The Wolf and the Maiden

Chapter 2

“That’s bullshit!” Rory was a burst of rage, his eyes pulsing silver. “You can’t force your problems into our hands and tell us we’re stuck here until we fix it all for you!” his nostrils flared.

“It was the only way!” was the king’s fierce reply, though his hands curled tighter on the armrest as he witnessed Rory’s claws and teeth elongate into the partial shift of his beast. The chamber’s air seemed to thicken when he pushed his Aura out toward the king, letting him taste the power of a Lycan prince in a concentrated wave.

King Joel flinched when Rory growled, taking a meaningful step toward him. Yet the slicing sounds of metal coursed in front of them as the knights brandished their swords and pointed their weapons outward. Rían jumped to capture Rory’s shoulder, gripping it hard and pulling him back in line, tethering him from moving any further even though his own chest burned with the same fury. While he could slaughter the knights within seconds, having Rory wolf-out right probably wasn’t the best way in trying to figure out what was going on or how they could get back to their realm. Rían knew the king would be the key to fast-tracking that and it wouldn’t happen if he was a shredded corpse.

Even so, he tried to keep his voice as steady as possible when he spoke to redeem any sort of civility. “What exactly is this s**t you want us to solve and why does it tie to whether or not we get to go home or not?” Rory seemed to settle; well, outwardly anyway. His teeth and claws retracted, though hints of his beast still swirled in his eyes.

King Joel released a slow exhale, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he regarded Rían, though his tone still edged. “You have been brought here because of your unique… gifts, because of the unique beings you are.” He nodded at Isak, “The weredragon,” then to Chaz, “the púca faerie,” finally eyeing he and Rory, unease fringing his expression for what he had just seen, “and the werewolves--- well I assume werewolves. You are just like your father with his abilities, yes? Otherwise, I cannot see how the teleport allowed you to even be transported here.” The letter was specifically fashioned for his dad? If it found the right DNA tracers, it would make sense that it could have confused him or Rory for their father, but they weren’t exactly like their dad, who could call for an army of Lycan wraiths at his command. If that was what the king was hoping for, he would be sorely disappointed.

Rían knew he needed to be upfront with the king about this difference, especially if it might interfere with the guy’s plans or whatever. “Uhh… well, your Highness, we are not entirely the same as our father, meaning we don’t have all his… talents. We’re kind of a mix of both our parents. My mom’s a powerful witch, and so we have some of her gifts, too,” Rían informed him, watching for any sign of disappointment. If they needed their dad’s abilities to do whatever they needed to do, this would be a very short campaign. “So, with whatever you want us to help you with, I hope it’s enough?”

“Well, I have some of her gifts.” Rory interjected, simpering more at him than the others in the room. “To be fair, Rían is still a big fat question mark.” Rían rolled his eyes at him as he continued. “But we aren’t werewolves, so let’s get that straight. We’re a level-up of those shifters, called Lycan.”

“Lycan? What’s a Lycan?” King Joel questioned.

Isak glowered, a thick black brow rising, “The haughty bastards of any were species.”

“Ha! I think weredragons take the prize for being the most conceited jack-asses.” Rory looked across Rían to glare at the dragon. “You just jealous, asshole?” When Isak’s dark eyes spiked with a bit of gold rimming his irises, it only seemed to fuel his brother more. “Piss off!”

“Gentlemen,” The king cautioned, even as his eyes jumped warily from Isak to Rory. Clearing his throat. “Let’s all be civil? You will, after all, be working together.”

Rían groaned, rubbing the back of his neck with both hands, glaring up at the buttresses slinging across the ceiling as he tried to dial himself out of his brother’s díck measuring contest with the dragon and try to cope with everything else. This king brought them here, to this foreign realm in what looked like an era without running water —which that itself hit full tilt on his bullshit meter--- to help him figure out some sort of problem and the only way he’d get back home was to figure out said problem or he and Rory would be stuck here indefinitely. So, there was only one way outta this s**t.

“King Joel, what is it that you need us to do?” Rían asked. “What the hell is the problem with returning home, too? Is the realm closed off? Is there a issue with the gateways?”

“You can call it an issue with the gateways, sure,” the king nodded as he ran his hands along the thick wooden armrests of the throne, then fastened at its decorative ends, covering some sort of animal head carved into it. There, his fingers clamped into a near white-knuckle hold and relaxed multiple times as he appeared to be thinking about his words. Did he not trust us? Finally, after a purse of his lips, the king spoke, “You’ll need to speak to the one who brought you here, for better understanding. I am not the best one to explain this, but I’ll clarify as much as I can.”

“I thought you brought us here?” Chaz asked, his eyes squinting as he brushed some long strands of auburn hair from them. Mr. Smiley was suddenly losing some of his shine, though understandably so.

The king focused on the faerie, “Truthfully, it is not only me who is involved with all this. It was just that here, in my kingdom, where we agreed for you all to be welcomed to the Vafaren realm.” He let that settle into silence for a moment. Perhaps he wasn’t used to being so open about all this? But he sure as hell needed to be now, especially if it wanted their help! Yet clearly, it must have been such a dire secret to keep with how the king kept it so close to his chest.

Rían encouraged, “Well, let’s talk to whoever this guy is then and get everything laid out?” He looked over his shoulder at the rest of the vacant Hall to see if anyone else had shown up. Why wasn’t the guy in charge here now when he and the other princes obviously arrived tonight? “Is he here in the palace, then?”

“His name is Esmond, and no, he isn’t here tonight. We didn’t know exactly when you would be here, so it was difficult to coordinate a meeting, as you could imagine.”

Isak grumbled, “How is it you didn’t know when we would be here, yet we all arrived at the same time?”

“I am not a magic user, Prince Isak. I do not know how it entirely works. Please save these questions for Esmond.” He sighed, and suddenly looked much older than he was, the burden lying heavily along his forehead. “But I am very thankful that you did come. Our efforts have spanned over many years and we’ve all worked very hard to get everything just right in order to bring you all here.” His tone drew even more serious, “Many people have died to make sure you’re standing where you are. I don’t expect you to appreciate what this has all meant to us, and regardless of how angry you are with what we did, I am not regretful for it.”

Noting the desperation in the king’s eyes, Rían’s stomach sank. He only imagined the disappointing shake of his father’s head if he could be here now, judging his sons’ selfish behavior. Yes, this all sucked ass. Yes, it was wrong of King Joel and his little troupe of conspirators to do what they did. But there really was no way to dial it all back now. After pulling away all the bullshit of their situation, the thing that still remained was that the realm needed their help.

But he just had to know…

“Why can’t we go back home? What’s wrong with the gateways?” His voice had lost a lot of its barb, though he held onto some of it. Even if he was gradually resigning to help this king, he still was many shades of pissed.

“The gateways were closed a long time ago when magic was… outlawed here.” King Joel said simply while peering fully at Rían. “It has been that way for centuries. Even millenia. Most of the people have been brainwashed with the realm’s one true religion,” he mocked, “called Akish. And those caught with magic or using magic are executed as heathens.”

Rory nodded in understanding. “And you want us to help you bring the magic back,” his lips couldn’t help the curling mockery that formed. “That’s what she said,” he muttered. Rían elbowed his brother’s arm.

Ignoring the Lycan, Isak said, “But weren’t you and your crew using magic to get us here? And didn’t that put a target on your backs? On ours?”

“We did it in such a way that hopefully it went undetected by anyone who may be watching. Which may have been a reason for your unexpected, expected arrivals.” His eyes shifted throughout the room, looking from the eight metal-plated knights who stood like statues on the stone steps of the daïs, to Kellen who still was planted in front of Rían, then back to the princes. “And of all the courtiers and servants in this castle, only those in this room know of your true origins. It is of the utmost importance to keep it secret.” He said softly, “My father died a decade ago in order to put this whole thing together, and I intend to see it through in his honor.”

“At least tell us what was so important that you needed it to be us to come and help you?” Chaz asked, running a hand through his long waves of red hair, exposing more of his distinguishable, pointy ears. Rían had seen a good deal of Fae in his lifetime – and some of his uncles even mated a few– yet none had such a definite point to the tops of their ears like Chaz did, making him wonder just what sort of faerie he was.

“I agree with Red here,” Rory quipped. “You literally brought supernatural, magical beings into your realm knowing we’ll be hunted down and executed if we’re caught. Explain to me how this is a good plan?” he smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

King Joel’s eyes flicked to the faerie, a slight tug of amusement lifting his lips. “You both have excellent arguments, but like I said, with what we need you to do, requires your gifts and we're willing to take that chance to bring you here to help us. Yet, we will, in turn, help you.” With the snap of his fingers, Kellen turned and dug into the pockets at the sides of his tunic and presented a small cedar wooden box to Rían, Isak, and Chaz. Fitting in the palm of his hand, Rían eyed it curiously. “Open them, please.”

Lifting the lid, it revealed a silver octagonal medallion clasped to a sturdy chain lying upon a pillow of blue velvet. Symbols and etchings dug into the metal, but he had no idea what language or script it was from. Examining it further, he observed what appeared to be a sharp-looking K from the human alphabet with a whole lot of chicken scratch around it. Piercing the center of the letter, if that’s what it was, embedded an onyx marble.

“These talismans have a few qualities to help you, but foremost, it will hide your magical identities from others. I strongly suggest you use as little of your powers as you can while here, though, with what needs to be done, I know you’ll need to use your abilities in some cases.” Without hesitation, Rían handed it off to Rory. The king spoke immediately, “That amulet is yours, Prince Rian.”

“You only have three of these because you only expected three of us. And since Rory actually has magic, and I don’t, it’s a no-brainer that he needs it more than I do.” If any of those Karanlık heretics could sense his brother’s witchy abilities, he didn't want to gamble with the idea of him being hunted down.

“But your Aura of simply being a werew--- a Lycan puts off enough magical energy to be tracked down. You need that, too.” Rory edged it back to him, but he shoved it further into his brother’s hands.

Rían shrugged, “I’ll take my chances, I guess.” If it was a choice to protect him or his brother, it would always be Rory.

“Kellen—” King Joel abruptly shot at his Page, who nearly jumped out of his skin. “---inform Esmond of this situation and have him prepare another amulet as soon as possible. I can’t have my Kingsman wandering the realm unprotected.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” Kellen said before quickly exiting the room.

“Kingsman?” Chaz balked.

“You four,” King Joel nodded. “My Kingsmen. You will wear my insignia and be an extension of me and Castellan Sturdevant,” he said proudly. “It will be more for your protection as you venture across the realm, but also, for your benefit, as my kingdom is well respected.”

Isak grumbled as he looped the necklace around his neck, letting it fall to dangle against his chest. “So, let’s get to the part where you are telling me what I’m here for, so I can figure all this s**t out and I can go home. Point me in the direction of this Karanlık group so I can deal with them.” His pissed off meter had obviously hit maximum overdrive, too.

“The Karanlık isn’t a group to take lightly,” King Joel warned. “And again, for that, I will send you south to meet up with Esmond, who is more equipped to answer all your questions. He is the Première Socius Naisi, or what you may recognize as a type of sanctified man… um…” he struggled for the right word, “priest… in your realm.”

“Priest? I thought… religion--- bad,” Rory made a face.

“He’s not a priest of Akish,” King Joel clipped. “Socius Naisi is part of the old ways, when people were free to use magic. But as you can imagine, he’s in hiding.” He then added, “Socius Esmond lives in a hamlet called Landreth located on the eastern border of the marshlands. I have prepared for you all to travel there on the morrow at first light after the morning meal. For now, if you’re hungry, I’ll have food sent to your rooms. There, you’ll find a change of clothes fit for this realm,” he scrutinized their attire, lingering for a time as his eyes swept over Chaz. “What you’re wearing now will not help with keeping your identities hidden.”

“Are you saying my soaking wet tux won’t gel with the Vafaren realm’s dress code?” Rory ribbed with faux offense. Though his joke died in a languished sigh, “I know it was wishful thinking to hope this thing we are to do could have all been done in one night. But, now we’re talking a slumber party and make-overs in a cold-ass castle.” He chuffed at King Joel, “Please tell me this hero's vacation package comes with the happy ending amenity?” he emphasized.

“s**t, Ror,” Rían hissed, keeping it low enough for only him, but was sure the other supernaturals could hear it just fine, “does everything always come back to that with you?” Of course, his brother would be thinking about missing out on s*x, or possible lack thereof.

“Because, honestly, only that is going to help me get through this shitshow,” Rory grimaced.

“Well, if everything goes as planned, we hope everyone has a happy ending, yes.” King Joel encouraged, totally clueless to what Rory was implying. Although Isak remained impassive, the other two princes snickered at the king’s remark.

Leaning against a thick wooden beam of Rían’s canopy bed in his assigned bedchamber, Rory stood quietly as he scouted the entirety of the room while he undressed. Following his brother’s disgruntled scan, looking over the large room as well, Rían noted the antiquated quaint features. Well, quaint by modern standards. But it had everything he needed, for now. A bed, a small section of space that looked like what could be a sitting area with a few cushioned high back chairs and a polished wooden table that faced a fireplace, which was lit by the servant who had led him to the room.

Rory’s bedchamber was across the hall, though he had yet to go there, opting to be with him instead. Rían figured he may have wanted to talk about what their game plan was, but it looked more like his brother was slowly wilting away the more he was internalizing the fact that this wasn’t some sordid dream. This was their reality right now.

Pressing on the mattress of the bed, grimacing as his fingers moved over the top blanket, Rory groaned, “I think the mattress is stuffed with…” he pressed again, “feathers?” He knew his brother wasn’t simply complaining about the bedding; it was more of his hidden angst for everything else, too.

After peeling off the damp tux coat and slinging it over a large chest at the end of the bed, he went to work on the cufflinks of his dress shirt when he eyed his brother. “We’ll get through this Ror. We’ll figure it out, do whatever we need to, and get back home.”

“Yeh?” he scoffed. “I hope so,” his eyes hid nothing of his annoyance, “because now, we get to take a s**t in a literal stone port-a-potty at the end of the hall,” he groaned, laying his head back against the heavy, ornate wood. “Oh, wait…. our manservant Geoff called it the garderobe. As if that makes a literal shitter-hole in the floor sound better?” he decried.

“Look, I know this whole thing is crazy,” he said as he basically peeled himself out of his dress shirt that seemed to suction against his skin like plaster. While rubbing his arms and chest to stimulate a bit more warmth, Rían noticed the tattoo inked on his left pec wasn’t the stark black it was supposed to be. Oddly, the color of the Lycan hiraeth rune of an inverted obtuse triangle centered with a rhombus had altered into a jade green hue. What the hell? Did something happen to it when he was in the lake? Or during the teleport? It was even sensitive to touch, too. Shaking his head, he continued, “But try to make the best of it, OK? Like, at least there is a hole in the floor to s**t into? What if you had to find a tree out by the lake or something?” he said offhandedly, still squinting at the tat.

Rory covered his face, growling, “Ugh, don’t blow sunshine up my ass about this, Rían! This is a nightmare, and you know it.” His angered voice rose, “We’re Nicolet’s, for Goddess’ sake! When was the last time you s**t in a hole? And let’s not talk about the fact that there aren’t showers! Hot water? Dammit, I’m going to die of some sort of sepsis here,” his eyes blinked rapidly, trying to dial back his surging inner storm.

“Come on, it’s like camping, right? We’ve been camping before.” Admittedly, he wanted to jump into a hot shower now, if only to warm up his bones. This stone castle was like an icebox despite the blazing fireplace behind him. Though maybe it was because he had been in wet clothes. But since that wasn’t an option, he shimmied quickly out of his pants and boxers before snatching the pajamas laying across his pillow.

“Spending a few weeks in the woods at the family château in France isn’t camping, Rían! We weren’t exactly roughing it while in the lounge sipping bourbon.”

“Well, maybe that time when we went hunting with great-grandpa and dad in Washington state?”

Rory rolled his eyes, “Oh, and then afterward we stayed at the Lodge soaking in the jacuzzi? Come on, bro. We’ve never done this before, not a day in our lives. This,” he swung his arms around him, “is going to be a joke.” He was right. This place was completely alien to them, even if he had read about similar eras in the Earth realm. As the soles of his feet turned to ice on the stone floor beneath him, the realization that it was different to read about something than to actually live it really started to register.

After shuffling into the thin, shapeless linen smock that fell just below his calves, he looked down at it with a grimace, now wishing for a clean pair of boxers. Maybe I’ll just sleep nude? Eyeing the bed, that idea quickly died. Do I even want to sleep nude?

Is it sanitary?

Shit— I’m letting myself get all paranoid like Rory.

If his dad was here, he’d be all on board to help these people, even in these circumstances. And here he was, thinking like a spoiled brat.

Ugh! He groaned after catching a glimpse of himself in a long mirror near his bed. Now all I need is a long stocking cap, some hot toddy, and this outfit is set! Rían sighed heavily as he turned longingly back to the tux which now created a small dripping puddle at the base of the chest box. His stomach sank a bit, his heart thumping when he realized exactly what Rory was drowning in. Because right now, having removed his own clothes and putting on the smock, it meant he was embracing this decision to strip himself of his current life and join this realm. And it shocked the s**t out of him.

But he couldn’t let him see this. He needed to be the big brother that Rory needed.

“We can beat this, Ror,” Rían nodded at his brother, “And yeah, it’s going to be one helluva ride.”