Wolf Magic Page 7

  And then I heard it. A shout – followed by another one – a clamor of voices getting louder and louder as they approached.

  “What’s that?” I looked up groggily, but Breena pulled my head back down, pressing me against her lips.

  “Don’t you worry, Logan,” she said, her smile creasing with laughter. “Don’t you worry about a thing. Let them be. Probably just some bandits looking for adventure.”

  I could make out the voices now – make out distinct phrases. And then the sound of my name. Logan.

  “They want me…” I tried to pull away, although it took every ounce of energy I had to separate myself from the deliriously enchanting taste of her. “I need to go to them. Maybe it’s more fairies.”

  “So what?” Breena laughed. “The last thing we want is fairy gossip. Can’t we just stay here a bit longer? Stay happy?” Her bright eyes put me as surely under their spell as if they had been enchanted to do so. I smiled down at her before kissing her again.

  “Just this once,” I conceded, “duty can wait.” I stroked her hair, my fingers brushing against her smooth, satiny cheeks. Relishing how she felt inside my arms. At once fragile and terribly, immeasurably small. At once someone to protect and someone to protect me. My equal, my one true love. My Breena.

  “I knew you hadn’t stopped loving me!” Breena kissed my ear, my cheek, my neck. “I knew you hadn’t given up on me. And I’m so sorry – so sorry I hurt you, so sorry I made you wait. I just wasn’t sure until now – but now I know. You’re the one I want, Logan. Not Kian. Not Feyland – but my true friend. Someone I can trust with all sides of me. Someone I can open up to. And I know how much I’ve hurt you.”

  Glassy diamond tears sparkled in a trail down her cheeks, but I wiped them away.

  “Never mind, Breena,” I said, using my handkerchief to wipe the tears away, pressing the handkerchief to my nostrils as I inhaled her mesmerizing scent. “We’ll forget about all that. We’re here together now. We’re happy – at last.”

  “No fairies – no potions – no spells…”

  “No fairies…” I clutched her tighter, afraid at every moment that she’d vanish before me, reveal herself to be a mirage. But her flesh was true flesh; her body was a true body.

  “Logan!” The voices had found us. “What in the name of the Twin Suns are you doing?”

  I whirled around, irritated at the interruption. I turned scarlet as I caught sight of Alistair before me, along with the rest of the Frost Fire Knights. I knew them well – together we had fought off the Dark Hordes. Behind Alistair there stood many heroes I recognized from that adventure. There was Jeremy, a childhood friend of Kian’s from the Winter Kingdom, his ash-blonde hair almost white, his regal eyes – piercing silver in hue – tinged with tragedy. I knew the source of his melancholy. Jeremy had once been in love with a Summer daughter – that same forbidden union that had once kept Breena and Kian apart – but his story had not ended so happily. After being banished from his home by the Winter Queen, Jeremy had regained the Queen’s favor – but at a price. It was only the death of his former beloved, fighting at the Battle of the Silver Bridge, that had convinced the late Winter Queen to welcome him back into the fold – a bittersweet return from exile that Jeremy had never entirely embraced. To come home to the court now, I knew, was to profit from the death of his beloved – something an honorable man like Jeremy could never do. He had refused the Queen’s mercy, and instead remained on the fringes of the Winter lands, an itinerant soldier.

  Next to him I spotted another familiar face – that of the vigorous centaur Cary, his hindquarters glistening with morning sweat. Like many centaurs, Cary held fast to the legends of old – the knightly lore and courtly poems that spoke of the days when centaurs rode across the hills of Feyland, proud to be famous as the most noble and chivalric of all of Feyland’s creatures. Cary, I knew, was something of a romantic, still speaking in a slightly archaic style, modeling his speech after that of the heroes he had read about in old centaur legends. I knew that for him, Frost Fire was more than just a political movement. It was a chance for him to recapture the adventurous allure of Feyland’s Golden Age.

  Standing alongside them, his enormous horns glinting in the light of the morning sun, was another figure I knew all too well. While I instinctively recoiled from the bull-like head, recalling my battle a few hours earlier, this Minotaur was anything but dangerous. Half-human, half-bull, Barnaby was like me – a hybrid not merely of animal and human, but also of Feyland and the Land Beyond the Crystal River. Not that our situations were anything comparable – I, at least, could pass for human. Barnaby, on the other hand, had to be smuggled in as livestock every time he visited his mother’s house in Ohio, for otherwise no doubt his bull’s head would attract some undue attention. Still, I could relate to Barnaby. Our struggles – that of reconciling our animal natures with our human ones – were no doubt similar, and I often felt that Barnaby could understand my situation better than almost anyone I knew. Except, perhaps, for Breena.

  The final member of the group that stood before me was a small, sprightly creature. Half-man, half-goat, with wiry legs and small, nubby horns, Pan had not been a soldier for long. Preferring tricks and jokes to rules of battle, Pan had always been a pleasure-seeker and a lover of good wine, unused to sleeping rough or getting injured in battle. But now that times were hard, Pan too had taken up the mantle of a United Feyland, putting his evening bottles of Autumn Springs nettle brandy on hold while he rode with Alistair and the other Frost Fire Knights across Feyland, attempting to aid in the restoration of the United Monarchy that had arisen after the peace between Winter and Summer.

  I was happy to see them, of course, but also somewhat embarrassed. The news that Breena had left Kian probably hadn’t reached them yet – if she’d stolen out in the dead of night the way she’d imagined they would – and this certainly wasn’t how I wanted them to find out. I turned crimson as I hurriedly started putting my clothes back on.

  “Look” I began. “I know this looks bad, but…”

  “Are you insane?” Alistair was gaping at me. “How could you…”

  “Breena and I have been in love for a long time…”

  “Breena?” Pan put his hands on his hips before signaling to the others.

  Instantly they were on top of me, dragging me out of Breena’s arms, separating us.

  “Logan!” Her sweet voice echoed across the plains. “Logan, what’s happening?”

  Their roughness had stoked my rage. “Unhand me!” I cried out, furious. “Unhand me – I command it! Or else I can guarantee that you will have the wrath of my blade to contend with.”

  Alistair had placed two hands on my shoulders and began to shake me vigorously. “One day, Logan,” Alistair said, “I look forward to challenging you and seeing how you fare against the mettle of my sword. But today is not the day, Logan. Look at me.”

  “Logan! Logan!” Breena was still calling for me, but Pan and Barnaby were fending her off.

  “What are you doing?” I struggled, thrashing about, trying to escape from Alistair’s vice grip.

  “He needs the dust,” said Cary, neighing as he rode up to Breena, causing her to stumble backwards.

  Alistair removed a fistful of silver dust from his pocket, blowing it into my eyes.

  “Hey!” I began to cough as the powder filled my mouth and nostrils as well as my eyes. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

  “Look over there…,’ Alistair jerked my head around to face Breena. “Does that look familiar to you?”

  My eyes widened with surprise as I turned my gaze back upon Breena. She was shaking, convulsing; her body seemed to blur and morph, changing shape, changing size, changing color.

  “Breena!” I called out, wild with fear. “What are you doing to her?”

  And then I saw it – saw her. Saw the figure that stood where Breena had been. Those cold emerald-green eyes with yellow flecks in them, like a snake’s skin. The eyes
of the Sorceress Clariss.

  For an instant she was beautiful – as lovely and haughty and strangely magnetic as she had ever been. But she kept on changing. Her skin began to wrinkle like leather; scales began to appear on her back and arms. Her face contorted and collapsed in on itself, until the beautiful woman had transformed into a malformed crone. Nothing remained of the Clariss I had known except for the eyes.

  “Diamond dust,” said Alistair. “It shows you the truth of what you see.”

  And what I was seeing before me was that Breena – my Breena – was only an illusion, a lie.

  I had spent the night kissing Clariss.

  Chapter 12

  My mouth fell open. I was flabbergasted. My skin began to burn – the memory of Clariss’ touch seared into my flesh. For an instant – a brief but beautiful, glorious instant, I had been the happiest man in the world. I had believed – I had let myself believe – that Breena loved me, that she wanted me, to be near me, to kiss me, to hold me, to do everything with me that I had for so long dreamed of doing with her. I should have known – you fool! You should have guessed! My subconscious was screaming within my ears, roaring with animal rage. I should have guessed that Breena never would want me, never would love me, that this was just a trick of my imagination designed to plunge me deeper into the great torment of Breena’s absence. I cursed my own stupidity. How many times would I fall for the same trap – this my greatness weakness – the need to believe that Breena and I were somehow linked, somehow destined to be united.

  Missing her was agony – this much I knew. The pain of her loss had been carved on my bones and inscribed on my heart. Every second I spent without her was some kind of suffering. I needed her; I craved her. And so I lied to myself. I let magic, with its myriad illusions, its enchantments, its spells, take over – because it was better to fool myself a hundred times into thinking that Breena loved me than spend another hundred seconds missing her. Even this agony, the realization – like that of awakening from a dream – that it had only been an illusion – was better than the alternative: to have spent another night dreaming so vainly of her. I flushed at the realization – that not only had Clariss’ trick worked, but also that I had wanted it to work. I had invited the lie.

  “What a fool I am,” I growled.

  “And to think…” Alistair turned towards Clariss, who was snarling at us, her face bestial with hatred. “This is what Clariss truly looks like – deep down. Not the beautiful woman we know. A monster.” He took a step towards Clariss. “That’s what you are, after all. A monster. Tricking poor Logan here.”

  Clariss let out a roar. “He wanted to be tricked – didn’t you, Logan? Your body craved mine – I could feel it.”

  “You witch!” Cary cried. “Logan would never go for you if he’d known the truth. That’s why you have to resort to trickery –to lies. To disguise your real ugliness.”

  His words evidently stung Clariss. Anger flared across her face – along with a look, a momentary glance, of something like sadness. I had to admit I was surprised. I didn’t think Clariss capable of real feelings.

  “What do you want, Clariss?” I tried to steady my voice, to mask the pain she’d made me feel.

  “I want you, Lover,” she crooned slowly. “But if you won’t have me, I guess I’ll have to kill you instead.”

  “Stand back!” Alistair cried, knocking me backwards just in time for us to dodge a lightning bolt that burst with a bang from Clariss’ fingertips.

  “Watch it!” Barnaby roared, lowering his head, his horns glinting and sharp as he made a rush towards Clariss.

  She side-stepped him, but not fast enough, and a slimy trail of pond-green blood appeared at Clariss’ side where he had scratched her.

  “Ow!” Her voice was the pouty insubordination of a teenaged girl. “That hurt!” Even in her monstrous form, I could see traces of her former seductive smile as she curled her lips into a bitter grin. “Never mind,” she said. “I’ll get you for this.”

  “Not if we get you first!” A whistle echoed as Cary threw his trusty boomerang at her; it caught on one of her sleeves and sliced the fabric cleanly from her body as it returned to Cary’s hand, like a dog to its master.

  “Now that’s something I don’t want to see,” Alistair said, grinning, as he grimaced at the sight of Clariss’ green, scaly skin.

  “You dare mock me!” Clariss reared up furiously. But Cary and Alistair only smiled.

  I couldn’t help smiling too. There was always something of the boyish jester in Alistair – in all of us. When we were together, fighting, we were more than just soldiers. We were a merry band, like Robin Hood’s men or the Three Musketeers.

  Perhaps this too was a kind of happiness. I wasn’t free. I wasn’t out of love with Breena. But at least I had my friends – my noble brothers-at-arms, to rely on. At least, I figured, it was something.

  “Hurry up, slowpoke,” Alistair said to me as he shot a bolt of orange light straight at Clariss. “We haven’t got all day.”

  “We’ve got to defeat her or get out of here before she gets really angry.” Cary said, picking up a bow and shooting arrows at Clariss, two of which hit true, causing green blood to pour down from her shoulders. “And we definitely don’t want to see her when she’s angry.”

  “You can say that again,” said Barnaby.

  I turned to Cary. “What happens when she’s really angry?”

  “That!” Jeremy pointed a finger at Clariss. She was morphing this time – but not back into the beautiful young girl I remembered. The scales grew harder and more gleaming; her torso grew longer. Her limbs seemed to retract into her body. Clariss was transforming into a snake before our very eyes. She reared up, fangs glinting, her tongue forking into two as she stared at us with malicious hatred.

  “Watch out!” called Alistair as the serpent got bigger and bigger, expanding until the crest of her head was taller even than the surrounding trees.

  “I think this calls for a RUN!” shouted Cary, galloping at full speed away. Instantly I morphed into a wolf, following after him, while Alistair, Jeremy and Barnaby brought up the rear. The snake wove through the trees, but we were able to dodge her, running around in circles until Clariss had tangled herself on the tree trunks. We zigzagged through the forest, our chests pounding with a curious combination of fear and exhilaration, running as fast as we could towards safety.

  At last we heard a thundering cry in the distance – the cry of Clariss’ defeat – as we spied on the horizon Clariss’ tangled, knotted form.

  “I’ll get you next time,” she bellowed, “don’t you doubt my powerss-s—s-s-s-s-….”

  “Next time!” called back Jeremy, and at last we collapsed in a single heap by the side of a river, sweaty and exhausted. We laughed softly, joking about the adventure.

  “Aren’t you so glad that we just so happened to be in the neighborhood?” Cary grinned at me with an impish look.

  “I’m not so sure that he is,” Pan raised an eyebrow. “After all, it looks like you were having a mighty good time with the Sorceress before we turned up.”

  “She enchanted me…” I avoided his gaze. “I thought she was someone else.”

  That was enough to knock them silent. Me falling prey to a beautiful woman was a subject for mockery – but me falling prey to my love for Breena – everybody knew that some subjects were too painful to be joked about. She was one of us, too…along with Kian, a Frost Fire Knight. When the Frost Fire Knights had formed, Breena and I had been engaged – they remembered how happy we had been, once upon a time. And they knew the suffering I was experiencing now.

  “I’ll – uh – set up camp,” said Alistair, and the other knights rushed to his side, eager to start acting busy.

  “Yeah, me too!” Cary neighed and reared up on his hind legs.

  “Me too!” chimed in Barnaby.

  Only Jeremy stayed by my side.

  “Listen,” he said softly. “I know it’s not easy, okay? I’
ve been there, too.” He patted me shoulder.

  “Not great, is it?” I tried to smile and joke, but we both knew the pain wouldn’t evaporate that easily.

  “No,” conceded Jeremy. “Not great. But it does get easier – I promise you. I mean, I know in my heart that I’ll never forget her…” He fell silent and I knew he was thinking of the girl he lost – of the girl he once loved. “But I also know I have to move on. That that’s what she would have wanted.”

  “How long did it take you?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking. “Before you were able to move on? Before you were able to make the pain stop.”

  Jeremy fell silent. “A few years,” he said at last. “And even now, I wouldn’t say it’s gone. It’s just…easier to manage, somehow. You get used to it.” He turned away.

  Alistair interrupted our conversation, sauntering over with a broad smile on his face. Evidently, his attempt to cheer me up was far more an effort at distraction than at understanding or sympathy. “Hey Wolfman,” he said, slapping me broadly on the shoulder. “That was two incredibly close calls in one day, eh? First the Minotaurs, then Clariss? When are we going to get a well-deserved rest?”

  “Not anytime soon, I gather,” I said, only half-bitterly.

  “Oh, well,” Alistair laughed. “We’re warriors, right? Not made for sitting still for too long.” He paused. “I wanted to explain,” he said. “Why Kian and Breena weren’t there. I know you must be wondering why they didn’t come to your aid – and believe me, I know they wanted to come, they would have if they could…”

  “I know,” I said.

  “You know?” Alistair looked confused. “How?”

  “Magic,” I grinned back at him. “I saw it – saw it all. That pool where I was staying – it was like I was looking into a window into Breena and Kian’s lives. I saw the whole thing play out before my eyes.”

  Alistair gaped with surprise. “That’s some pretty serious magic right there,” he said. “You don’t think…”