The White Wolf (Half-Breed Book 1) (18 page)

Milea craned her neck to face him and opened her eyes. His beautiful silver orbs penetrated her very soul. She felt a rush as their eyes remained locked, but neither moved a muscle. She wasn't sure if the hesitation came from her experiences in the past, or if she feared what would happen in the future. All she knew was that her stiff body refused to budge, as did Varg's.

Finally, Varg smiled at her and broke his gaze.
“I should be getting to bed. Sleep well, Milea.”

“You too,” Milea answered.

Varg turned away without another word, though his feet seemed to stall before he approached the door. Precious seconds flew by as she watched him open the door and leave the room. When the door closed behind him, time returned to it's normal flow and Milea simply stared at the door as if she expected it to fly open. When it remained undisturbed, she finally turned her attention to her bed, where a restless night would await her.

CHAPTER 17

EVERYONE CROWDED AROUND the table in Conley's study in the morning to discuss the next plan of action. A map lay spread across the wood surface that Conley held in place with a knife on either side. The Count stood directly in front of the map, while everyone else stood on either side of him.

“We know that Jin has influence in Rivershire and quite possibly other counties of Fellen, but as far as we're aware, he doesn't have full control of Fellen,” Conley explained.

“How do we fight this man when he has the law on his side?” Oliva pondered aloud. “He's virtually untouchable.”

“Yes, but not completely untouchable,” Conley said. “That's why I believe we should take this directly to King Reman in Whitspire. If he knew of the threat looming in the shadows, he may take action and purge the kingdom of their kind.”

“That's a wonderful plan Conley,” Varg said, “but how do you propose we get an audience with the King? Even a Lord can't just walk into the King's court without being granted permission.”

“I would get to that if you permit it,” Conley remarked. “The Reman's younger brother, Arther Rainald, is married to a distant relative of mine—third cousin to be precise—so if I can convince him of the danger, perhaps he can put in a word to the King on our behalf. Arther could surely get us an audience with the King if he believes the crisis is serious enough.”

“What if the Duke, or even the King, are already under Jin's control?” Tain finally asked.

“Let us pray that that is not the case. The Duke lives in Eastwold, which as you can guess by the name lies near the eastern border of Fellen,” Conley explained, hovering over a map of Fellen. He pointed to a city just north of a dense forest and added, “As you can see, Eastwold is northeast of here, and it should only take us about two days on horseback to get there.”

“Us?” Varg asked.

“Arther will only speak to me, so I must go with you,” Conley replied.

“Do you think it will be that easy to speak with him?” Milea asked.

“Arther and I have fought together in many battles and we've coexisted peacefully, so I have no doubt he'll listen to reason,” Conley assured. “We leave in two hours, so be ready.”

True to his word, the Count had the servants equip his armor and had the horses saddled and groomed just in time for brunch. Everyone else met him at the stable with their equipment ready and supplies restocked and the entire party departed before lunch. Following the road from Ironbarrow's gates, Conley led Varg and company to the eastern reaches of Fellen. The path, as Conley instructed, led straight from Ironbarrow to Eastwold. Their horses clopped along the road by day, and they set up camp at night. With the second dawn, Conley continued to lead the way until they arrived at Eastwold by midday.

Eastwold was much larger than Varg was accustomed to, so he found himself quite out of place. Not to his surprise, just about everyone stared at him as he rode past. Some tried to look away and pretend they didn't notice him, but others couldn't and blanched when he made eye contact with them.

When they arrived at the castle gate, the guards raised the portcullis to allow them entry once they realized who Conley was. Conley led the others to the stable before entering the front castle door.

“Lord Rowan, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” the steward said, coming down the stairs from the right side of the room.

“I have an urgent matter I need to address to His Lordship, Duke Rainald,” Conley answered.

“I am afraid that you just missed the Duke, for he left this morning to visit the King in Whitspire,” the steward ruefully informed. Upon seeing the guests' fallen expressions, he added, “However, I am sure Alastor would be willing to meet with you on his behalf.”

“Who is Alastor?” Varg asked.

The steward stared at Varg as though his ignorance actually caused him physical pain, then answered, “Lord Alastor is the eldest son of the Duke Rainald. When the Duke is away, Lord Alastor is left in charge.”

Conley stepped forward to avoid conflict between Varg and the steward and said, “May I speak with Alastor, then?”

“He is quite busy at the moment, but perhaps I can see if he has time tomorrow morning,” the steward said.

“This is important,” Varg boldly insisted.

Though he seemed agitated, the steward looked at Conley and said, “I can perhaps fit you in to see him, but you must talk to him alone, Lord Rowan.”

Though it was a clear that the steward was making an indirect stab at Varg, the half-jotun exchanged a glance with Conley, who nodded reassuringly and followed the steward.

The steward led Conley through the throne room into a door that opened into a corridor, then he followed the corridor until he came to another door that opened to a library. Inside the library, Conley witnessed a meeting between an unfamiliar wealthy man and a younger gentleman whom he recognized as Alastor. Conley waited patiently by the door with the steward at his side while the Duke's son and the other noble guest conducted their business. Once they were done, and the nobleman stormed out after the Duke's son denied his request, the steward stepped forward and bowed humbly before the son of the Duke.

Alastor, a man in his mid thirties with dark, handsome features, said to his steward, “Alain, I believe I requested no visitors.”

“Apologies for the interruption, Lord Alastor, but Lord Conley Rowan of Ironbarrow wishes to speak with you on an urgent matter,” Alain said.

With a stone expression, turned to Conley and offered him a respectful nod and an outstretched hand. “Lord Rowan, it's a pleasure to see you again.”

Conley shook Alastor's hand and said, “Likewise, I can only offer my humblest apologies for arriving unannounced.”

Alastor excused Alain, who bowed again and stepped out of the room. He then offered a seat to Conley. “To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you this fine day?”

Conley accepted the invitation and sat down opposite Alastor. “I require an audience with his Highness, King Reman, and I wish for you to put in your word with him on my behalf. Some colleagues of mine have been investigating strange occurrences in Fellen recently, and it seems that there is a group of people plotting violent crimes in the shadows.”

“What kind of crimes?” Alastor asked, pouring a goblet of wine. He offered another goblet to Conley, who gratefully accepted.

“They have been scouring Fellen for some kind of artifact of Elvish origin, and they've been known to kill those who get in the way. They believe in something called the 'Dawn', and that their leader, the Serpent, will lead them to see it.”

“I see. Do you know who these people are, and how they've managed to go undetected by any of our other county officials?” Alastor pressed as his lips touched the rim of his goblet for another drink.

“They call themselves the Shadow Hand, and it is our belief that they are gaining powerful men as allies to allow them to move more freely in the counties. They've come after me and my father-in-law with their offers, but we both refused. I'm afraid that Lionel wasn't lucky enough to escape their revenge like I was,” Conley announced after a sip of his wine.

Alastor lowered his goblet, then calmly asked, “What proof do you have that these so called 'cultists' even exist other than your own account?” Alastor pressed.

Conley went to speak, but hesitated, then answered, “None.”

Alastor placed his now empty goblet on a tray that a servant held out for him, then said, “Lord Rowan, you don't know what these people want, nor can you provide proof that they even exist. Tell me, what exactly do you want me or my father to do?”

“Please, Alastor, I have seen these cultists with my own eyes. They've killed my men, terrorized my citizens, and even tried to harm my beloved. They are dangerous, and therefore I must speak with his Majesty about this,” Conley pleaded.

“What do you propose the King do about these alleged cultists?”

“He could send his troops into their strongholds and break their forces,” Conley suggested.

“You suggest that King Reman remove his troops from the borders and major cities, where I remind you where they protect us from invaders, to follow this wild goose chase?” Alastor remarked.

“Alastor, I beg you to see reason! These cultists are far too dangerous for us to allow them to inhabit our kingdom any longer,” Conley pleaded.

“Enough,” Alastor raised his voice. “Lord Rowan, your request for an investigation against this so called 'Shadow Hand' is hereby denied. Good day.”

“Alastor, you
must
listen,” Conley begged, now standing from his seat.

Alastor stood as well. “You will not raise your voice to the nephew of the King! Leave before I have you arrested.”

Conley wanted to plead with the nobleman, but it was painfully evident that Alastor would listen no more. Admitting defeat, Conley marched out of the room as silently as he entered.

“He what?” Varg snapped when Conley told him of Alastor's decision.

“I am sorry, but he will not listen. He does not believe the danger, and frankly I don't blame him,” Conley said.

“Uncle, how can you say that?” Oliva objected.

“We have no proof of the Shadow Hand except for Lionel's journal, but Alastor doesn't understand Elvish and he could argue that we are only translating it to fit our story. I should have known that Alastor would not listen to reason. He's always been stubborn, but this is just absurd,” Conley said.

“I will make Alastor listen,” Varg growled.

“Varg, don't do anything you will regret,” Milea said, trying to calm his temper.

“The last thing we need is to get arrested,” Tain added.

“I agree, but this bastard—” Varg was suddenly cut off by Conley.

“Varg, please, keep your voice down! If Alastor heard you speaking of him this way, he'd have your head!”

Varg sighed, for even though he hated the idea of following Alastor's laws, he didn't want his friends to be punished for his actions. “What now, then?”

Just then, Alain came into the room and said, “Lord Alastor wishes to invite you and your party to dine with him this evening.”

Conley seemed hesitant to accept, but he soon replied, “Very well. Send my gratitude to his Lordship.”

The steward nodded, then turned and exited the room.

“Well at least he's hospitable,” Milea said.

“Perhaps if he listened to all of us, he might at least send some of his scouts to spy on one of Shadow Hand's strongholds so that they can verify our claim,” Conley offered.

Varg shook his head. “I hope your right, but I have a bad feeling about this.”

“There's no need to be paranoid,” Conley answered.

“Maybe, but paranoia has saved my life before,” Varg argued.

Varg knew that his gut instinct was never wrong. Alastor refused to listen to Conley, then suddenly invited them to stay for dinner as if they'd just had a long, friendly visit. Perhaps the events in the past month had simply clouded his perception, but Varg vowed to remain vigilant should his paranoia prove to be justified.

For the rest of the afternoon, Varg and the rest of his allies were allowed to roam freely through the public area of Castle Eastwold until dinner was ready. Varg and Milea walked together as they explored the greenhouse, and while Milea excitedly examined the exotic herbs she often used for alchemic purposes, Varg couldn't shake the feeling that he should keep his guard up. Nevertheless, he didn't let on to Milea what he was feeling so that he wouldn't put her on edge as well.

When Alain made the call to tell the guests that dinner was ready, Varg's instincts rose and stayed with him. In his paranoid state, he refused to part with Frost Fang for the evening. To his relief, none of the guards stopped him as he entered the feast hall with the great axe attached to his back, and he was even more relieved that his comrades carried theirs as well. Fortunately it wasn't uncommon for everyone, even the royals, to have weapons on their person at all times. Even Alastor had a large, black sword sheathed on the back of his chair at the head of the dinner table. It gave Varg solace to see that Alastor was not disturbed that he came armed to dinner, but instead smiled as the lot entered.

The son of the Duke stood from his seat and said, “Thank you all for joining me. Though Conley and I had a bit of a disagreement earlier, I wish to offer my thanks for your concern for Fellen.”

Conley stepped forward and shook Alastor's hand. “Your hospitality is much appreciated, Alastor.”

Alastor smiled and approached the rest of the group. “I do hope you intend to introduce me to your associates.”

“Certainly,” Conley said. “These are the people who have been helping me fight the Shadow Hand. You remember my niece Oliva? Then there's Tain, Erril, Varg, Milea . . .”

Alastor approached Milea after Conley said her name, smiled, and took her hand. “It's always wonderful to meet such a tender and lovely woman.”

Milea looked away and gave a nervous smile, then removed her hand before Alastor could plant his lips on them.