The Wolf Queen

CHANNIN PACKS HER BAG that night. She lowers it out the window on a rope, flings her bow over her shoulder and leaves. Alloumera keeps a steady pace all the way to Dragonspire. At sunrise, she rides across the bridge and into the castle. No one greets her. People look at her and turn away quickly.

There are no guards to meet her, no soldiers training in the yard, no clergymen bustling around. It is nothing like it was for her growing up. Dragonspire is a ghost town. She hands Alloumera off to Valaen, who doesn’t speak, and pushes the door open. The door to the Great Hall is open, a light can be seen in the dark hallway. Muffled voices heard.

“It must be near Paedleigh.” Someone says, “They vanished so quickly after that ambush.”

“But the attacks on the road were closer to Toma.” Able says. Channin’s blood runs cold when she hears his voice. No, it’s anger. Everything is his fault. Paedleigh. The rebellion. William. Everything revolved around that one scarred monster.

Before she really processes it, Channin pulls the door open and enters the room. A map of Laneyth is laid out, roads and cities are marked out. Along with tiny red pins, she looks at the locations and it only takes her a second to realize what they mean. Rebellion victories.

“This road seems to be a central location. Scout the woods, they have to be hiding somewhere.” Able plants a silver dagger into the table, directly over Ravenguard.

Any longer and they would have found it. Ravenguard wasn’t ready for an ambush attack. The city would have fallen. She’s still picturing the city and her family burning when all eyes fall on her.

“Guards!” Able shouts, drawing his sword.

Channin pulls her bow over her shoulder and drops it on the ground. The guards that were surrounding her, stop. She is surrendering and they were not prepared for that.

“Don’t just stand there, get her.” Able repeats. The other generals draw their weapons too. Channin notices that they are all human. Not even a Shapeshifter in their midst.

The guards reluctantly step forward until a voice stops them. “Channin?”

She follows the sound to a set of blue eyes, as Prince Aaron quickly pulls her into a hug. “I feared the worst when I heard you had- well. It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”

“Lord Aaron,” Able does not back down. “Channin Ozera is a traitor to the crown. She must be dealt with as such.”

Aaron looks between Channin and Able, “I think we should take this up with the King.”

“What is there to discuss?” Able growls.

Aaron isn’t fazed by Able, “Princess Channin and I are engaged.”

The Vampire is irritated by this revelation. “Fine. Guards, take her to the dungeon.”

“Why?” Aaron steps between the guards and Channin again, “Let my men take her to my chambers.”

Able keeps his typical glare trained on Aaron.

“Sir Able, she turned herself in.” the prince explains, “I don’t think there is a need for restraints. Unless the Lady wishes otherwise.” He looks back to Channin, asking if she’d rather be in the dungeon. She doesn’t care either way in all honesty.

Two men, a Shapeshifter and an Elf, step forward. They are in matching Athedonian uniforms, green and gold. They guide her away from the Guards and down the hall to a set of rooms. A small stove, a table and a room set to one side with three beds in it.

It’s a guest room. She’s never been in it, but she has heard about it. The Elven guard helps her onto the small couch and kneels in front of her, “Lady Channin, why did you come back?”

She looks up, he has dark green eyes that are the same shade as the trees. She can’t find the words to say. He frowns and nods. He stands back up and moves for the door.

Channin sits motionless, until Aaron returns. He dismisses the guards and fills a teapot with water. He doesn’t say anything at first. When the kettle whistles, he pours two cups of tea and holds one out for Channin.

She stares at it blankly, Aaron puts it into her hand. He sits next to her.

“Svetozar is going to honor what he said he would.” He speaks finally. “You’re lucky. The Council is already here and calling for your head.”

“I want to die.” She says, her own voice startling her.

“No, you don’t.” Aaron gently corrects her.

“Who are you to tell me what I want?” She turns to him. For the first time, she notices his left eye is bruised and swollen. Someone has recently hit him. Pretty hard at that.

He recoils, trying to decide if he should argue with her or not. “The only ones who know what happened in Athedor are you and General Starker. I’m willing to go out on a limb to help you.”

“Last time I checked, I’ve done nothing to deserve your help.” She faces the wall.

Aaron sighs, “If that’s the way you want to be.” He stands up and steps around her, “Channin, I’ve failed a lot and I’m not perfect. But my biggest regret is how I treated you in Athedor.”

“Why is the Council here?” Channin asks, stopping Aaron in his tracks. He wasn’t ready for the subject change.

“The King isn’t well. He hasn’t been for several months now.” He runs his hand over the door frame, “Peytra’s been doing her best, but she isn’t the healer your mother was.”

“Is that why you’re here? To marry Peytra?”

He shakes his head, “No, I came looking for you. They told me what had happened and I stayed.” Aaron takes her hand, “I couldn’t stand the thought of what would happen to you if they caught you.”

“Because you care about something other than yourself?” her voice is ice in the already cold room.

“No.” he brings her hand to his lips.

Channin tilts her head, trying to figure out his game. Someone shouts outside, breaking the moment. The door flies open, crashing into the wall and almost bouncing all the way closed again.

Able stands in the doorway, three men in red hooded robes behind him. “We’ve come for Channin Ozera.”

Aaron rests his hand on his sword, not hesitating to stand in front of Channin, “Is there no honor among you?”

“We have decided it is in the best interest of Laneyth if the Council take control.” One man in red says. Channin can’t make out his face, but she recognizes the voice. He is a Viscount that hunts with the King.

Aaron draws his sword, “You can’t do that if there is an heir.” He has the realization before her. “You’ll have to kill me first. And Athedor will not take kindly to that.”

The man who spoke first steps forward and waves his hand in front of him. Aaron leaves the ground and crashes into a mirror. Able takes a step closer to her. All of William’s teachings seem to hit her at once. She dives for Aaron’s sword, now on the ground where he had been standing. She would admire the grace with which she blocks Able’s attack if it had been anyone other than her. Able advances again. Watch where his energy is going. She blocks, this time she is fast enough to bring her knee up and catch his ribs. The Vampire stumbles back, surprised at her resilience. She takes this chance to knock his sword from his hand and shift her grasp. She aims for his heart.

“Lady Channin.” The Viscount breaks her concentration and she pauses. What could they possibly have over her?

The red robed men have Aaron. She can’t tell them apart, but she’s pretty sure the one speaking is the one with the crooked dagger to his neck.

“Do you really want to lose another ally?” Able asks.

Her hand shakes, “He’s not-“ she stops herself. Aaron was trying to help her. He had tried, anyway. She sighs and drops the sword, wishing she had killed him faster.

Able seizes her instantly. “Would you like to know who you just saved?”

“Able. Don’t.” Aaron warns, the Councilman removes the dagger but doesn’t release him.

“Aaron?” a sudden and drastic wave of dread rushes over her.

“Where is William Starker?” she can sense Able’s grin, it’s in his tone.

Aaron is lead out after her. His Elf guard is kneeling next to the Shapeshifter, trying to stop blood from spilling where a hand should be.

“Prince Aaron Bader of Athedor is the reason William won’t be joining us tonight. And I will say, I’m very proud of him for that.” Able’s words confirm her instinct.

She doesn’t fight them anymore. She is taken to a tiny cell in the dungeon, another place she never went. The other cells are empty, which is both relieving and unnerving. Hours pass, she doesn’t leave the floor, she doesn’t have the strength for that.

Aaron finally visits, she refuses to look at him. She is leaning against the wall, wearing a loose fitting white dress. The female execution gown.

“Channin?” his voice shakes, “Channin, I’m so sorry.”

“What happened?” she says after a minute, “I need to know.”

“I tried to help him. I really did.”

“What happened,” she repeats.

“Able had him as a feeder. When we released Ian, Able went to the stables, so I untied him. He was already in bad shape, and I knew that he shouldn’t have been up moving around. I helped him along, trying to get out of the castle. Channin, he was already gone and I knew it. Able tracked us down and-“ he stops, she can see him trembling. “I couldn’t do anything.”

When she doesn’t answer, he continues, “I’m sorry, again.”

Channin rides up next to William. He’s in the creek, cold water rushing around him, as Kaiser trots away. “Are you alright?”

He nods, standing up. “The water’s a bit cold.”

She looks around at the snow, “I can imagine.”

“Are you going to give me a hand or are you just going to make observations?”

She laughs and holds her hand down to him, kicking her foot from the stirrup. He grabs her wrist and pulls himself up behind her.

“You’re freezing.” She yelps, leaning away from him. “You’ll freeze us both to death out here.”

“There are worse things than death.” Will rolls his eyes, pulling her back against him, “At least we’ll die together.” He kisses her cheek.

“I’ll go wolf. You can freeze out here alone.”

He glares at her playfully, “So much for romance.”

She shrugs, “It’s the truth. Besides, you could start a fire.”

“If the horse didn’t have my tinderbox.” He smiles, laughing to himself

She laughs, “Oh no. Whatever will you do?” She pulls a thin cord around her neck. The tinderbox from the light house is attached to the end.

“You kept it?” he holds it in the palm of his hand.

“Yeah, freezing to death isn’t how I want to leave this world.” She follows Kaiser’s tracks in the snow.

“I don’t think it would be bad.” Will is watching the sky, “I’ve heard it’s like falling asleep.”

“From someone who has done it?” Channin giggles at the thought of Will speaking to dead people.

He shakes his head, “No, I can’t explain it.”

They ride a few more minutes in silence, before he speaks again. “If I have to die, I want it to be on the battlefield. Where no one knows until afterwards. I don’t want someone to be standing over me. I can’t leave that mark on someone.”

“Channin Ioanna Ozera, you stand accused of inciting a rebellion, impeding justice, challenging the monarchy, obstructing the military’s supply lines, and treason to the crown and your own blood. Your sentence is death. Do you have any last words?”

She looks over the crowd of people. What would Will say? Probably something about death and the final journey. She can’t make herself say it. “All is not lost. This is not the end, this is not hopeless, this war is not over. We will not be silenced.” She finds Able at the edge of the stage, tightly holding Aaron’s arm. “No longer will we be passive. People of Laneyth, rise up. This kingdom was created for a monarchy. Do not let the Council reign. Do not stop. They are not your King or your Queen, they are cowards behind a mask.”

The executioner tries to force her down, she moves aside and he nearly falls over.

“We are wolves and Laneyth belongs to the wolf. Man cannot tame a wolf.” Her eyes fall on Peytra. Her sister is looking away.

The Executioner finally forces Channin to the ground. She accepts it. She watches the shadow of the axe rise, it stops as the bell beings to toll.

What is happening? She can’t help but count the tolls. One, two, three.

“The King has fallen.” Someone shouts, “Long live Queen Channin.”

Four. Five.

A black shadow covers the Executioner and someone pulls Channin up roughly. Her vision turns dark and she struggles to focus. A massive tail knocks a line of soldiers down and a burst of fire envelops the rest.

“Dragon!” a soldier announces what everyone already sees.

Six. Seven.

Raoul shakes Channin, calling her name. “Come on.”

A second werewolf slams into the line of Councilmen, scattering them. Ian shoves a soldier down and grabs Channin’s upper arm. “You’re just going to stand there?” He drags her off the stage and guides her into someone’s arms.

Eight. Nine.

Chocolate brown hair surrounds her as Matilde forces her along. “Your highness,” she stops against a wall. “Princess Channin, look at me.”

Channin tries but can’t focus on her. Until her face stings with Matilde’s slap.

“Welcome back.” The woman smiles.

“Was that Omega?”

Ten. Eleven.

“That beast has a name?” She tilts her head, “Your soldiers need help.”

She turns to watch the battle. 6 werewolves, a small gathering of Vampires and three Elves. “They came here for you.”

Twelve. The death of a monarch.

Abarrane is using shields to knock arrows away, the Elves are firing back quickly.

“They chose to fight. No one made them. What will you do about it?”

Able slinks against the wall, staying in the shadows. Where are you going? Soldiers have already grabbed Aaron. She has a feeling that they haven’t been too far from him. Able is headed straight for him. The Vampire must have rushed into the fighting and realized what he was up against.

Don’t let him. Do not let Able think you have a weakness. Channin races forward, before she can stop herself she slams into Able. They hit the ground together and roll a few feet. Channin is up first, scrambling for his sword. It’s closer to Able and he regains it.

“I should have killed you in Paedleigh.” He growls, “You’re a disgrace. Just like your father.”

“My father was better than you.” She steps back, keeping her hands in front of her.

He moves forward, circling her like a vulture. His sword is pointed at her, his hands are steady.

“That’s why he threw his own wife aside.” Able stands behind her, his sword across her neck.

Channin grins, “That’s what you think.” She keeps her voice low enough that he can’t hear her. Isaac had loved her mother so much that after seeing her die, he had rebelled against her murderer. It cost him his life, but saved the rebellion.

“What was that?” He leans forward.

She moves her left foot back, pressing her left hand against his sword she twists under it. She forces him to the ground, feeling a bone snap in his arm. He drops the sword and she pins him to the stage with it through his leg.

Able hisses and Channin leaps back, crashing into Aaron. Instinctively, she takes his dagger and points it at him. “Move.” He follows her directions and they back towards the gates. Her soldiers do the same.

“Where is your ship?” She hisses.

“At the pier. You can’t honestly think that you can take me hostage in my own ship.”

Raoul growls, the most intimidating sound in the world. Ian grabs Aaron’s left arm. “You can’t think we will keep you once we are out of Laneyth.”

“How well can he swim?” Matilde asks, holding the gates open.

“Get to the pier, quickly.” Fencer says, he’s at the edge of the bridge. “We’ll hold them off.”

Horses are waiting for them. Not Alloumera or Kaiser, but Gray is there. Channin glances back at Fencer and Matilde, they are saying a brief goodbye. They both know they won’t likely see each other again.

“Let’s go.” Abarrane drags herself onto Gray. The horse’s shoulder is over her head, Channin hasn’t noticed the size difference until now.

Raoul hesitates, not ready to leave the fight. Fencer encourages him to go. The werewolf leads the way. A last line of soldiers stand at the end of the bridge. The werewolf surges forward, crashing into them.

They are now practically uncatchable. The horses don’t hesitate to climb the ramp onto the ship with the green symbol on the sail. Aaron quickly takes command, even from his place as a prisoner, his crew listens. Channin is glad for the Athedonian navy for the first time in her life. They are well out of harm’s way before the first of Laneyth’s ships are off. Channin watches from the back of the ship as Dragonspire burns.