The White Wolf (Half-Breed Book 1) (11 page)

“Of course. It was a pleasure to meet all of you,” Oliva smiled.

“Likewise,” Milea replied with a smile.

Oliva then turned back to her work after she found the book she was searching for. After the headmistress gave them directions to the inn, Varg and his crew then left the girl to her studies and left the Academy just as the sun went down.

Emila Vahn had always seen Oliva as a model student with a bright future. Her curious nature gave her the drive to learn things most students only ever dreamed of. The girl had the intelligence to lead the school herself someday, and the headmistress took every measure to ensure she reached her highest potential. If there was one thing Emila taught Oliva about leadership, it was that leaders sometimes had to make sacrifices for the greater good. It was a cruel responsibility, one she only hoped Oliva would understand.

Emila left Oliva in her study to finish her work and once the bounty hunters had left the school, she took a door down the top floor corridor that led to a different, lesser known set of stairs. The stairs led town a dark, empty tower and the creaking of the old steps was the only sound that could be heard. To see where she was going, the headmistress summoned a ball of light to guide her. She climbed down to the bottom floor and then into an underground chamber.

Emila looked to the corner of the chamber where a man sat at a table. She took a step out of the shadows and said, “We have a problem. Count Rowan has discovered Lionel's fate and sent the White Wolf and his comrades to fetch Oliva. She's set to leave at dawn, so you will have to make the grab tonight, Tain.”

Tain sheathed the blade he was twirling in his hands and replied, “Good, I hate waiting.”

CHAPTER 10

RAIN POURED FROM THE NIGHT SKY as Oliva, with only the dim light of a candle to guide her, struggled to stay awake to finish her project. She silently admitted that she normally could have finished much sooner, but the past day's events kept her curious mind occupied. First she wrote yet another letter to her grandfather in the morning, then three complete strangers arrive to tell her that Uncle Conley desired her immediate presence at his castle. She had no idea why her uncle would hire bounty hunters to fetch her, but she read the letter several times over and she had faith that he had a sound reason for trusting strangers with her safety.

With a quick stroke of her quill, Oliva put the finishing touches on her paper. She cleaned off her quill, replaced the cap on the ink bottle, and looked over what she'd just written on the parchment. Normally, she would have rewritten this, but given the circumstances of having to travel early in the morning and that it would take too long to write the paper again, she grudgingly decided it was time to stop. She blew on the ink until it was dry, rolled up her parchment, and placed it on Mistress Vahn's desk. She then packed her quill and ink bottle back in the case her grandfather had given her, replaced the books she was borrowing onto their respective shelves, and packed her own notes into her satchel.

As Oliva reached for her candle to return to her chamber, she could have sworn she caught sight of a dark figure moving in the corner of her eye. She shined her candle in the direction of the shadow, but saw nothing. She reasoned that she was simply tired and her mind was playing tricks on her, but she still couldn't shake the odd feeling that someone was watching her.

Oliva emerged from Mistress Vahn's study and locked the door with her spare key. The dark corridor seemed eerie with the pounding rain, but she was confident that her candle would provide enough light to see her to her chamber. She approached the staircase and climbed down to the fourth floor, where the girls' living quarters were. She emerged from the stairs on the fourth floor and walked down the corridor towards the tower door when she spotted another shadow moving. She turned sharply to the left to investigate, but again saw nothing. Despite her constant reminding herself that she was just imagining things, she could have sworn she heard snickering.

As her heart started to beat faster, Oliva picked up her pace until she heard a trickling sound. It sounded like the rain leaking through a window, but Oliva didn't see any windows open. The trickling soon turned into a gush, and Oliva noticed that water was starting to spread in a large puddle across the floor. The puddle grew bigger, blocking Oliva's path. She backed away from the water, but it seemed to follow her every movement. To her further shock, the water then rose from the ground and began to take shape in midair.

Without a second thought, Oliva dropped everything and ran from the cursed water. She heard the gushing continue behind her, as if the water was chasing her. It was so dark that she couldn't see where she was going except for when lightning struck outside. She finally found the stairs and ran up to the fifth floor. She somehow managed not to trip in the dark and when she found the top of the stairs, she ran towards Mistress Vahn's chambers.

Oliva didn't make it that far. The water wrapped around her feet and something in the water pulled her feet backwards and knocked her to the floor. Oliva splashed into a puddle as the water began to retreat. She turned onto her back, propped up with her elbows, just in time to see a figure solidifying out of the water and standing over her.

The water formed the features of a man with dark, scarred skin. His pale blonde hair fell over pointed ears and his blue and gray armor materialized soon after. The last thing to form were his sharp, aqua-colored eyes. Though she wanted to get up and run, her body was frozen and unresponsive.

The mysterious man pulled her to her feet and muttered, “Don't scream.”

Oliva did scream, and it was the last thing she remembered before a sharp pain in the back of her head made her vision go dark.

Varg's sharp instincts saved him from death on multiple occasions. It was due to this fact that when he awoke with a start in the middle of the night, he knew something was wrong. The room was dark and Milea and Erril slept soundly in their own beds, but Varg sensed that something was amiss despite the apparent peace. The streets outside were far too quiet and the night seemed darker than it should have.

Varg looked to Milea's bed to see her chest rising and Erril seemed just as well on the next bed over, so Varg allowed himself to breathe again. Just when he was about to dismiss his feeling that something was wrong, Varg heard the floor creak. He reached for Frost Fang, which was rested against the wall next to his bed. Once he felt the cool metal handle, he firmly gripped it and swung in the air before him with all his might.

Frost Fang's blade collided with a black figure that lunged for him with a knife drawn. He halted the attacking cultist a mere second before his blade reached Varg's throat. The dead cultist tumbled across the room in a bloodied mess, causing Milea and Erril to wake from their deep slumber.

“What's going on?” Milea said as she hopped out of bed.

“A Shadow Hand cultist just tried to kill me,” Varg explained.

Milea followed his pointing finger to the lifeless cultist across the room, then said, “If the Shadow Hand is in Balik, Oliva is in danger!”

“We have to find her before they do,” Varg said. “Let's go.”

Once the crew grabbed their equipment, they rushed out of the inn and ignored the questioning glares from the innkeeper. They made haste to the Crown District, where they rounded the corners of the tall buildings until they found the courtyard of the Academy. The courtyard was empty except for a few guards patrolling the area. There were no evident signs of cultist activity from the outside, but Varg had a feeling they should keep looking. He decided to start by asking one of the guards.

Varg approached a guard stationed in front of the water fountain. “Everything all right?”

The guard eyed Varg suspiciously, but answered, “Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Varg continued, “You haven't seen any suspicious characters wandering about the school property, have you?”

The guard looked Varg in the eyes and said accusingly, “As a matter of fact, I have.”

Milea pulled Varg away by the arm, then said to the guard, “Sorry to bother you, Sir. We'll be on our way.”

“You do that,” the guard remarked.

Varg marched away from the guard with Milea at his side and Erril trailed behind them. He finally looked to Milea and said, “What now? I doubt the other guards will listen, much less grant us entry into the school.”

“The spells protecting the school would make sneaking in not an option, let alone the gargoyles. If we snoop around outside, we may arouse more suspicion from the guards,” Milea explained.

“Then what should we do?” Erril wondered.

Varg let his eyes wonder around the grounds once more, desperate to find some kind of hint. At first he saw nothing but the guards again, but a sharp movement to the east end of the yard caught his eye. He pointed to where he saw the movement and said, “Over there.”

Varg rushed to the site of the oddity, which led his eyes to a strange glow from behind part of the school. He saw the figure of a man move near the glow and step down a set of stairs and disappear from sight. He crept towards the light and crouched as he got closer. He took a hiding spot behind a wall next to a set of stairs. Milea crouched behind another wall opposite Varg and Erril crouched down beside her. They peeked around the corner and surveyed the scene. The stairs dipped into a smaller area that seemed fairly unused by students, but the scenery was not what caught his attention.

A group of cultists stood triumphant with the water elf they had seen at the hideout in Wild Valley. Tain stood with none other than Oliva unconscious in his arms. To Varg's shock, not to mention ire, Emila Vahn stood before the cultists and spoke to them as if she were scolding students.

The headmistress tilted her nose upward and looked upon the cultists with contempt as she spoke, “I told you to keep it quiet! Now half the school is up and about looking for her!”

“I told her not to scream,” Tain remarked.

“If you don't want the Serpant's plan to go awry then you'd better get out of Balik with the girl before the guards catch you,” Emila barked.

Varg's blood boiled at the sight of Emila speaking about Oliva as if she were a tool. His knuckles tightened around Frost Fang's handle that the metal shaft threatened to shatter. Varg exchanged a glance with Milea, who nodded in his direction along with Erril. Varg nodded in return, and all at once they charged into the scene.

Varg marched straight for Emila and spat, “You traitor!”

The headmistress and the cultists jerked their heads in surprise at the ambushers, but Tain seemed indifferent.

“I should have known better than to send Rokir to handle those three. The fool couldn't handle getting into the district without someone giving him directions,” the water elf muttered.

Emila ignored his remarks and shouted, “What are you three doing here?”

“I think the better question is why are you betraying your own apprentice to the Serpent?” Varg countered.

The headmistress stuck up her nose again, a gesture that made Varg want to rip it off her face with his bare hands, and said, “I don't expect your kind to understand my methods nor do I under any circumstance owe you an explanation.”

“Nothing can justify selling your own apprentice to the Shadow Hand!” Varg spat.

Tain stepped forward and interrupted, “If everyone is done here, perhaps we can be on our way?”

“You aren't going anywhere until you release Oliva,” Varg countered.

“I believe I made myself rather clear,” Tain retorted.

“As did I,” Varg barked.

“As much as I would love spending hours arguing with you, I don't have time for it. I have a job to do and the Serpent is not a patient man,” Tain replied.

Tain nodded to one of the cultists, and the cultist pulled a crystal from his pocket and tossed it against a nearby wall. Instead of bouncing off the wall and onto the ground, the crystal disintegrated upon impact and in its place, a tall portal of pure shadow formed on the wall. Tain made a move towards the portal, prompting Varg to charge after him.

“Stop!” he yelled.

The water elf ignored him and stepped through the portal with Oliva in his arms. The remaining cultists fled through the portal behind him. The portal remained open for a few seconds, but faded away before Varg could follow them.

“Dammit!” Varg yelled. He then offered a swift punch to the wall where the portal had been and left a crack in the stonework.

Varg then turned his attention back to the headmistress. With fiery eyes and a hand on his blade, Varg charge at Emila Vahn with the full intent of ending her life for her treachery. The elder mage had her spell ready as Milea whipped out her bow and loosed an arrow. It missed the headmistress, but Erril used the resulting distraction to land a sneak attack with her dagger. The girl landed a direct hit across the headmistress's forearm, but an invisible barrier seemed to block the damage and prevent the dagger from even piercing her sleeve.

Varg quickened his pace while the headmistress was distracted and brought Frost Fang to her proper position. When he was close enough, he swung at Emila with full force. The blade merely bounded off of a shield of energy created by the headmistress before the blow landed. Nevertheless Varg rounded for another attack. All was in vain, it seemed, as the headmistress's magic was far to powerful to penetrate her shields.

“Enough of this,” Emila growled.

With a jerk of her hands, she struck Erril with a lightning spell and sent the poor child flying backwards like a rag doll. Varg quickly checked on the girl, saw she was healing up, and returned to battle. After Milea suffered the same fate as Erril, Varg decided that he needed to fight magic with magic, so to speak. With his free hand, he threw large icicles at Emila. The headmistress swiftly dodged the spears, but Varg could tell that she wouldn't last long. Given his many years of practice with his natural skill, Varg had become quick and deadly with his icy power.

Emila was far quicker than she seemed to be, almost more so than Milea or Erril. The battleground was soon becoming a frozen tundra with all the missed shots Varg let loose. The half-blood planned to use this to his advantage and waited patiently for the headmistress to make a mistake. It came when she took a step on a sheet of ice and slipped onto her back.

Before the traitor could collect herself enough to begin a new spell, Varg pulled all of his power together and sent nearly a dozen large icicles flying in her direction. The headmistress was still quick despite her disorientation and managed to dodge all but one. Emila howled in pain as the final frozen spear sliced her arm open. The headmistress stared in horror as the skin around her wound blackened with frostbite and froze solid. With the sudden still of battle, she looked in Varg's direction and backed away from him

“What kind of monster are you?” she muttered in terror.

Varg gazed upon the damage he'd done and realized that the headmistress would have no further use of her arm even if she were healed before the frost bite killed her. He wanted to say he didn't care, but a pang of guilt tugged his gut nonetheless. The way he delivered this fate without mercy gave Varg a chill down his spine, as he remembered all too well what happened the last time . . .