The Wolf Queen

RUNIR IS IN THE merchant village when news comes about the ship wreck. The Elf hurries back to the Soldier’s quarters. He goes to Ian’s room first, but the vampire is gone. He quickly races down the stairs to Raoul’s room and hesitates before he knocks quickly. The werewolf answers the door in nothing but his boots. The Elf quickly turns around and stares at the wall, his face burning.

“What do you want?” the werewolf’s teeth are clenched, “I’m busy.”

“There was a ship wreck.” Runir stammers, “They-It- It’s Will’s. I mean- not his but he was on it.”

“Well where is he now?” Raoul growls.

“They don’t know. There’s lots of bodies but-“ The door slams and there is muffled conversation, then Raoul reappears. This time, he’s clothed.

“C’mon boy.” He starts down the hall, “Did you get anyone else up?”

“Uh- I tried to wake Ian, but he’s gone. So I came straight to you.”

Raoul stares at him blankly, “You didn’t even try to get any of the other 23 men in our platoon up?”

“Will might be dead, I panicked!” Runir half shrieks.

The werewolf sighs and leads the way to the docks, a mass of people has already gathered around as the first of the dead come ashore.

A man stands with a paper and lists off names of the crew. One family member steps forward to identify their husband, son or brother. He stops suddenly and looks around, “Lady Channin Ozera.” The crowd begins to whisper, a sense of panic that can be felt throughout.

A man Raoul recognizes from faint memories steps forward, “I’m General Isaac Blatz.”

The man with the paper nods, suspiciously. “General William Starker.” The crowd whispers some more.

Raoul moves forward before Runir can, wanting to protect the kid as long as he can. He stands near Isaac and watches as most of the families receive closure.

“Will is a great swimmer.” Isaac says, out of the blue. “He’ll be fine.”

Raoul studies him and adds, “He wouldn’t leave that ship with her still on it.” He believes it. He never mentioned it before, but William lights up around Channin. He’s been smiling more and spending more time around the castle. None of the others have been with him long enough to detect the subtle change in him.

Isaac half smiles, “I hope not, she’s like my daughter. I can’t lose both my children in one week.”

The werewolf spots a mother sobbing violently between twins. She is facing Isaac’s fear. “Princess Channin is lucky to have the King and Queen. They seem to love her very much.” Raoul tries to break the awkward mood between them.

Isaac flashes him a partially scared look, “What did I say?”

“Something along those lines.” Raoul answers, hesitant to say anything more.

“They aren’t here.” Isaac’s tone is suddenly empty.

Those three words bring with them a nauseous feeling. Raoul searches the dead again, no William and certainly no Princess. An almost panicked state sets in as the werewolf weaves through grieving families. A small group has gathered, people with the same question. Where is he? Raoul stops before assaulting the list keeper. What would William say here? Probably something about patience and hope.

He sighs and turns to a woman, “They are still searching, there is still hope.”

She smiles sadly and continues to listen. Raoul spots Runir in the crowd, a few of their brothers-in-arms have joined him. The Elf looks slightly hopeful until Raoul slowly shakes his head, then Runir sinks, ever so slightly.

Will watches the coastline, the boats have now gathered at the shore. The citizens have gathered around and are looking for their family members. Growing up, shipwrecks were all too common. Atra had a very dangerous coastline and dozens of merchant ships crashed every year.

Channin stirs next to him. He spares a thought towards her dreams, but it quickly goes away.

The little shifter is having a nightmare disguised as a dream:

The sun pours though the window. She rolls over and hides beneath the blankets.

“You’re late for your lesson.” Amaryllis nudges her awake.

She jumps up and races to the window, the stone floors cold against her feet. Isaac and Bowen are already outside with their horses.

“Amaryllis, where are my-” she turns to ask, but her Lady-in-Waiting already has her clothes.

“And please brush that tangled mess.” She smiles, talking about Channin’s hair.

The Princess twists it into a quick braid as she bounds down the steps. Ioanna stops her at the door, “Where are you going in such a hurry?” She is teaching Peytra needlework, something Channin never had patience for.

“I slept in and nearly missed my lesson.” She quickly expains

“Well, you shouldn’t keep General Isaac waiting.” She waves her off. Channin curtsies simply to make her feel better and then continues outside.

“There she is.” Isaac says when she comes into view. “Take up your swords, children.” They do as told. “Now, remember: wood is lighter than steel. You can swing this harder than you can swing a real sword. That being said, be careful.“

Bowen turns to face her and holds up his weapon. He is tall and lean, with a mess of dark blonde hair. She copies him. He swings and Channin blocks. She takes a step forward and swings at him, he is slower to block. Channin lets him swing once more, instead of blocking, she ducks and catches him in the leg.

“Ow!” He yells, “Channin, that hurt!”

“No it didn’t!” She snaps. He quickly swings again, acting out of anger. She moves aside again and darts behind Isaac’s red and white horse. Bowen jumps around and she smacks his leg. He falls this time. “You’re dead.” She grins proudly, aiming at his chest.

“General.” A man on a horse approaches, “The King has requested you in the Battle room.”

“I’ll be right up.” Isaac turns back to them, “That’ll have to be enough for today kids. Channin, use more brain and less brawn. You aren’t a man, you’re a lady. Bowen, work on your speed son. I’ve seen you move faster than that.”

They both sit in their defeat for a minute, until he’s out of sight. The creek babbles by. A few bugs skittering across the top of the water.

“He’s leaving again. Isn’t he?” Bowen asks, picking a handful of grass and dropping it into the water.

Channin shrugs, “Wars don’t fight themselves.”

“Coming from a princess that means little.”

“What do you mean?”

“Who do you know other than my father that goes to actual battles?”

Channin has to pause as her mind races through a list. No one. But she refuses to let Bowen be correct.

“See?” He sighs and looks up at the sky.

“Well, who do you know?” she glares at him.

“The baker’s son was killed. The blacksmith walks with a stick. There are children in the village only a few years older than us that are fighting.” He ticks them off on his fingers, “Poor folks are dying so you can live in your fancy tower.” His comment stings at first, but the reality sets in.

“Will you go?”

“Of course. I’m a man. I need to protect you, because you’re a Lady.” They both lay in the grass for a few more minutes. When Isaac returns, he looks tired. He sits in the grass with them.

“What’s happening?” Bowen asks.

“Not now, Bowen.” Isaac rubs his face, a nervous gesture for him.

“When I’m Queen, there won’t be any more wars.” she sighs.

“How do you figure that?” Bowen asks, laughing.

“Well, the people are fighting because they are unhappy. So, I’ll make them happy.”

“You can’t make everyone in Laneyth happy.” He shakes his head.

She frowns. “Of course, I can.”

“Well, basic amenities are a start. Food, shelter, water.” Isaac draws in the dirt with a stick, “You’d be surprised how many people don’t have them.”

Channin leaps up, “General Isaac.”

He looks up at her, “Your Highness?”

She giggles at the formality before setting her face back straight. “I want you to teach me how to be a Queen for the people.”

“That’s silly.” Bowen rolls his eyes.

“Of course, my lady.” He smiles at me, “You will be the greatest Queen there ever was.”

“And I’ll be your greatest soldier.” Bowen leaps up next to her.

She wakes up with a jump.

“Morning.” Will raises an eyebrow at her. He certainly isn’t Bowen and the reality sets in.

She sits up and stretches, “Any idea how to get home?”

“They stopped looking last night.” He stands up, “I guess they didn’t see the fire.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“We could build a boat.” He suggests.

“That’s your master plan? Build a boat and sail back to Laneyth?” She raises an eyebrow. This is the great General Starker her mentor raved over for weeks before his arrival?

“I never said it was a good one.”

They sit for a few more minutes before Channin stands up and climbs down the ladder.

“Where are you going?”

“Have you even looked around? Maybe there’s a boat or a village.”

“I looked last night and didn’t see anything.”

“Because now you have night vision?” she rolls her eyes.

“Perhaps.” He chases her, “If they come looking for us, we need to be nearby.”

“You don’t have night vision.” She grumbles, it almost feels as if he’s making fun of her.

“Hello?”

They both freeze.

“General Starker? Lady Channin?”

Channin takes a tentative step back, but Will moves forward. At the broken door stands the Orc from Bowen’s army.

“Lorbeck.” The General leaps over the last few steps, “How did you find us?”

“I saw your fire last night while everyone was at the dock. Are you both alright?”

“We’re fine.” Channin says, “Why weren’t you at the docks with the others?”

Lorbeck looks to Will, who nods, “Orcs aren’t allowed in Dragonspire except on rare occasions.”

“You were at the banquet though.”

“I was escorted out after you left.”

Channin looks between the two of them, “Why aren’t Orcs allowed in Dragonspire?”

“The king thinks they are dirty and uncivilized. Same with Centaurs.” Will explains.

Channin studies Lorbeck. Despite the pale green skin and the ferocious looking underbite, Lorbeck is put together. He’s well-dressed and educated beyond many of his peers.

The city is deserted. Channin looks around, fear setting in. “Where is everyone?”

“No idea.” Will responds, “It’s a little eerie, isn’t it?”

Even Dragonspire itself, is empty. Channin pulls the door open and enters. The entry way is cloaked in black. Will and Channin share a concerned look and continue to the banquet hall. She hesitates and throws the door open.

Everyone turns to look at the doors and a collective gasp travels the room. Everyone is dressed in black, an ornamental coffin at the front of the room.

“No, please.” Channin rolls her eyes and moves down the aisle, “Keep going.”

The room is silent.

“What? You act as if you have seen ghost.” She does look like a ghost. Her blonde curls are knotted up. Sand and mud are dried onto her dress, that had been light blue. Her skin is washed out from the saltwater.

“Channin.” Her father warns, “It was a misunderstanding.”

“But you certainly wasted no time planning this elaborate affair, so please. Don’t waste this opportunity on my account.” She spins and sits down. Center stage.

“Isaac, get her out of here now.” The king growls. Channin can easily see that she has gotten under his skin. She’s proud of herself.

Isaac stands, trying to keep his laughter hidden. “Come on Channin. This is not the time and certainly not the place.” Her mentor removes her from the banquet hall.

Ioanna trails behind, her black dress swishing. She is tall and so thin that she rarely needs to wear a corset. Her blonde hair is down, one of the first times Channin remembers seeing it down. It hangs to her waist, smooth as silk, not at all like her daughter’s thick curly mess.

Isaac looks between Will and Channin before pulling them both into a hug. “I thought I lost you.” His voice is shaking. He had been truly worried about their safety.

They recall their tale, taking care to not leave out any detail. By the end, both Ioanna and Isaac share the same expression of shock and guilt.

Svetozar joins them, looking clearly annoyed. He runs his hand over his hair before trying to speak. “You have really done it this time, Channin.”

She recoils at first, but then holds her head up.

“You have shamed your entire lineage, Channin Ozera. What do you have to say?” he is prepared for the typical apology followed by a bit of groveling.

“Excuse me?”

It’s the king’s turn to be taken by surprise.

“I just walked into my own funeral, the morning after I survived a ship wreck. I was used as fuel for a recreational habit. I spent the night in a lighthouse. Have you ever seen a lighthouse?” Channin is almost shouting, “And I loved every second of it.”

“What are you saying, Channin?” Ioanna asks, she’s more concerned for her daughter’s well-being now than before.

“I want to be out there,” she motions towards the door, “I want to make a difference.”

“You could be killed.” Isaac argues.

Her green eyes meet his, “Or I could be killed hiding in my fancy tower.”

“Where do you plan to go?” Svetozar asks, trying to laugh off her outburst.

She thinks for a second and steps over next to Will, “With General Starker.”

“Woah, this isn’t my idea.” He moves away, “Besides, how do I know you would make a good soldier?”

She glares at him.

Isaac takes his side finally, “Honestly, your majesty, you are losing favor. There is rebellion everywhere. Sending her with them to be your voice could be beneficial. She received the same training my son did.”

“I am not sending the heir to the throne out into Laneyth.” The king growls.

Ioanna steps forward, “Svetozar, she just wants to see what there is. When she doesn’t find what she’s looking for, she’ll come home.”

“This is going to be up to General Starker. Your life will be on his head.” King Svetozar glares at Will.

The General looks between Channin and Isaac’s hopeful faces, Ioanna’s utter indifference and the King’s stern expression. He sighs, “You get no battlefield time. Zero. The first sign of trouble, you come straight back here. You do exactly what I say, when I say it.”

She bounces up and down a little, excited. “Thank you. You won’t regret this, I promise.”

“Simply as a peace keeper.” He stresses. “And don’t fight anybody.”

“Absolutely.” She smiles.