Chapter Six
Russell woke up at his customary four a.m., turning off the gentle melody that played from his clock. After a quick stop in the bathroom, he checked over his room's motorized fountains. He had three, each one making a gentle babble as the water cycled over waterfalls or rotated stone spheres. He found them soothing, and they drowned out the hum of electricity his ears sometimes picked up. Grabbing a jug of distilled water, he touched up their reservoirs, ensuring that they would continue fountaining. Afterwards, he donned his kilt and a pair of sturdy shoes, then headed downstairs and out the back.
The thrice-weekly delivery truck from Town was already here, dropping off pallets of food for the kitchen. Striding over, he helped to load the heavier crates and boxes onto handcarts.
"Good morning, Russell," their kitchen manager said, checking items off of a list. "Lighter load, today."
He nodded. The one right after an incursion usually was, since there had been less mouths to feed, so less to restock.
The kitchen staff continued rolling away the items he stacked onto their dollies, and once the final pallet was empty, he went inside to assist there, putting crates of milk into the walk-in fridge and carrying sacks of vegetables over to the root cellar.
The kitchen was already starting to bustle with pots and pans as cooks prepared to make breakfast. The head chef, Leona, caught him before he walked away.
"You're a good lad," the old woman said, and he dutifully bent his head down so she could shove a pear between his teeth.
His return smile caused the juicy fruit to fall as his teeth sheared through it, and he raised a hand to catch it. He offered a wave as he headed back outdoors.
By the time he'd walked to the western side of the castle, he'd eaten the pear down to its core. He deviated a little in order to approach the surrounding treeline, then chucked the remains far into the trees. If the deer didn't eat it, the squirrels would.
There were several guardians already at work exercising in their assorted forms. Yacob was in his normal werewolf form, practicing with the long mace that was his favored weapon. Other shifters were running the obstacle course that required changing between all of their forms to navigate, being cheered on by their fellows.
Many of the guardians preferred the indoor gym with its weights, but Russell didn't. Too much keeping track of numbers. Too many different weights and sets and reps with a dozen different exercises. He shook his head and found himself a patch of grass.
Push-ups and sit-ups. Straightforward. Different kinds of pushups and situps. Then those jumping push-ups called burpees. And then he ran in place, like those football players he's seen in a movie once, which left his legs burning.
When that didn't seem like enough, he went to where there were logs. Pick one up, put it down. Pick it back up, do a few squats, then put it down. Straightforward. He liked that.
He passed an hour that way, lost in the pleasure of physical exertion. Nothing too difficult, not with a four-hour round-trip hike planned. The hike itself wouldn't be physically difficult, of course, but you never knew if a wicked spirit hadn't slipped past the guardians somehow.
It had never happened before, outside of incursions, but he was still careful.
Dawn was soon, so he returned to his room. His ears caught the sound of movement from the first witch, Lux Manus. They'd probably see each other frequently in the mornings, if the other made early waking a habit. Not a bad man, or a bad-looking one, but he wasn't as warm as the other two, even if the goth witch tried to hide it.
Russell showered, ran his fingers through his hair to comb it back, put on a fresh kilt, then scratched idly at the hairs growing down his neck as he went down to breakfast.
There were a dozen other guardians eating an early meal. He made sure to give hugs to the ones who had just recovered from their injuries, silently letting them know that he was glad they were okay. They laughed, and patted him on the shoulder.
Then it was a delicious breakfast of a half-dozen scrambled eggs, covered in shredded cheese and with a side of diced potatoes, washed down with water.
After breakfast, he went into the kitchens, looking for Leona.
"Thank you for breakfast," he said, loud enough that the cooks could hear it. "It was good."
He could see some of the staff straighten up at that, and he caught the scent of pride. Good. They deserved to know they were appreciated.
"You're a good lad," Leona said again, rounding the corner with a picnic basket. Within, he could smell the lunches that she'd made herself for his outing.
"Thank you for lunch," he said, taking the basket. Before he left, she gave him a whole peeled orange, which was devoured by the time he'd made it back to his room.
It sounded like the other two witches were up at last. Eerie music came from Rosemary's room, muffled by the walls but loud enough for his shifter ears to catch. High pitched crooning and guitars, with an energetic beat. It made him want to dance like at Beltane, and he decided that he liked it. Bobbing his head, he grabbed things from his room and began the errands around the castle to make sure that they would be set for the day.
◆◆◆
At a little after nine, he, his da, and the three witches gathered at the castle's front courtyard.
"A whole day outdoors!" the friendliest witch said, whom he had dug holes with just the day before. "This is going to be great."
Russell watched as he threw his arms back and closed his eyes, bouncing up on his toes before slamming his heels into the ground. He, like Russell, was making the excursion shirtless, and only had on a pair of frayed shorts and worn-out shoes.
Russell studied him, from his mouth that perpetually hung a little open to account for his tusks, to his soft torso, and even the general hairlessness apart from a brown swath that descended down his chest and below his belly button.
Russell nodded, coming to the firm decision that Bruin was very unthreatening, and also friend-shaped. He took a couple of steps forward, interrupting a conversation between him and the goth witch by setting a hand on his head.
"Hey, Russell," he said, beaming up at him. "This means you're looking forward to today too, right?"
He did a couple of pets, properly finished with a scratch at the back of his head, then rejoined his da.
"Everyone set?" Da asked, giving him a look that meant he had an opinion, but was keeping it to himself.
The three witches checked their respective gear and water pouches, then assured him that they were.
"Then here, everyone take a staff. I'll charge my own, and that by itself will be sufficient to power today's anchor, so I'd like to see what you three can do. It's fine if your end results are weaker."
His da handed out identical walking sticks, each one topped with a wrought iron lantern, securely bound so that nothing bounced.
"As we rehearsed," Lux said.
Russell and his da watched as the three witches laid the staves together, angled so that they formed a sturdy tripod. Then, each witch stepped into a gap and held out their hands, forming a circle.
Spirits of earth,
Sky, water, and worth,
Gather as we go.
In iron cage,
Our sweat as wage,
Your gracious light bestow.
Russell felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, but nothing else obvious happened.
"You already modified the ritual?" Da asked, and though his tone was severe, he smelled skeptically pleased.
Lux turned and gave him a polite bow as the witches grabbed their staves. "I did, High Priest. There were many ways for us to individually do this ritual in the notes you showed us, but there was nothing written about covens, so we're making a first attempt. And as you said, yours alone would be sufficient, so if we fail, little harm, yes?"
"Hrmph.We'll see.Let's begin."
Leading the way, Roland strode at a brisk pace widdershins around the castle. Lux was right behind him, dressed in an outfit that shimmered in the sun, followed by Rosemary with her staff, parasol, and a hip pouch. Bruin pulled up the rear, but waited until Russell had finished donning the backpack with their supplies before, with a toothy grin, he turned to follow his coven.
The five of them circled the keep once, returning to their starting position, then set off down a well-worn trail.
Russell kept an idle ear open as they journeyed, most of his focus on the trees, the sun, and the breeze. After the first few peaceful minutes, Lux pulled out a piece of paper with questions, and then began plying his da for answers. General questions, like what's it's like to be the High Priest of a castle, to more specific ones, such as what kind of willworkers he's worked with before.
"Probably all that you could name," Da said. "We usually try to keep two other willworkers at the keep at all times, and most of you don't last more than a year or two."
"I don't see why," Bruin commented. "It seems pretty cushy to me, so far."
"If it's cushy, you're not working hard enough, lad."
Russell noticed Bruin fall back, smelling pensive, and his da looked back after the wind carried the orc's scent forward.
"Ach, that were unkind of me to say, Green witch. You've already done a lot, and we're barely into your third day. If late nights in an infirmary, and days spent hiking are cushy to you, well, you're in the minority."
"You seem to have enough volunteer soldiers. But not mages?"
"Sometimes we do, but that's where mythic politics and some old superstitions get involved," he told them. "It makes the U.S. happy when we provide residency options for willworkers that will end up returning back to their workforce, and it lets them keep eyes on what they probably consider a small foreign army.Not everything's peachy keen betwixt them and the Free Glades, you know. And as for us, Bastion Keep enjoys training young ones, there's honor to be had there, and it's a good proving ground. But aye, there's usually another Free Glades mage with us. Our last one left us just this last winter, bless her soul, and I don't have a replacement volunteer lined up."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Rosemary said. "Was her passing gentle?"
"Eh? Oh, nay, she won the lottery, is what she did! Left us lickety split for the California beaches, said she was going to hire cabana boys and girls to wait on her hand and foot. Ah, fuck the old bat, but I hope she's doing alright."
Roland laughed long and loud, and as he prattled off answers, Russell was glad to see his da in high spirits.
They took a break at both the one and the two hour marks, taking it easy on behalf of the witches. This let Rosemary catch her breath, who was doing the worst of the three, but still huffing along without complaint. Lux didn't seem bothered by the walk at all, and as for Bruin… well, he was sweating, and appeared grateful to be sitting down, but there was something else different about him.
Russell knelt down on his haunches next to him, and Bruin looked up at his face, giving him a broad grin. Russell reached out to put his hand against his chest, comparing.
"Well, hey there!" Bruin looked down at the hand, then back up. He was smelling all kinds of new emotions—little bit of pleasure, little bit of lust—but seemed patient enough to let Russell finish thinking.
"You are green," he said at last.
"I am! I'm orc-blooded, in case the tusks didn't give it away. Oh, wait, are you maybe colorblind? I shouldn't have assumed."
Russell shook his head, then tried again.
"You are more green."
"Oh, I get what you mean, now." Bruin held his arms out, showcasing them. "Yeah, my orcish grandparents are descended from one of the Verdant clans, so I've got their green skin. More sun exposure means more light absorption, which means greener skin for a while. It's not as noticeable for me since half my genes are human, so I'm surprised you caught it. If my biggest dad were here, he'd be as dark as a river frog!"
Russell shrugged. He'd been walking behind Bruin for two hours, which had given him plenty of time to notice the change.
"I think it's nice. It suits a Green witch."
Bruin smelled pleased, and Russell realized that he still had his hand on the smaller man's chest. He didn't want to take it away, but from the impatient tapping of his da's foot, it seemed that their break was almost over. Lifting his hand, he patted him on the head, then stood up.
"Be sure to stay hydrated," he reminded him, pointing at his water pack. "Oversized plants need both sun and water if they are to grow big and strong."
Bruin laughed easily as Russell helped him to his feet, and they resumed the trek.
The final leg of their journey went fast. Following the trail, they bypassed a couple of barriers and approached the blocked area.
"So, I'm seeing a lot of scary signs," Bruin said, indicating one that read Caution—Risk of Death , followed by directions to either turn back, or call the keep's number for a remote pick up.
"Don't mind those," Roland said over his shoulder. "They're for trespassers on Bastion's lands. We've done what we could to block out our valley, but it extends for many tens of miles, and some people are too stupid to keep out. We've found a couple dead over the decades, it's true, but always from something like falling off a cliff, or hypothermia. None from any spirit beasts. Now focus. Approach the anchor, but do not touch your staff to it yet."
The five of them rounded the last turn and came upon one of the fifty-four obelisks that were placed in Wayiyi Valley. The anchor itself was a tan pillar about five feet tall and two feet across at the base, buried twice that length into the ground, and inscribed with sigils that didn't look the least bit weathered despite their centuries of age.
Bruin gestured with his staff. "So now it's time to shore up wards to prevent beasts from slipping through, right?"
"Nay, lad," his da said, and both Rosemary and Lux were shaking their heads. Bruin frowned, looking between them and smelling confused.
"Did you not understand the diagrams?" Lux said, walking carefully around the obelisk, studying the sigils on it. "You need to pay better attention, Bruin, this is the exact opposite of a ward. It's all one big vent, Roland, correct?"
"Exactly that," Da agreed. "There'd be no point in shielding only this region, the incursions would just happen elsewhere, and North America is too large to ward the whole dang country. So instead, we help it along. Bastion Keep maintains the anchors, weakens the veil in this one remote area, and then handles the more malevolent spirits that try to break through. It ain't a perfect system, but beter this, than holes popping up over half the country, letting in ghosts and possessing spirits like what used to happen. Remember Salem? It's healthier for the Umbral realm, too, I've been told. Something about over-predation."
Roland answered a few more questions while they took a last breather, then gathered the witches to finish the task. Russell stood by as he always did, wary and watching, just in case.
"It's looking like your coven trick worked," Roland said, studying each of the witches' staves in turn. "Your staves have gathered more energy from the ritual walk than most willworkers when they make a trip, and more than anyone else I've seen on their first day. Any one by itself would be sufficient. Ha! Hear that, Russ? Your da might finally be able to take a feckin' vacation!"
The final part of the ritual took hardly a minute. His da had each witch touch their staff to the obelisk one at a time, will the energy to transfer, and then step back.
"That's it?" Bruin asked, looking between the iron lantern on his staff and the obelisk.
"That's it. Now come along, pups, let's take our lunch before we head back. There's a bench just around the corner."
Russell led the way, just a short trip back down the road. It had been some time since he and his da had made this specific trek, but often the guardians would 'run the anchors' as a way to keep their cardio up, and that and the occasional humvee patrol kept the trails from getting overgrown.
As the others took seats at a stone-carved table and bench, he set his backpack on the table and began pulling out individually packed bento boxes. His and his da's were marked—his da's being low-sodium, his own having twice the portions—and the witches each got their own.
His da, Lux, and Rosemary seemed content to sit at the table, but Bruin immediately wandered off and found himself a tree to sit beneath. Tossing his water and witch's bags down unceremoniously, he plopped himself down between a couple of roots and opened his lunch, his feet rocking back and forth idly.
Russell shrugged, then joined him. With his back to the tree, he couldn't see Bruin's face, but beyond the smell of sushi, he could scent the witch's gladness.
Wolfing down his food, he finished far sooner than the others, then scooted himself closer so he could see the Green witch's face.
"Do we get good food like this every time we go out?" the witch asked, using his fingers to grab another sushi roll before he dipped it in the tiny container of soy sauce. His chopsticks sat untouched in the lid.
"Most times, as long as you do not get on the cook's bad side. Her name is Leona, and you should say thank you when we return if you were happy with the lunch she made. But if you are a picky eater, eventually your meals become crustless bologna sandwiches."
"Oh, but I love those! I probably had a lot of them growing up, since they were so cheap to make." Bruin shoved another slice of seaweed wrapped rice and tuna into his mouth, then picked up another piece, waving it around. He swallowed. "I will tell her thank you for sure, but I'm guessing I shouldn't ask for a basic sandwich, huh."
Russell patted him on the head. The witch was friend-shaped, and had a nice head for patting, he decided, and the witch just smiled at him before eating another bite.
"If you phrase it properly, you will be fine. Tell her that it is a nostalgic meal that reminds you of family. She will forgive you, then."
"Got it!"
When Bruin finished his meal, he set his lunch items aside, then sat up to look over at his fellow coven witches who were still eating. Russell's ears caught the three at the table deep in conversation.
"I like this," Bruin said softly, looking up at him. Russell stared back, waiting for him to continue. "The weather's lovely, and the hike was great. Plus, the company's been nice, too."
Bruin's arm twitched over, but then settled back in his lap.
Hmm.
"If you are wanting to pet me, little witch, you may," he guessed, lowering his head down. "I have pet you many times, it is only fair."
The little orc laughed, then reached a hand up to scratch fingers through his scalp. Russell growled, and shut his eyes.
Bruin continued scratching, and even leaned up so he could get the back of his head. Russell slowly settled down, hanging his head lower and lower until it was almost in the witch's lap.
"You are very hairy," Bruin said, reaching up to tease his hands through his hair.
"I forget, sometimes, to get it cut," he said, then laid his head carefully on the witch's shoulder. Bruin responded by scratching his chin, and then at his neck beard.
"Do you want me to do it?" Bruin asked, and Russell lifted himself back up. "I learned to cut hair growing up, for me and my family. I still do mine and Rosemary's. I can't do anything too fancy, but I do have different scissors and supplies."
Russell looked at his da, still engrossed in his conversation, but who had sent him a few looks during lunch. He thought about it, and what Bruin was really asking.
"I would like it if you cut my hair for me," he said. "Yours is a good length, I think."
"That's so much shorter than what you have now, though! But whatever you want. It's not like hair doesn't grow back."
Russell nodded, then stood up and hooked a hand into his kilt. He paused, then sniffed the air, looking down. He had apparently drawn the witch's full attention.
"Are you scared of wolves, Green witch?"
"I am not."
"Would it be okay if I shifted into my wolf form?"
"Of course! Who am I to tell you no, anyways?"
Russell hesitated. "My big wolf form?"
"How big are we talking?"
Russell sniffed the air again, but the witch smelled like he was asking out of interest and not concern, so instead of replying, he simply undid his shoes, kicking them off. He then removed his kilt, laying it on top of his shoes.
Bruin's lustful interest spiked, and Russell stopped, putting his hands on his hips as he considered. It had been a long time since someone had looked at him with that kind of frank admiration. Maybe years? It felt nice. Russell gave the witch a fresh pat on the head and probably an eyeful as he moved closer, but then stepped back so he could complete his shift.
Growling, Russell began flexing his shoulders and his back, and then kept flexing as he set his hands on the ground. Fur sprouted along his limbs and torso, and his face lengthened into a lupine snout. His mass redistributed, increasing since he was going for his larger animal form.
For Russell, changing forms felt like diving off of a cliff into a body of water. There was a brief moment of freefall as his form remade itself, and then he was in a new element. Swimming was different than walking on land, so to speak, but it was still him , and it was brisk and invigorating.
"You.Are so.Big!"
Bruin was even smaller than usual, it felt like, even if they were now eye to eye as Bruin leapt to his feet. Then the witch laughed, and like magnets, his hands immediately started ruffling his fur.
This time, his da did stare at him, which he ignored. He rubbed his head and side against Bruin, putting his scent on him. He had to be careful not to knock him over, though, with his added weight.
"You are very cute and fluffy," Bruin murmured, touching him on the snout.
Russell's tail wagged nonstop.
Once the others finished their lunch, they began the trip back, which took less time than the outward trek. There was the downhill factor, but the energy from lunch and a job well done seemed to sustain the three witches, and they kept pace with Roland without flagging much.
Bruin seemed content to walk beside him, and would often share what he knew of the surrounding trees and plants, even if Russell didn't say much in return except for the occasional low bark. Twice, he wandered off the trail to dig up a plant, which he shoved into his bag. Both times, Russell waited for him, and then they would make a light jog in order to catch up to the group.
He and his da split ways with the witches in the front courtyard, the witches to shower and go about the remainder of their day. As they left, he shifted back into his human form. He wrapped his kilt around himself, hefted the backpack with the remains of lunch, then helped his father carry the staves back to the storage room at the back of the castle.
His da unlocked the room, then heaved a heavy sigh, turning to look up at him.
"Son. Are you sure?"
He immediately shook his head. "I am not, Da. But he is shaped like a friend, is nice to pet, and is very gentle seeming. I would like to get to know him better, until I am sure."
"Just don't get your heart broken again, okay?"
Russell shrugged. If he did, he did. He could put it back together again, if he needed to.
"Aye, alright. I trust you. Let's finish up."
After returning the staves to their place in the room's sealed chamber, he left to return the lunch boxes to the kitchen while his father made notations about their trek in the latest ledger among a stack of them that dated back centuries.
As he entered the Great Hall, he saw Ser sipping idly at what he could smell was chocolate milk. Unsurprising, since his lord's sweet tooth was well known.
"Good afternoon, Russ."
He nodded his head. "Lord Sergiy."
Russell continued on towards the kitchen, but paused as he passed. Ser did not smell content, and he was looking unhappy, and had been ever since returning from the last incursion. Stopping, Russell turned towards him and waited.
"Russ, do you have a moment?"
Russell nodded, doffing his backpack and sitting next to him.
Ser looked around the room, apparently making sure that nobody was in earshot. "I need some help, I think. You've always been honest with me, even after… yeah."
Russell shrugged.
Both of them had been sons of prominent figures at Bastion Keep, and they'd grown up on the grounds together. It had been only natural that they'd become boyfriends. But when Ser had become warlord of the castle, he'd broken things off, claiming his new duties took too much of his time. After breaking up, he'd gradually distanced himself.
There was more to it, of course. Russell could smell it, and he knew Ser far too well otherwise. But he also knew that Ser wasn't ready to talk, so he didn't push.
And five years can pass in a blink.
But was he finally ready to talk? To explain himself? Russell rested an arm on the table closer to Ser, listening.
But no.While it was a confession, it wasn't the one Russell hoped to hear. Instead, Ser told him that he'd just discovered that he had been blessed by the appearance of a promised mate.
His mate, who set his heart ablaze just by being in the same room.
His mate, who just so happens to be the same Green witch that Russell had spent the last two days with, and had begun opening his heart to.
Russell swallowed, nodding along as Ser spoke, and realized that not only was he not going to keep his promise to his da, but that it was entirely possible for the same person to break one's heart twice.