A Lion's Heart (3 page)

The werelion was unimpressed.

“You are being a fool,” Shakra growled. “I'm offering you safety.”

The werelion laughed and flicked his tail insolently. Shakra heard him say under his breath, “Hound.”

“I am not a hound,” Shakra seethed. “I am a werewolf!”

The werelion glanced back at him and then ahead again. Shakra laid back his ears and growled deep in his throat. Why was he bothering? He had done the right thing by letting the werelion go and he had been repaid for his kindness. If the werelion wanted to make his own way, why should he argue? Shakra knew he could make much better time alone and he could certainly slip through the forest quieter than a werelion dragging a chain behind him.

Shakra's chin was hitting the ground before he realized that the werelion was suddenly sitting on him. The wiry body was pressing him flat and his voice hissed in Shakra's ear, “Be still!”

Shakra almost rebelled, almost sank teeth into the hand nearest his face, but then he heard the sounds. The barest rustle above the normal sounds of the forest alerted him that the mountain were wolves had recovered from their fright and were hunting him again, expecting him to try and return home.

The werelion was a great deal heavier than he looked. He smelled of sweat, dirt, and savannah grasses. His fur was a pile of softness against Shakra's body and his body warmth was intense. The throat, so close to Shakra's face, made a slight purr sound as the werelion breathed.

The sound of the werewolves faded. The werelion moved off of Shakra and continued walking. Shakra quickly picked the chain off the ground. The werelion stopped and glared a warning. Shakra cautiously followed the chain to the collar, as close as he dared to those fangs and claws, and then flexed muscles. The links separated very slowly and those silver eyes widened in amazement as Shakra softly put the separated chain down. Though a foot of chain was still attached to his collar, the werelion was free to move quietly.

“Thank you for saving me again,” Shakra said.

The werelion snorted. “Cub.”

Shakra found himself grinning, “I think that's better than hound.”

“Yes,” the werelion agreed.

Shakra followed the werelion again and he was allowed to walk closer. His small act had gained him some trust. He decided to press his advantage. “I am Shakra, Prince of Krellan.”

“Tamarind,” was the werelion’s short reply.

“Tamarind,” Shakra repeated. “That's your name?”

No reply. Shakra had to assume that it was.

“Do you have princes on the savannah?” Shakra wondered, intrigued by the werelion's lack of respect for his title.

“Kings,” Tamarind replied and sounded sad.

“Ah,” Shakra said.

The werelion glared at him and put a finger to his lips. Shakra felt even more foolish. He nodded and kept silent as they ghosted through the forest towards his home.

“Kiyaaah!” a reptilian figure catapulted out of the ferns ahead of them and twin daggers aimed for the werelion's heart. Green scales and skin, flaring head crest of black spines, and a long tail; Li’Won Shang looked deadly and furious as he came to his prince's defense.

“Li’Won!” Shakra shouted and sprang forward to the werelion's defense, just as the werelion backpedaled into him in panic. They tangled and went down in a pile of flailing limbs and tails while Shang hovered and tried to make sense out of the situation.

“Don't kill him!” Shakra managed to gasp out as he avoided a slash of claws. “He's under my protection!”

Shang frowned and sheathed his knives. He glared down at them with an arched eyebrow as Shakra attempted to stop the werelion from running away by shoving down on every point of the were's body he could manage to reach. Finally, they ended up locked together on their sides, panting in exhaustion.

“Shang is my guard,” Shakra told the werelion. “He won't harm you.”

The silver eyes were fierce, but there was a scent of fear on the air. It seemed the werelion wasn't as fearless as he was pretending to be.

“I'm going to let go,” Shakra said cautiously.

Shang warned, “Cat, if you harm my Prince, I will slice out your heart.”

The scent of fear grew heavier. The werelion was looking at the werelizard now, wide eyed and obviously not sure what kind of creature Shang was. He relaxed his claws, went limp, and Shakra felt safer about letting him go. He moved away and shook himself, feeling bruises everywhere. The werelion stood up, ears down and hunched as if ready to spring away.

Shang observed as he looked over the werelion and saw the collar and the small length of chain, “My Prince, I am very certain that you did not leave my presence with enough coin to buy a werelion.”

Shakra flushed to his tail. It was time to face the music and he was suddenly tempted to run away. He bowed his head. “I... I freed him from the werecheetahs. They were mistreating him.”

“I doubt that unless there was good reason,” Shang shot back. “They won't purposely damage merchandise.”

“They had him in a cage, a small one,” Shakra protested.

“Captives rarely go willingly to servitude,” Shang replied. “My Prince, you cannot go about freeing every creature in the market. Since I doubt this creature was purchased with coin, I must assume that you freed him illegally?”

Shakra said under his breath, “He escaped.”

“While in your presence, my Prince?” Shang asked skeptically.

“Yes. The werecheetah opened the cage,” Shakra explained. “The werelion ran away.”

“Into the forest,” Shang growled, furious, “and you followed him to... what? Capture him for the poor werecheetah?”

Shakra's ears went down and he replied sullenly, “No.”

“My Prince!” Shang exclaimed in exasperation. “Do you have such little regard for your own hide? This werelion is young but their claws are formidable weapons. If he decided to kill you, I doubt there would be much you could do to stop him.”

“He saved me!” Shakra protested and then cringed with a whine, knowing that he had said the wrong thing.

“Saved you?” Shang jumped on that. “From what, or whom, did he save you?”

Shakra tried to think of an explanation that didn't include mountain weres, but he knew he couldn't lie to Li’Won Shang. “Assassins,” he tempered.

Shang's claws went to his knives. “What? Where are they?”

“Back there,” Shakra replied. He felt safe in Shang’s presence. He couldn't imagine the werewolves going against a werelizard, a werelion, and a forest werewolf trained to battle. Shang wasn't so confident.

“We will discuss all of this back at the city!” Shang snapped. “Come!”

The order didn't include the werelion.

“Tamarind's coming too,” Shakra protested.

“Tamarind?” Shang was looking around them anxiously. “The werelion? He is of no concern to us. You will have to compensate the merchant. Your warden will not be pleased to be out that much coin for a creature he will never see a whisker of.” He glared at the werelion. “Go. You are free.”

The werelion twitched his tail, looked from Shakra to the werelizard in indecision, and then turned to go. Shakra bounded after him. “No, wait!”

The mountain werewolves chose that moment to attack.

Chapter Three

Shakra heard Shang's shout of warning. Both he and the werelion turned, with ears laid back, to see the werelizard leaping towards their attackers. The black bands on the silver werewolves were confusing, making them hard for eyes to follow. It also made their numbers seem greater than they were. The mountain weres were expert at ambush and they clearly understood the effectiveness of a pincher movement. They came from two sides at a rush, leaping, bobbing, and putting their black bands to good effect. Shang attacked, undaunted, and Shakra, after a moment's hesitation, felt his training engage.

“Run,” He told the werelion and put the creature from his mind. His mentor needed someone to shield him on the left and he took up that position. The werewolves circled them, laughing, but Shang regarded them disdainfully and awaited their next move.

Shakra's training had begun as soon as he could walk. He was a warrior through and through, but this would be his first test, his first kill, maybe, and it was time to stop being the protected prince, to stop being a cub? His eyes went icy and his ruff sprang up menacingly. No emotions, he thought, no distractions. Focus, find their weaknesses, and destroy them as efficiently as possible.

The werewolves surged forward, their goal to drag them down and rip them to shreds. Shang met them with slashing knives and killing martial arts moves. He seemed to fly, to defy the laws of gravity, and he killed with grace and unequaled skill. Shakra was more basic, more brutal, relying on his strength, which was considerable, and the power of his blows. It was with surprise that he realized that none of the mountain weres, older and larger than himself, were his match. Side by side with Shang, they killed half of the werewolves before the rest fled, tails tucked between their legs.

Shakra hadn't even broken a sweat. He looked down at the dead weres, his mind showing him graphically how he had killed each one. He felt satisfied, disturbed by the need to kill, but understanding that here was the proof that he was the weapon that Shang and his other teachers had fashioned him to be.

Shang smoothed a hand over his black crest and said, “They were weak. They should have made themselves stronger instead of relying on numbers.”

Shakra understood. His teacher had said it often enough, but it hadn't made any sense until then. There was nothing honorable or good in facing an enemy who was not your equal. Shakra felt as if he had slaughtered, not battled. The weres didn’t have a chance and there was dishonor in that. He thought how, earlier, he had been afraid and had offered a ransom for his life. Now he felt contempt for himself. He had acted the part of protected cub, waiting for rescue. This was proof that he didn't need to wait for that any longer.

The werelion... Shakra tested the air and caught his faint musk over the smell of blood. He curled a lip in disgust, but then grunted. How could he blame the werelion for leaving? It wasn't his fight. He had come there in slavery and now he was free to seek his home. He didn't owe Shakra any loyalty. Still, Shakra thought of silver eyes, thick fur, and the creature’s warmth and he swallowed hard.

“You fought well,” Shang told him and that was a high compliment from the werelizard, “but your kick to that one were's face was weaker than it should have been. You will work with the upper muscle weights for one hour after we return home.”

Shakra scowled, bristled, but then bowed his head in submission. Shang's sole purpose was to keep him alive, to train him to a peak of performance not attained by most men. If there was a fault, Shakra was just as interested as Shang in correcting it. False compliments, and allowing his ego to be misplaced, wouldn't help him stay alive.

Shang took the lead through the forest and Shakra followed. He pricked ears and tried to catch the faint sound of padded feet and the jingle of chain, but he knew that was a foolish hope... until he heard it. He stopped walking. He waited until the sound approached close enough and then he looked over his shoulder at the thick ferns. “You are lost again,” he said to the invisible werelion; a statement of fact. The low growl confirmed his suspicion. “I have a friend who lives in the desert beyond the Savannah,” he told the creature. “If you come with me, I will ask him if you can accompany him when he returns.”

Shang had turned, frowning. “My Prince, this is not wise. There is... a situation arising between your warden and the Savannah prides.”

Shakra spun, shocked. “Why wasn't I informed of this?”

Shang raised an eyebrow. “You are not at your majority and battle hasn't been engaged... yet. I'm afraid your warden might see the werelion as a threat.”

“That's ridiculous,” Shakra growled. “My warden isn't a fool and the werecheetah can vouch for his arrival here.”

“I'm certain he will want answers from the werelion himself,” Shang told him. “You may not like how he attains those answers if your werelion decides to keep his silence.”

Shakra looked back at the ferns, thinking of the werelion's short replies. He couldn't imagine Warden Kol being happy with yes or no replies.

“He's lost,” Shakra told Shang. “He can't smell home. He'll be put into slavery again if I don't help him.”

“Why do you wish to?” Shang asked, troubled. “Your warden did not raise you to be a compassionate and emotional prince, but took great pains that it should be trained out of you. How has this werelion caused you to suddenly wish to free slaves and to care about their well-being?”

“Isn't that noble?” Shakra wondered angrily.

Shang gave a small nod. “It is, but I was not hired to teach you to be noble, my Prince.”

“But you have. I see you act nobly often. I see you use your strength to protect the weak,” Shakra pointed out. “You have taught by example.”

“Then it will be the worst for you and me,” Shang sighed. “Your warden cares nothing for honor or being noble. He wants a warrior prince.”

“Why?” Shakra wondered. “My life has been filled with fighting and training and I wonder why when he makes no preparations for my ascension to the throne.”