04 - Rise of the Lycans (15 page)

“Stay away from him!” a fearful lycan warned. “Or they will punish you, too!”

The giant ignored the other slave’s outburst. He dipped a soiled rag in a
rusty copper bowl filled with water for the prisoners, then held it out to
Lucian. Grateful for the stranger’s kindness, and dying of thirst, Lucian tried
to reach out for the damp rag but lacked the strength to even lift his arm.
Every movement, no matter how slight, left him gasping in pain. His naked back
felt like it was being flayed anew. Unable to speak, he collapsed against the
cold stone floor.

The stranger nodded. Understanding Lucian’s plight, he reached between the
bars and held the rag over the other prisoner’s mouth. He squeezed the soaked
fabric, releasing a thin stream of tepid water that fell like manna from heaven
upon Lucian’s cracked and swollen lips. The tortured lycan gulped down the water
hungrily. No wine or ale had ever tasted sweeter.

Thank you, my friend,
Lucian thought. He didn’t even know the giant’s
name yet, but the mortal’s courage and compassion had already elevated him in
Lucian’s eyes.
Bless you for your kindness.

Would that the vampires could be so humane.

Viktor entered Sonja’s chambers without knocking. She quickly wiped the tears
from her eyes before turning to greet him. Alas, the motion was not swift enough
to escape her father’s notice. He eyed her suspiciously.

“Your concern for Lucian was most touching,” he noted. “A mere slave…”

“Was it?” She hastily consulted her reflection in the mirror and was relieved to find her emotions well hidden. She kept her voice
cool and imperious, as befitted her station. “I suppose. Well, he had just saved
my life. And was it not you who told me that I should show a little gratitude in
such instances?” A hint of anger showed upon her features. “And what of
yourself? Have
you
no gratitude to one who rescued your daughter?”

“I am awash in it,” he declared archly. “That he still lives shows the
breadth of my magnanimity. Were it any other circumstance, I would have fed him
in pieces to his own kind.”

The ghastly image seized her imagination; it took all her self-control not to
shudder in response. Her stomach turned and she feared she might gag. The sheer
venom in her father’s voice appalled her.
Surely he cannot be serious.

“But now his punishment is over?” She strove to sound as though the question
was merely of academic interest to her, and not a matter of life or death. “He
will be freed?”

“Freed?” He glared at her in disbelief, sounding shocked that any daughter of
his could be so naive. “Your judgment is clouded, Sonja. One does not keep order
with foolish sentiment. Lucian was forbidden to remove his collar, yet he did
so”—he raised a hand to forestall any objections—“for however fine a reason. He
will remain in prison.”

Just like William,
she realized.
Condemned for all eternity.

He examined her face carefully. Feeling like a prisoner in the dock, Sonja
said nothing lest she accidentally give voice to her despair. She kept her guilt
and anguish bottled up behind the impassive mask of a noble born.
Lucian, my
dearest. What has my love brought you to?

Her father’s eyes narrowed. He appeared not wholly convinced by her semblance
of calm. When he spoke again, his words seemed laced with hidden meaning:

“A cautionary tale.”

Was he speaking solely of Lucian’s transgression, or of something more?

Sonja nodded. For Lucian’s sake, she feigned assent, although it rent her
very soul to do so. Uncertain how much longer she could contain her grief, she
prayed that her father would not tarry much longer. Shaken by the fearful news
she had just received, she wanted desperately to be alone with her sorrow.

There must be some way to save him! There has to be!

To her relief, Viktor appeared pleased that she had not challenged his
decision. His severe expression lightened somewhat. Turning away from her, he
headed for the door, pausing only for one last admonition.

“Janosh and the rest of the nobles will arrive soon. Your presence is
expected
.”

His emphatic tone made it clear that this was not a request.

Moonlight entered the dungeon through a rusty metal grate high up on the
wall. Rats scurried in the corners of his cell as Lucian painfully hauled
himself up into a sitting position. A damp stone wall felt cool against his
throbbing back. Several hours had passed since the flogging and his strength was
slowly returning. The scars left by Kosta’s whip were already healing over. His skin itched as it slowly knit itself back together. Although he still felt as
weak as a half-dead mortal, it seemed as though he had survived the ordeal. What
else Viktor had in store for him, however, was an entirely different question.
Lucian feared his punishment had only begun.

Just so long as Sonja escapes any reprisals,
he thought.
That’s all I
ask.

He wrung a few more drops from the damp rag, then handed it back to his new
friend. The kindly mortal, who called himself Raze, sat opposite from Lucian on
the other side of the prison bars. He returned the rag to the now empty bowl.
His wary eyes examined the fading welts upon Lucian’s shoulders. The lycan’s
miraculous recovery clearly had not escaped his notice.

“I saw what you did out there,” Lucian said, finally able to speak once more.
He recalled how Raze had single-handedly slain an attacking werewolf with naught
but a length of chain. “Very brave for a human.”

Raze shrugged, as though he had merely done what was necessary. Lucian was
impressed by the human’s stoicism. Unlike the other mortals locked up with him,
the black man had not succumbed to panic or despair. Even now, trapped in these
oppressive dungeons, he seemed to be merely biding his time. Not even a ravening
pack of werewolves had broken his spirit.

“Have you ever come across them before?” Lucian asked.

“Only in stories.” The man’s voice was impossibly deep, especially for a
mortal. He made even the gruffest lycan sound like a castrato by comparison.
“Stories I never believed.”

Lucian was aware that, outside the castle walls, many mortals regarded both
vampires and werewolves as nothing but myths, akin to basilisks or dragons.
Having spent his immortality defined by his bloodline, he had always found this
notion difficult to grasp, but apparently it was so.
What must it be like,
he pondered,
not to live under the sway of the vampires every day of your
life?

“Were you not afraid of them?”

“Yes,” Raze admitted. “But I wanted to live.”

So it seems,
Lucian thought. He wondered again how much Raze had seen of
Lucian’s own inhuman transformation during the battle. “Are you afraid of me?”

Raze took a moment before answering. His gaze went again to the vanishing
scars on Lucian’s shoulders.

“Yes.”

Lucian appreciated the mortal’s honesty. “Well, do not be.” He smiled slyly.
“I will not bite… much.”

Raze blinked in alarm, then realized Lucian was joking. Still, he regarded
the caged lycan with a certain wariness. “And you are… like them?”

“No!” Lucian insisted. The very thought still offended him. “A lycan, yes.
But not like them. Nothing like them.” He sought to explain the vital difference
between himself and the wild werewolves. “Those you fought tonight were animals.
The spawn of William, the first true werewolf. Pure-bloods, if you will. No
trace of humanity left in them. Savage, mindless beasts.”

He suddenly realized that he sounded much like Viktor.

Perhaps too much so.

“Or so it has been told,” he murmured, as much to himself as to Raze. For the
first time, he questioned the fundamentals of the twilight world in which he had
been raised. The lingering ache in his back and shoulders certainly belied the
vampires’ claims to being more civilized and cultured than their feral brethren.
Could it be that the renegade werewolves were not entirely unreasoning beasts as
he had always believed?

Raze’s own curiosity interrupted his musings. “But I saw you.” He gestured at
other human prisoners sharing his cell. The pathetic mortals eavesdropped on
their conversation with varying degrees of horror and fascination. “We saw how
you were with them.” The memory caused him to shake his head in disbelief, as
though he still had difficulty accepting the evidence of his eyes. “They
obeyed
you.”

Lucian remembered the pack turning tail after he roared at them. That
unlikely turn of events still amazed and puzzled him, although he’d had precious
little chance to ponder the matter since. Getting shot with a crossbow and
flogged within an inch of his life had understandably driven that mystery from
his mind… until now.

“Yes,” he said. “They did.”

A pair of bored Death Dealers guarded the entrance to the dungeons. Their
sour faces suggested that they resented being stuck with such a thankless duty
on the very night that the castle was welcoming the surviving nobles. They sat
at a rickety wooden table, rolling dice and exchanging dirty jokes. A ring of
large metal keys hung on a hook behind them, below a glowing lantern. Silver-tipped pikes
leaned against a nearby wall, within easy reach of their hands. A flagon of
lukewarm blood and two leather tankards rested on the table between them. Growls
and heated voices came from the cells beyond the guard station as a loud
argument broke out somewhere in the dungeon. The annoyed sentries shouted and
pounded on the walls to quiet the prisoners.

“Rutting savages,” one of the soldiers groused. “You’d think they’d mind
their manners after what happened to that blacksmith.”

“What do you expect?” the other guard said. “They’re nothing but animals.”

The night’s tedium was broken unexpectedly by two female vampires who came
creeping down the stairs to join them. One of the women, a flaxen-haired beauty
named Luka, was Sonja’s lady-in-waiting. A red velvet gown flattered her shapely
figure. Her companion was of less noble birth, being merely a petite, redheaded
chambermaid by the name of Malvina. A plain linen kirtle denoted her lowly
status but showed off her feminine charms nonetheless. The delicate fragrance of
the women’s perfume sweetened the fetid atmosphere.

They boldly approached the guards, who were too delighted by their comely
visitors to question their good fortune. Armor rattled as they eagerly jumped to
their feet and hastily offered the ladies the flagon of blood. Declining the
proffered refreshment, Luka insinuated herself between the two soldiers and
whispered huskily in their ears, while Malvina flirted shamelessly with both
men, batting her eyes and licking her pearly fangs. Lustful grins broke out across the guards’ faces.
Greedy hands grabbed the women’s waists. They clearly liked whatever Luka had
proposed.

“Follow me,” she enticed them. “You shall not regret it.”

All thought of duty forgotten, the men let their new companions lead them
away into the murky privacy of an adjacent corridor. Hushed laughter echoed off
the somber gray walls. A saucy hand slapped Malvina’s rump. Just before the
revelers disappeared into the shadows, however, Luka glanced back the way she’d
came. Her sultry violet eyes briefly made contact with…

Sonja, who lurked in the stairwell until the gullible sentries were safely
distant. She held her breath and counted to fifty before stepping out of hiding.
She peered about anxiously, but was relieved to discover that the way was clear.
No hidden eyes waited to expose her.

Bless you, Luka,
she thought sincerely. The faithful attendant had proven
her loyalty a thousandfold tonight, while a generous bribe had ensured Malvina’s
cooperation. Sonja had not trusted either woman with the true nature of her bond
with Lucian; she had merely claimed to be concerned with the well-being of an
innocent lycan who had twice saved her life. Thankfully, Luka had accepted this
explanation without question, although Sonja feared she had caught a flicker of
suspicion in the other woman’s eyes. If all went according to plan, the two
women would keep the guards occupied long enough for Sonja to carry out her
mission.

That they were willing to endure the grubby attentions of the soldiers for
her sake filled her with gratitude.
I am deeply in their debt.

Sonja knew she was taking a terrible risk, especially with her father
expecting her at tonight’s reception, but she simply
had
to see for
herself that Lucian had survived Kosta’s sadistic excesses. The thought of her
valiant lover suffering alone in the dark had been more than she could bear. She
had to see him, comfort him, if only for a few precious minutes.

Moving quickly yet stealthily, she made her way through the dimly lit
dungeons. Downtrodden lycans averted their eyes as she passed, although she
thought she heard a few muted snarls and curses as well. Her status as Viktor’s
daughter, and a Death Dealer to boot, clearly earned her few friends in these
wretched quarters. And small wonder; decades had passed since she had last
ventured into the dungeons, which the elite of the castle seldom had occasion to
visit, but she found herself troubled by the squalid sights and sounds and
smells all around her. The rank odor of piss, feces, and unwashed bodies
offended her nostrils. Fungus infested the damp stone walls. She gagged at the
stench. Regurgitated blood climbed up her throat. The conditions in which the
lycans were kept were enough to appall anyone whose eyes had been opened to the
injustice of their sorry lot. Here was the ugly underside of life at Castle
Corvinus, far removed from the decadent luxury of her father’s court.

How have I never noticed this before?

As though drawn by an invisible cord linking their souls, she swiftly
discovered Lucian slumped against the wall of a malodorous cell. Although dismayed to find him locked away in
so dismal a setting, she was relieved to see, at least at first glance, that his
horrific ordeal had not left him dead or crippled. Although pale and drawn, his
noble face shone like a beacon in the harsh confines of the dungeon. Love
brought a lump to her throat.