"I discovered darkness hundreds of years after my birth. I still remember the times when everything was clean, bright, and shiny. My memories have faded and are unclear, but the feeling still prevails. Beauty, serenity, and peace. I still remember the fragrant forests of Neiwlur ... My mother's blueberry pancakes, and my songs for the Gods of the Night. Everything changed when I was summoned to Ollewan."
"It is said that it was a prophecy," Neran noted.
"Thirteen of them will lead the Royal Elven Nation," she recited, but her look darkened. "The prophecy should have revealed more, that we would become the ruin of ... All of us gradually sensed the urge to go to the capital Yldiel and take advantage of our power, a gift that we had felt from birth. It seemed as if Yldiel ruled by will. From the moment I crossed its border something inside me changed. My power grew stronger and resisted the will of the town. It hated it and wanted to humiliate it, to show who was in command. It wasn´t evil yet." Suddenly, it was as if the thread of her story broke. Liadel blinked, pulled her eyes away from the flames, and with a detached voice added:
"Everything changed when the First discovered the Source of Power. He discovered too late that it was also the source of pure darkness. Our souls had already been lost by then."
"The First didn´t want you to become demons?"
"He didn´t." She lowered her eyes and Neran saw how she inadvertently touched the medallion on her neck.
"What's that?" he asked curiously.
Liadel froze for a moment. It seemed to take forever for her to reply when she was staring into his eyes, while he was plunging into her heart, into her soul, her true soul without evil. It was not like anything he could remember from their last encounter.
He had almost forgotten about his question, when she whispered, "just a jewel". He caught sight again of the medallion covered by her hand and felt that she was not telling the whole truth.
"Since my return, I have not been able to talk to anyone," she said suddenly. "You're the first one I can talk openly with, the first I can ..."
He blinked. He felt the depth and intimacy of the moment and the hairs on his back pleasantly bristled in response. They were sitting side by side, their arms almost touching. Neran felt electric sparks flowing between them. They were pleasant, suggestive, and pounded down his spine. He shivered. His mouth went dry and he felt a strong desire come over him.
He watched the throbbing pulse beneath the skin of her neck and thought of her lips. He thought about the taste of her lips and how it would feel to touch her tongue, smell her skin, feel the heat of her body...
"Neran, your eyes ..."
He flinched. He had allowed himself to get carried away too much. He had succumbed to desire and a spark of fire had appeared in his dark eyes. The fire now dimmed and glowed red.
"What were you thinking about?" she asked, looking at him probingly until he got upset.
'That's not your concern," he said angrily.
"We still haven’t had a proper talk about what happened years ago. When I captured you and tortured you. When I wanted you to surrender to me and allow me to devour your heart. At that time, I craved for power, nothing more. Neran, I was ...”
He jumped to his feet. "I don’t want to hear it." He walked around the fire. "I don’t care." He cursed himself for having lied. He did not want to hear it because it would mean seeing Liadel in the wrong light again, as a ruthless beast, and he would hate her for it. Although he refused to admit it to himself, his hatred had gradually dissipated and something else had taken its place. Neran did not want that either. It was all so confusing. It was easier to hate, but something inside him resisted. Something inside him was reluctant to return to the past.
"As you wish. I have been honest with you. Now it's your turn. What do you have in common with Aragen?"
Neran snorted. "That’s my question, too. We're both werewolves, so we know each other. What about you?"
"No, there’s something more to it, I can feel it," she said standing up and piercing him with her gaze. "You'll eventually have to reveal some of your secrets, Neran. If we are to trust each other, we have to be ...”
"I’ll never trust you," he barked out angrily, but immediately regretted it. Liadel’s face showed no remorse, only cold indifference.
"Then I feel sorry for you. It seems that you cannot trust anyone. You're all alone in theworld, werewolf. Being alone is the worst punishment of all."
"And you're not alone?" he shouted at her. Liadel remained calm.
"I used to have a family. I used to have brothers. Loneliness is now my good friend. You're too young to live alone. Fear of being alone radiates from your eyes."
"Shut up," he growled. "You and your nonsense cannot upset me."
"I'm not trying to upset you. I am only talking about what I see."
"Alright, you want to play honesty, so be it. Tell me what you know about the Tears of Étarlina, and I'll tell you a piece of my story."
"In my younger days when I lived in Neiwlur, I made friends with Dryad Oteyla. She revealed to me the refuge of sacred flowers which she had created," Liadel uttered unexpectedly, taking Neran by surprise.
"They were meant to serve only those who deserved it. I swore that I would never betray her secret. Unfortunately, a few years later, I betrayed her," she spoke directly and to the point, showing no emotion. "We were getting ready for the secret ceremony of Uplifting. We were to leave our earthly bodies and become demons through force majeure. The elves suspected our betrayal, especially the Queen and her faithful. We knew that they would try to stop us, so I came up with an idea. I stole Étarlina flowers from the Teardrop Forest, thereby desecrating its sanctity and betraying the friendship and trust of my old friend. Using the Tears of Étarlina, we concocted a drink which, in combination with our power, ensured our invulnerability."
She threw the whole story at him, so that Neran was unable to respond. She was either so strong that she did not allow any emotion, or so cold that her past did not leave her with any regrets. According to what she had talked about earlier by the fire, Neran put a bet on the first option.
"I'm not alone," he muttered in return and folded his arms across his chest. "The nectar is for my brother."
It seemed that Liadel was sincerely surprised. "Why did you never mention him?"
"I don’t like to talk about it."
"Your brother is sick, so you need the tears?"
"Not really sick," Neran said, nervously scratching his head. "Hey, that's enough, isn’t it? I told you why I need the tears. You don’t need to know more."
"It is truly generous of you that you are willing to endure so much to get the medicine your brother needs. He must matter very much to you."
"It's more complicated than that," he waved his hand. "Believe me, I haven´t been so royal with my generosity."
Liadel gave him a piercing look. "Good.Perhaps in time, you will tell me more."
Neran wanted to continue by saying he would definitely say no more, when Liadel interrupted him. "I'll go and pick some herbs to make tea. Fellqelas should grow around here.They are good for a peaceful and sharp mind."
"I hope that they are not good for a slow and painful death," Neran grinned. Liadel had a good laugh about it too.
"Do you think I want to poison you?"
"I wouldn´t be at all surprised!"
Liadel smiled mysteriously and then disappeared among the trees. Neran watched her back for a moment as the forest enveloped her, a thousand ideas running through his head.
He sat by the fire, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands, and stared into the flames. He was able to stare into the flames for hours without feeling any heat. He remembered the times when he and his father used to sit behind their cottage under the stars and watch the leaping flames in the fireplace. His father always told him long stories from the days of his youth. Those were the times when werewolves did not have to hide from humans, when they were strong and mortals trembled in front of them with fe
ar. His father had lived in a pack, something Neran had never known. He loved the stories from his childhood, as well as the stories from the time when the Black Messenger had brought his race to the world.
Neran grinned. Those times seemed so distant, unreal, and joyful, that he began to believe that they were just legends. At that time, his father had not been so tough and not so mean. At that time, Neran still had a family. That was before everything had fallen apart.
Suddenly, he heard a scream.
He quickly jumped up. Liadel had been gone for quite some time. He could swear that it was her who was screaming. The screams rang out again.
He ran through the trees, following Liadel’s voice. He soon caught her scent, as well as that of something else too. The musky odour that hung in the air made his stomach tighten.
Liadel was in danger. He had to get to her in time. Moonlight lit up the path before him, showing him the way.
He stopped in front of a body.
The corpse was fairly fresh. Smoke was still coming out of the darkwolf’s skull. The stench of burned flesh stung Neran’s nose. It seemed like something had fried the darkwolf’s brain.
Neran stared at the body, thoughts swirling through his mind. How had it happened? Who could have done it?
When he felt the presence of the force, it was too late.
He turned around. In the dark among the trees was a monster. It was tall, twisted, darker than the shadows of the forest and darker than the night, yet similar to that of a human figure. Its eyes glowed like bright turquoise.
It screamed and its red mouth flashed. Despite his superhuman instincts Neran could not respond in time. The monster jumped him and sank its long claws into his shoulders. It was not so much the pain, but the vast power that emanated from the monster, that knocked Neran to his knees.
Nevertheless, he gathered all his strength and threw the creature to one side. It hit a tree trunk with its back, whimpered, and got back on its feet again. Neran was just about to attack, when the creature turned and disappeared.
Neran stood there with his transformed hands and claws ready to slash. His chest heaved, while his eyes scanned the shadows for any movement. He waited to see whether the creature would emerge again.
Nothing.
Was it gone? Just like that? He turned back to the corpse. If it could do this to a darkwolf’s brain...
Liadel.
An icy hand gripped his heart. What if the creature had got her? Neran sniffed the air for the scent of her blood ... and caught it. She was injured. The scent stuck to Neran’s tongue and agitated him. As Neran followed her tracks, he was plagued by hunger and had to use all his willpower to suppress it.
He found her nearby. She was laying propped up against a tree stump, semiconscious. Her shoulder was torn. Thoughts of flesh rushed through Neran’s head.
For an instant, he closed his eyes and chased away the animal instinct inside him. He knelt down in front of her and gently patted her cheek. "Liadel!" She winced slightly and lifted her eyelids shakily. Neran had the constant urge to glance at her shoulder, but when he looked into her eyes, the urge melted away. He suddenly felt much better and found it easier to control himself.
Anger unexpectedly grabbed hold of him. He wanted to tear the creature who had dared to attack her, to pieces. He wanted to devour it, for it had touched, threatened, and hurt Liadel...
He was terrified by his own wild ideas. That's enough! The elven was alive and that was the most important thing.She would lead him to the Teardrop Forest and that was all that mattered.
Liadel trembled. Sweat covered her face. Neran put his hand on her forehead. "You're all on fire," he said.
Liadel looked at her shoulder. "Probably an infection," she said in a weak voice. Neran stared at the blood gushing from the wound. "Damn!" He stood up and wanted to smash something. What was he going to do now? He had no idea how to deal with something like that, how to treat someone. He himself had never suffered from any disease and the diseases of others did not interest him.
"What's going on?" the elven wheezed. Neran knelt back down in front of her again.
"Nothing, you’ll be fine. I’ll take care of you, understand?" He hesitated before touching her hand.
Oh my God!
An electric shock went through his body. His spine tingled with enjoyment. The feeling was so strong ... he wanted to purr like a happy cat.
Liadel looked at their touching hands and then raised her eyes towards his. "Why do I get the feeling that you have no idea how to take care of me?"
Neran gritted his teeth and tore off a piece of his shirt sleeve. He applied pressure to the wound and wrapped the strip around the elven’s shoulder. "I'll think of something."
"You don’t have to," she smiled weakly. "Over there," she pointed with her head. A pouch with the herbs she had picked earlier lay nearby. "Those blue ones can be used against fever. When you crush them and mix them with the juice from the root of a leon, it stops infections."
Neran sighed. He picked up the pouch and looked inside. "Where's the juice?"
"I don´t have it. I was picking herbs for tea, remember? I really had no idea that I would be bitten by a darkwolf."
Neran grinned. "So where do I find it?"
"It's a green plant that looks like grass, but it grows near water. You have to pull it up with its roots. They look like berries. That’s what we need."
Neran looked around. The deep forest was silent. "Where am I supposed to find water?"
Liadel gasped for air with great effort. Neran squeezed her hand. "All right, I’ll find it. I'm sure there must be some stream nearby. I have superhuman powers, why couldn´t I find water, right?" he grinned reassuringly. "I'm onto it."
It was not so difficult. His animal senses could smell water. There was a creek close by. Neran was there in no time. There was grass everywhere! It took him a while before he found the right type.
He returned to Liadel. She had fallen asleep.
"Hey!" he shook her a little until she flinched. "You mustn’t sleep!"
"I’m not asleep."
He crushed the roots in his hand and added the blue flowers. While he was mixing the medicine, he asked: "What happened here?"
"I really don’t know," she sighed. "A darkwolf showed up."
Neran growled. "He must have followed us. Aragen’s minion. Did he attack you?"
"He didn’t want to kill me, just capture me. I tried to escape," she looked at her shoulder.
"What about the creature?"
"I don’t know. It was suddenly there. They attacked each other. I got away and ran as far as I could." She stared into nothingness before saying: "I've never run away from a fight before. I have never been scared before."
"Yeah, you're a mortal now! It's good that you ran away." He cupped his hands together and held them to her mouth. "Drink all of this. Maybe, it will work. If not, it's your fault.It was your idea."
Liadel frowned but let him pour the juice into her mouth. "Is it good?" he sneered.
"It tastes like vomit, but it should work."
"I'll carry you back to the fire." Without waiting for her permission he lifted her into his arms. She used her good arm to put around his neck. He was already oblivious to the smell of her blood. He only felt her, her closeness, her body rubbing against his.
As they were passing the corpse of the darkwolf, Neran couldn´t help but wonder how the creature had managed to kill him.
Chapter 14
Royal Combat Patrol
When Aragen emerged from her cabin early in the morning, she smelled a pungent odour. The smell made thehair on the napeof herneck bristle and she felt cold breath on her shoulder.
"Greetings, my dear she-wolf," a familiar voice said.
She quickly tried to calm her suddenly wildly beating heart. When she turned towards the voice she did not show any nervousness.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your unexpected visit?" she replied to the demon.
The day was just dawning and the forest was cold and damp. The darkwolves slept in a circle around the extinguished campfire. The Twelfth no longer looked like a writhing cloud of darkness. During an encounter, he had taken on the form of a man, but his face was almost always obscured by a hood. Aragen had glimpsed his face only once.
"Not so long ago I learned that the Thirteenth has a soul," he said menacingly. "You know, of course, nothing about it."
"How could I? It explains why I found it so difficult to establish a connection with her." Aragen had to be careful not to let the Twelfth expose her. If he did, her life was at risk. Fortunately, she was an accomplished liar.
The Twelfth looked angry and turned away. He clenched his fists under his long black sleeves. "The disgusting thing inside her is ruining her! I need to get it out of her!"
"I understand," Aragen agreed and immediately added with interest: "Now that she has a soul, she is hardly likely to want to join you and set the others free, right? Or is there something more to it? Maybe some old feelings...?"
The demon turned towards her and she felt a chill enter her bones. The air around them cooled until hoarfrost appeared on the wet grass. "No feelings!" a lifeless voice roared. "I don’t feel anything because I am the personification of evil!"
"Sure, I'm sorry," Aragen bowed her head. Despite the tension that pervaded her, she shivered with joy. The Twelfth would not have been so furious if she had missed the mark. "I would like to put forward an advantageous proposition."
"I’m beginning to like your propositions less and less. Up till now, you haven´t even been able to find Liadel!"
"I found her, but you came too late."
For a while she thought that he would turn hostile and perhaps even punish her, but his voice suddenly changed. It was pleasant, almost lovable.
"You're a brazenshe-wolf," he said playfully, though his threatening undertone remained. "You just never watch your language."
"I’m always trying, though," she said, flashing him a smile.
"So tell me, what are you proposing?"
Son of hell: Blood of wolves Page 20
