Page 92 of With Fangs and Claws (The Wolf Queen 1)

“The Reavers are legends in this country,” Nordred said. “They’ve been used as bogeymen to scare children, but one must ask why this myth has persisted.”

“Can’t you just give us a straight answer?” Axe grumbled. “Why does it have to be all mysterious?”

“Then take this straight answer,” Nordred said. “The Reavers are devotees of the Morrigan.”

“What?”

I searched the faces of each one of the men for clues, as the Strelans’ pantheon of gods was different to the ones I’d been raised with.

“We all worship Lady Death,” Dane said. “She is an inevitable part of life.”

“No,” Nordred said, “they worship only the Morrigan.”

“Is she…?” That persistent vision swam up out of my subconscious as I tried to say the words. “Is her symbol the raven? A raven with a golden skull?”

“You’re thinking of the sigil painted on the house,” Gael said.

“No, I mean, yes, but… I’ve seen her before, that raven. Since the moment you came to Grania, I’ve had visions. Of a sea of wolves as far as the eye can see, racing over a dead landscape. Of a raven leading them, one with a golden skull instead of a head. They run and they run and they never stop.”

“Until they do.” Weyland frowned at that. “Then they obliterate everything in their path.” He glanced at the others. “Is this a religious thing? The festival of the triple goddess is coming up soon and we all destroy precious things to show respect to Lady Death, but…”

“But they destroy everything, wantonly and without regard,” Gael said with a curl of his lips. “And what does she give them in return?”

“You’re talking about a goddess,” Axe said, his brow wrinkling. “An actual goddess. I attend sacred days and observe the rites as much as anyone but…” His eyes slid to the ceiling. “I always thought of the gods as considerably less interventionist than that. If I go about swiving every woman I see, will the god of love grant me special powers?” I glared at him and then he grinned. “Theoretically, of course.”

“All this talk of gods isn’t relevant right now,” Dane said with a frown. “If the Reavers are destroying small towns on the outskirts of Strelae, then that’s what we need to focus on. We need to find ways to protect them if we can, or the very least render aid for those displaced.”

“All without leaving the city,” Weyland said with a sigh. “Father’s got his eye on us and obviously we can’t keep going on rescue missions to the border without him becoming a problem.”

“Which is where I come in.”

We all turned to stare at Pepin, and she looked a little sheepish in response. “I told you I had a lot of pots on the boil, I just didn’t tell you what they were. This isn’t a new problem. That’s the thing with nobles. A helluva lot goes past their noses without them even realising. And when they do work it out? It’s not always a good thing. Me and some… associates have been working on this issue for a while, but we could do with some help.”

“Who are these associates?” Dane asked warily.

“The nobles here in the capital, they’ve all got lands, men, and stewards to look after them,” Pepin said with a twist of a smile. “In the old days, it was to have someone to watch over them while court was in session, but now… All of the nobles are in Snowmere all year round. They daren’t leave because they’re terrified someone else will start eroding their alliances and influence the moment they do, so the stewards have become de facto lords, without any of the accompanying power.”

She smoothed down her leather jerkin, flicking away non-existent lint.

“They send requests to the capital to allow them to intervene in these attacks. Along with the little foothill villages, good farming land and well stocked woods have been razed and burned as well. The Reavers are like rats in a silo, nibbling and nibbling at all the grain, until suddenly there’s nothing left.”

She shrugged then.

“Merchants and stewards, villagers and farmers,” she said. “All good honest people, facing a growing threat and they’re getting no help from those that should be protecting them, making them wonder what the point of the nobility is.”

“And all without a voice,” Dane said, then he smiled. “Maybe that’s what we need to do. Give them a voice. Perhaps we needn’t go anywhere. We can stay in the capital, pretend to be dutiful sons. Darcy can train with the Wolf Maidens as directed until such point as these people can come to the capital.”

“And when do the crowds flock to the city?” Nordred asked, smiling slowly.

“The Festival of the Triple Goddess,” Gael said, his gaze sharpening. “The city will be flooded with the devout, come to participate in the rites. During the day, everyone will flock to the temple and at night…?”

“Every inn in town will be full to the gills,” Axe said with a broad grin. “The drink starts flowing the minute the ritual ends and the streets fill with revellers. The bonfires are lit to keep evil away.”

“And people talk,” Weyland said, his smile slow and sly. “They share their experiences. Talk about what has happened to them in the last year. Talk about the Reavers.”

“You’ll need to be very careful,” Nordred said, much more solemnly. “A collective voice is a powerful thing, but you don’t want it spilling over into a mob. They are wild, unruly things that can burn everything in their path.”

“But they could light the fire under Father’s arse,” Dane said. “It would be up to him whether or not it motivates or burns him.”

“Pray for motivation,” Nordred said, staring, but not really seeing us, “but be prepared for the burn.”

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