Seduced by Lies (14 page)

My feet hurt so bad I wanted to jab Ocean with the heel end of my pretty shoes, but I stood still and waited for the council to give their decree.

Ryder had been brought back to the podium, clothed in the blood red robe.

"We have considered this case carefully. Ryder, while you acted in good conscious, on behalf of the Church, you did so without permission from this council, thereby undermining other plans we are undertaking at this time. In light of this, you are declared guilty and shall be punished for your crimes. You sentence is thus. You shall be chained in a black room with no light and minimal food for one hundred years."

I didn't want to think about what one hundred years living like that would do to a man. I had no idea how long Lycans even lived, but I was sure he'd go mad in that time. My heart broke a little at that, but then I thought of Ana's face and steeled myself against mercy.

Bishop Alaric stiffened next to us and walked toward Ryder. "I call for a Trial of Strength."

"Judgment has already been decided," said the center council member, who seemed to be the leader.

"You may not deny a Trial of Strength, not if it's brought forth by a third party."

"I deny it," one of the side council members said.

The bishop turned on him. "Then face Ryder in combat. Prove your strength."

The man backed up and turned his head toward the man in the center.

"Who shall test him?" asked the leader.

The room fell silent. I had no idea what they were talking about. It seemed Alaric was trying to save Ryder. He'd always been trying to save Ryder.

"I will," said Alaric.

A few of the council members gasped at that.

I leaned into Derek. "What are they doing?"

"Power," said Derek, echoing our conversation from the plane. "They're letting power decide."

"So be it," said the councilor. "You will head north to the Frozen Mountain, and there Ryder shall fight for his life."

Make mad the guilty, and appall the free,


Confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed

The very faculties of eyes and ears.

— William Shakespeare, Hamlet

WE DROVE AS
far as we could, through the Italian countryside to the northern mountains where the weather turned from a balmy warm to cool. Where the peaks of the mountain had been dipped in snow and looked like ice cream sundaes. I didn't have to look at Ryder during the drive. Didn't have to think of him in shackles, muzzled like an animal.

Not until we came to a stop and had to hike the rest of the way.

The bishop clearly cared about Ryder, and though I didn't know their backstory I could see the real affection between them, could feel it with my new powers. Still, Alaric tugged at Ryder as we hiked up the steep mountains. The hike burned my lungs and legs, the air thinner and more difficult to breathe. I couldn't imagine making the climb with my hands and legs shackled and my mouth muzzled. Once again I had to keep Ana's face in the forefront of my mind before basic human compassion broke me.

It became harder because I had doubts. What if he hadn't killed the other kids? Yes, he'd definitely attacked Drake, and he had to be held accountable for that, but Drake was still alive and he hadn't actually done anything to hurt Ana. It might have been easy for him to say he planned on killing the little girl, but could he have really done it? We'd never know now. Could we convict someone based on an intention that might not have played out in real life? Or on something we think he did but have no evidence of?

Nature attacked me with vigor as my mind played through all the scenarios. Mosquito bites, bugs, the heat building under my coat as my face froze in the icy wind. I only noticed any of it peripherally. Derek and I didn't speak, both too lost in our own thoughts and neither of us wanting to share those thoughts with Ryder and Alaric listening to every breath we took.

The complete immersion into nature, the kind of nature that can kill you as easily as it can inspire you, does something to a person that nothing else can. It remakes you into something new, something changed. I felt that change happening as we hiked, the power of the place pulsing through me, the sharp edges of each experience shaving off any dull perceptions the ordinary world had left in me.

My wolf wanted out, wanted to run and hunt in this untouched land. With eyes glowing in wolf form, I could see each detail of the mountain we climbed, as if looking more closely at a lover. From a distance and in photographs, nature is beautiful, sweeping in its epic grandeur. From this close, in the thick of it, the world shows its warts: the bulges of rotting foliage, the fetid remains of a squirrel carcass, the insects swarming beneath the surface. But if you hold those images longer, if you look past them, the beauty returns more brilliantly than before. The bruises and ugliness transform into a complex tapestry that holds a powerful grandeur.

I'd taken all this in by the time we reached the grey stone fortress on the peak of the mountain. I felt transported back in time as I faced the old medieval castle, snow covering it like a blanket as the moon's reflected light shimmered over it. We made little noise as our feet sunk into soft snow. Still, it felt too loud.

The hairs on my neck prickled as if being watched as we walked the winding trail to the castle. I pulled my coat tighter around me, the temperature dropping as the sun sunk into the horizon for the night.

Giant stone doors greeted us when we reached the last step, the center of it engraved with a wolf claw that looked distorted, not the right shape or size. My breath came in white clouds as I exhaled, waiting for whatever was to happen next.

Bishop Alaric put his hand on the engraving, then shifted it into Lycan where it filled the space exactly. He pushed, then turned and something clicked within the door.

Stone ground against itself and with a loud thud, the doors began to open.

No one stood at the door to greet us. We followed Alaric, who still pulled Ryder along. At first, the giant hall seemed empty, but a shadow moved and I squinted, pulling on my wolf senses to see the bent forms praying. They were men, monks, by the look of them, wearing dark cloaks of brown and black. As we got closer, their faces seemed… off somehow. Their eyes. They had no eyes, just black pits where their eyes had once been.

I froze, stepping back a fraction. Derek caught my hand and Alaric looked back at me. "They are the Eyes of the Moon. They give up their sight in order to enhance their other senses—their ability to see the future. In their pursuit, some of the monks choose to become deaf as well. The less distraction from the world, the clearer their vision of the future."

One monk rose and hobbled to us with a cane. His aura shone bright, and for a flash of a moment I felt the pain he'd endured when he gave up his eyes. "Welcome, weary travelers. I am Marcus. You are here for a Trial of Strength, I see. May I offer you a place to rest and some refreshments before your ordeal?"

My stomach grumbled on cue and I blushed, embarrassed by my body's betrayal. Marcus just smiled, his eyes disconcerting but his face kind. "Follow me."

He led us to another large hall with a massive oak table filling the center and dozens of chairs of the same wood placed around it. We all sat at one end as Marcus brought out platters of meats, fresh and dried fruit, warm bread and what looked like hand churned butter. He filled goblets—actual goblets—with apple cider.

Everything tasted like outside, like it had just been plucked from the earth and plopped onto our plate. Perhaps it was the hunger after climbing for so many hours, or perhaps it really was that fresh.

At the end of our quiet meal, during which time Alaric released the muzzle from Ryder so he could eat, I dared ask the question that had been on my mind since we arrived: "Was it worth it? Giving up your sight to see the future?"

Marcus wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin, his face from this close holding the map of his life—every pain, every joy, every laugh and tear, all etched deeply into his skin. "Many say so. Most of mankind knows the present. Few know the future."

"Yet all of mankind makes mistakes," I said.

"Some of the best things in life come from mistakes," the old man said. "We study the future, not to be perfect, but to understand how imperfect we truly are."

"Like historians study the past." I sipped at the cider. "They see mankind make the same mistakes over and over again."

"So do I," he said. "I see a hundred mistakes to come and a hundred more that may. I see how futile perfection is."

"If we don't strive to better ourselves, to perfect ourselves, then how will we move forward?" Derek asked.

"Focus on the joys you have. Focus on the sight that steals your breath, the sound that stops your heart, and the smell that makes you feel. The rest will take care of itself."

"So, we should focus on the present?" I asked. It seemed odd advice coming from a man who had given up the ability to see the present in order to see the future.

"That is the way to happiness." A bittersweet smile pulled at his lined face.

I tucked that lesson into my mind, knowing it was an important one. I wondered if Marcus would have kept his sight, if he had learned it earlier.

My first thought, as we left the fortress through a different door on a track to what looked like a grove in the forest, was about Ryder. And lunch. Was it a good idea to eat before a Trial of Strength? I didn't know what this trial meant, but if you shouldn't swim after eating, it made sense you shouldn't do something like a Trial of Strength after eating, right?

Then I kicked myself mentally, because of course, given what this trial likely meant for him, his first concern wouldn't be an upset stomach.

My mind shut down as animal instincts kicked in when we heard something around us, stalking us. Sticks snapped in the snow, ice crunched underfoot. It seemed to come from everywhere.

Derek stood protectively near me, his body trembling to control his shifting. "What's out here?"

Sniffing, I smelled other people, other Lycans. I could identify them more easily now, more from their non-scent than their scent.

Alaric stopped, looking around, a fine mist obscuring the landscape, like in a dream. "I must call the Old Ones." He hunched over, twisting, bones cracking, and when he pulled back his head he showed more beast than human. His howl filled the night sky, shaking the world, or so it seemed.

The howl faded and silence filled the space, a silence so complete it felt as if the earth held its breath in anticipation of something bigger.

And then the howls began. They surrounded us, growing louder and closer. Shadows cast by moonlight crept in from every direction. Derek began to shift, but held himself as human as he circled me.

I braced for an attack, but only one lone wolf emerged from the shadows. He towered over us, even over Derek who dwarfed most men, and wore scars across his body as war wounds, with pride. While he walked on two legs like a man, white fur matted his flesh and razor sharp claws turned hands into paws. The Lycan didn't shift into full wolf like us, and it was a disturbing sight.

He raged and bellowed in anger. "Who calls upon me?"

The bishop, human once again, faced this beast without fear. "We seek a Trial of Strength."

The white wolf chuckled. "Good. Far too long I have been away from death."