m fine,” he assured her.

  “It was maddening to be stuck down here.”

  “I’m sorry for that,” Rafe said, although he personally had no power over where Olyva went or what she did. If he was caught holding her the way he was, he would be executed for treason, or worse still, banished from Avondale.

  “What was it?” she asked.

  “A Forkus; it’s sort of a big cow, but scarier. We turned it back easily enough.”

  “I wish I could have seen it. I wish we didn’t have to hide our love.”

  “I know, I wish that too. But we have to be careful. No one can ever know how we feel.”

  Then he kissed her. It was a long passionate kiss that Olyva felt all the way in her toes. She fancied boys in the past, but her feelings for Rafe were different. She wanted to be with him forever and not just as a wife or mother to his children. She wanted to share in his adventures, to support him whether he was fighting on the city walls or planning strategy in the Earl’s war room. Of course she knew that would never happen. She was promised to Brutas, who no doubt saw her as a trophy to be trotted out like trained dog when the occasion called for it, but at all other times she was to be out of sight. Her world would soon shrink down to a pinpoint, and her heart would shrivel up and die.

  “Take me away,” she whispered.

  “And go where?” Rafe said. “There’s no place in the city we could hide that Leonosis wouldn’t find us.”

  “Then we could leave Avondale,” she pleaded.

  “No,” Rafe said, his face stern. “We knew our fate. We knew our love could never last. We cannot live in a fantasy. It would cost us everything.”

  “I would gladly give up everything just to be with you,” she said.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “I do,” she said, her hands on his shoulders, her large brown eyes filling with tears. “I would rather die with you than live a hundred lifetimes with a man I don’t love.”

  “Brutas will treat you well,” Rafe said, the words sounding like thorns being shoved into his heart.

  “You know I don’t love him. I can never love anyone but you.”

  “I love you too,” Rafe said.

  Olyva laid her head against his chest and listened as his heart slowly beat. She had never felt as safe as she did in his arms. And she knew she couldn’t stay.

  Chapter 3

  Lexi

  The call to arms was the perfect distraction. Lexi had been on her way to find Tiberius anyway, but with the guards moving into defensive positions on the city walls, slipping into the royal palace was easy enough. The palace was a large structure, but the lower levels were reserved for servants. Lexi meandered down past the stables, winking mischievously at the young boy who served as the stableman’s apprentice. He smiled and looked away. Lexi darted into the corridor that ran under the east wing of the palace. Boxes of food were stored in the cool confines of the corridor, waiting to be loaded into the great airship that floated above the palace. The food would be sent to King Aethel as part of the royal tribute that each city paid.

  Lexi ignored the food boxes and made her way to the stairway that led up into the palace. She had met Tiberius there many times in the past. Lexi liked Ti, he was open minded and fair, but she didn’t let her feelings go too far. She was a common-born orphan after all; dreams of life in palaces were just that, dreams. She had no time for dreams—she was too busy surviving. Ti helped in small ways when he could, but he was training to become a Paladin, which would make them enemies at some point.

  The Paladins served the city as peacekeepers and enforced the Earl’s laws. Unfortunately, Lexi’s skills weren’t exactly legal. She hurried up the stairs and into a small room where she found a shawl that she draped over her shoulders and head. Then she moved out into the main level of the palace. It was normally a busy place where citizens pled their cases to Earl Aegus or his son Leonosis, and where merchants loitered, waiting to bribe a city official in hopes of navigating the intricate maze of Avondale politics.

  Everyone had gone out to see what sort of creature was attacking the city. Lexi understood their curiosity and their desire to ensure their own survival, she just had a different way of doing it. She tried one door and found it locked, then tried another and went inside a small series of rooms. She knew she didn’t have much time, so she hurried to the large desk. It was a massive piec
e of furniture, carved from dark wood with dozens of small drawers and bins that were filled with rolls of parchment. She pulled open several drawers before finding a small pouch. She lifted it and felt the weight of gold coins and heard the delightful sound as the coins clinked against one another.

  She was tempted to take the entire pouch and flee. She guessed there was enough coin in the pouch to keep her fed and safe for a year, but she also knew if the pouch went missing, a search would be made. Security in the palace would go up and she wouldn’t be allowed near the royal residence, much less inside it. She pulled the leather opening and saw the glint of yellow gold. She fished out a single coin, then pulled the leather thong to close the little pouch and returned it to the drawer. The single coin was more than enough to feed her for a week. She slipped it into a hidden pocket of the thick rawhide belt she wore, then slipped back out toward the palace’s main entrance.

  Lexi’s clothes were simple gray homespun garments. She didn’t wear shoes and her hair was cut short and left sticking up at odd angles. But she had a pretty face, and a smile that put most people at ease. She may not have been properly dressed, but being an attractive young woman made most people give her the benefit of the doubt.

  Lexi waited while the battle on the city walls took place, doing her best to stay in the shadows and not be noticed. Once the danger had passed, scores of people returned to the palace. Most ignored Lexi completely; those that took a longer look got a flash of her smile and most returned it.

  “What are you doing here?” Tiberius asked as he came down the winding staircase from the watchtower above.

  “Waiting for you, of course,” Lexi said, her smile not forced this time.

  “Is something wrong?” Tiberius asked as he walked her out of the palace.