In The Shadow Of The Beast (28 page)

The Baron would need him removed from the
equation, or at the very least locked away and out of sight for any
transition of power to retain its cohesion.

Despite his disgust at the scope of The
Barons tyrannical ambition, Huron would not ordinarily concern
himself with the machinations of the court. Even when they were of
such monumental proportions as this. Kings rose and fell, as did
kingdoms. It was all part of life’s cruel cycle.

But Hurons immediate concern was far closer
to home than shifting allegiances between the houses. He thought
only of the Lady Veronique. She did not strike Huron as the sort of
woman who would stand by and allow anyone, even her brother, to
depose both her husband and son. The Baron would realize this also,
and therefore it would have occurred to him that Veronique was
perhaps as much of a threat to his ambitions as Sigourd. Perhaps
plans were already in motion that would threaten her safety? This
could not be allowed.

The knight had always taken supreme pride in
the strength of his vow, of his word as bond. The prospect of
breaking the oath he had sworn to serve even a man as traitorous as
The Baron Mortaron did not sit well with him.

He looked on through the darkness at the
twinkling lights in the valley below. Around him the shrill howling
of the mountain passes had picked up. Flurries of snow whipped past
on the winds icy, hollow breath.

‘
Carry on, ’ he instructed
the commander. The man pulled his horse around, trotting off to
brief his men. Huron tugged his cloak around him, feeling the cold
for the first time since he’d ventured beyond the mountains. He had
reached a decision. Looking to the night sky, Huron tapped quietly
upon the vambrace of his armor. The tinny sound carrying up into
the forest canopy. There followed a brief silence before Huron
tapped again lightly upon the cold steel of his armored sleeve.
After another moments quiet, there was a sudden beating of wings as
a dark shape came swooping down out of the starry night.

From the shadowed depths of the forest, a
lone, hooded figure watched the war host as it prepared to move
out. He studied them in secret as the host in turn watched the
village in the valley below.

He had tracked the intruders since they
crested the ridge, coming into the shadow of the great mountain
fang that loomed in the light of the full moon. He understood their
intention clearly enough. After a moments pause, the figure broke
from cover to make his way back down the mountainside toward the
village.

The moon had passed its zenith hours since
by the time the lone figure had made it back to the village amongst
the red trees. Making his way along one of the many high gantries
that joins the massive pods where his people made their home, he
arrived finally at his destination. One of the dwellings near the
centre of the main grouping, the nodal point of the village, where
gatherings are held and decisions made that would determine the
course of history.

But tonight, the meeting is clandestine, and
history will be decided by one man and one alone.

The figure entered the pod, gently drawing
aside the fine silvery gauze that framed the entrance.

Standing near an opening that looks out at
the beaming moon in the now cloudless sky, Bael regards the night
with an almost melancholy interest. He did not turn as the figure
crossed the chamber to stand behind him.

‘
What news have you brought
me, Nartaba?’ Bael asked.

The figure cast off his hood to reveal a
face wrought with deep concern. His eyes held the light of a keen
intelligence, and the zeal of the fanatic.

‘
A war host of mortal men.
They are encamped on the slopes of the western face, hidden from
sight in the forests there,’ said Nartaba.

Bael considered this information. He
scratched ruefully at the whisp of a beard about his youthful face,
continuing to stare out at the silvered contours of the forest
beyond his abode.

‘
As I predicted. My fathers
grand plans have brought the attentions of mankind to our
homestead,’ he said.

‘
What are we to do?’ asked
Nartaba.

Bael’s response was not immediately
forthcoming as he pondered his adjuncts question. The silence hung
heavy in the air between them for long moments.

‘
We do nothing,’ he said
finally.

A look of concern flashed behind Nartaba’s
eyes, ‘But surely, that would doom the village?’

Bael turned slowly so that he could meet the
questioning look in the other man’s expression.

‘
Great sacrifices are
required to achieve great deeds, my kinsman. It pains me to do what
must be done, but it shall nevertheless come to pass. For the good
of all, surely it is better that a few should suffer?’

Nartaba’s uncertainty waged war with his
devotion to his leaders cause. In the end, it was that devotion
which decided the matter for him. He nodded his head in
agreement.

‘
We will allow the flames
of creation to burn away the old world, and allow a new one to
flourish in its place,’ said Bael as he turned back to the portal
and the forest beyond, his eyes coming to rest on the slopes of the
western face. Out in the darkness beyond the village, fate was
making its steady way into the annals of brutal history.

CHAPTER 16

Revelations...

Sigourd rolled over on a bed of the
shimmering gauze. He tried to open his eyes against the glare of
the sunlight streaming in through an open window. Squinting, he
raised an arm to shield his face from the brilliance.

A woman’s delicate hand reached across him
to mop his brow gently with a damp cloth. She dabbed at the
perspiration there tenderly. Sigourd forced himself to open his
eyes so that he might look upon the begetter of that tender caress.
When he saw who it was that nursed him, he recoiled as if he had
chanced upon a snake in his bed.

Isolde sat before him. She laid the damp
cloth aside and sat back so that she could meet his icy stare, ‘The
Change is a most taxing thing. Even for those that would make a
habit of the experience, but especially when it is the first time.
It can be quite...uncomfortable.’

Sigourd noticed movement from one side of
the oval chamber. Standing there in the doorway was another man,
his aspect dark and uncompromising. There was a thin shadow of
facial hair about his youthful face, and a sadistic air about him
that reminded Sigourd of his uncle Mortaron. ‘Where is my
companion?’ asked Sigourd.

‘
He fled into the forest,’
Isolde said. ‘I imagine he’s quite safe wherever he managed to end
up. He appeared quite capable.

‘
Last night. What did you
do to me?’ demanded Sigourd.

‘
You remember nothing?’ she
said.

‘
I remember everything,’ he
said, his mood dark with concern.

‘
I know what you must think
of me,’ said Isolde.

‘
I don’t know what to
think,’ stated Sigourd, unable to keep the reproachful tone from
his voice.

‘
You have led me across the
lands on a fool’s errand, only to place a curse upon me. To turn me
into some fell creature the likes of which I cannot even begin to
describe.’

The man with the severe aspect stepped into
the room. He wore his contempt for Sigourd undisguised, ‘We have
liberated you half-man. Perhaps instead of finding reason to
complain, you might wish to thank us.’

To his knowledge, Sigourd had never lain
eyes on the man, but his voice was strangely familiar. Like the
memory of a song whose tune won’t quite coalesce. Isolde turned
sharply, scowling at the man who had spoken.

‘
That is the truth,’ she
said, ‘we have helped you to realize the true and wonderful nature
of what you really are.’

‘
Which is what exactly?’
asked Sigourd.

There was a moments hesitation from Isolde,
she looked uncertain of the manner in which she wanted to phrase
her answer.

‘
You are wulfen
Sigourd.’

Sigourds eyes went wide with surprise, and
he too was silent for a moment as he processed this information.
‘Nonsense,’ he said, ‘the wulfen are a myth. A legend told to
children to scare them into behaving themselves.’

‘
That’s no more true than
the fact of me sitting here.’

Isolde was quiet then, allowing Sigourd a
moment to absorb what she was telling him. The expression of deep
concern never left her face. slowly, she moved closer to him, bowed
her head low to his, ‘What I did I did for my people. But you must
not doubt the honesty of my feelings for you. At first my only
interest was to gain your favor so that you would follow me here
when if you believed I’d been kidnapped. But as time went on I grew
to care deeply for the man I was coming to know. I allowed myself
to fall in love with you Sigourd.’

Sigourd regarded her coldly for a few
moments, considering her words. Finally, she had his response,
‘Then you are as fool as I for allowing that to happen.’ His jaw
was set hard as he delivered the line.

Sigourd was surprised to see that genuine
pain flashed behind Isolde’s eyes, but she retained her composure.
She stood up from the bed where she had sat, ‘You’ve been through
much, you should rest.’ With that she turned and left the chamber.
Sigourd noticed that Isolde could barely bring herself to look at
the man in the doorway. She slipped past him where he allowed her
the slimmest of gaps to pass by, an amused smirk on his face.
Isolde’s body language suggested that she would be more inclined to
bite off her own tongue than engage that man in any sort of contact
other than was strictly necessary.

The man watched Isolde disappear around a
corner, and then turned to regard Sigourd.

He could feel the malice that this man held
for him, but refused to be cowed by it. Instead he sat up a little
straighter despite the ache in his bones, meeting the other man’s
malignant gaze unflinchingly.

‘
She clearly has a weakness
for you. Such a waste,’ said the man. ‘I would show her the error
of that given but half the chance.’

A cruel smile creased his mouth just then as
a thought occurred to him, ‘Perhaps one day such a chance will come
my way. One simply has to twist fate’s arm and the possibilities
are endless.’

Just then, another voice, brazen and low
like the rumble of an avalanche, sounded in the chamber, one that
Sigourd recognized instantly.

‘
Bael, you will leave us
now.’

Sigourd hadn’t even realized there was
another person in the room with him.

The man named Bael looked to a far corner of
the chamber, his expression darkening even further. His thin lips
tightened in annoyance, but he said nothing more before turning to
stalk from the chamber, casting only the briefest of contemptuous
glances in Sigourd’s direction.

Sigourd turned to see who it was that had
spoken from behind him, although he already knew full well to whom
the voice belonged.

Moving to stand before Sigourd was the large
man who had confronted him in the clearing beneath the harsh light
of the full moon. Here in the telling rays of the new day it
appeared that the man’s harsh features had softened somewhat. But
not so much that his appearance was not unusual in the
classification of mortal men. As Sigourd studied that weatherworn
face, he saw beneath the eyes the pain of one who had witnessed a
lifetime of hardships, glimmering with the light of an unyielding
spirit.

‘
You should not judge
Isolde too harshly for her part in your deception, Sigourd. Hers
was a challenging part to play. More so for the fact that she has
truly grown to love you.’

Sigourd chastised himself mentally for the
spark of joy that flared inside him to hear this man speak of
Isolde’s love for him. She had deceived him, caused him to charge
headlong foolishly into danger. He could not forgive that, and did
not wish to allow himself the weakness of falling prey to his
emotions for a second time.

‘
Her part in what?’ Sigourd
asked, ‘her part in this fantasy about wulfen and other mythic
beasts?’

The craggy faced man sighed
deeply, ‘First, I believe I should introduce myself. My name is
Arook, and I lead this tribe. It was
my
wish that you be enticed into
finding us. You are intertwined with a particular destiny that will
have far reaching repercussions Sigourd.

‘
Fantasy and madness is all
I’ve heard from any of you.You expect me to believe anything you
tell me?’

‘
I expect you to believe
your own eyes. I expect you to believe the truth you know to be
written in your heart,’ said Aook, ‘have you not been plagued by
dreams the color of blood. Nightmares that see you fighting to
return to the world of the waking? It’s all a part of your
becoming. Your emergence into a new world. The wulfen experience
this because it is what we are, and come to it naturally when we
are mature enough. It precedes The Change, which you have finally
experienced yourself. However, you are neither truly human or
wulfen, but a unique merging of both.’

‘
You have lured me here and
vexed me with some dark magic,’ said Sigourd, ‘is that my destiny,
to be a victim of your twisted conjuring?

‘
The fact of your existence
is not related to any sorcery. At least no more so than the
flowering of the trees or the birth of the new day. You owe your
life to an unusual pairing. One that has been forbidden by both of
the races whose blood courses through your veins. But that is the
extent of it.’