The Wolf Prince

by Claire M Banschbach

  “How did you get hurt, eh?” The faery reached to touch Killian’s shoulder.

  Killian tried to follow where the faery’s hand soothed the wound, but his body twisted in an awkward manner.

  Something’s not right. His heart began to thud again.

  “What’s happened to you?” The faery spoke as if to an anxious animal.

  Killian’s worry built even higher and he edged away from the faery. He opened his mouth to explain, but no words came.

  The faery’s eyes widened and he peered closer at Killian.

  “How did…? You’re—Oh, you don’t know, do you? Come with me.” He beckoned, and Killian followed him back through the fissure.

  Glowing cave worms lit up as the faery passed, their pulsing light reflecting off the scattered crystals that lodged in the wall crevices. They entered a wide chamber sheltering a pool in its center. The water rippled as droplets detached themselves from the finger-like protrusions that thrust down from the ceiling.

  Killian paused, and a drip tapped him on the head. He shook the moisture off, but the gnawing feeling that something was wrong could not be so easily dislodged.

  The faery sat by the pool and his light grew brighter.

  “Come.” He waved Killian over, and gestured to the pool. “Look.”

  Killian came closer, shivering, and peered over the edge of the water. He stared in shock at the wolf looking back at him. He slapped at the reflection and pulled out a damp paw. He looked again. His amber eyes gazed back, the same dark grey ringing his left iris, but he was now trapped in the body of a wolf.

  What happened to me?

  Killian looked around in helpless panic and a low whine escaped.

  The faery reached out and his touch calmed Killian a little.

  “Lie down,” he said. “You are still injured.”

  Killian settled on the floor, his mind racing with a million questions. It was Noak. He did this. Is it part of the curse? How did Noak know? What will my family think? Will they find me? Or will Noak find me first? What will they do when they find me?

  The thought hurt worse than his wound as the faery took some water and bathed his shoulder, then bound up the wound with cave moss and spider’s silk.

  “I am Alfar,” he said.

  Killian lifted his head with a soft growl.

  Alfar smiled. “Now, what can we find out about you?” He chanted softly, the smooth cadence nothing like the darkness of Noak’s voice, and sat back as he gazed into Killian’s eyes.

  “A powerful curse does indeed run in your family, Prince Killian. But this.” He indicated Killian’s new form. “I’ve not seen this in many years. Not since I exiled myself to this little cave.”

  Alfar washed his hands in the pool. “I’ve heard through the waterways that there’s a sorcerer on the loose looking for blood. It seems he hasn’t been lucky until now.”

  Killian pricked his ears. It made sense. Noak had said he wanted his blood. He looked up at Alfar, tilting his head to the side.

  “Can you help me?”

  “I’m sorry, young prince; I can do nothing against this spell. We of Calvyrn are strongest with creatures of water. Our kin in Myrnius may be able to help. Their care is for the forest and its creatures. They might have answers.”

  The question Killian wanted to ask came out as a whine and he looked at the entrance.

  “The sorcerer will never stop looking for you. I can give you some small protection against him once you leave this cave.” He again chanted softly over Killian, his voice soothing.

  “You should go to Myrnius and seek out the faeries. It’s a small chance, but the best you have. My spell will hide you from him only while you are in Calvyrn. Once you cross into Myrnius he will be able to find you. But rest now and stay close to the cave. I will return once I have spoken with my people.”

  Alfar touched Killian’s shoulder and slipped from the cave.

  The light from the glow worms remained after the faery vanished. Killian curled up by the pool’s edge and let himself drift asleep.

  *

  Killian awoke to something tickling his nose.

  Lars! The rumbling growl in his chest startled him and he jerked up. The sight of his tail brought home his new reality. He whisked it away and nosed at his paws, trying to reconcile himself to the fact that they now replaced his hands.

  I’d really hoped this had all been a very realistic dream.

  He twisted, attempting to take in the rest of his new form, only succeeding in rolling dangerously close to the water. He grumbled in frustration and wriggled to his feet, snapping at his tail as it brushed back and forth. He let his head droop with a huff.

  ‘I’d be a wolf.’ I’m an idiot. That is the last time I wish for anything.

  He took an experimental step, easier than he thought to move on four paws instead of two. He moved to the pool to lap up water. Easy enough if he didn’t think about it. It was odd how natural it felt to be a wolf. Killian tested his weight on his shoulder. It didn’t burn as badly, but he still limped.

  Killian padded back to the entrance. Night was falling outside. He’d slept through the day. He paused for a long moment, his ears picking up sounds he’d never thought it possible to hear. His nose twitched as a light breeze carried the musty scent of a nearby badger, and the sweeter smell of two does. He watched the woods around him with the eyes of a cautious hunter.

  He stepped out of the cave and padded in a wide loop around the dell, exploring with his new senses. He paused in a clearing and looked back to see the lights of the castle winking on top of the high hills.

  What do they think happened to me after I didn’t come back from my ride?

  He hesitated, ears straining to hear anything from the walls. A prick of loneliness and desperation stung his heart. He sat back on his haunches and howled.

  *

  Lars stood at the window of a chamber, staring out into falling darkness. This isn’t happening.

  The castle had been thrown into an uproar when Killian’s horse had returned, sweating and wild-eyed. Soldiers and huntsmen had been dispatched immediately, but they returned with the worst news. His brother’s remains. Slashed and bloody clothes surrounded by the prints of wolves.

  The huntsmen could not explain it. The castle was silent in grief at the unexpected news and its members whispered in corners.

  King Jonas sat with his head in his hands, and Queen Aina clutched a damp handkerchief as she stared into the fire. Lars stared in stony silence out the window.

  “Hasn’t it taken enough?” his father whispered. “First Hugo and now Killian. How much more…”

  “Jonas, please don’t…” His mother refolded her handkerchief. His father flinched as a wolf howled in the forest and his mother stifled a sob.

  Lars clenched his hands as the last echoes of the howl faded. Are we being mocked?

  His father moved to comfort his mother. A knock sounded at the door and Einar and a huntsman entered. The king looked up, all hope battered from his weathered face.

  “We’ve found nothing else, your majesty.” The huntsman barely met the king’s eyes before gazing back down at the tiled floor.

  His mother bit back another sob. “Why?” She gasped, gripping Jonas’ hand.

  His uncle cleared his throat before speaking. “We’ve had rumors of a sorcerer travelling through Calvyrn searching for creatures of magic…”

  “And you think this sorcerer attacked my son?” His father demanded. Einar shrugged. “Do you have any proof that this is more than a wild rumor?”

  “No, other than one of the Rangers sent out has been missing for weeks,” Einar said. “Something is not right…”

  “We have the proof we need,” his father whispered. “Wolves attacked our son. The curse has killed him.”

  Lars whirled from the window and strode to the door. His uncle stopped him with a hand to his arm.

  “Don’t do anything rash, Lars. Your family needs you.”


  Lars only brushed past him and out of the room. He didn’t believe in the curse, but something had to be done. I’ve heard enough of wolves. I’ll hunt down and kill every one of them.

  “Lars?” A gentle voice stopped him as he rounded the corner.

  He turned his face away, for once not wanting to see the speaker.

  “What?” He growled.

  Pauline didn’t flinch. Her usual look of frustrated disappointment had been replaced with sorrow.

  “I—wanted to see how you were,” she said.

  “How do you think?” He moved to go, but she caught at his arm.

  “Lars, I know it appears that we don’t get along, but—I think I know you well enough to tell you not to do anything stupid. Killian wouldn’t want you to.”

  She matched him for height and her green eyes looked straight into his. Eyes in which he’d do anything to see something other than frequent disappointment. Eyes Killian was smart enough not to tease him about too mercilessly.

  Killian. Lars tugged his arm away. “What would you know about him? You probably think he’s cursed along with everyone else!”

  Pauline’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t make me slap you again, Lars.”

  Lars leaned up against the wall. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  She rested her shoulder against the stone beside him, squeezing his hand. “You know I’m right.”

  He looked away, his throat tightening again. “I know. I just—I should have—he wanted me to go with him…”

  A small sigh escaped Pauline and they stood in silence for a long minute, hands still clasped. He didn’t dare move, afraid he’d drive her away. Again.

  “You can’t blame yourself,” she finally said.

  Too late for that.

  He dragged his gaze up to meet hers. “You want me to do something worthwhile?”

  “Because I know you can.”

  “Then I need to go.”

  She didn’t release his hand. “To do what, Lars?”

  He knew she wouldn’t like it, but it had to be done. “Something for Killian.”

  She surprised him by brushing his cheek with a kiss. “Just be careful, Lars. Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

  It was already too late for regrets. Killian would hate what he planned to do, but Killian was dead. Lars left Pauline without another word.

  Chapter 4

  Killian watched the forest around him from the shelter of the cave. Alfar had not yet reappeared. The forest hummed with fresh industry in the early morning light. His nose twitched, and he gracefully rose to his feet as his stomach declared its hunger.

  He hesitated in the mouth of the cave. His nose told him exactly where he could find a meal, and a new instinct began to take over.

  He’d always been a naturally good hunter, better even than some seasoned hunters. But for all those kills he’d used a crossbow or knife instead of his teeth. He ran his tongue over the sharp appendages, trying to imagine sinking them into an animal’s throat.

  He shuddered, in disgust or excitement, he couldn’t quite tell. His stomach pinched again, and his paws moved forward, the wolf part catapulting him onto the hunt. A short time later he settled down with an unfortunate rabbit that had ventured out too early. He stared at it for a long moment before gingerly nibbling at the carcass, the taste of raw rabbit less repulsive than he thought it would be.

  As he finished, he felt a little more at home in the wolf’s body. Almost more than he had in his human body. His hunger appeased for the moment, he padded off, following the scent of water.

  A wide river rushed by from the lake as it searched for lower ground. Killian halted in the tree line before edging forward to drink. He stared at his reflection, twitching his ears occasionally to remind himself it wasn’t an illusion.

  Amber eyes stared back, repeating the questions in his mind. How was he supposed to make it to Myrnius? Finding a faery sounded easy enough, but the woodland folk of Myrnius were not known to reveal themselves to many, even though two held old King Stefan’s favor.

  Alfar had given him protection from Noak only until the borders of Calvyrn. After that how was he to avoid a sorcerer?

  A new scent jerked him from his reverie. Human.

  The forest had fallen quiet, but he picked up the faint rustle of footsteps. Instincts warred within him. He retreated a few steps and turned to watch the figure that came to the river.

  A young woman knelt at the river to refill a canteen, pulling her knee-length green dress and slitted leather tunic away from the mud. Her fitted trousers and tall boots were not given the same consideration. She splashed water over her face and patted damp hands over curly auburn hair tied at the nape of her neck with a leather cord.

  Killian watched in silent curiosity. Her clothes and the light bow and quiver across her back reminded him of the Rangers who served his father. She looked older than his seventeen years, but younger than Lars’s twenty.

  She glanced up and caught sight of him. Her blue eyes widened, and her hand fell to the hunting knife on her belt. They stared at one another for a few seconds and she tilted her head, confused. Killian knew he wasn’t acting very wolf-like as he took one step and sat back on his haunches.

  Maybe there’s some way to tell her who I am.

  He edged closer and experimented with a small bark.

  “What’re you doing, eh?” she whispered.

  Her hand relaxed on the knife’s hilt, and Killian nudged his paws into another step. She extended a hand. He flattened his ears in minor annoyance at the gesture.

  A warning ripple spread through the forest. Hunter! His wolf instincts overrode his plans. Killian splashed through the river and darted into the undergrowth on the other side, breaking into a run.

  *

  Lars’s quiver was two bolts lighter and the world was freer of two wolves when he picked up new tracks. He found the remains of a kill and tethered his horse a safe distance away before following the tracks towards the river. He held his crossbow at the ready as he stalked along the trail to the water’s edge. He almost lowered the bow at the sight of a girl instead of the wolf he’d expected.

  She whirled to face him. “Who’re you?” The girl drew an arrow on him before he could answer.

  They faced each other across their weapons.

  “Who are you?” He wasn’t about to let some ridiculous-looking girl impede his search.

  “I’m Rose.”

  “Well, Rose, these tracks are fresh.” He nudged the sandy bank with his toe. “Have you seen a wolf since you’ve been here?”

  “One just crossed t’ river. Why?”

  “Why do you think?” He curled his lip in a sneer. “I’m going to rid the earth of it and all its kind!” He lowered his crossbow and splashed across the river without a backward glance.

  “Wait!” She called after him.

  He ignored her. No. I’ve waited long enough to do this.

  *

  Killian’s shoulder began to ache, and he slowed to a trot. He didn’t recognize this part of the forest. The wind brought him a familiar scent and he flinched as a twig snapped behind him. He glanced behind him and froze.

  Lars!

  But he almost didn’t recognize his brother, blind hate so twisted his features. Killian leaped away as a crossbow bolt tore into a trunk beside him. Lars cursed, and another bolt locked into place on the crossbow as his brother took up the pursuit again.

  Killian limped through the tangled ferns, Lars’s footsteps gaining on him. He could barely think over his pounding heart. He’s chasing me? What’s he doing this far out?

  The ground tumbled away from him into a ravine and he jerked to a halt. He turned to face Lars. Terror froze his tongue and a whine built in his chest. He never imagined his life would end this way.

  Lars! What are you doing?

  Lars raised his crossbow, triumphant, and pressed his finger to the trigger.

  “Stop!” The girl from the river slammed into Lars, knocking hi
s aim away from Killian’s heart.

  Lars whirled around, and they faced each other across drawn weapons.

  “What are you doing?” He snarled.

  She edged between Killian and Lars. “You can’t kill it!”

  “Don’t tell me what I can’t do! My brother was killed by their kind!” Lars jerked his chin at Killian.

  Killian’s heart plummeted. They think I’m dead! He had to find some way to let Lars know…

  “Lars!” His cry came out as a bark.

  “Move!” Lars ordered.

  “No!” she retorted, readjusting her grip on her bow.

  “I will shoot you!” Lars lifted the bow higher, but her chin jutted and her eyes narrowed as she widened her stance.

  This is going nowhere. Killian barked again to try and gain their attention.

  “You ever seen a wolf act like this? It tried t’ approach me at t’ river.” She glanced down at Killian, who pricked his ears hopefully.

  You understood! Please keep talking! He’s an idiot on his good days.

  Lars lowered his bow a fraction and she did the same. Killian barked again.

  “Shut up!” Lars turned on him.

  Fine. You’d better be grateful I can’t talk right now, Lars. Killian eased his weight off his aching shoulder.

  “Are you doing this?” Lars scowled at the girl, his voice laden with suspicion.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you using magic?”

  “Why would I use magic?” The girl lifted her shoulders, not quite easing off the bowstring.

  “You don’t want me to kill it and it’s not attacking you!” Lars accused.

  “It’s not attacking you either!”

  “It might if you let it!”

  “That’s ridiculous!” She rolled her eyes.

  “Is it? Someone told my brother two nights ago that he had wolf’s blood and then yesterday wolves killed him. Curse or not, something is going on—”

  “I’m not dead!”

  “And you’re out here protecting a wolf!” Lars punctuated the accusation with a jab of the crossbow.