The White Wolf (Half-Breed Book 1) (12 page)

“What's going on here?”

The guards from the courtyard came rushing onto the scene to discover the injured Emila Vahn and her foes, the man holding a giant axe and the now recovered Milea and Erril. Varg looked at the headmistress and saw her mind working. Before the dread even hit him, Emila struggled to her feet and caught the guards' attention and pointed a finger in Varg's direction.

“Guards, a student has been abducted by hooded assailants. These are the conspirators who lured her from the safety of the school and handed her over to the abductors,” Emila said.

“That's a lie,” Varg spat.

Emila ignored him and continued, “I tried to stop them, but I was too late. Then that monster tried to kill me so I wouldn't be able to say anything. Arrest them, quickly!”

The guards readied their weapons at the trio, then Milea turned to the others and said, “Run.”

Varg hesitated, to which Milea responded, “We can't help Oliva from a prison cell! Run!”

Varg cursed under his breath and made the wise choice to retreat. Milea and Erril followed him and the guards began pursuit. The sound of an alarm horn could be heard behind them, so he quickly picked up the pace. Varg spotted a nearby alley and decided to lead his comrades through them in an effort to shake off the pursuing guards.

“Does anyone know how we can lose the guards?” Varg asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Erril said. “Just keep running.”

The girl stopped in her tracks, and revealed a small orb from one of her pockets. She hurled the orb onto the ground and it exploded on impact, leaving the entire area behind them in a thick, inescapable cloud of smoke.

The guards and headmistress desperately hacked for air and tried in vain to find their way out of the forest of black smoke, which gave Varg and the others the time they needed to hide.

“Good thinking, Erril,” Varg said as they trotted out of sight behind a large stack of barrels.

“What now? How can we leave the city with all of those guards looking for us?” Erril asked.

“First we need to get to the Trade District, then we can figure out what to do from there,” Milea suggested.

“I doubt the gate guards will just let us walk right out,” Erril retorted.

“Maybe there's another way,” Varg said. “Follow my lead.”

Varg peeked around the side of the barrels and when he saw that everything was clear, he gestured for Milea and Erril to cross the alley to a spot behind some crates. Once they followed his command, he joined them and continued to repeat this process until they were in the Commons District.

With Varg's lead, the three companions carefully evaded the guards and kept hidden in the shadows. Milea used her magic to shield them should a guard venture too close to their hiding place. A few slumbering guards later, and they soon made haste to the Trade District.

“There aren't as many guards here,” Milea said as they hid in an alley a few streets away from the city entrance.

Varg peeked around the corner, looked back, and added, “They don't seem to be looking for us either.”

“Maybe they still think we're in the Crown District?” Erril chimed in.

“Then there's hope,” Varg said. “If we can keep a low profile, maybe we an get past the guards.”

“After you,” Milea said.

Varg took the lead again and made his way to the road leading to the city entrance. It wasn't long before they started to hear voices in hushed tones, which put Varg on edge. He slowed his pace to listen in on the conversation, but he didn't have to try hard to hear the shouting that soon ensued.

“I need to leave Balik now!”

The familiar voice assaulted Varg's ears and he rounded the corner only to confirm the owner's identity.

Edric Greenwood stared down the guard and shouted, “I am the Count of Rivershire, and I demand you grant me the right to leave the city at once!”

“Count or not, my orders still stand. There are criminals on the loose, so no one leaves or enters without a quick caravan check,” the guard countered.

It wasn't until he mentioned it that Varg saw the caravan near Edric that city guards were rummaging through.

“You would dare accuse me of harboring fugitives?” Edric fumed.

“My orders still stand,” the guard repeated.

Varg shook his head at the sight of the pretentious Count, but his head suddenly cleared when a fuming Edric marched away from the guard and into their direction.

“Everyone hide, quick!” Varg said.

Milea and Erril ducked behind some an old cart while Varg waited behind a merchant stand. Edric marched into the alley, presumably to blow off steam, and began to pace and mutter to himself about the “audacity” of that guard. The grumbling Count turned away from Varg, giving the hunter an idea that could save his and his friends' hides. He gestured for Milea and Erril to stay hidden, then he carried out one of the boldest plans he ever hatched.

Varg left his hiding spot to creep up behind the Count. Fortunately the nobleman's ranting drowned out any sound Varg made that could have alerted him, giving Varg ample opportunity to reach from behind him and cover the noble's mouth. Edric tried to scream, but Varg's hands were quick and muffled the sound. He grabbed Edric's hands and pulled him to the hiding place behind the cart, then Milea and Erril quickly helped Varg detain him.

Trapped like a piece of game, Edric began to shake violently.

Varg wasted no time and looked the Count in the eye before muttering, “Make a sound and your head will roll.”

The Count nodded furiously with Varg's hand still over his mouth. Once he was sure the Count wouldn't dare scream for help, he removed his hand.

With his mouth free again, Edric then stammered, “What are you brutes doing here?”

“The only important thing you need to know is that we need to get out of the city and you're going to help us,” Varg replied.

“Why would I do that?” Edric pressed.

All Varg had to do was draw Frost Fang, and the Count started talking again. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn't.”

“You owe us after what you did in Rivershire,” Milea argued.

“Are you still on about that?” Edric remarked.

Varg ignored his comment. “I have a plan, and it involves you smuggling us out of the city in your caravan.”

“The guards are searching it as we speak, so that plan will never work,” Edric rebuked.

“They're searching it now, but there's no reason to search it twice,” Varg said.

“Whatever you are plotting, I won't have any part of it,” the Count said defiantly.

“Oh you will, otherwise my axe will taste your blood,” Varg said.

Edric studied Varg, then said, “I will do it only if you swear I won't be harmed once you have no use for me.”

“You have my word,” Varg growled, although it was a promise he wished he didn't have to keep.

“Fine, tell me your plan,” Edric muttered.

Varg and Milea crept by the city wall with a large stone in his hand, as was his part in the daring escape he'd planned out with his comrades. With the guards patrolling the gate and the top of the wall, they had no way of sneaking out. Therefore, it was only reasonable to get rid of these obstacles in order to leave the city of Balik without fault. All Varg needed was a signal to continue, and his plan would soon begin.

The signal came when Erril's shouted from a few streets away, “Help! Guards, come quick!”

The guards around the caravan stopped in their tracks and shot off in the direction of Erril's cries. Once they were out of sight, Varg tossed his stone over the wall. He heard it smash onto the rocks on the other side and evidently the guards heard too, for they immediately ran off to the source of the noise to investigate. Pleased with his plan's success, Varg rushed to the street with Milea following, where Edric diverted his driver's attention away from the stowaways.

Varg opened the caravan door and allowed Milea to enter before hopping in himself. Within seconds, Erril jumped in and took a seat on the bench across from them.

“Sorry about that, Milord,” one of the guards said. “We heard a false alarm.”

“Am I cleared to leave now, or do you wish to take my caravan apart first?” the Count remarked.

Varg clenched his fists, hoping for Edric's sake that this wasn't a trick to get them discovered, but fortunately the guard said, “No Milord, you are clear to leave Balik.”

“Very good,” Edric huffed.

The Count stepped into the caravan a few moments later, and the caravan began to move a few seconds after that. Edric never took his eyes off of Frost Fang, which sat proudly in its owner's lap as a reminder for the Count to keep his end of the deal. A few minutes past, and Varg dared to peek out of the caravan door to see the splendid city of Balik growing smaller in the distance.

CHAPTER 11

AN HOUR HAD PASSED SINCE the daring escape from Balik justice, and Varg could already see the dawn light peeking through the cracks in the caravan door. He hadn't realized the time of night when he and his comrades first left the inn, but depsite his lack of sleep he hardly felt tired. Edric on the other hand, seemed to always look tired.

The Count finally huffed to break the silence, then said, “Are you quite ready to leave?”

“Get your driver to stop the caravan,” Milea ordered.

Greenwood scowled, but obeyed her command and said loudly, “Stop the caravan.”

“As you wish, Milord,” they heard the driver say.

The caravan came to an abrupt halt and jolted the passengers around, then they heard footsteps approaching the door.
Varg and the others hopped out of the caravan just as the driver rounded the back.

When the caravan driver saw them, he tensed up and drew his dagger. “What is this? Who are you?”

Without a word, Varg approached the driver and made a fist. He delivered a sharp blow to the back of the confused man's head and waited. The driver's eyelids twitched, then closed as he fell forwards onto the ground.

When Greenwood stepped outside and saw his caravan driver facedown in the dirt, he became utterly defiant and said, “What is the meaning of this? Did you kill my driver?”

“Don't worry, he's only knocked out. We can't let him get in the way of our business,” Varg added.

“What business?” the Count pressed. “I thought you were going to let me go?”

“We will, but first you're going to answer our questions,” Milea answered.

“I'll do no such thing.”

“Don't test me,” Varg warned. “It's your fault we're in this mess and now you're going to help us and Oliva get out of it.”

Edric 's expression dropped. “Lionel's granddaughter? I should have known she was the target.”

“You knew about the kidnapping?” Varg asked.

“That's why I was in Balik in the first place,” Edric explained. “I have connections in the city and it was my job to help the assassins enter Balik. They had another connection in the school to let them in there.”

“The headmistress,” Varg replied.

“Emila? I can't say I'm surprised,” the Count remarked.

“So why were you trying to leave in a hurry if you knew about the Shadow Hand?” Milea asked.

“If you must know,” Edric began, “I was awake last night to await confirmation that the cultists had made the grab and were out of the city. I happened to look outside and saw the guards running about, then I heard them shouting about the arrest warrant for a large man with white hair, an elf woman, and a child. I knew only one man with white hair with an elf in his company, so I was trying to leave before you discovered I was there. In hindsight, if I had just stayed put I would be dreaming happily in a bed with satin sheets and you would be rotting in a Balik cell awaiting your well-deserved fate.”

“Enough,” Varg interrupted. “Now that that's out of the way, we need to know why Oliva was abducted.”

“What makes you think I know why?” Edric remarked.

“You helped the Shadow Hand kidnap a student and you didn't even know why?” Milea said.

“Unlike
some
people I know not to interfere or ask questions where I don't belong,” Edric countered.

“Then why do you offer help to the Shadow Hand?” Varg demanded.

“Because they aren't afraid to get their hands dirty so I don't have to. There's been talk of people questioning my right to rule Rivershire, so the Shadow Hand assures that these only result in mere whispers of rebellion. In return, they have free reign to do what they see fit in Rivershire's land,” Edric said.

“You must have some idea what the Shadow Hand is, otherwise you wouldn't have made the trouble to come all the way from Rivershire,” Milea said.

The Count looked up and stared into space, and when he had an apparent idea, he looked back at the others and said, “Well, I do know that the Lerington family once tended to an Elvish shrine some generations ago, but it's fallen into disrepair. Lionel mentioned it when he came to me and said the cultists asked him about the shrine.”

“Why would a Count of Fellen have ties to an Elvish shrine?” Varg asked.

“Hundreds of years ago, the heir of the Lerington family married an Elvish priestess. She brought an ancient artifact of Laelith with her and claimed she was entrusted with it's safety. Her husband built the shrine so she could lock it away. Only her blood could open the shrine, and her descendents after that carried on the tradition until about eighty years ago, when a bandit raid all but destroyed the old temple,” the Count explained.

“The Shadow Hand must have tried to get Lionel to open the shrine, but now that he's gone they need Oliva to do it,” Milea reasoned. “That also explains why their family could read and write Elvish.”

“Where is the shrine?” Varg asked.

The Count rolled his eyes. “It's a short walk from the river south of here. Just follow the trail leading from the river and it's on top of a hill. Now if we're done here, then I shall be on my way.”

“Not yet,” Varg said. “I have one more question.”

Edric sighed. “I grow bored of this game.”

Varg grumbled, but continued, “Who is the Serpent?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Greenwood. Who is the Serpent?” Varg repeated.

Edric sighed again, but this time it lacked the annoyance it had before. “I've only met him once, but I can assure you that it's an encounter that I will never forget. The Serpent keeps his identity a secret to everyone except for a select few, and even then only his closest followers are allowed to even refer to him by his name. I happen to know his name only because one of his followers let it slip in my presence.”

“So what is it? What's the Serpent's name?” Varg urged.

Greenwood stared at him, then ruefully answered, “It's Jin. The Serpent's name is Jin.”

“Jin? That's an unusual name,” Milea said.

“I've heard that he's from somewhere across the sea, but not even his closest followers know for sure. I honestly don't even know
what
he is, much less where he's from,” Edric said.

“What do you mean?” Varg asked.

“Jin isn't exaclty human,” Edric explained. “He has a face you only see in nightmares, the kind of face that haunts your mind and sets the standards for your worst fears. I can't explain it, and I'd rather not relive it, so that's all I will say on the matter.”

“Very well, there's nothing more I need from you anyway,” Varg said. “As promised, you're free to go.”

The Count finally relaxed and straightened his posture. “Well it's about time. Do me a favor and don't run into me again. I have enough to deal with.”

“Don't push your luck,” Varg remarked, “because I promise if I see you again, I won't spare you.”

Without another word, Varg, Milea, and Erril left the Count to his caravan and unconsious driver.

Once they were clear out of earshot, Erril trotted up to Varg and said, “You should have killed him.”

Varg admitted to himself that she was right, but he simply responded, “I gave my word, and no matter what, I never break my word.”

“Do you think he was telling the truth about the shrine?” Milea asked.

Varg shrugged. “Even if he wasn't, his information is the only thing we have to go on. We have to find Oliva no matter what, so I'll follow any lead I get.”

By the time the sun set, Varg, Milea, and Erril found the river bend south of Balik. They turned eastward from there and followed the nearby hill as instructed until they came across the ancient ruin of an Elvish shrine. After decades of abandonment, the crumbling walls of the structure now made home to vines and brush. Crickets chirped in the dark and the slithering sound of snakes echoed from the dirt. Dim lights from within the ruin gave away that they were not alone.

“They're here, all right,” Varg whispered.

“What's our plan?” Erril asked.

“Tread lightly. We don't know how many of our friends are waiting inside or if they have anymore tricks waiting for us,” Varg advised.

“What about Oliva? How do you expect to get her out of harms way?” Erril pointed out.

“I don't know yet,” Varg said, “but I'll figure something out once we have a better idea of what we're up against.”

Varg took the lead and the others covered his flank as he approached the decrepit doors that once opened into the temple. Once inside, it was clear that the architecture was of Elven origin. Several delicate runes were etched into the once white stone walls. There were also murals depicting ancient Elvish people. Varg noticed their prominent pointed ears much like Milea's, only theirs were longer. Upon reaching the end of the first corridor, there was a wall directly in front of Varg with another mural depicting several more elves bowing down to a larger elf woman in the middle. Enveloped in light, the elf woman gazed gently upon the elves with as much adoration as they offered her.

“That is the goddess, Laelith, mother of the elves,” Milea explained. “She was known for her wisdom and love for the elves, whom she called her 'children.'”

Varg didn't much care for deities, but merely responded, “I never knew the elves were so religious.”

Milea nodded. “The Grand Temple is a central point of the entire Elvish kingdom and the oldest standing structure in the Crystal Wood.”

Behind the wall, the pathway continued on the right. Varg continued in the front and led his comrades into the unknown. Once behind the wall, he entered another corridor and saw the glow again. He then began to hear muffled male voices and was sure that Milea could hear them too.

“Looks like we are getting close,” he whispered.

He placed his main hand on the handle of his axe and readied himself for battle as he slowed his pace and tried to make out what the voices inside were saying. Within a few minutes, he heard who he was certain was Tain and a female voice, more than likely Oliva's, who seemed to be pleading with the first voice. Then a third, unfamiliar voice that somehow made Varg uneasy came.

“Shrine . . . your bloodline . . . what I seek,” is all Varg could discern from the mysterious voice. Varg didn't know what told him, but he was almost certain that this voice belonged to none other than the Serpent.

Varg came upon a stairwell stretching from the direct path and had a strong hunch he should take it. He'd long since learned to trust his instincts, so he beckoned the others to follow him. The stairs led to a second floor that seemed to support their weight despite the withered stone, so the three crept cautiously and found a balcony overlooking a room of worship.

Though the roof had crumbled and littered debris on the ground below, the chamber still retained a brilliance that few ruins preserved. A round platform was raised by steps on all sides and on the platform sat an altar with strange symbols on it. In the middle of the room stood Tain, who held Oliva's arms behind her back, half a dozen cultists who waited obediently and orderly to the side of the room, and then another, much more mysterious man.

The last entity, whom Varg could only assume was the Serpent, garbed a hooded white robe with a violet and gray sash under a belt holding a strange blade in a sheath on his left side. Although Varg could not see the Serpent's eyes under his white hood, he could see his pale lips curving into a twisted smile.

“Dear Oliva, all I require is your cooperation and you may walk free this evening,” the Serpent said smoothly. His eerie voice gave Varg a sick feeling in his stomach and it seemed he wasn't the only one.

“Something is horribly wrong about him,” Milea whispered in Varg's ear.

Varg couldn't deny her words to be true and nodded in response.

“Why do you need me to open the vault?” Oliva pressed.

“Your family sealed something of great interest to me in the vault to protect it from those who would misuse it. Sadly your grandfather would not cooperate with my followers, and he paid the ultimate price for it,” the Serpent said.

“What are you talking about? What happened to him?” Oliva cried.

The Serpent smiled. “Your grandfather intruded into business that wasn't his, so he had to be taken care of before it got out of hand.”

“He's dead? No! It's not true!”

Varg's heart sank at the sight of Oliva breaking down. He wished that he'd disobeyed Conley's request not to reveal Lerington's fate to Oliva, for at least she wouldn't have to find out in such a cruel way.

“Do not fret, dear, for he was unworthy,” the Serpent patronized. “I promise that if you give me what I desire this night, there shall be a place for you in the Dawn.”

It was then that the mysterious message on the paper found on Lerington's body rang through Varg's mind once again:

The Serpent shall lead the worthy to the Dawn.

“My grandfather was a wonderful man!” Oliva argued.