Chapter 13 Flaming Tylocks #3
He did as instructed, willing his tastebuds to turn themselves inside out for a reprieve. Unfortunately, the sludge rolled across his tongue, and he could taste hints of honey and…dirt. Gagging, he handed the mug back.
“Keep your burns clean,” she told him as she collected the mug before moving to the other patients in the tent.
The attack hadn’t been as bad as Ridan feared. From what he heard, the damage was mostly to the market itself. Corric’s brother hadn’t been after the people, which was a relief. Still, it left him with the glaring problem of Corric’s brother.
Clean up and tending to the wounded had taken much of the clan’s attention, but once that was done, they would demand answers.
And justice. Something Ridan knew he couldn’t give them, not without devastating his packmate.
But he also knew he couldn’t deny them. Losing the market was more than just inconvenient—many clansmen brought their whole years savings to this event.
Winter was coming. They needed the income and trade to keep their families warm and fed.
Rolling his shoulders, he tested the stiffness in his body. Not as bad as before, but he knew he would be feeling it for a few days. Head still foggy, he was grateful it wasn’t worse.
His clothes had dried, but he felt dirty. Ridan would kill for a soak in the spring, even with the colder temperatures.
He was about to drag himself to his feet when Jonen and Brune slipped into the tent. Jonen was holding his father’s sword. Relief swooped in his belly. He hadn’t realized how much he missed having it.
Jonen handed it over, and Ridan inspected it. The blade was darkened with scorch marks, but otherwise looked to be solid. He would have Derry look at it later.
Without prompting, Jonen began to fill Ridan in. “The healers have treated close to fifty, four of which were Stone Blade.”
“And the dead?”
Brune winced and looked away.
“Ten, so far. There’s a few injured the healers don’t think will make the night.” Jonen’s face was blank, eyes trained on the furs Ridan was sitting on.
Rubbing his eyes, he tried to think with his head and not his heart.
His heart wanted to rip that magic user’s fingers from his hand and shove them into his eyes.
But this wasn’t just a magic user anymore.
This was Corric’s brother. Pack. His omega was at war with him, demanding he protect.
Not just the brother, but Corric, too. If the clans hear he is related, they will view Corric with suspicion.
“And our problem? Where is he?”
The two alphas exchanged a look. “Corric has him in your tent.”
Of course he did.
Sighing, Ridan smacked their hands away and pushed himself to his feet. He still felt wobbly, but less likely to fall over, so he considered it a win. Strapping his sword on, he pushed past them and out of the tent.
Night had fallen while he was being treated. Despite that, the clans had set up torches. Everywhere he looked people were being treated or helping those being treated. The most severe were inside the healing tent, being tended to as best they could.
By Artrax’s teeth, they don’t have enough healers.
Iylah was getting older, and Ridan would have to remember to find her an apprentice or two. The clan was expanding, and they couldn’t be without a knowledgeable healer.
His tent was set in the very center of the territory given to the Stone Blade. Osmond was standing outside of it, looking a little singed but otherwise upright. He nodded to his second before stepping inside.
All of his limited furnishings had been pushed back against the leather walls and a hole had been dug in the center of the tent where they’d laid the tied up magic user. Three buckets of water were stashed around the hole.
Ridan stared down at it.
“He kept waking up and setting things on fire,” Corric explained.
“So you put him in the dirt?”
“Dirt won’t catch.”
Ridan wasn’t sure that was true, but he had to hand it to Corric for his ingenuity. Niklas was standing by with his bow in hand as well. The beta looked exhausted.
“Niklas, get that alpha of yours and get checked out by Iylah. I’ve got it from here.”
The man nodded, loosening his grip on his bow. He stepped outside and they could hear a short round of arguing before Niklas won, no doubt dragging his alpha off to be cared for.
With just Brune, Jonen, and Corric, he felt a little better. His omega settled, allowing him to drop into a chair. He sat back and glared at Corric.
“Speak.”
Sighing, the fellow omega curled in on himself. “Schok is my oldest brother. The most promising. Able to wield magic and an alpha.”
Brune jerked his head up. “Alpha? I don’t smell that on him.”
Actually, the man smelled like meat left over the fire three days too long, but Ridan didn’t say that.
“You wouldn’t,” Jonen said, pointing to his neck glands. They were completely scarred over from what looked like a deep burn.
Corric refused to look down at his brother.
“He was always so…mischievous. Even when father yelled, he would make faces behind his back, or ignore his orders. Schok liked to sneak out, too. Slip into the city. That was the last time I ever saw him. He told me not to tell dad and left out a window. We never saw him again.”
Now that the man wasn’t trying to incinerate him, he could get a look at him. The water had washed a bit of the filth from his hair and red roots were peeking out.
“Father launched searches. He uprooted the entire city, even so far as going through Guttersnipes.” Corric glanced over at Brune. The big alpha just shrugged.
“I don’t remember that, but I made it my business to stay as far away from Kaledonean soldiers as possible.”
“You’re thinking he was taken and…what? Spelled?” Ridan asked.
Corric shrugged. “I don’t know what else to think.
He might have hated father and his rules, but he wouldn’t have stayed away from us.
” Rubbing at his face with the back of his hands, Ridan could smell the sadness and guilt rolling off him.
“The fire magic is his. It’s the most difficult of the elements to wield.
He was working on mastering the others…father yelled about it a lot. ”
From a tactical perspective, kidnapping and bewitching the eldest Tylock was brilliant. He was obviously a powerful magic wielder, and his identity would make anyone pause in hurting him. Which brings about the question—who was his kidnapper?
And were they an enemy to the clan? Or Kaledonea?
Jonen knelt beside Corric, rubbing his cheek against his hair. A soft rumble had Corric turning to him, closing his eyes as he buried his face into Jonen’s shoulder. Calming alpha pheromones spread through the tent, making Brune twitch a little. He stepped closer to Ridan.
“I’m going to be honest,” Ridan said, choosing to plow ahead. “I don’t know if I can keep Schok safe. The other chiefs would demand his head. Telling them he’s bewitched won’t make it any better.”
Just mentioning magic would have the clans ready to drown Schok and leave his body for the buzzards.
There was a soft cough at the tent's entrance before the flap opened and Derry stepped in. He looked nervous; his scent tinged with anxiety. Behind him was a tall, thick, black haired alpha Ridan didn’t recognize.
The woman had a bag slung over her shoulder and a fresh bruise blooming across one dark cheek.
“Chief,” Derry said, knuckling his chest in a rare sign of respect from the normally aloof omega. “I…I brought someone I think can help…”
Ridan stood, taking a moment to examine the newcomer. She wasn’t Stone Blade. In fact, she smelled a lot like Thewn. And judging by her clothes—baggy and high collared—she was Iron Jaw.
She was also staring at Schok, face impassive but far too interested for Ridan’s tastes.
“Iron Jaw,” Ridan addressed her, crossing his arms over his chest.
The alpha winced, looking away. “Not anymore.”
That surprised Ridan. Derry was quick to grab the tall alpha’s arm, holding it close. “Please, Ridan, just listen.”
“I haven’t stabbed her yet, have I?”
The alpha looked worried, but Derry just smiled. “This is Halm Sharp Finger. She’s been studying under the Iron Jaw’s healer. She was in the market and witnessed the attack.”
Ridan’s patience was rapidly deteriorating. His glare must have told Derry as much because he continued.
“But she’s more than a healer’s apprentice. She is learned. Knows everything there is to know.”
Halm grumbled. “Not really…”
“This interests me, how?”
“She knows what’s wrong with the magic user.”
Corric gasped. “You know how he’s bewitched?”
“He isn’t bewitched, exactly.” Halm grabbed the strap over her chest. “He’s a thrall.”
That made everyone in the tent pause. They all looked as confused as Ridan felt, so he nodded for Halm to continue.
“Bewitching can be used to influence a person, but ultimately, it cannot control them. Thralls are different. They are puppets. Their will stripped away until they are nothing but a body only capable of doing exactly what their master commands.”
Halm stepped around Derry and closer to Schok. Jonen growled. Halm bared her neck, slowly kneeling at the side of the pit.
“See the runes? It takes a lot of magic to turn a Thrall. A lot of old magic. Whoever did this might be one of the most powerful magic users left.”
“How do you know so much about magic?” Ridan demanded, feeling his hackles rise. Clansmen didn’t study magic. They didn’t talk about it; they didn’t think about it. In traditional clans like Iron Jaw, it was forbidden to even speak of.
“I like to learn,” Halm said sullenly. “It’s not that I can, or even want to, wield magic. I just…like knowing things.”
“Is that how you got the bruise?”
She nodded. “I told Thewn I thought I could help you. He grew angry. Banished me.”