Chapter 21 #2
"A divine will that demands burning villages?" Casteel pressed, taking another step that drew Doran's guards' attention with him. "Executing families? Strange how your gods always thirst for innocent blood."
The High Priest's composure slipped, just for an instant. "Sacrifices necessary for the greater restoration. The wolf-soul was meant to purify, not to rebel." His gaze burned with fanatical intensity. "You'll understand once we've completed the binding ritual."
Through their bond, Nero sent a warning. Binding ritual? What binding ritual? Casteel's almost imperceptible nod was his only acknowledgment.
On the count of three.
"There will be no ritual," Casteel declared, his voice ringing with authority. "The Silver Wolf has made its choice."
One.
"Insolent boy," Doran snarled, his mask of civility cracking further. "You think you understand power? You've barely tasted it."
Two.
"Perhaps," Casteel agreed, his eyes meeting Nero's for the briefest moment. "But I understand freedom."
Three.
Nero exploded into motion as silver light erupted beneath his skin.
The transformation was instant—one heartbeat human, the next a massive silver wolf launching itself at the nearest cluster of guards.
Crossbow bolts whistled through the air, but Nero was already among them, a whirlwind of teeth and claws that sent armored men flying like broken dolls.
"What—" Doran's exclamation cut short as understanding dawned on his pale features.
Casteel seized the moment of confusion, diving beneath the table as the remaining guards swung their weapons toward Nero's silver form. He emerged on the far side, snatching up a fallen guard's sword in one fluid motion.
"The kitchens!" he shouted to Nero above the chaos. "River!"
Nero acknowledged with a bone-chilling howl that shattered the remaining windows. Through their bond, Casteel felt his mate's understanding—Nero would create the diversion while Casteel found the boy.
"The wolf!" Doran screamed, his composure completely shattered. "Bring me the wolf!"
But the Silver Guard found themselves facing a nightmare.
Nero moved with supernatural speed, his massive form seeming to be everywhere at once.
Claws ripped through armor as if it were parchment.
Jaws closed on limbs with bone-crushing force.
The wolf-soul that had never truly awakened in Casteel now expressed its full potential through Nero's battle-hardened instincts.
And the soldiers were stuck fighting Morven's man as well.
Doran was screaming at them to make sure Nero stayed alive, and there were only so many that could fit inside the hall.
Casteel fought his way toward the servant's entrance, his borrowed sword moving with a precision that surprised even him.
Without the wolf's enhanced abilities, he relied on determination and the skills he'd learned growing up.
He might not be good with a broadsword, but years of often avoiding enraged hooves made him quick.
Three guards moved to intercept him, but a silver blur tore through their formation before they could strike.
Casteel felt Nero's fierce joy in battle mingled with urgent concern—for him, for River, for all the innocents caught in Doran's web of violence. The wolf-soul amplified those emotions, turning protective instinct into devastating action.
Casteel reached the servant's entrance, slipping through while Nero held the High Priest's attention. The corridor beyond led toward the kitchens, where River had been taken for safety. Smoke thickened the air—some part of the manor had been set ablaze during the attack.
"Martha!" Casteel called, coughing as he navigated the smoke-filled passage. "River!"
A small cry answered from behind a heavy oak door. Casteel threw his weight against it, finding it barred from within. "It's me!" he shouted. "Casteel! Open the door!"
The bar scraped aside, and the door opened to reveal Martha's soot-streaked face. Behind her, River huddled beneath a table, his small face pale with terror. Relief flooded the boy's eyes when he spotted Casteel.
"Nero?" he asked immediately, scrambling out from his hiding place.
"Fighting," Casteel said, dropping to one knee to check the child for injuries. "Are you hurt?"
Martha answered for him. "We're unharmed, but the eastern wing is burning. Silver Guards blocked the passage to the wine caves."
Through their bond, Casteel felt Nero's growing strain. His mate was holding back dozens of guards single-handedly, but even the wolf's supernatural strength had limits. The sensation of pain flickered across their connection—Nero had been wounded.
"We need another way out," Casteel said, lifting River into his arms. The boy clung to him, small fingers digging into his shoulders.
Martha nodded grimly. "The servants' tunnel. It leads to the orchards." She moved to a large cupboard and swung it aside, revealing a narrow passage beyond. "Lord Morven ensures all his staff know the escape routes."
Casteel hesitated, torn between the need to get River to safety and the pull of his bond with Nero. His mate was fighting against impossible odds to buy them time.
"Go," Martha urged, reading his expression. "I'll take the boy. You help that wolf of yours."
Before Casteel could respond, the kitchen door splintered inward. Three Silver Guards burst through, weapons drawn. Martha screamed, pushing River behind her protectively.
Casteel reacted on pure instinct, driving his borrowed sword into the first guard's chest before the man could raise his weapon. The second guard swung a heavy mace that Casteel barely dodged, the metal head smashing into a table instead.
"Run!" he shouted to Martha, who had already pulled River toward the hidden passage.
The second guard's mace came around again in a deadly arc. Casteel knew he couldn't dodge it this time—his position against the wall left no room to maneuver. He raised his sword in a desperate block, knowing it wouldn't be enough.
The blow never landed. Nero crashed through the kitchen door, slamming into the guard with bone-crushing force. His massive wolf form radiating fury as he positioned himself between Casteel and danger.
"Get the boy out," Casteel urged, already moving to help Martha with the secret passage.
Nero's acknowledgment came through—a pulse of determination tinged with pain. Blood matted his silver fur where crossbow bolts had found their mark, but the wolf's healing abilities were already sealing the wounds.
The third guard turned to flee but found himself face-to-face with death. Nero's jaws closed around the man's throat with terrible finality.
"This way!" Martha called, having opened the narrow passage fully. She held River's hand, the boy's eyes wide with terror and awe as he watched Nero's wolf form.
Casteel moved toward them, but Nero's warning growl stopped him. Through their bond came clear intent—get River to safety while Nero held off the pursuit. More guards were coming; they could hear the thunder of armored boots in the corridor beyond.
"We go together," Casteel insisted, unwilling to leave his mate behind again.
Nero's transformation back to human form was swift but visibly painful. Blood stained his side where a crossbow bolt had penetrated deeply enough that even the wolf's healing struggled to mend it.
"I'll follow," Nero promised, his voice rough with exertion. "But someone needs to collapse the tunnel behind you or they'll track us straight to the rendezvous point."
Martha's expression hardened with understanding. "He's right. The passage has weak points designed to be brought down in emergencies."
Casteel felt Nero's determination—and the unspoken fear that this might be their final parting. "No," he said firmly. "River needs you."
The boy in question looked between them with tearful eyes.
Something in Nero's expression softened. He took a step toward them, then froze as shouts echoed from the corridor. "Go," he ordered. "I'll be right behind you."
Martha pulled River into the narrow tunnel, the boy looking back desperately as Casteel followed.
The passage was barely wide enough for an adult to navigate, its low ceiling forcing them to move in a half-crouch.
Behind them, they heard the crash of the kitchen door being fully breached, followed by Nero's battle cry as he met the new wave of attackers.
"He promised," River whispered, his voice small in the darkness. "He promised we’d be safe here."
Casteel knew he couldn’t explain to a child that despite their best effort some vows were broken. He could still sense Nero—alive, fighting, but growing weaker as wounds accumulated faster than even the wolf could heal them.
They had traveled perhaps fifty yards when the first explosion rocked the tunnel.
Dust and small stones rained from the ceiling as the passage behind them collapsed.
Martha urged them forward, her knowledge of the escape route guiding them through branching sections that would have otherwise left them lost.
"The main collapse will be ahead," Martha said grimly. "There's a support beam marked with red paint. Pull it down, and the entire section falls."
They reached the marked support—a weathered wooden beam with flaking red paint near its base. Martha pointed to a rope mechanism attached to the ceiling. "Pull that. It will trigger the collapse."
Casteel hesitated, his hand on the rough hemp. "We need to wait for Nero."
"There's no time," Martha insisted. "Listen."
From behind them came the sound of pursuit—voices echoing through the tunnel, growing closer with each passing moment. Silver Guard, following their trail despite the initial collapse.
"Nero will find another way," Martha said, though uncertainty colored her voice. "He's a wolf, isn't he? Wolves always find a path."