Chapter Six
Shaine laced his fingers in Vorri’s fur and squeezed his eyes shut for the Jump. The intense cold was a shock after leaving the snug cavern where they’d spent the remainder of the night.
He opened his eyes to a blinding white snowfield. The sun was bright, the sky clear, and the air so cold, tiny ice crystals danced and winked everywhere he looked. Vorri nudged him, and Shaine pulled on his mitten as he turned his gaze in the direction Vorri was facing.
Before them was a windswept heap of glass, ice, and snow. Shards of clear crystal jutted up into a brittle lavender-blue sky, refracting the sunlight into brilliant dapples of rainbow on the surrounding snow.
Of the tower Shaine had read about, there was no sign. Only a heap of broken crystal. His heart sank, and a lump formed in his throat. If there was a weapon of any kind buried under the ruin, there was no sign of how he might reach it.
He’d failed.
Of course you failed. Did you really expect anything else?
<Do not despair.> Vorri nudged his hip with his nose before trotting toward the ruin. <We’ve not yet had a chance to explore.>
“Did you see something?” Shaine called after him.
<No, but if we get closer, we may be able to find a way in, assuming there’s anything left beneath the ground.>
Shaine followed after him, studying the heap of snow-encrusted glass with an eye toward anything that might serve as an entrance. The sun was high in the sky by the time they’d finished their search.
“That’s it, then,” Shaine said gloomily. “If there’s anything left underground, there’s no way to reach it.”
Vorri pressed himself against Shaine’s side. <Maybe there are other ruins you can explore.>
Shaine stared down at his feet, his failure a crushing weight on his chest. “If there are, I don’t know of any. When the Wytch Council took power, many of the books in the royal libraries were confiscated. I’d never even heard of Stormshard until I saw it in the journal.”
<We have books,> Vorri said. <Old books. Books we saved and brought with us to the valley when we fled the Council. Perhaps, once we have freed my kin, I can convince my grandfather to allow you to visit the valley to do some research.>
Hope rushed in to fill the void left by Shaine’s disappointment. “Would you?”
<I will try.> Vorri’s sincerity washed through the pack-sense. <If you are able to help me bring our hunters home, then as pack leader, Grandfather will owe you a debt of gratitude. I will make him see reason.>
“Then let’s—” Shaine stopped dead as an eerie howl floated through the air. The sound of it reached deep inside him, sending icy prickles down his spine and freezing his limbs. His body felt like lead, but his mind was gibbering with panic. Instinctively, he cloaked himself in the mythe and held completely still.
Across the snowfield, a black shape sped toward them. Rhyx. Wild, feral, and intent on its prey, this creature was more like Drannik’s trophy had been: more cat-like in appearance, with sleeker fur than Vorri, but armed with the same long fangs and wicked claws.
Vorri leapt at the animal, snarling. The black rhyx skidded to a stop, yipped once, then turned and fled across the snow. Vorri spun again, great shaggy head moving from side to side, amethyst eyes darting this way and that. <Shaine? It’s gone. Where are you?>
Shaine scanned the snowfield, and when he was certain the rhyx had gone, he dropped his cloak. Vorri started, then settled on his haunches, putting him at eye level with Shaine.
<I thought you did not know about Jumping.>
“I… I don’t.”
Vorri cocked his head. <You just did it. Or at least, you started to.>
“No, that’s just… it’s my Wytch power. I can… I can wrap myself in the mythe and fade into the background, make it so people don’t see me.”
Amusement rippled through the pack-sense, and Vorri let out a snort. <Jumping in place. If you visualized the place you wanted to go and then visualized the pattern for Jumping, you could go anyplace you’ve ever been.>
Shaine blinked. “I could?”
<You could indeed. Shall I teach you?>
When the implications of what Vorri was saying hit him, Shaine’s knees went weak. “You mean I could step from my bedroom in Castle Rhivana to… to my brother’s suite in Castle Altan as quickly as you brought me here?”
<Exactly. You’re already most of the way there. You know how to slip into the mythe. You just need the pattern for making the Jump.>
Shaine’s breath caught in his throat. If he could learn to Jump the way Vorri did, he could carry messages even faster than a dragon could. And if he could bring someone with him the way Vorri had brought him…
He might not be able to bring home a weapon, but the ability to communicate quickly between kingdoms might be just as valuable in the eyes of the Wytch Kings. Grinning broadly, Shaine said, “Show me.”
* * *
To Shaine’s relief, the pattern for Jumping wasn’t any more complex than the one he’d learned for cloaking himself in the mythe. Vorri began by having Shaine Jump to the other side of the ruin. After some practice around the ruin, he suggested Shaine Jump to the place where Vorri had first found him, the site of the rhyx attack that had nearly killed him.
“What about the rhyx?” The thought of meeting the creature again, even with Vorri at his side, made Shaine feel sick. “What if we end up in its territory?”
<It will not tangle with me. Rhyx use the mythe to hunt, and to them, I feel like a dangerous predator.>
Vorri sounded very certain. Shaine gave him a dubious look, but then thought of the way the rhyx that had charged them earlier in the day had turned tail and run the moment Vorri had challenged it. Perhaps it would be all right. He closed his eyes and visualized the frozen river valley dotted with fir trees. When he had a solid picture in his mind, he curled his fingers in Vorri’s fur, formed the pattern Vorri had shown him, and overlaid it on his destination.
A wave of disorientation washed through him, causing him to sway, but it was gone quickly enough. When he opened his eyes, he was in the valley. There was no sign of the rhyx. Vorri stood beside him, amethyst eyes bright.
<Very nicely done.>
“Could I bring along someone who can’t Jump?” Shaine asked.
<You just did,> Vorri told him. <That was your Jump that brought us here. As long as they’re touching you, you can bring someone else along with you.>
<So… not an entire army, but… two or three people?>
<Easily.>
Shaine couldn’t help grinning to himself. Not only could he solve the Northern Alliance’s communication problems, he could provide instant transport for the Wytch Kings from one kingdom to another.
Assuming they would trust him to do so.
He scanned the valley for movement, still concerned about meeting the rhyx that had nearly had him for dinner. Long purple shadows crept across the valley floor as the sun lowered. “It’ll be dark soon,” Shaine said.
<We can spend the night in the cave,> Vorri suggested. <The fire pit is already made, and there is enough wood left to see us through the night.>
Shaine was about to agree when a new thought struck him. “We could go to Castle Rhivana. I could take us right to my suite. We could spend the night in comfort and then set out to find your kin in the morning. As long as we stay in the suite and don’t let anyone see us, it should be fine.” When Vorri didn’t immediately agree, Shaine added quickly, “It’s only fair. You took me to your home and shared your furs with me.”
Vorri cocked his great, furry head. <Why must no one see us?>
“Ah. I… didn’t exactly tell anyone where I was going or why. If they see me, they’re going to want explanations, and that’s going to take time.” In truth, Shaine wasn’t certain who would be at Castle Rhivana. Mikhyal had been planning to stay in Altan with Tristin and communicate with their father by dragon courier when necessary, but depending on how the war was going, Drannik could be anywhere.
It would be safest to not be seen.
The last thing Shaine wanted was to have to give an accounting of where he’d gone and why he’d felt it was so important to do so without telling anyone. Mikhyal and Drannik would both be furious with him. They might even forbid him to help Vorri, though how they’d enforce such an order given Shaine’s new ability to Jump was an open question.
Warm laughter rang through the pack-sense. <We are very much alike, you and I.>
Shaine smiled shyly. “I thought so, too.”
<Very well, then. Take us to your castle.>
Burying his fingers in Vorri’s ruff, Shaine visualized his own bedroom at Castle Rhivana, and moments later, he and Vorri stood in the middle of the room.
Vorri immediately jumped up onto Shaine’s bed and settled himself in the center of it, taking up as much space as possible.
“Oh, very nice!” Shaine laughed. “And where am I supposed to sleep?”
<I thought I would curl around you like I did when you were ill. I liked sleeping beside you.>
Shaine’s cheeks heated, and he couldn’t deny that he’d liked it, too. Vorri’s presence had made him feel safe and protected, something he hadn’t felt in a very long time. “It might be safer if you were to shift back into human form. Just in case someone’s here. My brother is… well, he’s very protective. He could be looking for me.” The thought of Mikhyal wandering the halls of the castle searching for him and not finding him made Shaine feel more than a little guilty.
Vorri shifted right there, and Shaine started at the sight of the naked man reclining on his bed. For far longer than was polite, his eyes traced Vorri’s lean form, widening as they encountered the half-hard cock nestled in gleaming white curls.
“Ah. Hnrrg. I… let me find you some…” Cheeks flaming, Shaine backed into his dressing room and quickly located a nightshirt and a dressing gown for Vorri.
When he stepped back into the bedroom, Vorri hadn’t moved. “It’s all right,” he said softly. “You can look if you want.” Burning amethyst eyes met Shaine’s, and through the pack-sense, a whisper of something hot and wild caressed his mind. “I like you looking.”
Shaine swallowed. There was no denying he found Vorri intriguing, and had since the first time their eyes had met. “I… I…”
“I feel you in the pack-sense,” Vorri murmured.
“I feel you, too,” Shaine whispered. And he did. Vorri’s desire was a molten wave of want, tempered by cool ripples of uncertainty. Vorri wanted very much to be with him, but only if it was truly Shaine’s choice. Through the pack-sense, Shaine got a very clear feeling that if anything was going to happen between them tonight, the next move was up to him.
He should have hated that Vorri could read his every emotion so accurately; when Anxin had possessed such intimate knowledge of him, it had felt like a violation. But this… this was different. He trusted Vorri. Knew, right down to the depths of his soul that Vorri wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.
Shaine licked his lips and let the nightshirt and dressing gown fall to the floor. “Could I… can I touch you?”
“I’d like that.” Vorri rolled gracefully off the bed. He approached Shaine slowly, giving him every opportunity to back away.
Shaine closed the distance between them, eyes locked onto Vorri’s. He reached out and pressed a tentative hand flat against Vorri’s chest. Though his skin was warm beneath Shaine’s palm, Vorri shivered.
“Like this,” Vorri whispered, taking hold of Shaine’s hand and dragging it slowly down his body. A wave of heat crashed through Shaine as his fingertips brushed the silky curls between Vorri’s legs. His own desire? Or Vorri’s?
Vorri groaned. “Please, Shaine,” he whispered. “Touch me.”
Shaine slid his hand farther down to curl his fingers around Vorri’s cock. Vorri’s eyes slid shut. He pressed his body against Shaine’s, hips flexing as he rutted against Shaine’s hand.
Though far from experienced himself, Shaine had enjoyed a few memorable dalliances with the son of a nobleman at one of Rhiva’s estates a few years ago. From the complex tangle of emotions he was getting through the pack-sense, he guessed Vorri might be even less experienced than himself. “Have you ever—”
“No.” Vorri sounded breathless. “But I want to. With you.”
Shaine leaned in to kiss him. “So do I,” he murmured against Vorri’s lips.
* * *
Mikhyal had been flying for most of the night. At Garrik’s request, he was carrying an invitation to his father to join a meeting of the Wytch Kings of the Northern Alliance in Altan, two days hence. As he wanted to brief his father on the latest news in preparation for the meeting, he’d come to Rhiva a day early, and planned to return to Altan as part of the Wytch King’s escort.
Winter had come early to the northern kingdoms, but Mikhyal couldn’t complain. The ankle-deep snow covering the land made it easier to spot enemy movement at night. In the two weeks since the attack on the village in Irilan, small villages in both Altan and Miraen had been targeted in three more rhyx attacks. There had been no warning, and no survivors. Prince Jaire had sensed the disturbances caused by the opening of the mythe-gates, but he hadn’t known where to send the soldiers, and even if he had, given the distance, not even an unburdened dragon could have arrived in time to help.
Jaire had reported the attacks were swift and brutal, with less than half an hour passing between the opening and closing of the mythe-gates. As if the rhyx knew exactly where to find every single victim. Or, as Wytch Master Ilya had suggested, as if someone else who knew where to find every victim was controlling the rhyx, the way Anxin had controlled Shaine.
And that was another problem. There was still no sign of Shaine. At first Mikhyal had hoped his brother might just need some space, and had headed home without telling anyone. As the days dragged on with no word, he was forced to consider the possibility that, whether by design or by accident, Shaine might not be coming back. Jaire had searched the libraries of both Altan and Rhiva for hours on end, but he’d come up with no reference to Stormshard. If Stormshard did exist, Shaine had taken the secret of its whereabouts with him.
Mikhyal turned his attention back to the dark terrain laid out before him. Dawn had yet to light the sky. At this rate, he’d reach Castle Rhivana in plenty of time for breakfast. A good, hot meal followed by a long sleep in his own bed would be welcome after flying all night.
Dirit, who had been off in the mythe doing whatever he did when he wasn’t bothering Mikhyal suddenly appeared. He perched on Mikhyal’s snout, whiskers twitching frantically. <Faster! You must go faster! Someone has opened a mythe-gate!>
Mikhyal’s heart stuttered, and he blinked hard to lower his inner eyelids, making the air currents visible to him as bright rivers of color against the dark sky. <Where?>
<Up ahead of us. What lies that way?>
<Rinwyck.> Mikhyal scanned the sky, seeking the red and orange updrafts and adjusted his wings to take him higher. <It’s a tiny village. But we’re still well over an hour away, even with the wind at our backs.>
Dirit wrung his little claws. <But if the village is under attack, they’ll have been and gone by the time we get there! You must fly faster!>
Mikhyal banked right to catch a fast moving current of brilliant crimson heading almost straight toward Rinwyck. <I’ll do my best.> He flapped his powerful wings, and the ground flew by beneath him. If he could reach the village before the Wytch Masters and their beasts disappeared through the mythe-gate, he might be able to kill enough of them to make a difference. Determined to avert yet another tragedy, he flew on.
* * *
Shaine jerked awake. Pleasant dreams of exploring Vorri’s body shattered and fell away as something dark and chaotic crashed through the pack-sense. Beside him, Vorri was already sitting up straight.
“What is it?” Shaine put a hand on Vorri’s arm only to find him trembling, his flesh like ice.
Vorri’s only response was to set a glowing ball of mythe-light above them. His eyes were huge and frightened as he stared at Shaine.
“Vorri?”
“My brother and sister…” Vorri sounded as if he was fighting back tears. “They’re close by, but… something… something is wrong. They’re desperate, and they’re hurting.”
“They’re here?”
“Not here… but nearby. I felt… a disturbance in the pack-sense… as if an entire hunting party had just Jumped.”
“Like a mythe-gate,” Shaine said grimly. Urgency surged through him, and he rolled out of bed. A mythe-gate nearby could only mean another Wytch Council attack. “How close?”
“Close,” Vorri said softly. “An hour’s walk to the west, perhaps?”
“An hour west… Rinwyck?”
“What is that?”
“A village.” Shaine visualized the village square at midsummer, the way he’d seen it the last time he’d been there, perhaps three years ago. “We used to pass through it on the way to Brightwood, my father’s retreat. We have to hurry. Before I left, some of our fields were being burned by troops who came through a mythe-gate and then left again before anyone could get there. Whatever they’re up to, we have to stop them.” Shaine reached for the clothes he’d let fall to the floor in his haste to undress last night, but instead of putting them on himself, he set them on the bed for Vorri. “Here. These are mostly yours anyway. I’ll find some of mine.”
“It would be safer for me to go in rhyx form.” Before Shaine could protest, Vorri rolled off the bed and shifted. <If there is some kind of threat, a rhyx is better prepared to do battle than an unarmed human.>
Not wanting to waste a moment, Shaine dressed in the clothing he’d rescued from the floor. “If the village is under attack, I need to tell my father so he can send his soldiers.”
Vorri whined and laid his ears back just like an agitated dog. <How long will that take? Can’t you take me there first and then come back to fetch him if he’s needed?>
Shaine almost suggested Vorri go by himself, until he recalled that Vorri had never been to Rinwyck before, and wouldn’t be able to Jump there. “All right. But if they are under attack, I’ll have to come straight back here to let my father know.”
<Agreed.>
Shaine settled a hand on Vorri’s ruff and visualized the village of Rinwyck.
They arrived in the middle of the village square to moonlit silence. For a moment, Shaine dared hope it was a false alarm, but the dark stains covering the churned-up snow and the torn, broken bodies strewn about soon disabused him of that notion.
Bile burned in his throat as Shaine hurried from body to body, searching for signs of life. After finding a small child, he had to pause while his stomach writhed and heaved before emptying itself on the snow.
The villagers had been surprised, most of them still in their nightclothes. Vorri moved across the square in the opposite direction, nudging the still forms with his nose, his distress rippling through the pack-sense and reinforcing Shaine’s.
By the time they met back at the square, Shaine was numb.
<They were here,> Vorri told him. <My pack-mates were here, but they’re gone now, as far away as they were before.>
“I’d better inform my father,” Shaine said woodenly. “It might be best if you stay here until I’ve had a chance to explain. See if you can find any survivors. I-I’ll fetch the guard.”
<My kin would not have done this willingly. Their threads are colored with distress, anger, and despair. It feels as if they’re trapped. Or controlled.>
“Controlled.” A bitter cold swelled in Shaine’s belly. “Like Anxin controlled me.” If Vorri’s kin had indeed been taken by the Wytch Council, he and Vorri would have a difficult time getting them back. “I’ll return as soon as I can,” he said grimly.
Vorri butted his head gently against Shaine’s chest. <I will search for survivors, but… I have little hope.>
Shaine pressed a kiss to the top of Vorri’s furry head and gave his ears an affectionate scratch. “I’m sorry, Vorri. If your kin are imprisoned and being forced to do…” He gestured helplessly to the carnage surrounding them. “I’ll do all I can to help you free them. I know what it feels like to be forced to act against your will.”
Shaine didn’t bother announcing himself at the castle gates or asking the guards outside his father’s suite to wake the Wytch King. He Jumped straight to his father’s bedroom and shook him awake himself. Drannik was a light sleeper, and he woke quickly and thoroughly. Before Shaine could light the lamp, his father had thrown a ball of glowing yellow mythe-light above the bed, and sat blinking at his son.
“What in the Dragon Mother’s— Shaine? Where did you come from? Where are the guards? Are we under attack?”
“It’s all right, Father. Well, no, not all right. The castle’s perfectly safe, but Rinwyck’s been attacked. I was there. The villagers… they’ve been torn apart. My… my friend Vorri is looking for survivors as we speak, but… I fear he won’t find any.”
Drannik leapt out of bed. “But… where have you been? We’ve searched—”
“Father, we’ve no time for questions,” Shaine said flatly. “You have a village to tend. Survivors to find.”
“Explain while I dress,” Drannik said, heading for his dressing room.
So Shaine began his tale.
* * *
Rinwyck was quiet when Mikhyal reached it, but the moonlight on the blood-dappled snow told the same grim story of terror and death he’d seen in the other villages.
<I sense only one living thing down there,> Dirit said as they circled the village. <Look, over there by that little cottage at the end of the lane.>
Mikhyal looked down just in time to see a flash of white against the dark bulk of the cottage. He glided closer and caught a glimpse of pale fur disappearing behind the little house.
Rhyx?
He’d never heard of a white one before. The wild ones that roamed the northernmost forests of Rhiva were all black. A wolf, then? Mikhyal swooped over the top of the cottage and landed in front of the animal.
It wasn’t a rhyx, but it wasn’t quite a wolf, either. In fact, it looked almost like a cross between the two. It had the body and fur of a wolf, and the eyes, but the muzzle was shorter and the fangs far longer.
Its tracks, however, were identical to the rhyx tracks Mikhyal had seen in the village in Irilan. Was the Wytch Council breeding rhyx with wolves?
Mikhyal shuddered at the thought.
The creature backed away from the dragon, ears flat against its head. It didn’t growl or snarl, but instead dropped to its belly in the snow. In a dog, he would have interpreted the posture as submission, but in this odd hybrid creature, who knew what it meant?
Mikhyal drew breath to roast it in dragon fire, but just before he let loose a gout of scorching flame, the air around the creature shimmered, and the shaggy beast was replaced by a naked man on his knees in the snow. His skin was ghost-white in the moonlight, and his long, pale hair almost glowed.
“Please, Master Dragon,” he said in oddly accented Aeia, “I am Vorri. I mean you no harm. I come in search of my kin. Prince Shaine of Rhiva brought me here when I sensed the presence of my pack-mates here in your village. He has gone to warn his father, the Wytch King.”
As if the sound of his name had summoned him, Shaine suddenly stepped out of the air between them, the way he did when he’d been hiding himself in the mythe. He held up a hand and shouted, “Don’t you dare, Mik!”
Mikhyal snapped his jaws shut while Shaine turned and removed his own cloak, then knelt on the ground beside the man. “It’s all right, Vorri. It’s my brother. He must have thought you were with the ones that attacked the village.” Shaine settled the cloak over Vorri’s shoulders and drew the shivering man to his feet. “Vorri’s a shifter, Mik, like you and Tristin, except instead of shifting into a dragon, he shifts into a… well, it’s closer to a rhyx than anything, though it looks more like a wolf. And right now, he’s freezing to death. He’s going to shift back into his rhyx form now so he’ll be warm, and you’re not going to roast him. Are you?”
Mikhyal swung his head from side to side in a negative gesture, fighting the urge to shift so he could demand of Shaine just where he’d been. Dirit must have sensed his frustration, for he manifested himself physically, perched on the top of Mikhyal’s head. “Was your expedition to Stormshard a success, Prince Shaine?”
Shaine’s pale eyes snapped up to the little dragon, eyebrows drawing together in a fierce glare. “I knew you were spying,” he muttered. “Vorri, shift before you freeze. Mikhyal won’t hurt you.”
With a nervous glance at the dragon, the man shifted back into his rhyx-wolf form. Mikhyal noted he was careful to keep Shaine between himself and Mikhyal’s admittedly fearsome dragon form. Shaine retrieved his cloak, settled it back over his own shoulders, then tangled his fingers in Vorri’s fur. “Did you find anyone alive?” he asked Vorri.
There was no answer that Mikhyal could hear, either with his ears or with his dragon senses, but Shaine closed his eyes briefly and let out a choked sob. “Too late, then.”
Vorri leaned closer, rubbing his great shaggy head against Shaine’s chest. Shaine bowed his head, pressing his cheek against the top of Vorri’s head. After a few moments, he looked up at Mikhyal, tears glittering on his face. “I’ve just returned from the castle to let Father know about the attack. I imagine we’ll see a dragon patrol before long. And Father should be putting together a contingent of guardsmen. As soon as we’re finished here, we need to talk. The Wytch Council has captured some of Vorri’s people, and is forcing them to attack us. If we want to put a stop to it, we need to help Vorri free his pack-mates.”
<Dirit, tell them to return to the castle and wait in Shaine’s suite,> Mikhyal said. <I’ll arrange for them to meet with Father as soon as we’ve finished here.>
Dirit relayed the message, and after a long silence, during which they stared into one another’s eyes, Shaine and his companion simply disappeared, as if Shaine had cloaked them both in the mythe.
Mikhyal started, then shook himself. <I didn’t know he could cloak another person.>
“Nor did I,” said Dirit. “This should prove most interesting.”
* * *
Prince Mikhyal of Rhiva was furious.
Vorri watched with no small amount of envy as Rhiva’s heir paced back and forth, tearing into his younger brother for seeking Stormshard alone without leaving any word of his whereabouts.
They hadn’t been back in Shaine’s suite for very long when they’d been summoned to the Wytch King’s study to find Prince Mikhyal waiting for them. Now, Vorri sat beside Shaine on a couch next to the hearth, soaking in the welcome heat as he listened to Mikhyal’s lecture.
Even though Mikhyal wasn’t part of the pack-sense, it was clear to Vorri that his annoyance stemmed from deep affection and a great deal of concern for his brother’s safety. Vorri’s own brother had no interest in where he went or what he did. In fact, ever since he’d been trapped in his rhyx form, Kavarr treated Vorri with such disdain and irritation that Vorri had been just as glad when his brother had finally eschewed the village in favor of the dens he and the others had made in the caves.
Shaine bore the lecture in increasingly agitated silence, though if Vorri hadn’t felt him through the pack-sense, he’d never have guessed. The younger prince was an expert at hiding his emotions; his face and posture betrayed nothing of the turmoil raging through the pack-sense.
“I never wanted you to see anything like what we saw at Rinwyck today,” Mikhyal said. “Don’t you understand, Shaine? I’m trying to protect you.”
“It’s far too late for that, Mik.” The bitter edge in Shaine’s voice stopped his brother cold. “I was Anxin’s puppet for a whole year. There’s nothing left for you to protect me from. And anyway, we both know you’d never have allowed me to go if I’d told you. Or if you had, you’d have taken charge, and it would have become your project and your expedition. I’d have been left behind because you’re all afraid the Wytch Council will take me over again and I’ll turn on you.”
“Shaine—”
“It doesn’t matter anyway. I failed. Stormshard is nothing but a ruin. Even if there is something useful there, it’s buried under the wreckage, locked in snow and ice. There’s no way in.” Shaine looked so miserable, Vorri reached out and covered his hand with his own. Shaine gave him a tiny smile before continuing, and Vorri sensed the concurrent flicker of warmth through the pack-sense. “I didn’t come back here to argue with you about where I’ve been and who I should have told. I wasn’t going to come back at all, but—”
“And that’s another thing — since when can you hide someone else in your mythe-cloak?”
“I didn’t—”
“I saw you and Vorri disappear right before my eyes. And I know you slipped past the castle guards, because they didn’t report seeing either one of you.”
“I didn’t cloak us,” Shaine said when Mikhyal finally paused long enough for him to get a word in. “We Jumped. Traveled through the mythe from Rinwyck to my suite.”
“Jumped?” Mikhyal’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them. “Like opening a mythe-gate?”
Vorri swallowed, but met the prince’s pale blue eyes steadily. “I don’t know what your mythe-gate is, but I can travel through the mythe to any place I’m familiar with. That’s how I brought Shaine to our valley, many days travel to the north, and it’s how he and I came here in the blink of an eye.”
“He taught me how to do it, too, Mik,” Shaine said, drawing his brother’s intense gaze away from Vorri. “I could go to Altan and back right now. It would only take a few seconds. And I could take you with me. Think how useful that would be! I could travel between kingdoms with messages, or even bring all the Wytch Kings together to meet, without any of them having to rely on the dragons. You’d have that instant communication you’ve been dreaming of, only you wouldn’t need to set up relays and find enough people to man them.”
Mikhyal’s eyes grew wider and wider as Shaine spoke. When Shaine had finished, his attention shifted back to Vorri. “And what is your part in this?”
“Your brother was wounded when a rhyx attacked him, Your Highness,” Vorri said softly. “I tried to help him, but his wounds took fever and he grew so ill, I feared he might die. I took him to my mother, who healed him.”
“At great risk to himself,” Shaine put in.
“You were attacked by a rhyx?” Mikhyal’s eyes moved back to Shaine, widening once more, this time in horror.
“I’m fine,” Shaine hastened to reassure him. “But I owe Vorri and his mother my life. A debt I intend to repay. The Wytch Masters are using his kin to attack our villages, and Vorri thinks they’re being controlled. Like Anxin controlled me. We were going to search for them. If Vorri hadn’t sensed his brother and sister at Rinwyck, we’d have been gone by now.”
“Without telling anyone?”
“Ai, because if we told people, they’d make us wait,” Shaine snapped. “Wouldn’t they?”
“There’s good reason to make you wait,” Mikhyal said gravely. “Before you go recklessly throwing yourself into a confrontation with a Wytch Master, you might want to consider the fact that Vayne thinks you’re still vulnerable to manipulation.”
Shaine narrowed his eyes. “Ai, and there’s a solution to that, isn’t there? But no one trusts me enough to allow it.”
“So you did overhear us.”
Shaine flushed pink. “I wasn’t spying on your meeting. I heard you and Tristin talking afterward. You were angry, and you weren’t exactly trying to be quiet. That was partly why I left. I wanted to prove myself to you. To all of them. I thought…” Shaine’s shoulders slumped, and he leaned forward, elbows on knees, head bent. “I thought if I could bring you back some kind of weapon to help you win the war, it might prove to everyone that I’m on your side. That I can be trusted.” He lifted his head to stare up at his brother. “I was only trying to help, Mik.”
“Oh, Shaine…” Mikhyal’s expression softened. He took two steps toward Shaine and dropped to his knees in front of him. “You have nothing to prove. Nothing. It touches my heart that you would risk so much to help the Northern Alliance, even with your loyalty being questioned by some of them. Know this: no matter what anyone else says, I trust you completely, and I believe in you.”
A single tear tracked slowly down Shaine’s face. “Thank you, Mik. I… I needed to hear that.”
“I’m proud of you for wanting to honor your debt to Vorri, and for wanting to end the attacks on the villages.” Mikhyal turned to Vorri. “Vorri, you saved my brother’s life and brought him home safely. For that, I, too, am in your debt. I’ll do whatever I can to help you find your kin.”
“We owe them our help anyway,” Shaine said. “Vorri’s people… they’re subjects of Rhiva, descended from Wytch King Lethrian’s army. And they’re in danger. Not just because of losing their hunters, but—”
He stopped as the door opened and a tall, powerful man with black hair and penetrating black eyes stepped into the room.
“Father,” Mikhyal said. “May I present Vorri of…” He trailed off, as if he’d only just realized that Vorri had given him no title or honorific.
“Master Vorri,” the man said, eyes showing no hint of surprise as they settled on Vorri. “I am Wytch King Drannik of Rhiva. Shaine tells me your people are in need of our help. And if you are indeed the descendants of Lethrian’s army, we owe it to you.” The Wytch King settled himself in an armchair across from them. “Tell me. From the beginning.”
“Your Majesty.” Vorri rose and bowed to the king, then took a deep breath and began his tale.
* * *
By the time Vorri had finished his story, Mikhyal’s head was spinning. So much to take in. Shaine’s new ability to Jump could give the Northern Alliance a tremendous advantage, but a whole village full of people who could not only Jump, but shift into dangerous predators? Shifters who lived long enough that some of them remembered being citizens of Rhiva.
If they could be brought home and persuaded to fight for Rhiva, they could change the course of the war.
The possibilities boggled Mikhyal’s mind. Drannik’s too, from the look of him, though he’d made no comment, had simply listened in grave silence as Shaine and Vorri recounted their tale.
Now, Drannik asked, “Would your people consider returning to Rhiva, Master Vorri?”
Vorri hesitated for a few moments before speaking. “I would not presume to speak for my grandfather or the council of elders, but my guess is they would not risk it if the Wytch Council still rules here.”
“They do not,” Drannik said. “The kingdoms of Rhiva, Altan, Miraen, and Irilan have formed an alliance and declared our independence from Wytch Council rule. We have thrown out the Wytch Masters who refused to join us, and we are prepared to fight to keep the Wytch Council out of our affairs.” There was a long pause before he asked, “What will your folk do when your shield fails and your valley becomes choked in ice year ’round?”
“I don’t know,” Vorri whispered. “It was my suggestion that we ask Rhiva for help, but… my grandfather would not hear of it. He still remembers the Wytch Council. He was a child when they killed Wytch King Lethrian and drove the pack from Rhiva. He said he had sent people into Rhiva not long ago, and learned the Wytch Council still held power. I… I don’t know where he intends for us to go if the shield fails. Perhaps he thinks we will retreat into the caves and live like animals.”
“The Northern Alliance is a very recent development, so it does not surprise me that he would not know of it.” Drannik leaned forward. “If he did know of it, would he be willing to join our fight?”
Vorri caught his lower lip between his teeth, amethyst eyes troubled. “Even if he was, we can spare no one. With two of our hunting parties missing, and the weather growing colder, we will need all the remaining hunters just to keep the pack fed.”
“What if we were to help you retrieve your hunters?” Drannik asked.
“I… I have no authority to make promises for the pack,” Vorri said in a low voice. “But if you would help me save my kin, I will help you, even if the council of elders will not.”
“And would you carry a message to your grandfather for me?”
“I will, but not until I’ve freed my kin,” Vorri said. “I dare not go back until I’ve accomplished that. My father forbade me to seek them out. If I go back now…” He stared down at the floor and shook his head. “He will not hear me, and if he learns that I broke our oldest law by bringing a stranger into the valley… I could be punished severely.”
“I understand.” Drannik nodded gravely. “I must think on this and decide how best to help you. Shaine, take Vorri to the kitchens and get yourselves some food, then take some rest. You will join me here for dinner tonight, and we will discuss what aid Rhiva can offer.”
“Th-thank you, Your Majesty,” Vorri said in a small voice. He and Shaine got to their feet and left the room.
As soon as the door had closed behind them, Mikhyal said, “What do you intend, Father?”
Drannik looked thoughtful. “If Vorri’s kin are being used to attack our villages, the Northern Alliance has a vested interest in helping him free them. I’m going to propose we bring them along with us to our meeting in Altan the day after tomorrow. In fact, I’m going to propose we send them ahead of us with a letter for Garrik, explaining the situation. They can stay in your suite, with Tristin.”
Mikhyal nodded. “Just having the two of them able to pop about the northern kingdoms carrying messages would give us a tremendous advantage.”
“I’m thinking bigger than that, Mikhyal. I’m thinking if we aid them in retrieving their hunters, we may be able to forge some kind of alliance with Vorri’s people. His pack.”
“They could help us win the war,” Mikhyal said. “If they could be persuaded to help us.”
“Oh, I think they can be persuaded,” Drannik said. “If they cannot repair the shield that protects their valley, where will they go? They will have no choice but to come south. And when they do, Rhiva will welcome her lost subjects with open arms.”