Chapter Eighteen
"Alright, you lads and lasses," Roland said, addressing the assembled guardians in the Great Hall. "We've got six entire hours this time, so count yourself blessed… which I'll do myself right before you head out, ha! Lord Sergiy?"
Nodding, Sergiy stood up on one of the benches, doing a quick check. Some guardians were still trickling in, not all wearing clothes or carrying their weapons, but there were enough, and they would spread word to the rest.
"It's the Black Ridge, uppermost," he said, hearing good-natured groans. "Yes, I know. The paths are narrow, and the cliffs are many, and even more exaggerated in the Umbral realm. Try not to get knocked off. Auguste, I'll just add that it's a good thing you're not on rotation this time."
General laughter, and a few pokes to the unfortunately wingless werewolf.
"At a good pace, it will take us about forty minutes to arrive, so we'll meet in the mustering yard at T-minus two hours, receive our charms and blessings, and head right out. Lunch will be extended until then, so make sure you get yourselves a full stomach. Pack leaders, with me. The rest, dismissed."
The other four pack leaders gathered around, listening attentively.
"Three packs should be enough according to Roland's resonance report, so standard rotation. Marka, Markos, and Yacob, you're up this time. Summer, you're on stand-by, and my pack is on rest. What's the humvee situation?"
"They're already loaded, warlord," she said. "Minus whatever gear the packs want to add. The twisted curves are difficult to navigate safely, though, so we'll be an hour behind you."
"That's fine.I'll let you all go organize your packs, but meet me up in the war room at T-minus four hours for an update. Anything else? No?Good, dismissed."
Sergiy watched them go, then turned around. Over at the High Table was his mom, talking with Roland, as well as the three witches. Bruin noticed him watching, and he gave him a wave before focusing back on whatever Lux was saying. As much as Sergiy wanted to talk to his mate, he had things he needed to do, first.
With a quick whistle, he rounded up the Dawnbringers, his own pack. He gave a nod to Bridget, his second-in-command for when he wasn't available, which was fairly often—regardless of which packs were on rotation, Sergiy always joined the guardians that handled the incursion, and someone needed to be in charge while he was away.
"How's the pack?" he asked her.
"Five are on their way back in from Town and will be here within the next few hours, and we've got two out on vacation still. But my lord, if we and the standby troops can't defend the castle against imaginary shadows, I'll eat my tail."
"We'll all eat our tails, warlord," another said.
"Hey!" protested Toby, a gorilla shifter. "That's insensitive, some of us don't have one."
"Don't worry, I'll find you a tail."
"I don't think he needs the help, if the rumors at the bars are to be believed," Bridget said, and there were laughs and agreeable nods. "Leave it to us, my lord, you need to prepare yourself."
"Thank you. But make sure you all eat, I can hear more than one stomach rumbling."
Sending them on their way, he thought things through as he went over to the High Table. Was there anything else he was missing?
His bag and weapon were already staged and ready. Pack leaders informed. His mother had handled the communication to Town, broadcasting the imminent incursion—the road to Bastion Keep would be closed until twenty-four hours after, as a precaution, and some venues would close early. All that was left was magical support.
"—whatever you can do would be appreciated," Roland was saying. "Just make sure that it can be done in the twenty minutes after they muster and before they head out. If you need more time, let me know, or take advantage of the hours that we have available."
"We will be ready, High Priest," Lux told him. "We three worked out a chart of different charms and rituals, depending upon how much lead time we had available, and whether one, two, or all three of us were present."
"You mean you worked it out," Bruin said. "Roland, he's trying to share the credit, but he did most of the work, and had us rehearse a few times."
"I'm glad to hear that," Sergiy said, interrupting. "Roland always appreciates forethought and vigilance, and I do as well. Can you summarize what you'll be doing?"
"Three lasting group blessings," Lux said. "One from each of us, offering different kinds of protection. Sun magic, White magic, and Earth magic. But we do need to go now, as the more time we have to gather white light and intentions, the stronger the rituals will be. By your leave, Lord?"
Sergiy nodded, then watched them go.
Bruin only made it a couple of steps before Rosemary grabbed him by the shoulder, turned him around and pushed him towards Sergiy.
"Hi," he said, shrugging helplessly but grinning. "You be safe, okay?"
Sergiy grunted, and Bruin came in, giving him a tight hug, squeezing him for all he was worth. He was about to push him away so he could go on up to the war room, but…
No. He had time.
Grabbing him right back, he crushed his mate in his arms, feeling oddly nervous. When was the last time he'd said goodbye to someone that wasn't family?
Inside, his flaming instincts roared, at once upset that he would be leaving his mate, but also glad that he was heading out to protect him, even if indirectly.
"Don't forget to eat," Bruin told him as he disengaged.
Looking up, he saw Russ emerge from the kitchen, carrying two plates of food. He barked a laugh.
"I don't think that will be an issue," he said, gesturing. "Off with you, then. I'll see you in a few hours, at most."
Russ held a plate up, tilting his head, and Sergiy gestured upwards. Russ nodded, and then fell in step beside him as they headed out of the Great Hall and to the war room, where he could make sure there were no snags in the mission.
Just doing his duty.
◆◆◆
With the three packs grouped up into loose lines before Roland and the witches, Sergiy watched as the willworkers performed their promised charms.
Roland was first, chanting a prayer to his war deities and carrying around a smoking, horse-shaped censer that he held up one at a time to each of the packs. The smell of a woody incense permeated the area, a familiar scent that would linger on skin and fur for at least another half-hour. After intoning a final thanks, he backed up, and the witches took point.
Lux and Rosemary were dressed as formally as he'd seen them, Lux looking like a prince himself in an open half-coat, Rosemary in a dark gown and with full make-up and a belt heavy with keys and tools that jangled with each step she took. They held a pose, bowed to each other, and then at the first beat of Bruin's drum, they began singing a wordless song that sounded like something you'd hear at an opera as they spun a circling dance around the troops.
Sergiy's eyes were on his mate, however. Bruin was shirtless and barefoot, and the only difference in his dress was finger-painted white lines on his body, smelling like clay and oil. He was stomping the ground with his heel in time to his music, occasionally dancing back and forth in place like novice steps of capoeira. No singing from him, but he bobbed along with his beat.
The dance lasted only as long as the one song, the witches returning to their starting position. The ground seemed to be thumping, like a bass speaker turned on its head, soundless but felt. Each of the witches approached one of the packs.
Lux made a circle overhead with a crystal-tipped wand, drawing a white circle in the air.
Sunlight, moonlight,
Provide a warding charm.
Then Rosemary, crushing dried rose petals in her hand.
White light, candle's light,
Keep them safe from harm.
And lastly, Bruin, who simply knelt and put his hands against the ground.
Wolves, weres, and heroes fair,
Enter shadows black.
Blood, bone, earth, and stone,
Guide them safely back.
Sergiy wasn't sure what he'd expected the ritual's completion to feel like, but a warm hug and an encouraging pat on the head definitely wasn't it. As he shook his head in wonder, he heard approving howls from most of the guardians.He looked at Bruin, who shrugged, grinning toothily.
Sergiy dipped his head, then turned around, bellowing.
"Guardians of Bastion Keep! The bells have rung, the prayer's been sung, but now there's work to be done. Gather up and move out, awoo!"
There were answering howls as all the shifters changed into either their animal or dire animal form and began charging down the trail, following Markos in the lead. The only exception was Finnegan, a mythblooded nixie whose water and ice magics made up for him not being a shifter, who instead mounted on the back of a mountain lion packmate. A short ways away, two shifters from Summer's pack revved up a humvee.
Sergiy had already said his goodbyes to Bruin and Russ both, and he gave them a last wave before turning away from them and their concerned expressions, shifting into his drake form. With a lunge, he bounded on down the path, quickly catching up and then taking point.
He set a mean pace as they traversed the valley, heading to the anchor. Shifter stamina combined with the fact that they'd have an hour to spare when they arrived meant that they could travel at a canter, even with the uphill factor. He slowed down when they hit the switchbacks so as not to outdistance the following humvee too much, and to be alert in case there had been an early breech.
As they neared the anchor, the air took on a hazy tremor, and shadows were both too long and too short, or oriented wrongly based upon the setting sun's position, a sure sign that the barrier between their own world and the Umbral realm was weaker in this area. If left unattended, over time, the shadows on the other side could eventually rip a temporary tear through it, and any number of beasts could pour through before it healed back over.
"Markos?Marka?"
Both shook their lupine heads.
"Not smelling any beasties," Markos said. "How does the other side feel?"
His eyes took on a more golden sheen as he brought the shadows into focus.
"Seems safe, for now. Doesn't seem like they've caught on to the vent, yet."
They nodded, then went back to check on their packmates.
Once all the guardians were present and accounted for, they formed up, already shifting back into either their person or werebeast forms.
"Gear check!" he called out.
While the pack leaders checked each member of their pack one by one, he checked his own inventory.
All guardians were offered a pack imbued with the shifter-shaping runes. He kept his own strapped to his thigh, since he needed his back free. Inside, he kept a couple thousand calories worth of protein bars, a canteen of water, the mandatory tourniquet, and a spare radio to stay in contact with Bastion, though it didn't work in any of the spirit realms. Others kept food or comfort items as they saw fit.
Then his weapon. His mother preferred a pair of swords, but he preferred the added reach of a short-spear. It, like his pouch and clothes, had the special engravings that allowed it to shapeshift with his form.
Once the pack leaders reported that everyone was up and ready, he did his own inspection of his three alphas. Broadsword for Marka, twin short-swords for Markos, taking after their mom, and then a brutal mace for Yacob, nearly a maul. In turn, Yacob made a show of inspecting his own pack and spear, then nodded.
"It sounds like the humvee is at the base of the path, but unless someone desperately needs to shove food into their face, what say we get this hunt started?"
Raising his spear, he shifted into his weredrake form, the spear extending another two feet to match his larger size. Others shifted as well, then fell into different groups of threes and fours, tight-knit packmates that were trained to support each other.
Sergiy approached the anchor, then took one last look around with his golden drake sight. Still no shadows, but he could feel approaching hostiles not far off.
"Looks clear in the immediate vicinity, but be ready in case. Counting down in three."
Sergiy touched the anchor with a scaly paw, focusing on the sigils.
"Two."
The anchor was magically charged, and it bordered many different planes, like a stitch that was sewn through layers of cloth.
"One…"
He pulled out the stitch, and into that gap he stepped through, shifting worlds as easily as shifting forms. He felt others following suit.
The air in the Umbral realm was muted. There was the sound of wind, but no breeze. Sight became distorted, and what looked like a tree in one second could become part of the mountainside or wildlife in the next, like an optical illusion that could change depending upon how you looked at it.
Colors faded, most things becoming monochrome. Sometimes eyes would show a glint of color, or weapons their silvered edges, but only blood always showed red.
"Form up and fan out!" he roared.
Hunching over, he did one last shift. The tattoos on his upper back, magical prosthetics to replace limbs that had never grown, exploded out in wings made of light. He leapt up into the air, spear in hand.
He opened himself up to his drake senses. He wasn't blessed to have the empathetic senses of canines, or the thermal senses of the lizards and komodo dragon shifters, but as all thirty-four guardians lit up within his chest like flames, there was a reason Bastion's warlord had nearly always been a drake.
His guardians were his , like a dragon's hoard, and he needed to know where they were and if they were safe. He felt their collective eagerness to get underway as they spread out in teams, searching for shadows.
"Markos," he shouted, and even if his brother didn't hear him, his brother could certainly feel his intent—partly from his drake nature, partly from his being the alpha, and partly from years of overlaid guardian rituals. "East of your position, up the mountain. There's a group of more than a dozen. Marka, south flank, two more groups a half-mile off. Yacob, hold this position until the humvee arrives to drop off our food and water supplies."
Heading south himself, he noticed an aberrant shadow flickering among the trees, and he dove down out of the sky. He fell upon the creature like a well-tossed caber, his spear piercing through a central mass, and it writhed for a brief moment before falling still.
Before the shadow dissipated, he noticed that it looked like a walking octopus with a mess of reaching, asymmetrical tentacles. It could be a simple parasite native to the Umbral realm, or it could be a minion of a nearby spirit king. Hunger, perhaps, on account of the tentacles. Or Greed, possibly. Either way.
Shaking black dust off of his spear, he leapt back into the air and resumed the hunt.
◆◆◆
Bruin groaned, then got up out of his bed.
It was nearly midnight, and he'd spent the last few hours tossing and turning unproductively. Clad in just his boxers, he decided to head out for a walk to hopefully clear his thoughts, but stopped at his door and turned around to go back to his shelf. Grabbing his witch's bag, he made sure that it still contained plenty of gemstones, healing charm bags, and gathered herbs within it before heading out; with an active incursion going on, he didn't feel like he should be unprepared. What if it ended early, and he was called to the infirmary?
Just as he closed his door to his room, he saw Russell's door open, and his boyfriend peeked his head out.
"Little witch."
"Did I wake you? I'm sorry."
Russell shrugged, then stepped out into the hall, giving him a furry, warm, naked hug. The big man rumbled as he ran his hands soothingly up and down his back.
"You should sleep," Russell told him.
"How can I? He's out there right now, doing warlord stuff. It's dangerous, isn't it?"
"Ser is tough. Trust in him."
Bruin grumbled. "Look, you're right. I know you're right, but I still feel like I'm hopped up on caffeine, and hungover at the same time. How did you deal with this all those years?"
"The first few times, I threw up," Russell said, patting him on the head as Bruin choked on a laugh. "Then I cried.But I trusted he would come back. He always did."
Bruin held him a moment longer, then released him. Russell moved his hands to his shoulders, still stroking them. "Want to take a walk outside with me?"
For answer, Russell reached down and took one of Bruin's hands in his. Apparently not caring about clothing, he let Bruin lead the way down the hall, and then downstairs.
When they got to the first floor, Russell pointed over to the communal sitting room.
"Rosemary and Lux."
"I guess the others can't sleep either," Bruin said. He deviated and headed in that direction.
Rosemary had downgraded her dress to light-weight nightwear, shorts and a black tank-top with a metal band's logo. Sitting across from her, Lux had on just a pair of sweats. The two of them, like Bruin, each had their witch's bags with them.
"Would you two like to join us for some tea?" Rosemary asked. She indicated her tea carousel that was on the table, which included a teapot, cups, and more than a dozen different blends in ornate containers. "There's enough water for another few cups. Something to help you relax, maybe?"
Bruin looked up at a blank-faced Russell, and after asking if a detour was okay, his boyfriend nodded his head eagerly, sniffing the air.
"Lemon."
"Any kind of sleepy time, for me," Bruin said.
While Rosemary used a tiny spoon to fill a pair of tea infusers with the loose tea, Lux set his own teacup down on a saucer.
"Your charm bags for healing are still set and ready to go, aren't they?" Lux asked, and Bruin fought to avoid rolling his eyes.
"For the third time, yes. I've checked them over. You checked them over."
"Right, right, I suppose even you're not that forgetful," Lux said, tapping his hand against his leg. He slid to the edge of the couch he was on, allowing Bruin and Russell the space to sit next to each other.
"You weren't this nervous last time," Bruin said. As Rosemary closed the infusers and set them into two different cups, Bruin took the teapot and poured a measure of hot water into each. The water immediately began to darken, and he lifted his cup up to give it a smell. Lavender and chamomile, it seemed. He gave Rosemary a smile of gratitude, then set his cup back down to let the tea steep.
"Feels different," Lux admitted. "More real, maybe, since we were a part of the preparations. It's not faceless guardians heading out this time, but actual people I've met and shared meals with."
"Let's just pray for their safe return, and be ready to do our jobs when they do," Rosemary said.
Bruin reached out for his cup again, knowing it wasn't ready but impatient, and nearly got hot water splashed on his hand as Rosemary jerked to her feet, bumping the table. As she stared at the wall behind his head, he heard Russell make an inquisitive sound, head tilted. Distantly, Bruin began hearing a growing sound, as if someone were shaking a bag of leaves and fast approaching.
From around the corner, one of Rosemary's corn husk dolls made an appearance. Moving like a terrible stop animation film being run at ten times the speed, it blipped itself on top of the coffee table in front of his best friend, then into her hands.
The sound of rustling leaves was deafening, or conversely a windstorm through a cornfield, and as Bruin watched, the doll's husks turned a tarry black.
"Intruders," Rosemary whispered, tossing the doll aside and reaching into her bag for her shears. "Intruders in the keep!"
Russell released Bruin's hand, and in the next second he was in his werewolf form, howling. It wasn't like the typical howling at the moon, or the glad yips Bruin was getting used to hearing, but a scratchy, ragged one. Clever Rosemary tossed a hand out at her doll, and the thing mimicked Russell's warning howl precisely, which Bruin knew was being picked up by the other twelve dolls. He began hearing answering howls from other residents of the castle.
"We get to the Great Hall," Russell said sternly. He glanced back at them, making sure that they were following, then moved.
They'd just emerged at the eastern wing's foyer when there was the sound of shattered glass. Turning, Bruin saw one of the windows had broken, and through it, just a dark night, maybe some oddly waving trees. He turned back to head down the hall, but bumped into Russell, who was sniffing the air with his ears flattened back. He whined.
"Russell?What—"
I bind you in glass—
Your wretched trespass!
There was the sound of shears snipping, and Bruin turned in time to see Rosemary, fury painting her face, thrusting her shears at what looked like nothing other than the molding on the wall. As the broken glass shards on the ground speared out, however, there was a hissing sound as they stabbed through flesh.
As the nearly invisible creature flailed, Bruin heard a growl, and in the next moment a large black werewolf with white around its muzzle leapt forward, gripping the thing and ripping it apart with its paws. A horrifying tentacle monster appeared as its disguise failed, bleeding black dust before falling still.
Roland, in his own werewolf form, growled approvingly at Rosemary. "You three have your tools? Good. Now stop staring, and move , pups!"