The Wolf Queen

1202 – November

ABARRANE CURLS INTO IAN’S side. He is surprisingly warm in the cool underground air. He runs his hand through her pale hair, letting it slowly slip through his fingers and fall back to the bed. It is a stark contrast against the black blankets.

“Are you- you know- happy?” she asks, her voice softer than usual.

“Why do you ask? Of course I am.” He smiles down at her.

She studies his face. She finds herself wondering what he looked like before he was turned. He was attractive now, but what about before? His cheekbones are high and his face drops from there, making his cheeks sink slightly in, but most Vampire’s did. Did his eyes change that much when he was turned? Their pale blue could pass as human.

“I don’t know.” She traces her finger along the embroidery on the blanket. She chooses the next words carefully, “You’ve just seemed a little distant as of late.”

He frowns and looks up at the ceiling. She tries to force the pain down. “I guess I’m just thinking a lot.”

“About Runir?” His name tastes strange in her mouth. It’s been a month and no one mentions him. Not Will. Not Channin. And certainly not Ian, who avoids the citizens of the Sister Cities like the plague. The only thing left of the Elf is an empty chair at the Order of Night meetings and a worn bow on the mantle.

He nods slowly, “Is it wrong to hope he is dead?”

Abarrane ponders this for a moment and speaks, “I’m sorry, love. You know Able.” He had been at her side until she threw him out for his erratic behavior. On more than one occasion, he had suggested wiping the Dwarf population out. The final straw had been him mixing Dwarf blood, werewolf blood and vodka and then coming to a diplomatic meeting with the King’s men. Able was dangerous, and he knew it. “I doubt he would grant him a swift death.”

Ian exhales and she immediately regrets speaking truthfully. He stumbles from bed and pulls his clothes on. A rush of cold air fills his place.

“Leaving?” She sits up, pulling the blankets with her.

“I’m going to take a walk.” He fastens his belt and runs his hand over his sword hilt. “I’ve got to clear my mind.” He is staring blankly at the red stones.

“Do you want-“

“No,” he quickly shuts her down, “That’s alright. Stay inside where it’s dark.” He pauses at the door and turns back to kiss her forehead. “I love you.”

She smiles back, hiding the concern for him, “Love you too.”

He leaves. She can hear the Dwarven soldiers greet him and wonders if sound travels out as well as it travels in. Time passes slowly for her. She can hear the soldiers leave for lunch. Noon. And return. One. She begins to wonder if sleep is an option, and true to form, she falls asleep a few minutes later.

Abarrane is tossed awake by a deafening crash. Her door flies open and a Dwarf woman named Harriet barges in.

“My Lady, you’ve got company.”

Abarrane leaps from the bed, pulling on a purple silk robe, “Who is it?”

Another crash and the faint sound of running travels up the cavern. She swears and grabs a pair of small daggers off the nightstand. Silver blades with a black guard ending in tiny rubies.

Abarrane is at the door when Harriet stops her, “My Lady, you are still in your scanties.”

Another swear as she grabs the first shirt she sees and pulls it on. The pale blue is dark against her skin. She races out the door, met by the King’s banner.

“Will?” Channin has been following him around for over an hour. He keeps finding other things to do. Most of their last month has been spent building houses for the new citizens. Houses carved into the side of the canyon for the Dwarfs, which frees up stone for the others.

“Will.” She rolls her eyes. She’s been trying to build the courage and find the right time to tell him about their finding for a week. Everything has piled up and they haven’t had the time alone to talk. With Runir gone, William was pulling double duty, planning attacks and overseeing the new village. He went to bed after Channin and got up before she even considered it.

He is helping to set up a tent made from tanned hides. “Channin, will you grab that rope please?”

She does as told, “Don’t worry.” She sighs, “It can wait a few more months.” Like eight.

He looks a little offended and concerned that her has upset her. “Hey,” he catches her attention, “What do you say we go on a ride tonight? Just the two of us, no Ravenguard for a bit.”

She tilts her head, questioning it. Is he serious? Does he honestly expect the two of them to be able to get out of their tiny fortress city for any length of time? No. But he is trying. “Sure.”

The sun is just going down when Will finishes up with the tents. He changes Kaiser’s harness to a saddle and brings Alloumera to the front of the paddock for Channin. She runs her hand through the horse’s mane, tangling his pale hair around her fingers. A small whinny catches her attention. A gold horse that has changed riders twice flicks his ears up.

“Did Abarrane take Gray?” Channin asks more to the horse than Will.

“Yeah. She’s rather fond of her.” He laces his fingers together and offers Channin help up. She accepts it, without needing it.

“Ready?” William settles onto his horse. Kaiser moves excitedly, prancing sideways towards the canyon entrance.

They ride under the wooden gates with the Orcs standing watch. Channin waves before pulling the green hood up. Outside the gates, Will holds Kaiser for a second. Giving Channin time to catch up. She urges Allou forward and Will releases his control of his horse. Allou stays ahead at first, but Kaiser was bred for running. The small white stallion easily weaves through trees, leaping over a small creek that his larger counterpart crashes through.

Kaiser pulls ahead and Will turns him up a steep hill. Both horses lurch up the hill and slow down when they reach the top. Channin studies the view. Below them, lies Ravenguard. The new hide tents, the small cabins, she can see the tiny shapes of the citizens getting water and starting little fires to gather around. At least Runir didn’t die for nothing.

“He would have been so happy.” Will says. Channin jumps, startled that he seemed to read her mind. He’s standing beside a blanket and a basket. She can’t help but smile. He had taken the time to put something together after all.

She notes the way the blanket is wrinkled rather than spread smoothly. Not exactly Will’s style as everything is perfect in his room. He had some help. They watch the sunset behind them. And Will pulls a small pot and a section of bread out of the basket.

“I worked really hard on this.” He grins, “It’s the best stew ever.”

Small pieces of carrots, potatoes and a meat she identifies as rabbit sit in a thick broth. It smells wonderful.

“Mead?” He holds up a jar. It’s a pale pink. Strawberry mead from Ombu. Seeing it, her heart aches. They hadn’t saved those people. The lowest sister city had been nothing but a buffer. A distraction to buy the other cities a few minutes. A few minutes that had cost them dearly.

“Channin?”

She snaps back to reality and Will’s concerned expression, “Yes. Thank you.”

He pours her a tin cup, she takes it and studies the liquid. “It’s Runir.”

“I know.” He takes a drink and breaks off a piece of bread for her.

She slowly puts the cup to her mouth. Strawberries and honey, the familiar flavor takes her back to Ombu, Hilde’s front porch and the first-time William had kissed her. A simpler time. A time before rebellions, executions and lost family.

“You know he didn’t go down without a fight.” William studied her face.

She nods. The real fear is that he didn’t go down at all. “There are worse things than death.”

“Shh.” He presses his lips to hers. Strawberries. “Look up.” He guides her chin up, stars. “Don’t worry about it. Tonight, we are just two souls under the stars.”

She had nearly forgotten why they had come up here. “Well, three. Technically.”

He tilts his head, confused. She keeps her eyes on him, watching him think it over and over. He frowns a little, still not understanding. Channin studies his face quickly for any sign that he gets it. William tackles her. It takes the princess a moment to decide if he’s laughing or crying.

“Uhm, William?”

“Channin, this is great.” He puts his hands on the ground beside her head, pinning her down. “We are going to have a baby.” He’s smiling. The brightest smile imaginable.

Something crashes through the forest, and a flare to the east illuminates me.

It was quite a distance around the mountain to where they are, “It’s Dawncliff.”

We make it to Dawncliff in under an hour. Both horses at a full gallop. I dodge trees behind them. Kaiser slides to a stop into the clearing. Abarrane pushes through the crowd, “General Starker, Princess Channin.”

“Abarrane, what’s happened?” William swings down from Kaiser.

Abarrane is dressed in an oversized light blue shirt with buttons and thin riding pants. She should be freezing. Channin pulls her cloak off and flings it around the Vampire. The dark green makes her look even more pale.

“It was Able. The King’s men.”

“Where were the guards?” William looks around for any sign of the few soldiers they had trained. A crowd of Vampires and Dwarves are gathered, putting out small fires. One is not among them.

“Ian?” Channin moves forward, into the crowd, they don’t move. She is surrounded by Vampires, she calls his name again, a sea of pink eyes stare back at her. “Abarrane, where’s Ian?”

“He went- oh gods.” Her face falls, “He went for a walk.”

“Channin. Find him.” Will demands, keeping Abarrane on her feet.

Channin shifts, it takes her a few seconds, but she picks up his trail. She races into the northeast, following the small trail towards Dragonspire. She slides to a stop. In the center of the road is a black sword with a deer antler hilt. Tied around the base is an off-white banner with the King’s symbol drawn in blood.

Will hears Channin’s howl. Abarrane stops, “What’s that? Will, what’s she saying?”

The golden wolf appears at the head of the trail, carrying something. Abarrane breaks from William and sprints forward. She’s there before William really knows she’s gone.

Channin drops the sword into Abarrane’s lap. Shaking, she unties the fabric. “It’s a note.”

“Princess Channin Ozera and former General William Starker for Ian of Dawncliff.” Channin reads aloud. “Will, what do we do?”

The General looks back at Dawncliff, the city fought back. They held Able’s men back. Could they do it a second time? “Channin, this has to be your decision.”

The citizens have now gathered around, Channin looks up, everyone is watching her. Enough is enough. Lorbeck, Will’s friends, her mother, Isaac, Runir and now, Ian. “We take back what is ours.” She stands up, “We will not let him take anymore from us. We will take Dragonspire, and watch it burn.”

I glance at Will. We both see the change in her. The sudden ferocity and determination behind her green eyes. She is fully intent on watching her former home burn.