Chapter Ten
Someone was singing.
The soothing sounds wrapped around Vorri’s torn, bleeding body, filling him with light and warmth. Fingers ruffled his fur and deep affection tinged with worry rippled through the pack-sense. The pain ebbed away and Vorri drifted off to sleep.
The next time he opened his eyes, he was in human form and pain-free. He reached for Shaine through the pack-sense, but felt nothing. Nothing of Shaine and nothing of the pack-sense. Icy fingers seized his heart, and he sat up, looking about wildly. Relief turned his bones to liquid as his surroundings finally registered. He was in bed in the healing cottage.
“I thought you’d wake soon.” It was Ma’s voice, and Vorri turned his head to see her sitting beside his bed. Her pale hair was tied back, but wispy strands escaped to frame her face, and her grey eyes were heavy with exhaustion.
“How long?” he asked.
“A few hours. You arrived here this morning with a crossbow bolt in your leg.”
Not feeling her in the pack-sense was odd and uncomfortable. “Am I drugged?”
“You are.” Ma’s eyes flicked to the door of the room, where Nathor, one of the pack’s hunters, stood watch. “On your grandfather’s orders. I’m sorry, Vorri. I tried to make him see reason, but he’s furious that you disobeyed him.”
“But I found the hunters!” Vorri protested. “Shaine and I found them. We were trying to free them, and Shaine got caught. I was trying to help him when I was shot. I need to get back there. I’ve already wasted half the day. The Dragon Mother only knows what they’ve done with him.”
Ma pressed her lips together and shook her head. “You’ll have to speak to your grandfather about that.”
Vorri fell back against the pillows, mind racing.
What would the Wytch Masters do to Shaine? And would the Wytch Kings even care?
He squeezed his eyes shut. What if they tried to control Shaine again? Destroying the pathways and hooks Anxin had left in his mythe-shadow didn’t mean they wouldn’t be able to control him again. It just meant it wouldn’t be as easy.
Vorri couldn’t stand being trapped here while Shaine was suffering. Somehow, he was going to have to convince Grandfather to let him go. But he’d already left the valley to seek out the hunters without permission, brought a stranger back with him, and told the Wytch Kings of the Northern Alliance of the pack’s existence…
Aio’s teeth and tail, Grandfather could exile him for any one of those crimes.
When he opened his eyes, Ma was watching him, a faint frown creasing her brow. “What are you thinking, Vorri?”
He let out a shaky breath and brought a trembling hand to his brow to swipe a lock of tousled hair aside. “I’m thinking if I’m going to get to Shaine in time, I need to speak with Grandfather.”
“You will have the opportunity. Perhaps sooner than you wish it. He’s on his way here now with your father, and neither of them are pleased with you.”
“I didn’t think they would be.” Vorri pulled himself up in bed.
Ma settled the pillows behind him and ruffled his hair. When the bell on the door of the healing cottage rang, she quickly kissed his cheek. “Aio keep you, my son,” she whispered.
Before Vorri could reply, she was gone, and moments later, he heard his father’s heavy steps and his grandfather’s lighter ones in the hall.
Vorri tried to organize his thoughts before he was forced to defend himself. He’d barely begun when the two men came through the doorway. Grandfather sent Nathor to wait in the hall with an imperious gesture, then closed the door behind him. He and Da stood side by side at the foot of the bed, arms crossed over their chests. Two pairs of eyes, one black, one silver, bored into him. Time dragged and raced at the same time. Sweat broke out on Vorri’s brow as he struggled to meet those disapproving stares.
With the pack-sense blocked, Vorri couldn’t read either of them. Anger was evident in their body language, but was it the anger of a parent toward a child who’d made a mistake? Or was it the anger of a pack leader toward a pack member who might have betrayed them all?
Nausea crawled through Vorri’s belly as he waited for one of them to speak.
Finally, Grandfather said, “You will tell me where you’ve been these past weeks.” Silver eyes narrowed as they studied him.
“Well?” Da’s voice cut through the strangling morass of guilt and fear.
“I… I was trying to help,” Vorri said in a small voice. Swallowing hard, he stared down at the blanket covering him and began his tale.
He told them the truth.
Both his father and his grandfather remained utterly expressionless throughout his recitation, and without the pack-sense to guide him, Vorri had no idea what they were feeling, no chance to temper his words according to their moods. It was the most difficult accounting he’d ever given. When he’d finished, he forced himself to hold his grandfather’s gaze.
There was a long silence before Grandfather said, “You realize that by your actions, you have put every man, woman, and child in this valley at risk.”
“You do the same by refusing to go to the aid of our hunters,” Vorri countered. “If the crops fail, the hunters we have left will not be enough.” He shook his head in frustration. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Wytch King Drannik said if we’re the descendants of Lethrian’s army, he owes us his help.”
Da’s eyes widened and he said softly, “You see, Cassian? Rhiva has offered us help.”
But Grandfather’s mouth tightened. “The price of that help will be dragging the pack into war against the Wytch Council. Is that what you would have for our people?”
“I thought you would welcome the chance to fight the Wytch Council,” Vorri said.
“Look around you, boy.” Grandfather made a wide, sweeping gesture. “Do our people look like warriors to you? We may be the descendants of Lethrian’s army, but we are not trained for war. Many of our folk never shift once they’ve learned how. And while our hunters are skilled at bringing down game, they’ve never fought in battle, never coordinated with an army.”
“Then what do you propose we do?” Da asked softly.
Before Grandfather could answer, Vorri said, “I haven’t looked outside yet, but from the quality of the light coming in that window, I’d guess the valley is covered in snow. That means the winter crops are lost. Regardless of what you might wish, the shield is failing. We lack the resources to fix it, and even with all our hunters, we will be hard pressed to keep everyone fed over the winter.”
“The boy is right, Cassian,” Da murmured.
“And what of Shaine?” Vorri pressed. “He helped me find the hunters, but in doing so, he was captured. I owe him—”
“You owe him nothing,” Grandfather said sharply. “If anything, he is in your debt. His own kin can save him.”
“And what of our kin?” Vorri demanded. “Will you leave Kavarr and Savra and the others collared and caged? To be used by the Wytch Council you profess to hate against the people of Rhiva? People who share our blood?”
When they said nothing, Vorri continued his impassioned plea. “If you won’t listen to me, then at least put it to the pack. This decision is too big for just the council of elders. You might prefer starving here in your safe valley to fighting alongside our cousins for freedom, but I promise you, there are others who will fight.”
“Enough, Vorri.” Grandfather’s voice was dangerously quiet.
But it wasn’t enough. Wouldn’t ever be enough. Not until he’d convinced them to help. “What of the hunters who’ve been trapped in their rhyx forms all these years? There’s a chance they could be helped. Would you deny them the chance to reclaim their lives just because you’re too afraid to fight? Would you—”
“Silence!” Grandfather’s voice thundered. He started to say more, then stopped and held up a hand as if listening. “Svirrin, is that…?”
Da’s eyes widened. “Aio’s teeth and tail…”
Blind to the pack-sense, all Vorri could do was stare as they both Jumped away.
A set of his own clothing lay on top of the chest at the end of the bed. Vorri quickly dressed and went to the door. Nathor still stood guard on the other side, eyes wide and stunned. No doubt he’d heard every damning word of the argument.
“What is it, Nathor? What’s happened?”
“They’re back,” Nathor murmured before turning dark eyes on Vorri. “The hunters are back.”
Vorri’s heart stuttered. Shaine. “Is anyone else with them? A… a stranger?”
“No.” Nathor shook his head slowly and gave Vorri a measuring look. “But neither is Kavarr.”
* * *
Shaine stared down at the blood-stained snow in horror, the collars he’d gathered falling to the ground as he dropped to his knees. Except for the blood covering everything, the spot where he and Vorri had slept under the fir tree looked exactly as he’d left it.
Of Vorri, there was no sign.
Except for the blood.
Shaine cast about in the pack-sense for Vorri, but there was nothing, not even a whisper.
Don’t panic. If he was dead, there would be a body, and there’s no body.
There was blood, though. Far too much of it.
Would he not go back to the valley?
“I don’t know,” Shaine murmured to himself. “I hope not.”
And why do I not feel him in the pack-sense?
He froze. The voice wasn’t the voice of his own self-doubt, which still tended to sound like Anxin when he was stressed. But it wasn’t Vorri’s voice reaching him through the pack-sense, either.
So who was speaking in his head?
Heart in his throat, Shaine got slowly to his feet and turned to meet eyes of glacial ice level with his own.
Kavarr stood there, gaze fixed on him. <Where is my brother? And what do you know of the valley, Shaine of Rhiva?>
“I… I don’t know where Vorri is. He was supposed to wait for me here while I scouted the area and found out where you were being held. But I was captured. He must have come to help me and been wounded… but he couldn’t have been captured if he made it back here, so maybe…”
A powerful mixture of concern and regret surged through the pack-sense. <And the valley?>
“I-I’ve been there. Vorri found me dying in the snow when he set out to find you. He’d been forbidden to seek you, and he knew there might be trouble if he helped me, but he chose to save my life. He took me to the valley, and your mother healed me and kept us hidden from the pack until we could leave safely. If he’s gone back there—”
<He was forbidden to seek us out?> Icy anger swept through the pack-sense, but it wasn’t directed at Shaine.
“Vorri said…” Shaine trailed off. Was it even his place to tell Kavarr what his father and grandfather had said?
Kavarr’s icy eyes burned into him. <I feel your hesitation in the pack-sense.>
“I…” Shaine swallowed, and Kavarr’s ears went back. “H-he said your f-father and grandfather told him the pack couldn’t afford to lose any more hunters. When he begged them to let him search, they told him they couldn’t allow him to risk himself. Vorri didn’t agree, so he set out to find you without their permission. He found me, instead, and saved my life. I agreed to help him in return.”
<Fools.> Kavarr’s lip curled in a snarl. <They are all fools. Ever since the storm damaged the shield, I have been arguing that we should seek to reunite with our kin in Rhiva. They will not listen. They are old and set in their ways, and they allow my grandfather’s fear of the Wytch Council to guide them.>
“And you don’t fear the Wytch Council?” Shaine dared to ask. “After what they did to you and your pack-mates?”
<We were taken unawares.> Kavarr displayed a mouthful of sharp, blood-stained fangs. The rhyx equivalent of a smile, Shaine hoped. <But there is nothing to fear. Wytch Masters bleed and die like any prey.>
“Or burn in dragon fire,” Shaine murmured, recalling the way Tristin had roasted Wytch Master Anxin.
<Dragon fire?> Kavarr regarded him intently.
“Kavarr, my father is the Wytch King of Rhiva. He has allied himself with the other northern kingdoms, and the Northern Alliance intends to free the kingdoms of Skanda from the Wytch Council. To that end, they are building an army of dragon shifters. Vorri has already met with the Wytch Kings of the Northern Alliance and told them of your pack’s situation. They would welcome the assistance of your hunters, and my father would welcome your people home to Rhiva, if you would come. We have a mythe-weaver among us who might be able to help you and the others who were trapped by the storm. He’s the one who brought out the buried shifter patterns in my own mythe-shadow.”
Kavarr’s interest knifed sharply through the pack-sense. <This is something our council of elders must hear. We will speak of this more, Shaine of Rhiva. But first, I must find my brother and make certain he is well, and that no injustice is being done. Will you come and speak to the council?>
“I will.”
<Strangers are not allowed in the valley, so it is best if we appear together. That will make it clear to all that you are under my protection. Put your hand on my ruff.>
“Give me a moment. I dare not leave these here to be found.” Shaine bent to scoop up the collars he’d dropped. He stuffed them into one of the packs Jaire had brought them and slung the pack over his shoulder.
<Good thinking, Prince of Rhiva.> Kavarr’s approval curled through the pack-sense, warming Shaine. <Are you ready?>
Shaine drew in a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I’m ready.” He reached up to tangle his fingers in the stiff, matted fur at Kavarr’s neck and squeezed his eyes shut.
* * *
When Shaine opened his eyes, he found himself in Vorri’s valley. The sun was setting behind the mountains, and snow lay ankle deep on the ground. He and Kavarr stood in the middle of a village square surrounded by stone-and-thatch cottages. Humans and rhyx — far more rhyx than the ten he’d freed — were gathered together in the square. Voices filled the square and, to a lesser extent, the pack-sense.
The hunters he’d freed were there in the middle of it all, and when Shaine and Kavarr arrived, they pushed through the gathering to surround them. They crowded close to Shaine, all thanking him at once.
<Where is Vorri?> Kavarr’s question sliced through the chaotic babble of the pack-sense, sharp as freshly cut glass.
The noise faded to a dim murmur in the background as two men pushed past the gathered hunters to stand before Kavarr. One was middle-aged, with the black hair and eyes so common to the men of the northern kingdoms. The other was older, with white hair and silver eyes.
“Your brother is under guard so he cannot escape before he faces the council of elders,” the older man said. His eyes narrowed and he added, “Why have you brought a stranger into the valley, Kavarr? You know the law.”
Shaine, who still had his hand on Kavarr’s ruff, felt Kavarr’s muscles tense under his hand. <This is Shaine of Rhiva.> Kavarr’s lip curled, his mental snarl biting through the pack-sense. <We hunters owe him our freedom, and the council of elders owes him their thanks.>
“He is not so much a stranger, Cassian,” the middle-aged man murmured as he studied Shaine. “He is pack… but I do not recognize him.”
<He is a prince of Rhiva, a descendant of Lethrian himself, and he has a message for the council of elders.> Kavarr’s impatience threaded through the pack-sense. <But first you will tell me where my brother is. I believe he is injured, and I don’t feel him in the pack-sense.>
“He has proven himself untrustworthy,” the older man said. “So he has been drugged to prevent him from Jumping away before judgment is passed.”
Kavarr laid his ears back and growled low in his throat. Great furry bodies jostled for position, and the hunters faced the two men, all growling their displeasure. <Vorri was the only one of you brave enough to come to our aid. I will see my brother now. You will tell me where you are keeping him.>
Shaine couldn’t stand it any longer. “Is Vorri all right?” he asked. “There was so much blood…”
Before anyone could answer, Vorri’s mother pushed between the two men. “Shaine!” She took hold of his hands, then pulled him into a quick, hard hug. “Vorri was so worried about you,” she said as she pulled away. “He feared you’d been captured.”
“I was,” Shaine said. “But they didn’t know I could Jump, so they didn’t bother drugging me. I was able to escape and free the hunters, but when I went back to our camp to meet Vorri, he was gone, and everything was covered in blood. I… I feared the worst.”
<Where is he?> Kavarr demanded.
“Ava.” The white-haired man gave her a warning look.
Ignoring him, Ava said, “He’s in the healing cottage.” She shot an acid look at the man. “Drugged to blind him to the pack-sense and kept under guard.”
Kavarr turned to the older man, his displeasure rippling through the pack-sense. <Grandfather, gather the elders. I would have words with them, as would Prince Shaine of Rhiva.>
“It is late, Kavarr, and—”
<You will gather them or my hunters will. This cannot wait.> Without waiting for a reply, Kavarr turned to Shaine. <Come, Shaine of Rhiva. Let us find my brother. Then we will have words with the council of elders. Many words.> He gave his grandfather a hard stare, then turned and padded out of the village square.
Shaine walked beside him, and the newly freed hunters all moved to take up positions around them, like his father’s honor guard. When they reached the tiny cottage on the edge of the village, most of the hunters settled into guard positions surrounding the little house.
Shaine opened the door for Kavarr, who entered. Three more hunters followed Kavarr inside, crowding into the front room. When Shaine finally passed through the doors, he found Kavarr facing a dark-haired man who stood guard outside one of the cottage’s two interior doors.
<You may go, Nathor,> Kavarr’s order sliced through the pack-sense. <My brother’s safety is no longer your concern.>
Nathor’s eyes went from Kavarr to the three hunters arrayed behind him. The color drained from his face, and he nodded slowly and edged past the hunters.
As soon as he was gone, Shaine opened the door. Vorri sat on the room’s single bed in his human form, staring at the floor with his shoulders slumped in defeat. At the sound of the door opening, his head snapped up and his eyes widened. “Shaine!” He jumped to his feet and wrapped his arms around Shaine, squeezing him tight. “Are you all right? I felt your distress, felt you fade out from the pack-sense. I feared you’d been killed.”
“I’m fine.” Shaine returned the hug. “Faah assumed he already knew all my talents, so he didn’t bother collaring me. Once the drug they shot me with wore off, I was able to Jump to freedom.”
Vorri pulled away from him, looking past him. “Kavarr! Shaine, did you…?”
Shaine nodded. “After I escaped, I Jumped back to the cages and managed to free them.” He didn’t tell Vorri what the rhyx had done when they were free. Didn’t want to think about Faah’s last moments or what had been left of the Drachan soldiers who’d attempted to defend the old Wytch Master.
Kavarr looked at Shaine. <He will not hear my words through the drug. Will you speak for me, Shaine of Rhiva?>
“I will,” Shaine said.
Facing his brother, Kavarr said, <I owe you a debt of gratitude, Vorri. If not for your efforts, we would still be prisoners, forced to do the Wytch Council’s will.>
Shaine repeated Kavarr’s words.
Vorri’s eyes widened. “The elders would do nothing to help. I appealed to Da and Grandfather to let me search for you. They forbade me. But with the shield failing, I saw no other choice. Without you and your hunters, we would starve. I-I told Da if he expects me to lead the pack one day, then he has to let me follow my own conscience.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “What will they do with me? I disobeyed the pack leader and I brought a stranger into the valley. They could kill me for that.”
<They will not be given the chance,> Kavarr said. <Things have changed, both within the valley and without. For the past ten years, the elders have watched the shield weaken but have refused to approach Rhiva to ask for help. I say their time is done.>
Vorri’s face went pale as Shaine repeated the hunter’s statement. “What are you planning?”
<A shift in the balance of power. We hunters have been discussing it among ourselves for some time. Shaine tells me Rhiva will welcome us home. The council of elders will allow this or they will be replaced.>
Shaine shivered as he told Vorri what his brother had said.
“I… I had no idea.” Vorri’s voice was strained. “Does… does Da know about this?”
<It was his idea, though as the pack leader’s son, he has had to walk a very careful line. In order to keep the peace — and his position as leader of the hunt — he must be seen to comply with the council’s wishes. Ever since the storm first damaged the shield and he realized that Grandfather and the council would not act, he has called the hunters to many secret meetings, preparing us for this eventuality. We hoped the shield would last until Da took over as pack leader, but it is failing too fast, and we cannot wait any longer. Grandfather and his council have had their chance. Now the hunters will have theirs.>
Vorri stared at his brother for a long while after Shaine finished repeating his words. “You’re right,” he said finally. “Even if we do manage to survive this winter, what happens next winter? And the winter after that? And once the shield is gone completely…” He shook his head. “We can’t survive here. Even if we all shift and live as rhyx, there are too many of us.”
<So we have been arguing. To no avail.> Kavarr gave his brother a nod. <I have wronged you, Vorri, and for that I apologize. I resented that the storm affected me, but left you free to lead the pack after Da. I didn’t think you capable, and I allowed my anger and resentment to cloud my judgment. I’m sorry, brother. Can you forgive me?>
“Of course I can.” Vorri moved forward and pressed his cheek against his brother’s head. “You’ll be free soon,” he whispered. “You all will be.”
The brothers stood like that for a long time before Kavarr finally drew back and said, <I will leave a group of my hunters here to watch over you, Vorri. Shaine, will you accompany me and speak to the council?>
Shaine repeated Kavarr’s words for Vorri, then said, “I would be honored. Will… will I be able to come back here to see Vorri when we’re finished?”
<You have my word,> Kavarr said. <And tomorrow, you and Vorri will take me to see the Wytch King of Rhiva. With or without the blessing of the council of elders.>
Shaine shrugged the pack off of his shoulder. “Vorri, the collars that bound the hunters are in here. Guard them carefully. I thought I’d give them to Kavarr to take charge of.”
<Thank you, Shaine of Rhiva.> Kavarr’s approval suffused the pack-sense, and Shaine smiled at the big hunter.
“I don’t think I’d be comfortable knowing someone else had a means to control me or my people,” Shaine said. “I don’t think mythe-stones are easy to destroy, though, so if I were you, I’d take them someplace deep in the Iceshards, somewhere no human can easily reach, and bury them as deep as you can.”
Kavarr nodded gravely. <It will be done.>
* * *
Shaine followed Kavarr outside, where perhaps thirty rhyx awaited them. It was dark by now, but the moon shone down, reflecting brightly off the snow.
A white rhyx stepped forward to stand before Shaine. It settled itself onto its haunches and Shaine found himself staring into dark eyes at the same level as his own.
<I am Savra, Vorri’s sister, and I thank you for risking your life to buy my freedom, Shaine of Rhiva.>
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Savra,” Shaine said solemnly. “And I’m happy I was able to free you.”
One by one, the remaining rhyx who’d been held captive at Falkrag came forward to introduce themselves and to thank Shaine. It was sobering to think that they weren’t really free yet, and wouldn’t be until their ability to shift at will was restored. Shaine hoped Vayne would be able to help them, but before that could happen, Kavarr and his hunters would have to deal with the rhyx pack’s council of elders.
When the hunters had all expressed their gratitude, they surrounded Kavarr and Shaine and moved with them toward the village square. The town hall was a single-level stone building taking up one whole side of the square. A man stood outside the door waiting to open it for the hunters.
Inside the building was a huge, open room with a fireplace on either side. Fires had been lit, but they hadn’t been burning long enough to take the chill out of the air.
At the far end of the hall was a long table, occupied by five people. Vorri and Kavarr’s grandfather sat in the middle, flanked by two men and two women, all of whom appeared ancient. Shaine recalled Vorri mentioning his grandfather was a child when the Wytch Council killed Wytch King Lethrian and drove his rhyx army from Rhiva, chasing them deep into the Iceshards. If rhyx shifters were as long-lived as dragon shifters, every single one of these elders might have personal memories of the pack’s flight from Rhiva. Some of them might even remember Wytch King Lethrian himself.
Kavarr padded toward the table with Shaine at his side, their escort of hunters fanning out beside and behind them. When he reached the table, Kavarr settled on his haunches directly in front of his grandfather.
“Kavarr.” The pack leader managed to convey weariness, irritation, and censure in his tone.
Kavarr inclined his head. <Cassian.>
“What is so urgent it cannot wait until morning?”
<The matter of my brother’s freedom.>
Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “He brought a stranger into the—”
Kavarr’s lip curled. <A stranger who risked his own life to free me and my hunters. A stranger who may have solutions to the problems we have wrestled with these last ten years. A stranger who is not a stranger at all, but a prince of Rhiva, who is also pack. You cannot deny his presence in the pack-sense. Would you do the son of the Wytch King of Rhiva the discourtesy of asking him to shift to prove himself?>
“That will not be necessary,” Cassian said faintly. Through the pack-sense, Shaine felt very clearly both Cassian’s discomfort and Kavarr’s determination. <We have all felt his presence in the pack-sense. I trust he can speak as one of us?>
<I can,> Shaine said firmly, hoping that they could hear him as well as he could hear Kavarr and the others.
At Cassian’s nod of acknowledgment, the tightness in Shaine’s chest eased a little.
Kavarr continued, <Then you will hear what he has to say, and you will hear it now.>
Cassian’s gaze shifted to the hunters arrayed protectively around Shaine and Kavarr, and finally came to rest upon Shaine. “Speak then, Prince Shaine of Rhiva. Tell us what brings you to our valley and what answers Kavarr thinks you have for us.”
So Shaine related the tale, starting with his own imprisonment by Anxin and the establishment of the Northern Alliance. He told them of his self-appointed mission to find Stormshard and of meeting Vorri. And he told them of Rinwyck and the other villages destroyed by the rhyx hunters controlled by the Wytch Council.
“Controlled how?” Cassian wanted to know.
“By the collars they wore,” Shaine said, glancing at Kavarr. “Tell them, Kavarr.”
<Cruel devices,> Kavarr said. <They cut us off from the pack-sense, and allowed whoever wore the control bracelets to command us. There was no disobeying. It was as if our bodies moved to another’s will. We could only huddle in the darkest corners of our minds and watch.> Kavarr’s shame and disgust at what he’d been forced to do was as clear to Shaine as his own.
“It’s exactly what Anxin did to me,” Shaine said quietly, “except Anxin used his Wytch power instead of a collar. You can’t fight it. All you can do is watch, a prisoner in your own body.” He shuddered and closed his eyes briefly. Kavarr edged closer to him, pressing against his side, a warm, comforting weight. Through the pack-sense, Shaine felt both reassurance and a grim sense of solidarity binding them together in purpose. “That’s the kind of abuse we’re trying to put an end to,” he continued in a hoarse voice. “We could help each other. My father has already said he would welcome your people back to Rhiva. With your ability to Jump, you could help us in our efforts to defeat the Wytch Council.”
There was a long silence, during which the elders exchanged frequent glances. Were they debating with one another on some level of the pack-sense Shaine couldn’t access?
Finally, Cassian stirred. “We have lived in peace here for nearly three hundred years,” he said gravely. “Why should we risk everything for Rhiva when Rhiva has risked nothing for us?”
<Lethrian died defending our kingdom and our pack,> Kavarr reminded him. <It was not his fault the Wytch Council drove us out. And it is a prince of Rhiva who has freed our missing hunters at great risk to himself. If not for Shaine and Vorri, we would still be prisoners. So don’t you dare say Rhiva has risked nothing for us.>
“Rhiva could help your hunters,” Shaine said. “We have talented mythe-weavers among us. Vorri has already spoken to one of them, and he believes he might be able to restore your hunters’ ability to shift back into human form.”
The council members all exchanged unreadable glances. “No.” Cassian said flatly. “This is a case where the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. I will not drag our people into a war against the Wytch Council. Our ancestors may have been warriors, but we are not.”
Kavarr let out a low growl. <They are not asking you to take up arms. They are asking you to help with communications among themselves. To aid the efforts of their warriors. And you have not even asked the hunters what they think of going to war against the Wytch Council. I, for one, would fight them with everything I have for what they have done to us. Not only in Lethrian’s time, but now, in our own time.>
“As would I,” came a voice from the back of the room.
Shaine turned to see Vorri’s father moving through the gathered rhyx hunters to stand beside Kavarr.
“If Rhiva has offered us aid, we should at least begin negotiations. If we do nothing, we’ll all perish here in the next year or so.”
“We have had this discussion before, Svirrin,” Cassian said flatly. “I will not deal with Rhiva.”
“Then I will,” Svirrin said. “I will go to Rhiva and negotiate with Wytch King Drannik. I will offer our services as messengers in return for a place for our hunters and anyone who wishes to join them. If the council of elders prefers to freeze and starve here in the valley, that, of course, is the council’s choice. But my hunters and I will lead the rest of our people to safety.”
At a brief nod from Svirrin, five of the hunters broke off from the group and circled the table until one stood behind each of the elders.
“Will you stand in our way, Cassian?” Svirrin demanded. “Or will you step down?”
Cassian looked about wildly, eyes widening at the number of rhyx now filling the space. “You can’t. You can’t take the hunters with you.”
“How do you propose to keep them here?” Svirrin asked. “Will you drug them like you did Vorri? Or will you collar them, like the Wytch Council did?”
Cassian pressed his lips together in a grim line, and the hunters all growled low in their throats.
Svirrin turned to Kavarr. “Take Prince Shaine and go to your brother in the healing cottage. Get some rest. In the morning, you and Vorri will take Prince Shaine home to Rhiva and open negotiations with his father. Once you know what they are offering and what they would ask of us in return, bring word back to me. By that time, I will have things in hand here, and I should be able to accompany you and finish the negotiations in person.”
Kavarr nodded. <Consider it done, my father, my chief.> The big rhyx turned to Shaine. <Come, Shaine of Rhiva. Let us go to my brother and take our rest.>
* * *
Vorri woke with a warm weight pressed against him. He looked down to see Shaine snuggled close, his flame-bright hair scattered across the pillow they shared. Vorri had been asleep when Shaine and Kavarr had returned last night, and only barely remembered moving over so Shaine could slip into the narrow bed beside him.
He turned his head to see Kavarr standing guard by the door and smiled, remembering his brother’s apology last night, delivered through Shaine. The drug had worn off in the night, and the pack-sense surrounded him, suffused with something he hadn’t felt in far too long: hope.
<Good morning, Kavarr. I’ve missed you.>
Kavarr lowered his head, but his reply was warm and clear. <Good morning, Vorri. I missed you, too, though I did not realize it at the time.> A wave of affection drifted through the pack-sense. <I’m so very proud of you for defying Da and Grandfather and coming for us.>
Vorri flushed. <To be honest, I’m amazed we pulled it off. I didn’t think we would, especially once Shaine was captured.>
<He is a brave young man, this Prince of Rhiva.> Kavarr’s gaze drifted to Shaine and then back to Vorri. <He seems to care for you.>
It wasn’t phrased as a question, but Vorri sensed the gentle, unspoken query in the tone of his brother’s mind-voice. <I am coming to care for him, too,> Vorri admitted. <More than I should, perhaps.>
<He has been through much. A few weeks of being forced to kill innocents at the whim of a vengeful Wytch Master was bad enough. I cannot imagine enduring a year of it and retaining even a shred of sanity.>
<He told you?>
<He told the whole council and all of those who had gathered to hear. It was not easy to hear how he was turned, forced to act against his family, to plot the murder of his own father and brother.>
“He’s strong,” Vorri murmured. “He doesn’t believe it, but I’ve seen it.” He looked up to meet his brother’s eyes. “I’m not drugged anymore… and the pack feels… different. What happened?”
<After Shaine told the council his story, he told them the Wytch King of Rhiva would welcome us home. And Da… Da told the council the hunters will lead the people to Rhiva with or without their blessing.>
Vorri blinked. “What did Grandfather have to say about that?”
<He was… displeased. Da told me to leave Grandfather and the council to him. I believe he intends to take control. You and I are to follow Shaine to Rhiva and begin negotiating with the Wytch King. I am to report back to Da once we know their terms.>
Shaine stirred, pressing closer to Vorri, and when Vorri turned his head, a pair of sleepy green eyes opened and focused on him. “Did I miss something?” Shaine asked, looking from Vorri to Kavarr. “You both feel so hopeful.”
“We’ve been ordered to Rhiva,” Vorri said. “You, me, and Kavarr. Our father wants us to open negotiations with your father.”
Shaine flung back the covers and got to his feet, stretching. “When do we leave?”
<As soon as you are both ready,> Kavarr said. <I look forward to seeing our new home and meeting our king.>