January 1370

"A man is not fit for battle unless he has witnessed his own life's blood rushing from his wounds or heard his teeth cracking from a mighty blow."

I compressed my lips in distaste as Warwick continued his enlightening tutelage — with regard to the general rules and objectives of the jousting tournament. Anne and Carac's father was neither as large as his son nor as terrifying, albeit he exuded an unmistakable air of command and assertiveness that was tempered by an easy disposition that was quick to favor humor. He also did not seem old enough to be Lucian's grandfather — he was still so lively and strong and it was almost inconceivable that he was old enough to be a grown man's grandfather.

Howbeit, Carac too was young, no more than two years Lucian's senior, and yet he was uncle to Caine and Lucian — the youngest of Warwick's brood of four.

Warwick had taken it upon himself to educate me on all things jousting. Having never attended a tournament, I appreciated this immensely and absorbed all that he would impart with greedy ears, although I did find myself cringing in horror ever and anon as he took pleasure in the telling of each graphic detail.

Fendrel had, almost as soon as he'd arrived, decided — nay, decreed — that Nørrdragor would sponsor a jousting tournament, albeit on a minor scale, in honor of the New Year and to celebrate my impending marriage into the Greyback Clan; which would take place in no less than three short days!

I watched, eyes wide and riveted to the lists, as my betrothed and one of Fendrel's senior knights — each mounted on their respective, fierce-looking destriers — ambled out casually from opposite ends of the tilting yard on opposing sides of the partition wall. We were in a clearing, not far from the castle, and the air was crisp and unusually sunny for a winter morning.

No snow had fallen since Christmas, which fortunately suited the day's activities, and yet the air was no less biting as I sat with Godwin, Fendrel, Rose, Warwick and Anne in the grandstand which was raised a level higher than the tilting field. The tents and pavilions around the field were brimming with spectators — nobility and commoners alike, all gathered in enthusiastic celebration of this momentous day for there had not been a joust at Nørrdragor in many years.

"The wall is there to reduce injury to the knight's mount." Warwick pointed enthusiastically at the partition. He then indicated the fourteen foot weapon in Lucian's right hand before he added, "And the lance he holds is hollowed out soft wood, possibly ash, tipped with a crown-shaped coronal that is made up of three prongs and, although blunt, is used to catch on the opponent's shield..." His smile became rather bloodthirsty of a sudden. "The better to unhorse the other rider." I shuddered, imagining the bone-crunching sounds that might shortly ensue.

Lucian wore an impressive plate armor of skillfully hammered metal sheets that were rounded beautifully then strapped on over his mail hauberk to fit the shape of his powerful limbs and frame. I recognized him easily by his size and colors: the crest on his helm was the ever-present, ferocious-looking, silver wolf — fangs bared grimly at his opponent — signifying the Greyback heraldry; even his breast plate was engraved with a large wolf's head.

Cadeyrn, Lucian's blackhearted, obsidian charger, was also decorated in the distinct familial coat of arms and colors. His sumptuous barding, the traditional armor of all fine war horses, was mostly black and the ornamental caparison, that was like to cover all horses during tournaments, was hued in the usual Greyback vermillion and gold that, although the horse was adorned lavishly, did not at all detract from his dreadful mien. Had he, Lucian, been adorned in naught but plain black, I would yet have known him anywhere — such was his formidable bearing.

"'Twould seem to me that they risk only injury and death for no purpose other than to play at war, like unfledged youths," Anne griped from my other side. I agreed whole heartedly for it was not in my nature to take avid pleasure in violent blood sport.

"How else should they display their courage and strength?" Warwick laughed. Anne shook her head in exasperation. "In any event, tis only occasionally fatal. Ofttimes the knights are merely bruised after a match." He looked thoughtful a moment, then added, "One might break bones or lose teeth, but if he is unlucky enough to be struck in the head with a lance...it's comparable to taking a half ton anvil to the skull." I stared at him in shock, but turned back to the armored combatants as the herald began waxing lyrical about the time-honored tradition of jousting. I waited anxiously for the herald to give the signal to charge.

Lucian set his lance in the rest, or half-ring, at the saddle bow as Cadeyrn snorted impatiently, pawing loudly at the hard-packed earth. He seemed unperturbed by the great weight of his master and the added heavy armor that Lucian himself bore, which — according to Warwick — might weigh as much as a hundred pounds!

At length the signal came and the two knights bolted into action, thundering furiously toward one another! My eyes were riveted on the galloping pair, Lucian leaning forward in his high saddle with his lance balanced firmly in his right hand, ready and bracing for impact.

The clash of splintering wood against an iron breastplate clamored through the field as Lucian unseated his challenger with deadly precision. The unfortunate knight's objective had been Lucian's shield, but his aim had been wide and his lance had glanced off my betrothed's vambrace on his left forearm as the nameless knight's horse swerved slightly in the last second. Cadeyrn, on the other hand, had galloped purposefully and confidently, full tilt, with a murderous gleam in his blackened eyes; hungry for battle!

"Ha! Do you see?" Warwick slapped his knee excitably. "My grandson's excellent horsemanship has been the determining factor in this win!" Warwick nudged his daughter pointedly as he wriggled his eyebrows and roared excitedly down the lists at his grandson.

"There is no doubt from whence that skill was inherited...is that not so, my dear?" he chuckled, but Anne rolled her eyes heavenward as her father winked at me, but I noticed her lips quirking despite her efforts to the contrary for there was no doubt that he was referring to his own contribution to Lucian's bloodline; I shook my head with a grin.

The wounded knight lay unmoving in the dirt, but I could hear him talking, or gasping, painfully to his squire ere he was transferred carefully to the surgeon's tent. My betrothed, ignoring the spectacle, cantered over to our section of the stand and lifted his visor so that I might grasp the direction of his heated regard. Every eye was now trained on me for I was, without a doubt, the shrinking recipient of Lucian's tawny interest. I felt my cheeks bloom with color as he removed a blue ribbon from where he had tucked it in his right gauntlet. I recognized the piece immediately: it had been adorning my hair the night I had gone in search of him...and brazenly kissed him.

I had not realized ere now that he had taken it from me. When he saw, from my glowing face and widened eyes, that I had identified the pilfered item and understood his meaning, he replied only with a wicked smirk before trotting from the lists, tucking the ribbon into his cuirass beside his heart. He had thereby declared that he had won the set in honor of his lady; and I was that lady.



❆



"You shouldn't be out here alone," Thomas warned. I glanced over my shoulder as he approached me. "There are far too many strangers about."

"Certainly none stranger than you, Thomas?" I winked playfully at him, but my friend did not reply as expected.

"Where is your chaperone, Aria?" He scanned the area with a keen and agitated eye.

"Astrid, Luella and Anne are over yonder," I pointed in the direction of a thicket of blueberry bushes.

Though I could not see them, I knew that they were close by. Thomas nodded, but instead of being relieved he seemed, on the contrary, rather vexed.

Curious.

I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly at him, when he remained oddly quiet, and continued what I had been doing afore he'd surprised me. Anne had bade me harvest more willow bark for she had recently run out, what with most the of the castle inmates suffering winter ailments — and the population had increased tenfold as a result of my looming nuptials. More of the fever-reducer was therefore warranted.

"Aria..." Thomas had closed the space between us quietly and I was rather taken aback by his close proximity; it was almost indecent. When he said nothing else, I became irritated with his strange silence.

"Speak, man!" I laughed nervously. I was of a mind to edge some ways further from him, but he seemed so lorn that I had not the heart to scold him. "Why so coy? Have you finally lost your tongue-"

"I do not want you to marry Lucian!" He seemed shocked by his own vehemence, but quickly recovered. "Say you will not!"

"What?!" I gaped at him, at a loss as to how I might answer the lad. What in God's name does he mean by such talk! "Thomas...I do not wield any power here; and have no say in the matter, elsewise I would not be doing so! And you," I whispered furiously, "should not be talking to me in this manner! Tis unseemly and you shall be whipped for your troubles if you were found out."

"Come away with me then," he urged, looking around fearfully yet again. "I shall provide for you and-"

"Out of the question, you silly creature," I scoffed jocundly, albeit greatly discomposed, as though he were only making a jest; yet his crestfallen countenance soon convinced me he was indeed in earnest.

"He does not love you, Aria. I do! My heart is rent for wanting you, and yet I am overlooked in favor of he that loves you not at all! Tis unbearable for I know you covet my company over his!"

My heart stuttered a moment at his words, having expected them to affect me more intensely than they did, yet I could admit to feeling nothing but sorry for his obvious pain. However, there was no denying that the love which I did conceived for Thomas was really only a sibling's affection — I would do aught for him, even lay down my own life, but I could not love him as he wanted me to. What I felt for Lucian was anything but sisterly. I might not love my betrothed yet, but I felt that I could; and the thought of marrying Thomas bestirred my heart not at all.

"Well I am sorry for it, Thomas." I had really no notion what else I might say to console his agony, except speak my thoughts aloud. "I wish I knew what to say..."

"Then say nothing," he murmured afore grabbing me suddenly, and so swiftly that I stood stunned and utterly stupefied as Thomas fastened his damp lips awkwardly to mine and began essentially mauling me with such saturated attention that he was able to bathe the entire lower half of my face, with the aforementioned tongue, before he was ripped bodily from where he'd pinned me against a tree.

"Let's see if we can find better employment for those lips, you little bastard!" Carac growled, looking as though he were regarding a flea, while holding Thomas viciously by the throat, the lad kicking wildly as he strived to be free of the giant's choking vice grip. "Perhaps a taste of my boot, eh?! Wrap you gums around those!"

"Carac don't!" I wiped vigorously at my face before realizing that my savior was now squeezing the very life out of Thomas.

I pulled desperately at Carac's arms, but my efforts were as futile as a finch wrestling a falcon. The outcome of Carac's single-minded brutality would surely be fatal to Thomas if I let this go on any further, so I tried reasoning with the giant instead.

"Stop! You're killing him!" I was evidently not much for reasoning then, because Carac ignored me and Thomas' face became steadily inundated with a mottled purplish tinge.

Though I had uttered my words with force, I was careful not to shout lest Anne and the others overhear...or worse; what if Lucian were alerted? However, Carac did finally release the lad who then dropped weakly to his knees and began sucking in heavy, rasping breaths. Carac grabbed the boy's hair, none too gently, and tilted Thomas' head back so that he had to look up into the larger man's lethal glare.

"If I catch you so much as looking in Aria's direction again I will have those heroic cullions of yours ripped from that useless crotch," he said in a harrowing tone, the words like the sibilant whisper of a sword from it's scabbard. "Do not make me regret this, lest you deprive your father of his only son. Now go!" With that he shoved Thomas away forcefully.

Thomas immediately crawled away backwards at a surprising pace — despite the awkwardness of the maneuver — before deeming the distance safe enough to scramble to his feet and sprint off as fast as his bruised lungs would allow.

"Where is Anne?" Carac transferred his ire directly to me. And it was all more frightening for he was quietly seething.

"You needn't look at me with such condemnation!" I returned his narrow-eyed glare. "I did not request Thomas' vile kisses!"

"Oh no? Do not be obtuse, woman! You invite all manner of dastardly attentions with your recklessness. Were you not just loitering — unaware and unprotected in a bloody forest no less — when the castle is full to brimming with unsavory characters!"

He seemed unable to continue and pinched the bridged of his nose as if to count himself to calmness. I pursed my lips in frustration, but thought better of speaking just now.

When the pause continued some moments longer, I gradually deemed the passage of time sufficient enough respite to continue my arguments, though I stepped back an inch lest he blast me with his simmering temper.

"Your sister is but a few feet from here, collecting berries, Carac. I was in no great danger!" I whispered furiously.

We had all feasted lavishly after the tournament and, once we'd eaten our fill, Anne had suggested a little walk before night descended. But Rose had declined, which I was not altogether disappointed about, and thus it had been only a few of the ladies, our maids, and the two lax guardsmen, as well as myself, that had partaken of the late afternoon stroll.

I chewed my bottom lip a spell as silence reigned between myself and Carac. Another matter, aside form Thomas' fate, troubled me now. "Will you tell Lucian?" There was a hopeful note to my question; I hoped fervently that Carac did not intend to relay the sordid events to his nephew.

"Would you have the boy's head sundered from his body for his transgression," he said, giving a derisive snort, "because that would certainly be the outcome if Lucian were to hear of it. But I leave that up to you..."

"Thank you, but no. I do not think that Lucian needs to be included in this little...misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" Carac snorted at me with choleric disbelief. "The lad knew well what he was about. I call it premeditated mischief and I am not altogether sure I have not erred in judgment and unwittingly done either of us a future disservice with my leniency," he said with embittered rancor. "But his father and mother are good vassals and I should hate to see them shamed by their son."

"Well, you've hardly released him unscathed." I gave a peevish sigh. "Did you not very nearly crush his foolish throat?"

"You and I both know that had Lucian been the one to discover the pair of you, locked in an embrace-"

"What?! No!"

Carac only shrugged, ignoring my outraged denial. "Whatever you choose to call it, Thomas would not have walked away from this encounter." His brow came to settle even lower over his eyes, an almost russet brown, and turned ever more threatening as he sniffed the air disparagingly afore releasing a grunt of disgust. "Make sure you bathe thoroughly tonight, Aria. You reek of another man's slaver ... and I assure you Lucian will notice that."

I gasped furiously. "That's impossible! You cannot mean..." but I honestly did not know how to respond, which mattered not at all for we were interrupted then by Astrid.

"Mistress?"

Both Carac and I looked up to see that she had moved through the thicket and come up behind us. She was looking anxiously between Carac and myself, the tension palpable between us.

"I heard ... a commotion," she uttered softly, biting her lip.

"Would that you had been a little less lax in your duties," said Carac tersely. "I found your lady unattended; and that is unforgivable."

"Yes, my lord! I apologize." The poor girl had practically withered beneath his glare.

"Do not bellow at her so, Carac!" I moved to stand in front of her, thereby forfending Astrid from the grim alignment of his features.

In sooth, he hadn't bellowed at all, but that was besides the point. I knew that, of all the Greyback men, Astrid was most shy of Carac and seemed rather taken with him. There was such a look of deprecation that she now turned inward — self-loathing evident in her young countenance — that my heart ached for her and became all the more disgusted at the cause of her distress: Carac himself.

"She cannot berate you as I can for your rudeness, so aim your barbs at me!"

"Mistress, please!" Astrid appeared suddenly green around the mouth as though she wished to hide her head in the very ground beneath her feet. "His lordship is right, I should not have left you."

"Bah!" Carac only rolled his eyes heavenward, ignoring the servant girl altogether, and turned his back on the both of us, scanning the trees as though waiting for something to appear. "God save us all from termagants like you, Aria!"

Though I was furious — at my myself, at Thomas, and especially at Carac — I knew he had spoken sensibly before Astrid arrived and so I deemed it best to seal my lips in mutinous ire instead of venting my spleen further.

Then, evidently hearing something nearby, he turned his head aside to gaze intently at that which had caught his attention, and that is when I noticed the others.

All the Greyback men were heading purposefully into the woods — seven of them all together: Fendrel, Godwin, their collective sons, and Warwick. All eight men, if I counted Carac among their number, were armed with long bows, but seemed curiously underdressed for their supposed endeavors. I became instantly suspicious of the would-be hunting party.

"Where are you all going?" I was assuming, of course, that Carac would soon join the group. "Tis nearly dark," I said with an arched brow.

Twilight was nigh. We ought to have left by now and I wondered that Anne had not already suggested we all head back to Nørrdragor; it was by no means the usual hour that one might expect a hunting expedition to set out...

"Our intentions are no business of yours," said he "Do not make me drag you to Anne's side." Then looking at Astrid, who was yet wringing her hands nervously, he managed a slightly kinder tone. "Take your mistress to my sister's side at once."

Astrid bobbed her head and looked at me expectantly, almost pleadingly, but I remained defiantly fixed where I stood a moment longer than was healthy.

I knew that I was testing his patience as never before and finally realized precipitously that I should tempt his ire no further. I hesitantly moved off toward where I could just make out Anne's muffled chatter breaking through the larches, glancing only once over my shoulder at Carac's retreating back. He swiftly joined the others as I watched, soon after disappearing into the thickets like ghosts.

"I am so sorry, my lady!" Astrid hid her face in her hands.

"Shh, Astrid. You did naught wrong! Pay no heed to that scoundrel." I was scowling blackly at the direction where the man in question had gone. "He is even more a boor than his nephew!" I then winked at my maid and she finally relented to give me a small smile. "And that is quite a feat, is it not!" For Lucian is the most fearsome man I know besides the duke.

"Aye," she sighed, endeavoring to keep her humor intact, but struggling miserably.

Anne was already making her way back to where she'd left me. I had tarried long enough; ergo, I would therefore not have continued arguing, even if I had thought to — which I did not. Not unless Anne be included which neither Carac nor I desired.

"What are you studying so intensely, my dear?" Anne's smiling countenance appeared beside me. I grinned rather slyly in return. She had not seen her brother, least of all the others, disappear from view.

"Oh, just daydreaming," said I, innocently enough. To myself, though, the conversation differed slightly.

Very well, Carac, I will know how to act! For I know exactly where you are all headed.

I did not need to follow them directly. I knew the way. First I would go back to Nørrdragor with Anne and then slip away with none the wiser.

It was pure folly, I knew this, but I only wanted to watch from afar. I would not, as per my vow to Lucian and myself, climb into the accursed maze. Having searched within it's boundaries I had seen enough to know I should never trespass there again; and I would not. I only wanted to observe my bridegroom and his strange kin to find out what it was they did there. I wanted my suspicions to be unfounded. Surely there was no harm in that?



❅



I heard the guards before I saw them; the forest landscape was steeped in darkness now, but I could not afford the luxury of a lamp to illuminate the almost invisible pathway. That was no matter for the leaden moon would be rising any moment and, being as there was nary a cloud in the night sky, I knew that January's wolf moon would light my way as effectively as any firelight.

I slipped behind the concealing boscage and pressed myself against the cold earth as no less than eight large guards passed by, oblivious to my presence at the edge of their torchlight. They laughed heedlessly and continued on their merry way, moving in the direction whence I'd come; 'twould seem they had already relinquished their prisoners to the maze and were now headed home. Once I was assured that they were at a safe distance, I resumed my trek towards the labyrinth — for that had indeed been the direction that the guards had come from.

The great moon rose quickly above the silhouette of black conifers, as I knew it would, and cast her silvery fluorescence across my path. I sprinted the rest of the way and finally reached the eerie stone walls.

I turned to take one last look behind me, just to be sure that the area was deserted, but a noise very quickly captured my attention and I swung my gaze back into the gloom of the maze. I laid my cold hands against the frigid iron of the thick, latticed portcullis and listened closely for that strange sound to issue forth again. I reached up for the torch beside the gate.

Was that a scream?

But it could not be for the gurgling noise had been very quickly snuffed out — midway in fact — and I was not entirely sure it had emanated from a man's gullet.

My trembling hands were causing the torch flame to flicker so I placed it back into the bracket on the wall. Silence. My ears were now so acutely tuned to the unearthly noises issuing from the pitch black tunnels that it took me a while, far longer than it should have, to notice an animal's uncanny eye-shine peering at me from the gloom.

At first I thought I was witnessing two fat fireflies dancing in the torchlight, but no. It was a malefic pair of yellow orbs that I now perceived before me; reflected menacingly in the shadows beyond...



***Finally! You get your Werebeast!***