Chapter Seventeen
Eldrick
Winds weaved with the scent of anise hurtled into the north gate, and snow crunched under Eldrick’s boots as he slid through mud. He growled and shoved his shoulder against the quivering wood and braced.
“Hold!” Bétar roared to his left.
Boom.
On the other side, Riven alongside Ingrid, the dark witch, attempted to breach the village.
A dozen werewolves, some shifted into their wolf forms, flanked Eldrick and Bétar.
Together, they pressed their collective weight against the onslaught of dark magic.
The gate trembled, but the Drengr pack held true.
“Any idea whose howl alerted the village?” Eldrick asked through gritted teeth.
“No idea.” Flurries collected in Bétar’s red beard. “It wasn’t a werewolf from our pack.”
“A visiting werewolf perhaps,” Todd said to his right, breath ragged.
Boom.
The weapons master grimaced. “Moons, dark magic smells ghastly, doesn’t it?”
Eldrick and Bétar grunted their agreement.
“More vampyrs spotted in the trees!” Yennifer called from an overlook on the wall above them.
“How many?” Bétar asked.
Yen dashed from sight, and then a beat later returned, peering down at them. “At least twenty.”
Bétar’s pinched brow mirrored the bewilderment flushing through Eldrick.
“That’s a small attack party,” the Commander breathed.
“They must’ve traveled through danu,” Todd said.
“What?” Bétar and Eldrick asked at once.
Sweat traveled down the weapons master’s temples, matting his dark hair twisted into a bun.
“Belle told me of her sister’s wind magic.
She can travel with it. Usually—” They heaved as another wave of wind knocked into the gate.
The wooden polls anchored into the ground groaned.
“A witch can only create a danu to a place they have visited, but since Ingrid’s magic has touched the dark, she can create a danu to wherever she pleases, but she’s still limited to how many can cross her threshold from place to place. ”
“They can reach the Vadon Mountains but only with so many.” Eldrick’s mind reeled. “Does distance matter?”
“Yes,” Todd nodded. “The greater the distance, the more magic used.”
An idea sparked. “Magic depletes, dark or not. She’d have to reserve her energy if they want a chance of getting home. Let’s tire her out and don’t let them breach this village. We need to take care of the vampyrs in the forest.”
Bétar nodded. “Yen!”
“On it!” she cried. “ARHCERS!”
Arrows whistled above, and a slew of grunts, pops, and screeches followed. An aggravated growl vibrated beyond the gate, and the onslaught of wind ceased. Unrelenting cold tightened Eldrick’s skin, and his wolf paced in his blood.
“Keep steady!” Eldrick cried.
“What are you doing?” a distant voice roared. “Grab a weapon! March to the gate!”
Eldrick whirled, his hackles rising at the tone.
Ahead, Alpha Johannes stalked down the village’s main street with chest puffed out wide and irritated sneer crinkling his eyes.
His knuckles were bone white, an axe in his left, sword in his right.
Behind him, Dalinda bared her teeth, disgust dripping off every step as she watched a family hurry towards the fortress.
“Cowards,” she spat at their feet.
Eldrick saw red.
“Hold the line,” he ordered Bétar and the others.
He didn’t think he moved, springing from his place at the gate and prowling towards the bastard disrespecting his pack.
Bjorn grabbed a farmer by the arm, jerking him close. “Did you not hear me—”
“Unhand him.” Eldrick’s alpha baritone echoed in the night.
The Johannes pack members lingering near their alpha stilled, along with Alphas Skau, Lindstrom, and Alland. Stars above, they had an audience.
Bjorn’s venomous stare snapped to Eldrick. Twice his width. Veins bulging from his arms. Scar ruddy and angry down his cheek. But Eldrick’s wolf bared its teeth, begging to be unleashed, not daring to cower in the presence of an older and larger alpha. This was his home, lands, and pack.
“I said, unhand him.”
Alpha Skau growled while Lindstrom and Alland stepped back. Bjorn stiffened, eyes widening a fraction at Eldrick’s wolfish magic peppering they air. He snarled, shoving the farmer to the ground, and turned his wrath onto Eldrick. The other alphas stood and did nothing.
“Your pack is fleeing,” Bjorn roared.
Eldrick ignored him and grasped the farmer’s shoulders, helping him rise. “Go. Get your family and head to Lār.”
Relief fluttered across the male’s face. “Thank you, Magu.”
He hurried off, and Eldrick sidestepped, blocking Bjorn. “You don’t give orders in this territory. We are under attack—”
“Yet you allow for cowards!” the alpha said.
“He isn’t a protector!” Eldrick said. “Each werewolf has their place in our pack, and there are protocols in place.”
Bjorn stepped toe to toe with Eldrick. “All Johanneses are warriors. They all know how to pick up an axe, sword, or bow, not run with their tail between their legs.”
The hairs on the back of Eldrick’s neck rose.
All Johanneses? Sure, the Drengr pack trained in self-defense, but third borns were warriors and called upon during vampyr and demon attacks.
Not that second borns and firstborns didn’t have a place—each werewolf had a role, none more important than the other.
There was honor in duty, no matter the kind.
Why was Bjorn’s pack full of warriors? The Johanneses were a sharper and more cutting pack, but to deviate from birth order so strongly . . .
Eldrick fought the confusion gripping him. He remained calm. Collected. Buried his unease. Not now.
He entered Bjorn’s personal space, smelling his foul breath. “This is the Drengr pack, not the Johannes. Remember your place.”
Bjorn grabbed his breastplate, a growl vibrating through him. “You arrogant pup.”
Horns blared through the village. Warriors called for aid, commands rippling across the wall, tower to tower.
Eldrick seethed, knocking away Bjorn’s hands. “I have more important matters to attend to than to bicker with the likes of you. The vampyr prince stands outside the gate.”
“I’m sure he’ll leave once he gets what he wants,” Dalinda said. “Hand her over.”
“Are you mad?” Eldrick asked. “Even if the Daughter of the Goddess was here, we’d never hand Evelyn over to the enemy!”
Dalinda snarled. “Not the witch, the vampyr whore. His sister.”
Eldrick swallowed his scorching rage. “We might not be a pack full of warriors, but at least we’re fucking loyal to our allies.”
“You’re a fool,” Bjorn scoffed.
The other alphas murmured amongst themselves, patronizing looks skating across Eldrick’s face. He didn’t dare balk under their perusal. Let them think what they wanted.
“I’d rather be a fool with honor than a true coward.”
Red bled up Bjorn’s face. “Mark my words, if werewolves die today, I’ll make sure the entire Vadon Mountains know it is because you chose a bloodsucker over them.”
“Unless you plan to stand by the Drengrs and help fight against Riven, back the fuck off.” Eldrick peeled away from the alphas, assessing each one of them. He headed towards the gate as his name carried on the wind.
“Eldrick!” a deep, male voice shouted.
He stilled—he recognized that voice but never with such desperation.
His usually reserved, studious brother pushed through the werewolves gathered at the gate.
Sweat matted his dark hair and tunic. No cloak, pale skin blooming red with exertion.
Cracked glasses. He’d run here, and fear laced the gold in his widened stare.
“Lorkan! Moons, what is it?”
“The north entrance.” His brother gulped rasping breaths. “Vampyrs surround the village.”
“Shit.” Eldrick turned his attention back to the gate. “Bétar—”
“Scrios!” A high-pitch screech from the other side of the wall sent shivers up Eldrick’s spine.
“Brace!” Yen cried.
But it was no use. The gate burst into a hundred pieces. Eldrick and Lorkan flew back with a dozen warriors. He landed with a harsh thud. Wood and debris fell around him, and his ears rang with a piercing pitch. Eldrick fought conscious. His vision blurred. Get up! You’re a leader!
He rolled to his side, fighting the shake in his legs and stood.
There. A few feet away, Lorkan groaned as he cracked his neck side to side, dark hair amiss, glasses gone.
Eldrick helped his brother stand, and side by side, they faced the destroyed entrance, dark tendrils of Ingrid’s magic snaking around the splintered wood.
Dark winds roiled through, and Riven, clad in armor, marched into the village.
“Where is she?” he roared. “Give us the Daughter of the Goddess, and we will not harm you!”
“Line!” Bétar called, stepping to Eldrick’s side.
Bruised and bloody, werewolves flanked him, Bétar, and Lorkan. Beastly energy bristled the air. Above, an arrow soared towards the prince. Riven unsheathed his black blade, and in one swift step, sliced it in half. The severed pieces clattered to the ground.
A stillness entered the village. Like the winds had fled with the vampyr prince’s arrival. Eldrick’s wolf begged to be unleashed. How dare Riven invade his home?
He stepped forth, his axe’s hilt groaning under his grip.
Riven’s sharp gaze tracked his movements.
The dark purple circles under the prince’s eyes didn’t match his regal armor.
Desperation clad in gold. He held the enchanted blade like he couldn’t muster the weight, tip dragging through the snow.
Ingrid stood at the entrance, black winds circling at her fingertips as she waited for her master’s next command, but Eldrick didn’t miss the blood dripping from her nose or her frantic sweep over the warriors gathered, as if she might spy her sister, Belle, amongst them.
But the witch was nowhere in sight along with Linx, the Gray Fenris’s mage and healer. Nor Eldrick’s father and mother, alphas of the Drengr pack, but commotion from the north resounded out of sight, and Eldrick didn’t have time to ponder where his family was.