Chapter 56 #2
“Move!” I shoved past the hunter, racing back toward the staircase. The corridor had transformed in our brief absence, shadows pooling in corners where no shadows should be, shifting and writhing as if alive. The chill air carried the stench of wet fur and something fouler, something rotting.
We reached the landing in time to see chaos erupting below.
Dark shapes moved through the entrance hall with unnatural speed, massive bodies flowing like liquid shadow.
Wolves, but not wolves. Their eyes glowed red and yellow in the torchlight, their fur rippling with darkness that seemed to eat the light around them.
They moved with terrible purpose, cutting off escape routes, herding the scattered hunters toward the center of the hall.
One of my men lay on the ground, his throat torn out, blood pooling beneath him in a spreading circle.
Another backed against a pillar, swinging his sword in wild arcs as three of the shadow-wolves closed in.
His screams turned gurgling as they tore into him, ripping flesh from bone with savage efficiency.
“Back up the stairs!” I ordered, grabbing the hunter beside me by his collar and hauling him backwards. “We need higher ground!”
The remaining men scrambled to obey, those still on the ground floor fighting desperately to reach the staircase. Two made it, racing up to join us. The third fell as a wolf leapt upon his back, driving him face-first into the stone steps with a crack that told me his neck had broken.
“What are those things?” gasped one of the survivors, his face slick with sweat and splattered blood.
“Not natural,” I said, already calculating our options. Four of us left. Six, maybe seven of them that I could see. Too many. “Back down the corridor. We need a defensible position.”
We retreated, the wolves following at a measured pace. They didn’t rush, didn’t need to. They knew we were trapped. Knew the only exit lay through them.
“In here,” I kicked open a door at random, revealing what looked like an old study or library. “Barricade the door!”
The men obeyed, dragging a heavy desk across the threshold as the wolves reached the landing. I heard them moving outside, claws clicking on stone, low growls vibrating through the wood of the door. Testing. Waiting.
“There must be another way out,” I said, scanning the room. A window, too small for a man but not for a boy, sat high in one wall. “You.” I pointed to the smallest hunter. “Think you can squeeze through that?”
He looked at the window, then back at me, terror making him honest. “Maybe. But what then? I’d be trapped outside, between the castle wall and the drop.”
“Better than being wolf food in here,” another hunter spat. “Go. Tell the king what’s happening. We need more men.”
A crash against the door cut off any further discussion. The barricade shuddered but held. For now.
“Go,” I ordered the small hunter. “Now.”
He nodded, fear giving way to desperate hope as he climbed the shelves lining the wall, reaching for the window. The glass was ancient, brittle, breaking easily when he struck it with the pommel of his dagger. He cleared the shards, then began squeezing his shoulders through the narrow opening.
Another crash against the door. Wood splintered. The desk slid back several inches.
“Hurry!” I urged, as the hunter pushed himself halfway through the window.
Then he screamed, high and terrified, his body jerking as something outside grabbed him. His legs kicked wildly, blood spraying across the wall and ceiling as he was torn in half, the upper portion of his body disappearing through the window while his legs and hips dropped to the floor inside.
“They’re outside too,” one of the remaining hunters whispered, his voice breaking. “We’re surrounded.”
I ignored him, my mind racing. There had to be a way out. Some passage, some secret the castle held that might offer escape. Isabeau had fled this place somehow. With Alain. Without being torn apart by these shadow-wolves. How?
The door shuddered again, a massive crack appearing down its center as claws gouged deep furrows in the ancient wood. We had moments at most.
“The fireplace,” I said, noticing how large it was, big enough for a man to stand in. “Check if there’s a hidden passage.”
The hunters scrambled to obey, feeling along the stones, looking for any mechanism that might reveal an escape route. I joined them, running my hands over every inch of the fireplace interior, finding nothing but cold ash and soot.
“Sir,” one of them said, his voice tight with fear, “there’s nothing here.”
The door exploded inward, desk and all, crushed beneath the weight of multiple wolf bodies hitting it simultaneously. Red eyes gleamed in the darkness beyond, shadows taking solid form as they padded into the room.
“The window,” I ordered, already moving toward it. “It’s our only chance.”
“But the other man—”
“Move or die here,” I cut him off, clambering up the shelves as the wolves advanced. The window was too small, I knew that objectively, but desperation made impossible things seem possible. I reached it just as the first wolf lunged for the hunters behind me.
Screams filled the room, wet tearing sounds accompanying them as I forced my shoulders through the narrow opening, glass shards cutting into my flesh.
I didn’t care. Pain was nothing compared to death.
Blood made my passage slicker, and I squeezed through by sheer force of will, falling awkwardly onto a narrow ledge outside.
The outer wall offered handholds. Decorative stonework and vines that had grown through cracks over centuries.
I didn’t hesitate, didn’t look back at the sounds of slaughter behind me.
I climbed down, fingers bleeding, muscles screaming, until I dropped the last ten feet to land hard on the ground below.
Guards rushed toward me as I staggered away from the castle wall, swords drawn, the king and crown prince behind them with expressions mixing shock and alarm.
“What happened?” the king demanded. “Where are the others?”
“Dead,” I said flatly, straightening despite the pain lancing through my body. “The castle is overrun with shadow-wolves. Corrupted creatures. They killed everyone inside.”
Theron stepped forward, his gaze calculating. “And yet you escaped.”
I met his eyes, daring him to accuse me of cowardice or abandoning my men. “I had a purpose that supersedes my own life or the lives of those men. Finding Isabeau.”
“The witch,” the king muttered, making a warding sign with his fingers. “She’s cursed the place against us.”
“No,” I said, wiping blood from a cut on my cheek. “This isn’t her magic. This is older. Darker. But she was here.” I pointed toward the forest that stretched beyond the castle grounds. “And she left a trail.”
“You want to continue?” Theron asked incredulously. “After what just happened? After losing six men?”
“I’d sacrifice a hundred men to reclaim what’s mine,” I said without hesitation. “The wolves are in the castle now. They won’t follow us into the forest.”
The king studied me, his eyes narrowing. “You seem very certain of many things, Coventry. Very determined to recapture this girl.”
“She’s not just a girl,” I said, unable to keep the edge from my voice. “She’s more valuable than you know. And if your son has convinced her to use her powers against the kingdom...”
I let the implication hang in the air, knowing the king’s paranoia would fill in the rest. His fear of magic, of witches, of anything that threatened his orderly world, would serve my purpose.
“Very well,” he said after a moment. “Continue the hunt. But I want her alive, Coventry. Alive to face proper justice.”
I nodded, already turning toward where my horse waited. “As you command, Your Majesty.”
Within minutes, I had gathered the remaining hunters—men who hadn’t entered the castle, who hadn’t witnessed the slaughter inside. They looked nervous, casting glances at the castle as if expecting the wolves to pour out after us, but they obeyed when I ordered them to mount up.
As we rode toward the forest edge, following the clear trail left by two horses, one of them moving with an odd gait that suggested it wasn’t an ordinary mount. I felt that strange pull again. A tugging at my very center, urging me to turn around, to go back. To abandon the hunt.
Her magic, trying to dissuade me. It wouldn’t work. Nothing would stop me now. Not wolves, not curses, not the disapproval in Prince Theron’s eyes or the fear in my men’s faces.
Isabeau had thought she could escape me. Had thought another man could protect her. She was wrong. She belonged to me. Only to me. And if I couldn’t have her, no one would.
I shall give you her, a dark voice entered my mind. The Dark Lord’s presence undeniable. Bring her to me, and I shall free you for your curse. I shall let you touch her again, own her.
That was all I needed. I dug my heels into my horse’s flanks, urging it faster along the trail.
She couldn’t have gotten far. The forest would slow them down, its paths treacherous and shifting.
I would find her. And when I did, Prince Alain would die screaming while she watched.
Then she would understand the price of defiance.
My veins burned with a strange fire as we pressed deeper into the forest, the trees closing around us like a cage.
Part of me screamed to turn back, a primal instinct warning of dangers beyond mortal understanding.
I ignored it. I’d faced the Dark Lord’s witch and survived.
I’d made deals with powers that would drive lesser men mad and another just struck. I feared nothing in these woods.
Nothing but losing her forever.
“You’re mine, Isabeau,” I whispered to the trail ahead, to the forest, to the magic that even now tried to turn me from my path. “You’ve always been mine. And you always will be.”
Or you’ll be no one’s at all.