Page 66 of The Wolf Queen

And there they were: a Reaver patrol.

The first one was a massive bastard with thick, shaggy, black fur, his shoulder span so wide it looked like, if he was close enough to you, it would blot out the moon that hung high in the sky. But that broad muzzle, it jerked up, then snuffled loudly at our sounds, his fellows doing the same. He carried a weapon, making me wonder what that was a holdover from. I didn’t recognise the style of sword, it had a curving blade rather than a straight one. But he clasped the hilt tight, scenting the air, using what he caught on the wind to draw him forward.

Close to us.

I shot my men a look, each one of them drawing their weapons slowly and silently, but their actions caught the eyes of the Granians. Bryson stared at the creatures with an intense kind of focus. He knew they were a threat and was focussed on how to deal with it. But the others? Their eyes went wide and their mouths worked in stunned silence. Their shocked response worked in our favour, until the northern lords shook their heads and stepped out onto what was left of the street, swords in hand. Their movements, coupled with the sounds of whispered asides and swords scraping in scabbards, caught at the sensitive ears of the Reaver and the beast spun around with a snarl.

“Fuck…” I hissed.

The flames along my blade fluttered to life, providing a point of light to draw the Reavers’ attention, as I took the vanguard position.

“For the sake of the gods’, Darcy!” Axe snapped, coming to stand beside me, hefting his weapon. “C’mon, you furry fucking bastard.” The Reaver’s ears pricked up, then it let out a roar, one that was echoed by its fellows. “Come to me!” Axe urged and that sent a charge of fear through me. The way he talked unnerved me, like he thought he was somehow replaceable, interchangeable.

“Not about to deprive me of a fight, are you, my mate?” I asked him.

“Deprive you of death, more like,” he said between gritted teeth, but there were no more words to be had. The Reavers had seen us and launched themselves in our direction, leaping through the air like guard dogs on an intruder. But we were there to meet them. I kept my eye on the slavering muzzle of the big black one, tracked its trajectory and then moved forward to meet it.

I didn’t know what Bryson and his pet lords were up to, nor did I care. In the moment there was only my sword in my hand, my body moving precisely the way I wanted it to. Raking the sword through the Reaver’s guts, its roar turning to a scream, then a truncated yelp as it landed on the ground like a side of beef and I lopped off its head to silence it. Axe let out his own roar of challenge, shaking his head and taking on the half-wolf form, feinting right, to catch his opponent’s eye, then throwing his axe into his left hand and hacking into the Reaver’s throat. Blood fountained across Axe’s body, making my heart stutter for a second, but it was quickly apparent that it was all from the Reaver and none of it his. The beast fell to the ground, reverting into the grimy figure of a young man seconds later.

“They’re…” Tristan’s hand wavered as he pointed to the air, all his insouciant arrogance gone. “They’re—”

“Attacking, brother, so look alive.”

Bryson, I had to admit, looked the very image of a king as he strode up to meet the incoming Reaver. He parried its strike before slashing at its arms. His sword kept catching on the big beast’s forearms, hitting the bony part, so that he appeared to fall back. His strategy worked to lure the Reaver closer, then, when it swung wildly for him, he was up and under its guard, thrusting his blade through the animal’s chest.

The next moment, a man hung on the king’s sword, blood dribbling from his mouth. He glared at Bryson, tried to say something, then went limp. Bryson was forced to shove the body backwards, dislodging it from his sword with his boot. Looking around, I noted with a grim sense of satisfaction that we’d dispatched all of the patrol. But Pepin turned to me with a worried look.

“We need to move,” she said with some urgency. “They’ve sent up the alarm. More will converge here. That will be to our advantage, if we’re fast. They’ll mass here like sharks in a feeding frenzy, but we’ll have moved on—”

“Using it as a distraction while we enter the palace.” Dane nodded decisively. “We can get in, without being seen, via the servant’s corridors.”

Apparently Aurora hadn’t liked her serving maids walking up and down the rich red carpets of the inner sanctum in the castle that she and her husband had claimed as theirs, so she’d had secret corridors built into the walls to allow them to come and go, sight unseen. It was a relatively recent addition, so I hoped it meant Callum was unaware of them.

“Then we must move, and now.” Bryson’s head jerked up as he heard far-off roars, getting louder and louder each second. “Come,” he commanded. Most of the lords moved without hesitation, but a few just stood there. Tristan seemed to be stuck in a loop, glancing at each dead body, then the ruined buildings, then off into the distance, going back to the starting point once he was done, only to start again. “Move, now!” Bryson’s bark seemed to help break the spell his brother was under, and Tristan, along with others of his faction who’d been overcome by seeing Reavers face to face, moved swiftly to join us.

I gotthe feeling Pepin was enjoying this. She took us on a circuitous route, down winding streets and through the ruins of people’s gardens, evidence of death and decay everywhere. Some of the lords coughed and spluttered when confronted with some of the more violent manifestations of destruction—a gutted dog, a headless goat left to rot—but the sounds of the Reavers’ bellows helped to silence them, perhaps making them wonder if they’d be next. But when we came to the great square where I’d fought Aurora, where I’d called the people of Snowmere together to fight the incoming Reavers, we realised our mistake. We’d safely wound our way through enemy territory, only to reach an insurmountable obstacle.

Snowmere was destroyed, but nowhere was in ruins as much as the once-imposing square before us. The stones had been torn up in places, while the buildings around it were still burning slowly, and the stink of decay, of ash, was so much thicker here. I remembered all of those grand buildings with their imposing windows that had stood around the edges of the square watching me fight an unworthy queen. There was none of that left now. Callum had worked so hard to retake the city of his birth, but now that he had it? He seemed determined to smash it to pieces along with everything else. But there was no point in trying to fathom his reasons for doing anything, because at the moment, we couldn’t get to the castle. The greatest impediment to our plan was the fact that there, among the ruins of the square, were hundreds, maybe thousands, of Reavers.

They were like dogs lying at their master’s hearth. Some were chewing on meat or guzzling down ale, but mostly they just lurked about, waiting to be deployed. When we had met them in battle, they didn’t seem capable of independent thought, appearing to operate as beasts lost to battle fever. But when there was no enemy to fight? They launched themselves at each other, some roaring and cheering as others ripped into each other for the sheer joy of it.

“The entrance to the servant’s corridors is over there,” Dane whispered, pointing to a spot on the left hand wall of the palace. It was the only building that seemed intact.

“To get there we need to… what…?” Bryson asked. “Get through them?”

“Not possible,” I said.

“Could be, if a diversion was provided.”

I glanced at Weyland, saw the way the light danced in his eyes and then shook my head. “No. No, Weyland, no.”

“What is this warg proposing?” Tristan asked, other lords clustering closer. “To lead the pack away? Sounds like a good plan to me. Let him make himself useful.”

“And what will you do to assist in this mission, milord?” I bit each word off, refusing to pay him the respect of using his correct title but keeping up the pretence at civility when I obviously felt none. “What experience do you have in fighting Reavers? What superior strength, speed, skills doyouhave to offer?” I stood taller, moving closer, watching the man fight to hold his ground, although he managed to. “Perhaps you would be the best one to lead the diversion.”

“If you’ve finished bickering…” I turned to see Pepin regarding us with a frown. “You’ve got the means for the best diversion right here.” I frowned, not seeing her point, so she reached out and wrapped her hand around the pommel of my sword. The crystal flared to life and, with it, I saw a vision of what could be.

The whole square ringed with blue fire, blood dripping from my nose as my mates and I urged it on, entreating it to consume everything. Dane’s hand on my shoulder as I conjured the fire, along with Weyland’s, Axe’s and Gael’s.

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