Page 2 of Bearing Secrets
The half-man, half-bear creature disappeared as Kellas bulked up, his limbs jerking and readjusting themselves, the painful process completing itself a few seconds later. Nothing about this process was smooth or pleasing to watch, but nobody was going to argue with the end result.
Almost two-tons of furious grizzly bear launched itself at the traitors, scattering them like bowling pins. Eager to join in the fray, Kirell used the distraction to let himself complete his own change.
Agony flooded his body but he clamped down on it immediately, welcoming the pain, embracing it as he became the instrument of war that the now dead Captain Kven had trained him to be. Two decades of harsh drilling had turned him into the perfect combination of a grizzly bear’s strength, size and speed—all paired with a human intellect.
Kirell wasn’t sure why none of the traitors had shifted before he’d arrived, but he wasn’t about to give them the option. He fell upon the survivors like a hawk stooping on its prey, tearing into them. His jaw snapped closed, bones crunching. With a savage shake of his head, he ripped the arm right off his nearest foe.
The man screamed, a shrill sound that faded quickly as blood fountained up from the mangled stump, arteries pulsing it into the air as they drained it from the rest of his body. Kirell wasn’t about to let him recover, and a moment later, a paw the size of a human head slapped the man in the face. The traitor was dead in a heartbeat as his neck snapped; he went flying into the wall where he crumpled some drywall and then lay still, half his face ripped away.
Ew, Kirell thought, shaking his paw to rid it of the rubbery skin still attached to his claws.
The battle was nearly over now. Two of the traitors tried to shift, but that took precious time, and neither he nor Kellas was overly inclined to give it to them. This wasn’t some ritual battle. This was war, and he was giving no mercy.
When the last corpse collapsed to the ground with a wheeze, then and only then did Kirell take stock of himself. He was hurt, but not as bad as Kellas. The other shifter would live, but he was done in the fight.
Gritting his teeth against the pain Kirell forced himself to return to his human form. Almost immediately, fatigue swept over him, but he ignored that as well. Now was not the time to be tired, despite the fierce fighting he’d been a part of.
“Let us in!” he shouted, hammering on the door. “They are dead.”
A small hole in the wall opened, revealing a grate, and—on the other side—the grim face of one of the Queen’s Own.
“They’re dead,” he said tiredly, waving a hand at the corpses. “My man is badly wounded.”
“Nobody gets in or out,” the guard said coldly.
“They’re dead,” Kirell’s flat voice replied. “We killed them.”
“How do we know you’re not traitors?”
“Go suck your mothers dick, Khove,” Kirell spat. “You know me better than that.”
The guard thought about it, but before he could respond, his eyes flicked past Kirell and down the hallway.
Turning slowly, he saw more bears enter the hallway from another passage. At their head was none other than Captain Kven.
“Captain?” he said, speaking in disbelief. All the earlier reports had said that Kven was dead, one of the first to fall to the traitorous swine.
His eyes narrowed. Something wasn’t right here.
“Kirell,” Kellas called from where he sat on the floor, back propped up against the wall. “Why do you look so worried? I’ll take the ones on the right, you take the ones on the left. We got this.” The wounded grizzly-shifter pushed himself to his feet, staying upright as much from sheer willpower as from being able to lean against the wall.
“Yeah.” That was what was bothering him; Kven and the others weren’t approaching like those come to rescue their Queen.
They were striding up like victors about to break down the castle walls.
“Kven,” he spat, preparing to change once more.
“CaptainKven.”
Kirell laughed in the man’s face, spitting blood at the traitor. “You are pathetic. Not worthy of the title you once held, you coward.”
“I am not a coward!Sheis the coward!” Kven screamed, pointing at the door. “That miserable wretch poisoned our King’s mind, turned him into a pathetic excuse for the warrior he once was. She wanted nothing more than peace, when we could easily have swept the Canis from power!”
Kirell rolled his eyes. High House Canis had neverbeenin power; the wolves had played second fiddle to the bears of Ursa for over a century now, since the last culling by the humans. “You are a traitor,” he repeated, emphasizing the word. “A traitor.”
Antagonizing the quite possible leader of the rebellion probably wasn’t his smartest move, but just then, Kirell didn’t care. There were seven of them, including Kven, and only one seemed to have any injuries. That, compared to his own battered and bruised body and Kellas who could barely keep on his feet? It was no contest.
Killing Kven would be the only satisfaction, and the sole outcome that would be feasible. Kirell would sacrifice himself for that in a heartbeat.
