04 - Rise of the Lycans (30 page)

Lucian zigzagged across the courtyard, dodging the deadly hail of arrows. His
only hope was to escape over the walls. Her pendant rested securely against his
hairy palm. He was halfway to the stairs when a pair of Death Dealers burst from the base of the gatehouse to block his path. Drawn swords
reflected the moonlight. Angry curses assailed him.

The werewolf neither halted nor turned tail at the sight of the guards.
Instead he vaulted over the startled vampires, grabbing onto the crests of their
helmets as he did so. He yanked the soldiers off their feet, carrying them over
ten feet through the air, before slamming their skulls into the pavement when he
landed at the base of the steps. Their steel helmets crumpled like cheap pewter.
Vampire brains leaked onto the cobblestones.

Lucian had no time to savor his victory. The steps to the ramparts lay before
him, but more soldiers poured out of the keep into the courtyard behind him.
Soren and a Death Dealer named Radu hefted oversized crossbows armed with long
silver-tipped spears. Heavy iron chains were affixed to the ends of the
harpoons. Practiced hands cranked the windlasses to draw the bowstrings tight,
even as ordinary silver bolts rained down from the palisade, barely missing the
speeding werewolf.

Lucian found himself besieged from all directions.

Seething with anger, Viktor strode out onto the balcony overlooking the
courtyard. Tanis followed nervously in his wake, no doubt happy to be far away
from the fighting. Peering down from his perch, he was dismayed to see that
Lucian yet lived. He gnashed his fangs in frustration. Could not all his men
bring down a single werewolf?

That Lucian had purloined Sonja’s precious pendant only added to his anxiety. Beyond its sentimental value, the pendant was also
a vital component of the key to William’s hidden prison. Thank the gods that
Lucian was unaware of its true import.

Or was he?

Viktor recalled that the mortal locksmith who had crafted the key was still
breathing. That was a loose end that needed snipping once this present crisis
was concluded; the temporary loss of the pendant made it clear that its secret
had to be guarded even more zealously than Viktor had previously believed.
A
pity,
he reflected. As he recalled, the locksmith had an enchanting young
daughter.
What was her name again? Selene?

In the courtyard below, the werewolf stubbornly ducked the Death Dealers’
quarrels. Viktor’s nails dug into his palms as he waited impatiently for one of
his knights—just one!—to rid him of this troublesome beast. A flicker of hope
flared within him as Radu and Soren emerged from the front entrance of the keep,
bearing the very same chain-bearing crossbows used to capture William two
centuries ago. The ingenious harpoons had finally brought an end to the first
werewolf’s carnivorous rampage.

He could only hope they would do the same for William’s despicable
successor!

A bolt smacked into the pavement only an inch away from Lucian’s back paw.
Another quarrel nicked a tufted ear. The werewolf knew he was tempting fate
every minute he braved the lethal fusillade; it was only a matter of moments
before one of the flying missiles found its mark. He launched himself up the
stairs, clearing five steps in a single leap. Another spring would bring him to the
top, but, before his hind legs could propel him into the air again, a harpoon
came arcing across the courtyard to spear him in the arm!

He yelped out loud. Feeling a sharp, painful tug on his arm, he glanced
behind him to see a length of chain stretching across the bailey to the large
crossbow cradled in Radu’s arms. The taut chain pulled on Lucian like a leash,
tearing at the gory wound in his hide. Silver invaded his muscles, sapping his
strength. The Death Dealer cranked a handle on the crossbow, reeling the
werewolf back in like a fish on a line.

No!
Lucian raged.
I’ll not be made a captive again!

He spun away from the pull of the chain, which cracked like a whip, flinging
Radu into the arched gateway of the keep with incredible force. His bare head
exploded against a looming granite column. Bone shattered like glass. Blood
sprayed Soren’s face and armor.

The violent motion wrenched the harpoon from the werewolf’s arm. Free once
more, he bolted up the stairs, only to be speared in the knee by a second
harpoon. His chin cracked against the stone steps as he toppled face-forward
onto the stairs. He bit down hard on his own tongue. The salty taste of blood
filled his muzzle. His skewered leg felt like it was on fire. Another chain
clanked against the steps behind him.

Have to keep going. Almost there…

Crippled and bleeding, Lucian refused to surrender. Sonja’s pendant dangled
from his clenched paw as he painfully clawed his way up the stairs, one step at
a time. His talons scratched the well-worn stones. Gritted fangs held in the
pain. He dragged his injured leg behind him, leaving a crimson trail in his wake. Every movement jarred the
diabolical harpoon, causing him unbearable agony, but he kept on climbing until
at last he reached the summit of the palisade. Moonlight shone down on the
elevated walkway, yet the pernicious silver counteracted the energizing power of
the cold white radiance. He felt his wolfen vigor draining away along with his
blood. His gushing wounds declined to heal. The chain pulled against him.

Only yards away from freedom, he collapsed upon the ramparts. Death Dealers
rushed across the palisade toward his fallen form. More soldiers stormed the
stairway from the courtyard below. Raising his eyes from the masonry, Lucian
spied Viktor upon the balcony across the way. The triumphant Elder smiled thinly
at the werewolf’s imminent demise.

It’s not fair,
Lucian despaired.
I was so close….

He threw back his head and let out an agonized howl that echoed across the
castle and countryside beyond. He keened for Sonja, his child, and his own
crushed hopes.

Two more silver quarrels struck him in the back.

Raze raised his eyes to the full moon shining above the clearing. The
lambent lunar orb stirred something deep within his soul. He felt the beast
awakening, yearning to break free. His dark skin itched as though bristling fur
was scratching at it from inside. Wiry black hair spouted from his palms. His
teeth tugged painfully at their roots. Exploring his mouth with his tongue, he
found his incisors sharper and more pointed than he remembered.

Like the fangs of an animal.

Closing his eyes, he fought back against the impending change. He knew the
hour would come, perhaps even tonight, when he would have to let the wolf loose,
but he was not ready to surrender his human guise yet.

Let me pretend that I am still a man,
he thought,
if only for a while
longer.

A fervent howl suddenly rang out across the forest. Raze’s eyes snapped
open and he jumped to his feet. A damp fog shrouded the clearing. All around the
campsite, the other lycans and humans instantly dropped what they were doing.
Sabas put down the rabbit he was skinning. Xristo lifted his head from his
bedroll. Everyone was riveted by the melancholy baying, which seemed to come
from the direction of the castle. Raze knew at once who was howling.

Lucian!

The other lycans turned toward Raze, worry and confusion written over their
scruffy faces. In Lucian’s absence, they looked to the giant African for
direction. Raze wished he knew what to tell them. He had already guessed, when
Lucian had not returned to them, that their leader’s mission to rescue his
beloved Sonja had gone tragically awry. Indeed, many of them had already given
Lucian up for dead. Now his anguished howl proved that Lucian was still alive,
but for how much longer?

And what can we do to save him?

Raze clenched his fists. Deep furrows creased his brow. Before he could
decide on a course of action, however, an ominous rumbling came from deeper in
the wilderness. Broken branches and twigs cracked beneath what sounded like a
stampede of onrushing bodies. Frightened birds and bats took to the moonlit sky
in fright. The dense brush rustled as though before a storm. The startled rebels
shouted and looked at each other in alarm. Xristo raised his sword, and lobbed a spare hatchet over to Sabas. Raze grabbed for his ax. He spun away from the
castle to see an unstoppable wave of werewolves hurtling from the misty depths
of the forest!

Panic surged within Raze as he recognized the feral beasts who had attacked
the caravan several nights ago. The other humans, and even most of the newly
liberated lycans, gasped in terror at the charging pack. Some braced for battle,
while others turned and fled for their lives. Raze hefted his ax and vowed to
sell his life dearly if need be. Lycan though he was now, he could not help but
fear his savage brethren. Had not Lucian himself described the wolves of the
wild as mindless, ravening beasts?

So much for immortality,
he thought wryly.

But, to the astonishment of both Raze and his compatriots, the werewolves
swept through the camp without attacking anyone, passing the dumbfounded rebels
by. Raze blinked in surprise, frankly amazed to find himself still alive. He
watched the huge pack bound away from the clearing—as though answering Lucian’s
call.

Of course!
he thought. He remembered how Lucian had turned back the
rampaging werewolves the night of the ambush and realized that he had vastly
underestimated his friend’s influence over the untamed denizens of the forests.
The wolves weren’t coming for us at all,
he realized.
They’re
heading for the castle!

He shared a pointed look with Sabas and Xristo and the rest. Awareness dawned
on their faces as well. A wolfish grin crossed Raze’s face as he grasped the full
implication of what was happening. He raised his ax above his head and answered Lucian’s howl with a deep-throated roar of
his own. Fear gave way to exhilaration. His lycan blood sung in his veins.
Casting all doubts aside, he sprinted eagerly after the pack.

To the castle—and Lucian!

Cheering exuberantly, the entire camp followed him.

Hardened Death Dealers were shaken by the intensity of Lucian’s howl. They
inched slowly toward the impaled lycan, who lay sprawled atop the palisade.
Although he appeared weak and vulnerable now, the former blacksmith had already
slain more vampires than any werewolf since the infamous William of yore. They
would take no chances with this one….

The lycan’s shaggy hide receded as he reverted to human form. Naked and
bleeding, Lucian hung onto Sonja’s pendant as he writhed in agony. The vicious
harpoon still transfixed his right knee. Silver quarrels studded his back and
shoulders. Despite the pain, he refused to let go of the ash-covered pendant.
Viktor would have to pry it from his cold, dead fingers!

Lucian heard heavy footsteps drawing near. Clanking armor heralded a hasty
end to his struggles. After missing his chance to execute him twice now, Viktor
was not likely to make that mistake again. Grimacing, Lucian tried to expel the
silver bolts from his body, as he had before, but he was too weak from pain and
loss of blood. There was nothing to do now but wait for the Death Dealers to
live up to their name at last.

Make it quick,
he thought.
So I may see my Sonja again.

But a sudden clamor, coming from beyond the castle walls, drowned out the
tentative approach of the guards. At first Lucian mistook the deafening roar for
another thunderstorm, but then his keen hearing made out the howls, whoops, and
war cries of an oncoming army. His bleary eyes widened in surprise. Hope flared
unexpectedly in his heart. Despite the harpoon and chain mercilessly nailed to
his leg, he hauled himself up against the battlements. Gasping for breath, he
peered out over the parapet at the breathtaking sight of dozens of frenzied
werewolves and lycans charging up the mountain toward the castle. Armed lycans
brandishing swords, pikes, and axes ran alongside snarling werewolves who
stormed the fortress in tremendous numbers. This was no mere raiding party,
Lucian realized at once. It appeared as though every werewolf and lycan in
creation was rushing to his rescue. He spotted Raze in the forefront of the
charge, with Sabas and Xristo following closely behind him. The rocky slope
quaked beneath the stampeding horde. A chorus of belligerent growls and shouts
filled the air.

“Thank you, my brothers,” Lucian whispered hoarsely. He sagged against the
battlements, too weak to do more than watch as the bestial invaders stormed the
fortress. The chain tugging on his leg went slack as the Death Dealer at the
other end of the iron links suddenly had a bigger problem to deal with. Defying
gravity, an irresistible tide of werewolves crested over the outer walls, taking
the outnumbered guards by surprise. They ran straight up the carved granite fortifications and bounded
over the parapet onto the palisade, where they bowled over the blindsided
guards. Shrieking knights were sent tumbling down the stairs. Werewolves pounced
upon the fallen guards, tearing into them with slashing claws and fangs. Mangled
pieces of armor were flung aside as the voracious beasts feasted on cold vampire
blood and entrails. Strewn limbs and viscera littered the courtyard. Surviving
the initial onslaught, a female Death Dealer made it to her feet and bolted for
the keep, only to be brought down by a lunging werewolf. Pinned beneath the
creature’s massive paws, she barely had time to squirm before its jaws closed
upon her head, crushing her skull in an explosion of blood and brains. The beast
swallowed her head whole before bounding after another victim. Blood streamed
across the cobblestones, forming scarlet canals between the tiles. Bones
crunched like broken china. The ghastly sounds brought a pained smile to
Lucian’s lips. The screams of the dying vampires were like music to his ears.