Phantom of the Heart (16 page)

She watched closely as Sterling shut her eyes and lowered her head. “She made me promise to keep the faith before I left for the Wastelands.”

Cybralle clutched Sterling's knee. “Do…do you think it is her?”

“I want to try anything before I just give up on her,” Sterling mumbled. When she lifted her head, Cybralle felt her heart lift at the look of purpose on Sterling's face. Sterling turned to Rom. “If she is alive, why did she not come back to me?”

Rom, using a small piece of cloth, dabbed at the cut on his neck. “That, you will probably have to ask her yourself. She has been very sick and is still recovering.”

“Where is she and when can we leave?”

Cybralle saw a shadow come over Rom's face as he looked at her. “Unfortunately, I can only take one person with me. Taking more than one can become too dangerous.”

She shook her head. “You must be addlebrained if you think I will let my daughter and heir to the throne travel unaccompanied with a man who miraculously returned from the dead.”

Rom shrugged. “There is nothing more I can do, Commander. Either I take the princess with me, or I take you with me.”

Cybralle skewered Rom with a hard stare, before she turned away to look at Sterling. She could read the answer in Sterling's eyes even before she voiced it.

“I need to find out if it is her, Umah. If she is injured she needs me.”

Looking at her daughter, Cybralle felt fear winding down her spine. She was not like Lima. She doubted she would be strong enough if she was to lose her daughter. Sterling was the best part of her. She had helped conceive her on a star-filled night in a small hut in the forest. The ritual had taken a lot from her, but she had gained something priceless in return. She was not ready to lose that…not yet.

“Make sure you return in one piece. If not, I will take every able-bodied man in this kingdom and come looking for you.” She turned to Rom. “She had better come back, or this time I will make sure that you stay dead.”

Chapter 16

The night sky was moonless, giving an ominous feel to the night. Shaking his huge shoulders, the man took a deep breath and walked to the entrance of the cave. Six shadows appeared out of nowhere, causing his stride to falter. He was no stranger to this hidden part of the castle. This was where he came to find solace from the loneliness which dogged him relentlessly. The cave was more like a secret dungeon under the palace with an exit leading toward the woods. For weeks, he had been here more often than not. The reason for that was behind the sturdy door which was guarded by six of his best men. Every time he would stop before the door, listening for what was happening on the other side. Every time, it was silent as a grave.

“Milord,” one of the men stepped closer and bowed deeply. He knew they were startled by his presence. He rarely used the entrance leading from the woods. Tonight, however, he needed fresh air and welcomed the long, winding walk around the palace walls.

Gentro gave a curt nod of acknowledgment and made his way over to the door. “Open it.”

A soft gasp came from the leader of the guards. Gentro turned to look at the man. “Do I have to repeat myself, Clemes?”

The man swallowed hard, before he lifted the key from his jacket. He hesitated for a moment and then turned to look at Gentro. “Milord, I would fail greatly in my task of keeping you safe if I did not warn you. This one is very dangerous, milord.”

Gentro was warmed by the man's concern. Everyone was aware of Gentro’s terrible temper. Clemes was taking a big gamble here, but even then he deemed his Master's safety more important than his own. He placed his hand on the soldier's shoulder. “I appreciate your concern, my man.”

Clemes turned and pushed the key into the lock. Immediately, a loud growl made the men stiffen. Gentro would never admit it out loud, but he, too, felt a slight shiver of unease trickle down his spine at the ominous sound coming from behind the door. He reached out and turned the key.

“Wait for me outside.”

Clemes' jaw dropped. “But…but…” he stammered.

“I will be fine. I promise.”

Gentro pushed the heavy door open and stepped through. It was pitch black inside, but with his enhanced wolf senses, it was easy to see. The room was infused with so many emotions. His senses were bombarded by the pain and anger radiating from the dark shape in the corner. The room was well-furnished…rather it must've been to start with. He had given strict orders to that effect. Now, only the bed stood. The rest of the room had been trashed. The chairs, desk, and cupboard were pulverized and, in some places, marred by deep claw marks. He blanched at the sight.

She has undergone her first change already!

It was the most painful shift, but it would get better. Ultimately, the changes would become effortless and almost instantaneous.

He quickly returned his eyes to the dark shadow. He stiffened when eyes so like his own looked back at him. He felt her rage and hatred, but he could also sense her confusion and curiosity.

As long as she wanted answers, he guessed he was safe. He stepped deeper into the room but came to an abrupt halt when a shock of black hair broke out on the woman's arms. He blinked. For someone who had only had one change, she was shifting rather rapidly. He remembered it had taken him a few months before he could change so swiftly. He studied the angry eyes carefully. She must have been forcing more changes over the past six weeks. That was the only other explanation and a very dangerous practice. He knew of many close family members who had been driven to the brink of madness by the horrific pain they had subjected their bodies to so they could be battle ready earlier. Some were so traumatized that they had refused to change ever again; others had recovered, but they carried the trauma of the experience forever.

Now she had done the same. He took a careful step closer, watching in fascination as the hair grew longer. The woman took on a threatening stance.

“Why?”

She just stared at him with her angry eyes.

“You could have hurt yourself by forcing more changes than your body could handle.”

Silence.

Gentro took another step closer, but a soft, warning growl made him cease all movement. Her agitation had increased, and Gentro wondered, vaguely, if he should have allowed the men to enter with him. Maybe he should come back some other time.

“I wanted to see for myself that you are doing fine.”

When silence still prevailed, he turned to leave. Just as he reached the door, the hair at the back of his neck rose. He ducked, shifting simultaneously. A loud whoosh accompanied the hard object that slammed into him, knocking the air from his lungs. The momentum rolled them out the door and into the crisp night air. Gentro was surprised by the size and power of the large, dark wolf holding him down with its weight. Having once seen his own reflection in a clear pool of water, Gentro was amazed by the eerie resemblance they shared. It felt like he was fighting himself.

He quickly pulled his head away when sharp teeth came close to snapping at his throat. Curling up his hind legs, he gave a massive push. The female wolf flew through the air, landing a few feet away. He quickly changed back to his human form; the transformation completed just as the wolf attacked again. Gentro quickly sidestepped the attack, but the wolf turned back to stage another. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Clemes lift his crossbow. Even in the moonless night, Gentro could make out the deadly silver head of the arrow.

“Do not shoot her!” He propelled himself in the air, escaping the wolf leap by only a few inches. He landed in front of Clemes, slapping the crossbow out of the startled man's hand.

“But it attacked you, milord.” Clemes unsheathed his sword. “It needs to be destroyed, milord.”

The wolf walked in a half circle, its head held low and its nostrils flapping, as it studied them, patiently looking for a gap to attack. Gentro took a step toward the now growling wolf.

“Anyone who tries to hurt her will have to answer to me.”

“I am scared that leaving it alive would prove to be a grave mistake, milord.” Clemes protested.

“She is not to be harmed,” Gentro said firmly, his body stiffening as he saw the wolf's body language change. Another attack was imminent.

“But why, milord? Why keep such a wild creature alive when it could very well be a danger to everyone?”

Thoroughly irritated by Clemes' obstinacy, Gentro swung around to face the man. “Because she is my daughter!”

Clemes’ face registered shock, which immediately changed into an expression of horror. Gentro turned, but it was too late to evade the attack. The wolf landed; its sharp claws pierced his shoulder, and the wolf prince gasped at the sudden pain. The female wolf's head lowered, as its pale eyes met his. He could see the intelligence in the ice-blue eyes, as they held his for a long moment. Then the wolf slowly backed off from him, their eyes were still locked. It lifted its head, and a mournful howl split the quiet of the night. The wolf gave him one last glance, before it trotted off.

Clemes was it his side immediately. “You are hurt, milord.”

Gentro pushed the man's hands away. “It is just a scratch. Now go and warn everyone that if they so much as put a scratch on her they will have to answer to me.”

The man nodded at his lord and then hastened away. “Do you want us to look for her and bring her back?”

He knew he had not been a father to her over the past nineteen years, but Gentro was overcome by concern for his only child. Was she going to be all right out there all by herself? As he slowly pushed himself to his feet, he groaned in pain. Maybe he was worried over nothing. He was one of the best fighters in the whole Ulv clan, and the girl had fearlessly taken him on. A proud smile lightened his swarthy features. She was everything he had hoped her to be—maybe even more.

***

The wolf's tongue lolled in her mouth, as her powerful legs ate the space between where she was and where she wanted to be. She had nowhere else to go, but knew that she did not want to be where she had been held captive. She came to a screeching halt, shooting up dust, the paws on her hind legs gripping the earth for traction. With her nostrils flaring, the wolf lifted her head and slowly backed away.

A few centimeters from her front paw, the earth had run out of space. Distracted by the turmoil of her earlier meeting with the man, presumably her father, she had forgotten to pay attention. Being in the wild was new to her and, thus far, very dangerous. Lifting her bulk off the ground from where she had come to a stop on her belly, the wolf carefully approached the looming cliff.

Even from up here, her enhanced sight could make out the teeming wildlife in the valley below. For the time being that would serve as her home. There was no sign of humanity down there for as far as the eye could see.

No human presence to tease the wolf's memories.

No one to remind her of the silver-eyed phantom she carried in her heart.

***

Sterling stared into the flickering flames of the small fire, as the fingers of her right hand unconsciously rolled the wedding band on her left hand. Was she a fool to believe the word of a stranger over that of her mother? Many of the soldiers had corroborated her mother's story of what had happened that night.

She recalled the fear she saw in their eyes, as they told her of wolves that were as big as horses, with teeth that could tear through the toughest armor. When they came to the part of what had happened to her wife, the men refused to make eye contact. They told about how Orla had single-handedly taken on a large wolf only to succumb in the end, when the wolf dragged her body off into the night. Apparently, no wolf carcasses, nor any bodies, were left behind. Each and every one was dragged off by the wolves. Afraid to leave the circle of fire, the soldiers had waited out the night before they went in search of Orla. After five days of searching the area, they came up empty-handed. That was when Cybralle gave the order to return to Kemble.

One little detail that nagged her about the men's, as well as her mother's, accounts was the fact that no one actually saw Orla being killed. The only proof they had to that effect was Orla's torn and blood-splattered, leather breastplate that was left where Orla had last been seen. In the distance, a wolf howled and Sterling reached for her sword. When her mother warned her to take as much silver weaponry with her as she could, Sterling wondered at the coincidence of Orla gifting her with silver armor and a silver sword. It was almost as if Orla knew that she would have to come in search of her one day.

The hair at the back of her neck prickled and she turned. There was no one there, but just as she was about to look away, the shadows shifted and Rom stepped out. His footsteps faltered for a moment, as his eyes moved to a spot behind the fire circle. Sterling watched him carefully. It seemed as if Rom quickly pulled himself together and held up two rabbit carcasses. He dropped them next to the fire. As he walked past her, Sterling caught a whiff of his scent. It was not unpleasant, but, still, it caused the hair on her arms to spike. She turned thoughtful eyes on him, as he began to skin the carcasses. Her eyes dropped to the knife in his hands, as it skillfully dissected the animal. Something about how the carcass looked made her look at the second one. She quickly shifted her gaze away and continued to look in the fire.

After a while, she unsheathed her dagger and reached for a piece of wood which she slowly worked over with the blade. Rom, having finished the skinning, pierced the carcasses with sharp sticks. All the while, Sterling carefully studied him from under hooded eyelids. Rom shuffled to the fire where he poked until he had collected enough coals to roast the meat over. Satisfied, he sat back and looked at her. His dark-blue eyes appeared darker in the glow of the fire.

“This might not be what you are used to, milady, but I can assure you that out here this is, by far, the best you will have.” He gave her a friendly smile before returning to his side of the fire to lounge on his bedroll.

“You forget that I have spent most of my life on the battlefield. I eat what my men eat.”

She saw a flicker of admiration in the man's eyes before it was gone. “Your mother was the best female warrior I ever met, but even under her command we could not quell the Wasteland wars. You seem to have done that—twice. It would appear you are quite a force to be reckoned with. No wonder you were not worried of accompanying me alone.”

Sterling looked away, not knowing what to say to that.

“At the risk of offending you, milady, I have but one question to which I hope you can grace me with an answer.”

The juices from the meat dripped on the coals; the hiss was the only sound that hung in the air. After a long silence, Sterling looked at Romulus.

“If I have an answer for you, I will give it to you.”

Romulus sat up. “Of all the women in the kingdom, what drew you to your wife, a simple blacksmith?”

Just the thought of Orla made her heart ache. She stabbed her dagger into the ground and pulled her legs up so that she could hug them to her. She fixed her eyes on the now-smoldering coals. “She is my soul mate. I knew it the moment I caught sight of her.” Sterling turned her gaze on Rom. “I love my wife very much.”