Chapter 3 - Eli & the Mountain Realm of Lycanthropes

4th October, 482

By the twelfth night of my journey, I had travelled nearly 120 leagues from my home at Log Hollow and was roughly a week’s walk from the northernmost border of my realm.

It had felt good to get out of my home and be amongst the world again after so long in isolation. My early doubts and fears soon faded as I basked in a string of warm autumn nights while passing through countryside I had not visited in years. Seeing the beauty of the region once again reminded me how much of life I had been missing in my self-imposed exile.

Travelling only by night - and aided by my most treasured and skilled cloak – after leaving the Old Forest, I had passed unnoticed through the lush woodlands and vast open plains of the central and northern regions of my realm.  Though I had moved through the dark in stealth and in silence, summoning all the woodlore I had learned in my childhood from the sprites who had raised me, there was no hiding from the wind, and so twice the wind found me to bring news from beyond the border.

Many things did the wind have to say, for if there was one thing the wind liked well, it was to talk.  But most concerning of all was the news of the Mistress Witch.  “Her strength has multiplied tenfold in less than a fortnight,“ he had said.  “For what purpose I cannot yet fathom.”

On his last visit, the wind had left with one final caution, “Be warned - the winds of Grimfeld are not your friend.  They will work against you if they can.” 

The weather had turned for the worse after that, with the air hanging heavy in the sky, grey and gloomy and damp. 

And so, I continued my solitary journey night after night for many more leagues until the passing time began to slip from my awareness, and I settled into the steady cadence of the long-distance traveller. On the eighth night after last speaking to the wind, the land through which I passed grew steadily more mountainous, and my pace slowed almost to a crawl. Up, up I went - into the sprawling, southern foothills of the Five Mountains that mark the boundary of the northern border.

A familiar weariness began to creep into my legs and lungs with every step as the land rose ever more steeply beneath my feet.  

For a time, the sky was blotted out while I walked beneath a thick forest canopy until finally, fatigue and hunger forced me to stop near a small rilling stream for a quick meal of nuts and cheese from my travelpack and to replenish my water flask.  Thus refreshed, I pressed onwards through the forest and then out into the stark, scraggy upper foothills.  Many more hours did I walk through the night until the dawn drew near and a dim, grey light began to seep across the sky from out of the east. 

A short while later, with the new day fast approaching, I stopped at the edge of a cleft near the summit of a small shoulder peak to rest and survey the land ahead.  A jagged ridge of steep, scree-covered mountainsides ran along the northern border for many hundreds of miles in either direction.  Their distant peaks were hidden by dark grey clouds that clung to the upper slopes.  In the gloaming, I could begin to see the shadows of a series of narrow valleys curling out from between the mountains.  Though they were still shrouded in the morning gloom, distant rivers could be heard tumbling down from the mountain glaciers somewhere up ahead.

On the other side of these mountains – at the end of what I remembered as a pleasant path down from the foothills and out through a small forest to a green valley beyond - was the rugged town of Riverton, where there lived a master alchemist whose shop I wished to visit.  Standing in between were the treacherous twin peaks of Kallithea and Arrochar, the most immense and daunting of the Five Mountains.  Few ventured directly over their twin snow-covered summits; fewer still returned, for the winds upon those peaks were cruel in their desire to keep the upper passages closed to the outside world. 

I did not relish tackling those summits alone, so it was fortunate I had learned long ago of a rough and little-known track through the lower mountains at the far end of one of the narrow valleys ahead.  It had been hewn in ancient times by the Kings of the First Age to provide safe passage to their legions of knights who once protected these lands.  Though the track had mostly been forgotten to time, for the few who remembered, it was still the quickest route over the mountains to Riverton within many a long mile. 

Taking that path meant passing through the mountain realm of Lycanthropes, where a reclusive race of shapeshifters had stood guard over the mountains since before the time of the Kings.  Their leader was a friend to my adoptive kin, and many a night in times past had we hunted together under a blood moon.

A glint of orange peaking over the mountains to the east reminded me of the approaching dawn and of my need to bed down out of sight before the day was fully upon the land.  Not far from where I stood was a shallow cave I had found as a youth.  There, I hunkered down for the day on the rough ground and covered myself with my cloak. Protected by the magic of the cloak, I was invisible to all but the most determined of eyes.  Though uncomfortable and cold, my weariness from the journey overtook all, and soon I was fast asleep.

The next night, I woke with a start.  A strange noise echoed in my ears.  At first, in my grogginess, I could not place the sound.  Then I heard it again – a nearby whoosh, whoosh in the darkness overhead.  Slowly, carefully, I peeked one eye out from beneath my cloak.  The cloud cover of the previous night had gone, and there was a bite to the clear air.  The sky was filled with stars, and a waning crescent moon bathed the land in a dim, bluish moonglow.

Whoosh, whoosh.  I was fully awake after that.  Whoosh!  I ducked involuntarily as the sound seemed to come from almost directly overhead.  Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a fast-moving shadow against the starlit sky.  I might have missed it altogether had it not flitted past the moon. 

I followed with my eyes as the shadow traced a series of wide circles across the sky as if it were searching for something.  When it circled in front of the moon a second time, I recognised the unmistakable shape of an owl.  Though I only saw it for a second, I thought it had the look of a large dark owl, which was at that time very rare in those parts.

I lay still beneath my cloak and kept silent watch as the owl circled further and further away along the mountain range to the east.  Its haunting screech faded into the night. After it had been gone for over an hour, and I was sure it was safe to do so, I hurried through my daily ablutions, anxious as I was to put some miles behind me lest that curious dark owl returned.

When I was done, I carefully folded and packed away my gear and set about working the stiffness from my limbs in readiness for another long night’s trek.

I have always possessed a keen awareness of the world around me, even as a child. Years of training with the wood sprites further heightened my natural senses far beyond the ordinary, opening my mind to the natural energy present in all things and allowing me to sense things others cannot.

Perhaps it had been this ability that had raised the hairs on my neck that day, for as I stretched and flexed in preparation to leave, I felt a tingling on my skin and noticed a subtle change in the air. It was nothing obvious and probably would have been imperceptible to anyone not trained in the skill. But it was still there, no matter how small.

Without letting on I had noticed anything, I quietly hoisted my travelsack over my shoulders, pulling the straps tight in case of a quick escape.

The space around me became unusually quiet as a strong aura of energy oozed out of the night. I froze. All my senses strained to seek out the source of the disturbance.

I tried not to gasp as a pair of yellow eyes flashed in the dark to my right. Their eyeshine briefly reflected the soft glow of the moon. Careful not to flinch, I focused all my senses on the spot where the eyes had appeared. What seemed like minutes passed without change.

The yellow eyes flashed again, and at that moment, I learned all I needed to know. A wave of relief passed over me as I relaxed. Though I tried to hide it, I could not stop a small smile from crossing my face.

“Crowded spot, this,” I muttered none too quietly.

There was a derisive snort from the darkness.  “You have grown careless since last we met,” said a deep, husky voice.  “I heard you breathing miles away.”

A formidable grey wolf stepped into a ray of moonlight. If it was possible for a wolf to smile, then this one smiled broadly.

“I see you still talk as loudly as you walk!” I sniped back.

The wolf began to shudder as if with laughter.  Then, its body began to blur and shake violently as if in spasm as it reared up on its hind legs.  The fur on its body seemed to weave itself into something resembling tight-knit clothing.  Short, curved claws became fingers, and deadly-looking fangs shrank into incisors.  When the transformation was complete, what had been a wolf just moments ago was now a man – about six feet tall, with wild grey hair and still those startling yellow eyes. 

“Eli, my old friend!” I exclaimed and gave the man a firm hug.

“Niri!” he replied warmly and returned the hug.  “Glad is my heart to see you after all this time.  What brings you this far north on a night such as this?”

I stepped back and cast a worried glance up over the mountains.  “The Mistress Witch.  News has reached me that her power grows apace. For what purpose, I have yet to fathom. But there is little doubt she will be up to usual mischief.”

Eli looked grave.  “I, too, have heard this news,” he said.  “It is most worrying.”  Eli paused and looked thoughtfully at me for several long moments.  “The Witch is never to be underestimated, my friend.  News reaches her ears as readily as it reaches ours.  Be warned: those hateful owl sentries have prowled far across the skies these past few nights. It would seem likely they search for you.”

“Perhaps,“ I said.  “Though I have taken great care on my journey not to be seen.”

“That may be,” said Eli, “but I found you, and keeping one’s movements secret has grown far more difficult of late.  Now more than ever, the land abounds with spies who look for things they should not find and listen for things they should not hear. Sadly, in these times, it is more difficult than ever to know who to trust or when you are safe on the open road.”

“Then, all the gladder am I to see you, my friend.  Already, my journey has been long and fraught with care, and your words do not ease my worry.  Might I travel this night in your company and stay the morrow in your realm?  A brief respite from my journey would do me a world of good, and I would be glad of any more news of the Witch or otherwise that you might choose to share.”

He placed a hand on my shoulder.  “The name Niri Lekani has long been recorded in the stories of my people, where it will remain evermore. You will always find a warm welcome here.”

Eli smiled, then turned and ghosted into the dark without making a noise. I shifted my travelsack and looked up at the sky. For the first time in countless long nights under those stars, I was not alone. I breathed deeply with relief and followed Eli as he led me onwards and upwards into his mystical mountain home.

Though it was but a single night’s journey to Eli’s home from where we had started, at his suggestion, we chose instead to take a longer and less obvious route in case I had been followed.

As it was, for two nights more, we walked on a circuitous path up and over a lower shoulder range of Mount Arrochar. Each day, I whiled away the daylight hours, resting beneath my cloak while Eli slipped away in his wolf form to join members of his clan keeping constant watch on us from afar. Each night, Eli returned and transformed into his human form so we might chat as we walked ever closer to his home.

Many things did we discuss on our journey. I told Eli of my visits from the wind and of life at Tréow Holh. In quieter moments, when I was sure it was safe to do so, I shared with him my worries about the Mistress Witch and told him of the plans I had made thus far. For his part, Eli spoke of his family and his realm and all the comings and goings on in his land which he thought I might find interesting. I listened keenly to all he had to say, for long had I been away, and deeply did I care for Eli and his kind.

Eli told me also of the reports of trouble brewing in the wildlands to the North and of the strange visitors who had travelled near the borders of his realm with increasing regularity in recent months. Several groups, he said, had attempted to cross the border as though testing for weakness, but each time, they had been turned back forcefully by Eli’s sentries. We were both unsettled by the news. It seemed to us that something was afoot, and if the Mistress Witch was involved, we agreed nothing good was likely to come of it.

At the end of the third night, just as the first pale streaks of dawn began to appear on the horizon, we stopped at the edge of a small cliff and looked down into a long, fertile glen rimmed on either side by massive mountain ridges leading to the twin, snow-capped peaks of Arrochar and Kallithea at the far end of the valley.

Smoke from hearth fires drifted down the glen, intermingling with early morning mist that clung to the treetops, and pale-yellow light glimmering from the many homes in the valley dotted the greyness as Eli’s people began to rouse at the start of another day. As the coming dawn approached, dark patches slowly emerged out of the receding gloom to reveal wood and thatched houses scattered across the valley floor.

“Here in this glen,” said Eli, “you are safe to walk in the open by day or night. You may also speak freely here without fear of discovery by the Witch or any of her skulking spies.”

“Thank you, my friend,” I replied. “I am most grateful for your kindness allowing me to pass through your lands. It is most reassuring to have you and your pack watching over me, and it is a relief beyond measure or words to be among friends again.”

Eli nodded. “Come then, let us make our way to the gathering place. If we move with haste, we should arrive just in time--.” He cut his words short.

“In time for what?” I asked.

Eli hesitated sheepishly. “I am not supposed to say, but I already see from your face that you will not let the matter go. A celebration has been readied for this evening to mark your return. Please do not let on you know. My dearest Luna would bite my face off if she knew I let it slip.”

“Oh, my,” I stammered with growing excitement. “Well do I remember your celebrations. It will be a long night and an even longer morning!”

Eli chuckled. “That it will.”

We began to walk more briskly down the well-worn path into the glen. “Do not worry,” I said as we walked, “I will keep your secret. So long as you promise there will be ample Green Ale.”

For anyone not acquainted, I should explain that the Green Ale of Riverton has long been acknowledged - among those with knowledge of such things - as the finest ale on either side of the Five Mountains. Indeed, folk have been known to travel from as far away as the foothills at Ravensong or the distant forests of Ironwood for an evening’s entertainment amongst the good townsfolk of Riverton and a chance to sample their legendary Green Ale.

It is often said – though none too loudly, mind you - that the townsfolk of Riverton are much like the Green Ale they so expertly brew – stout, cheerful, and at times perhaps a mite too pungent. But, by all accounts, each in their own way is well worth the thick head and empty purse of an after-morn.

Knowing this, you will understand why it was that my spirits brightened considerably when Eli laughed heartily in response to my jest. “Do not worry, lass. Tonight, the Green Ale of Riverton shall flow aplenty! And I intend to make sure we each enjoy an ample share.”

His barking laughter continued to ring throughout the glen, and I laughed along with Eli as we made our way through the awakening day with a renewed purpose to our steps and a powerful thirst growing on our tongues.

At some point along our brief trek that morning, I became aware of a long-forgotten warmth welling up inside me. My heart felt lighter than it had in ages, and I found myself breathing easier as the old memories that had haunted me and kept me isolated for so many years were momentarily forgotten.

Like a child with a new toy, I could not stop smiling. After so long on my own, it was indeed good to be amongst friends again.

The rest of that day and the following night are mostly a blur to me now. Making the rounds and becoming reacquainted with the many old and dear friends of mine who lived there had taken up much of the daylight hours.

The evening’s celebration, which Eli had inadvertently spoken of, had turned into a wild and joyful affair filled with laughter, music, dance, and drink – each in ample measure. To his great credit, Eli had lived up to his promise – the ale had indeed flowed aplenty from several giant wooden casks, and then once those had been drained, from several smaller casks that were wheeled in on carts as the night progressed.

Later in the evening, when I was already thick with drink, I found myself leaning against a tree feeling pleasantly numb, sipping ale from a tankard and listening to a lute player sing a raucous tune. By then, the sweet-tasting ale was making my head swim and my legs wobble. Such was my condition that I was close to slumping to the ground for a nap when a stooped, weather-worn old man with startling blue eyes caught my attention from across the crowds of revellers.

Even in my fox-drunk state, I could sense something about the man was not quite right, so I shook off my stupor and worked my way through the crowds, seeking him out. Though I was unsteady on my feet, I made sure not to spill any of the precious ale as I went.

After a few false turns caught up in all the merriment, I eventually found the man leaning with his back against a makeshift bar made of wooden planks supported by casks of wine at either end. I took up a spot at the other end of the bar and fixed him with a blurry stare. Up close, I could see right away what was off about the man. It was his eyes. They were far too youthful for his face.

Such a thing was often a sign to look deeper, and I had a feeling there was something more to this man. My instincts rarely failed me, so I squinted and looked him up and down to see what else I might discover about him. But I was not thinking too clearly just then, so I did not learn much. It did not help that my gaze kept returning to his eyes. They were such a vivid blue that they appeared almost luminescent, and I felt myself drawn to them like moths to a flame.

Unable to look away, I caught a glimpse of something hidden behind those eyes that I could not quite place. One moment, it was there, and the next, it was gone. I watched to see if it might return, but it did not. Whatever it had been, it aroused my curiosity almost as much as wanting to know why such youthful eyes were walking around in such an old body.

“Gryff,” said the man, and I managed to focus my bleary gaze long enough to realise he had moved and was standing next to me.

Those beautiful eyes smiled, and my knees went even weaker than they had been with the drink. “What was that?” was all I managed to say.

His eyes flicked over me, then locked on mine. “My name is Gryff. I noticed you were staring and thought you might like to know who you were looking at.”

“Niri,” I answered feebly, unable to look away from those eyes as they smiled again.

“Well then, Niri,” he said, taking my tankard from me and setting it on the bar. “Would you like to dance with me?” he asked, holding his hand out for mine.

I was not accustomed to cavorting with strange men. Not that I haven’t, mind you. Just that, at that moment, I had not done so in a very long while. Vague alarm bells went off in my head, and I knew I should say no, but there was an undeniable spark between us, and my heart could not resist those eyes. I found myself nodding, suddenly not caring what I was doing.

I had not danced in ages – not since my beloved Ewan had passed. But on that night, with that mysterious man, it did not seem to matter. From the very start, we danced together as though we had always done so. Wildly and with abandon at first, then later, quietly clinging to each other and oblivious to everything else as we swayed to a music all our own. We must have danced like that for hours, but so pleasant was the experience that it felt like only minutes had passed.

Several times as we danced, I noticed he moved like a man much younger than he appeared. And there was still the matter of those eyes. The more I gazed into them, the more I was convinced they held something secret beneath all that beautiful blue.

Later in the evening, as the festivities reached a fever pitch, Gryff led me away from the crowds to a quieter spot at the edge of the woods. There, he pressed me against a tree and kissed me even more wildly than how he had danced. For the span of a single heartbeat, I thought it felt a little too soon for such things. Then, my aching loneliness and long-dormant desires got the better of me, and I quickly warmed to the idea.

When we came up for air a little while later, he took me in his arms and gazed at me with eyes that twinkled as though filled with stars. It was breathtaking while it lasted. Then, all too soon, those stars faded, and he stiffened, pulling away from me as though remembering something.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I um,” he said, then stopped. A look of guilt flashed behind those eyes, and he seemed to be fighting within himself. He breathed deeply. “I need to go find the privy,” he said in a rush. There was a hollow ring to his voice. I had sobered up enough by then to know he was lying.

He pressed on. “When I get back, how about I bring us some wine and maybe something to eat?”

“I would like that,” I said and was surprised to discover I meant it.

“Good.” He wavered, and for a moment, I thought he might stay with me. His eyes seemed almost to be pleading with me. But then they hardened, and he steeled himself as he seemed to come to a decision. “I shan’t be long. Promise you won’t go anywhere until I get back?”

My gaze did not waver as I played along with his lie. “I promise,” I said, knowing full well I would follow him at the first chance.

Gryff kissed me again – a long, lingering kiss I did not want to end. Then, he kissed my hand and held it to his chest in a gesture I found most touching. Especially when his eyes turned all dewy and soft. But then the steel returned to him, and his eyes went cold. He turned away with an effort, walking along a well-worn path towards the centre of Glahdring, his quick footsteps receding as they followed him into the evening.

He did not look back.

I watched him hasten past the narrow privy huts erected at the edge of the clearing without breaking stride or even appearing to notice they were there.

“Privy, my ass”, I thought as I sighed and leaned back against the tree, reflecting on the two things I had learned that night. Firstly, that I had been far lonelier in all the long years of my self-imposed exile than I had realised. It was good to be in the arms of a man again. Even if he was a liar.

And secondly, that the man who called himself Gryff was concealing his true identity behind a masking spell. And a very powerful one, at that. Only a few mages I knew of were skilled enough to create a masking spell of such strength. I was one of them. The Witch was the other.

But in crafting such spells, the Witch had always overlooked the one telltale sign of a masking spell – they do not change the wearer’s shadow! It is a secret I have harboured and used to great effect in my many encounters with the Witch’s minions attempting to travel in disguise.

Now you know this secret, too. Use the knowledge wisely.

With an ache of regret, thinking of what might have been with the man with the alluring eyes and shapely shadow, I went after him, intent on extracting whatever secrets he might hold and protecting that realm at any cost.

Even if that meant killing him.

The chancellery in Glahdring is one of only a handful of buildings in the whole of Eli’s realm made mostly of stone. Unassuming from the outside, it consists of three small, round sections built in the shape of a cloverleaf, with each ‘leaf’ a separate wing and all three wings joined in the centre by an oval tower with intricate stained-glass windows on all sides. Day and night, the tower windows glow from the light of a fire enchanted by my mother that burns endlessly in the very bowels of the chancellery.

Beneath the building’s modest exterior lies an enormous underground complex of tunnels and caverns extending far below the surface, carved out of the rugged mountain rock over millennia. Many things are said to exist in the halls beneath the chancellery, some living, others not. All have been guarded by Eli and his predecessors down through the ages far beyond living memory.

As a child, I had played in the uppermost tunnels and knew many of them as well as I knew my own home. But I had never ventured to the deepest caverns since the gates there are kept locked for secret reasons known only to the Lycanthropes.

I followed Gryff at a discrete distance up a few stone steps of the chancellery and through a pair of heavy wooden entry doors, stopping at the top of a circular stairway in the centre of the glass tower to get my bearings. I knew from my childhood that the stairs descended through the structure to the very furthest levels underground, with offshoots leading to the various landings at each new level. Highly polished circles of steel hung from the walls leading down the stairwell to reflect and amplify the light from hundreds of bewitched candles suspended in the centre of the staircase that never burn down and never go out. Their light is reflected throughout the stairway down to the deepest levels with such effect that it is never fully night there, even in the lowest tunnels far beneath the chancellery building on the surface.

My eyes darted everywhere, but there was no sign of Gryff. “Damn,“ I whispered. The man was proving more elusive than expected. He had stepped off the footpath shortly after leaving me at the tree and had almost given me the slip a few times since. He was either highly skilled in the art of moving covertly, or perhaps the Witch’s masking spell was helping him disguise his movements.

I froze, listening for any signs of movement while my senses sought out variations in the natural energy of the place that might indicate Gryff’s presence. I detected neither. There was nowhere else to go but down to the lower levels, so I padded down and around the curved stairs as quickly as possible, keeping up against the outer wall to give myself the widest view ahead.

On the ninth level, I stopped before an arched doorway when I felt a slight movement of air on my face as if someone had passed through and left a trail of tiny currents behind them.

I examined the doorway for markings and found the words Central Library & Archives carved into the centre stone at the arch’s apex. Slipping quietly into the chamber beyond, I paused to let my eyes adjust to the dim lighting. As the space came into focus, the full scale of the chamber became apparent as row after row of bookshelves appeared out of the gloom, stretching in either direction as far as the eye could see. The coolness of the stonework and lack of sunlight made me shiver. Thankfully, the fires on the very lowest levels provided a steady, dry breeze passing up through the building that helped keep the dampness at bay.

My head snapped around at a sudden muffled footfall to the left. I snuck towards the noise, darting from one row of bookshelves to the next, stopping at the end of each row to peek down the aisle in between before scuttling across.

When I came to the fourth shelf and peered along the aisle between it and the next shelf over, I spotted movement in the gloom at the far end of the aisle.

Crouching low, I scampered down the aisle. Long years living and hunting in the woods had taught me to move more stealthily than most. Using those skills, I was able to get within a few yards of Gryff unnoticed. I slowed, pressing against the shelf to blend into the shadows. He was still preoccupied searching the bookshelves.

I held my breath. I was almost within reach. But then he must have sensed my presence, for his head snapped up with a start, and his eyes went wide with surprise.

“Help you find something?” I said.

Gryff grabbed a book off the shelf and ran directly at me. I reached for him, but he was too quick - or perhaps I was too slow, my reflexes still dulled by copious quantities of ale. Either way, he ducked around me at the last moment and pelted towards the exit.

I shook my head in disgust. Sloppy! A string of expletives filled the air as I turned and chased after him. There was no need for stealth now. I barrelled up the stairs close on his heels. Round and round the curved staircase we went, up one dizzying level after another until we reached the surface.

I could not risk him escaping out of the building. As he headed for the exit, I pointed at him and shouted, “Immobilize!”

A beam of energy flashed across the lobby and struck Gryff square in the back. He froze, instantly paralysed by the spell. Crashing to the ground, he skidded across the floor and stopped just inside the door.

A sudden stitch in my side nipped at me, and I bent over, gasping for breath after our brief burst of speed. I sat down heavily next to Gryff. Those beautiful blue eyes of his stared up at me. They were the only part of him that could still move.

I patted his arm. “Good try, pal.”

He blinked at me.

Drawing on the bounty of positive energy in that place, I muttered a containment spell to seal us in the lobby. A golden barrier of spell energy encircled the building, blocking all the exits. Nothing could get in or out until I released the spell.

I leaned over until my face was inches from Gryff’s and fixed him with a steely stare. “I’m going to release you now. But before I do, you should know that we are locked in. There is no way out. If you try to run, I will only immobilise you again. Do you understand?”

The look in his eyes told me he understood.

I whispered the words to release him from the spell.

Gryff sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. “That wasn’t fair,” he mumbled. “Witching me like that.”

“Neither was lying to me.”

He grunted and shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

I held out my hand. “Give me what you took, and I will decide what is to be done with you.”

Gryff put a thin, leather-bound book. The writing on the spine identified it as An Introduction to Spellcasting, by Armonde Phillipe. “Oh!” I ran my fingers over the worn cover, fondly recalling reading it as a child. I opened the cover and smiled. The bottom corner of the first page was still singed brown at the edges where I had accidentally set it alight.

I flipped through the pages, fanning them out in case anything had been hidden there. Only a few specks of dust fell out.

Closing the book with care, I stuffed it safely in an inner pocket. It is not that it is a bad book. Indeed, I would recommend it to anyone wishing to learn the basics; there is a section on elements that is most informative to the novice spellcaster. But it wasn’t why Gryff was there. Of that, I was sure.

I held out my hand again. “Now give me what you really came for.”

Gryff snorted and shook his head. “I can’t.”

“You can,” I said. “If you want to get out of here.”

He hung his head and fell silent.

I tapped my pocket. “I know this is not what you came for. And I know you are not the tired old man you appear to be. I would not have kissed you so passionately if I had not seen beneath the mask.” A small smile crossed his face. “I know too that you are sent by the Witch. I recognise her sorcery on the masking spell you hide behind.”

Gryff started at the mention of the Witch. He clasped both hands over his head as if trying to hold it down and stared sightlessly into the distance, rocking slowly back and forth in a daze.

We sat in silence for several minutes. After a while, he stopped rocking and dropped his hands in his lap. He picked nervously at his fingers, which I noticed were trembling.

“I, um,” he said, then stopped. He cleared his throat. “I am a thief by trade. Registered to the ninth level by the Guild.* Somehow, the Mistress Witch became aware of me and my skills.“ He almost spat her name he said it with such venom. “I do not know how she learned of me. But one day, a troupe of her followers showed up at my door, showing proof they had kidnapped my little sister. They told me the Witch wanted me to steal something, and my sister would be freed if I did. If I did not, we would both be killed. At first, I did not believe them and refused to help them, so they left. But the next day, they returned with a small parcel for me.”

Gryff’s voice cracked, and he stopped. He wiped tears from his eyes as he said, “When I opened it, I found a severed hand. They claimed it was my sister’s and that if I did not help them right then, they would torture her until I agreed. I did not know what else to do.”

He hung his head and shrugged. “What else could I do? I said yes.”

I put my arm around him, unable to tell him what my heart knew. That his sister would already be dead. And they would have killed him, too, the moment he delivered his stolen goods. That was the way of the Witch. This I knew better than most.

Gryff pulled himself together and removed something from a hidden pocket. It was a book. He held it out for me. I hesitated, but he nodded for me to take it.

It was a proper tome - the Fourth Volume of the White Book of Magic. My heart raced with excitement just from holding it. I had only ever seen the first two volumes. The fourth was kept hidden from the world lest the knowledge it contained fall into the wrong hands. Such as those of the Witch.

It was just as well I had stopped Gryff when I did. If it had fallen into her clutches, that book would give the Witch powers beyond imagination.

I tucked the book out of sight. “Where are they now?” I asked. When Gryff looked puzzled, I added, “The supposed kidnappers. Where are you to meet them?”

“An encampment not far from here.”

“Within the Lycanthropes realm?” I blurted. Such a thing would have been unimaginable to me only days ago. Now, there was not just a thief loose in that place but also a gang of the Witch’s minions.

Gryff nodded. “They are hidden behind a spell of the Witch’s making.”

I thought about that for a bit, admiring the skill and audacity of it.

“There is a young girl there,” he added. “A vile creature by the name of Wendelin. I think she is their leader.”

“If I go to this place to free your sister and break the Witch’s hold over you, will you come with me to show me the way? And will you also pledge allegiance to me and renounce any connection with the Witch?”

His cheeks puffed out as he sighed. “Yes. Were it not for my sister, never would I have anything to do with that evil crone. After this, she will be my sworn enemy evermore.”

The air crackled with dissipating energy as I released the spell locking us in the Chancellery. My heart pricked with sadness. It would be cruel to take him there. But he had to see for himself the true nature of the Witch. I stood and held my hand out to Gryff. “Then come, take me to these kidnappers, and I will see that justice is done.”

He looked at my outstretched hand, then at me, and for a second, I thought he might be wavering. But then he took my hand and pulled himself to his feet. “This I will do,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “For my sister. And for you.”

Without another word, we ran through the lobby together and out into the night.

Distant music from the celebration followed us as we jogged through the woods beyond the eastern edge of the community.

A soft moonglow bathed the forest in long shadows. Gryff was just a vague smudge moving through the dark beside me, his face pale against the grey backdrop of the woods.

I turned at the tug of a hand on my arm. Gryff was pointing to a small black space in the trees up ahead. He motioned for us to be quiet, then led me by the hand towards the spot. We ducked beneath the low-hanging branches and stepped through to the other side in almost total darkness. A burst of dark energy crackled in my ears.

Gryff pulled me close and whispered, “Wait for your eyes to adjust. Then you will see.”

He was right. After a few moments, a dull shimmer of black appeared a few feet in front of me as if it were a wall made of dark, oily water. I had to walk a few feet in either direction along the line of black before I could make out what I was looking at. Then it came to me - it was a barrier of flowing dark energy rising high into the treetops and stretching as far as I could see in either direction.

I signalled for Gryff to stay put. Careful to watch for any signs of sentries, traps, or tripwires, I worked my way around the whole perimeter of the barrier, using its almost imperceptible glow as my guide. But there were none of these things – showing the confidence of whoever was within.

By pacing off the distance as I walked, I estimated each side at just over ten yards. It would have taken a very powerful spell to create a barrier of such size. I returned to where I had left Gryff, standing next to him and marvelling at the power of the Witch.

“What happens next?” he whispered.

“We go inside.” I stood as close to the barrier as I dared and allowed my senses to explore the dark energy that powered it. Wisps of matter swirled across the surface of the barrier like fog.

“What are you doing?” asked Gryff. He seemed on edge.

“Looking for a way in.” I put my hand on his arm. Partly to calm him but mainly to examine the energy of his masking spell.

“We can just walk right in,” he said, moving towards the barrier.

I yanked him back and held my mouth to his ear. “You can go right in because the Witch has made the barrier and your masking spell of the same energy. I would most likely be prevented from entering by the spell. Or, at the very least, I would trigger some sort of alarm as I passed through.”

“Oh.” He gazed skyward in thought for a few moments. “Is that why you left me in this masking spell?”

“That, and the Witch would sense her spell being broken the moment I freed you. If she warned whoever is within this barrier, it would cost us the element of surprise.”

“So, how do you intend to enter?”

It was a fair question. One to which I had not yet found an answer. I ignored his question, and we fell silent for a while as I concentrated on letting my senses explore the surface of the barrier. When that did not lead to any discoveries, I gathered my strength and pushed my senses as far into the dark energy as they would penetrate. I kept pushing until my head hurt from the effort, and beads of sweat formed on my brow. Eventually, I gave up - I had found nothing to help our situation, and my senses could take no more strain.

I crossed my arms and glared at the barrier. There we remained for the better part of half an hour as I racked my memory for any spells or tricks that might grant me a stealthy passage through the dark energy.

But I drew a blank. I was beginning to think we would have to force our way in when I spotted something so obvious I wondered how I had not seen it before. “There is something here!” I said, standing close to the barrier. “A flaw we might be able to exploit.”

Gryff leaned close. “What is it?”

In answer to his question, I blew gently on the barrier. It was cool that night, and my breath was visible. My breath drifted towards the barrier and then disappeared as if sucked inside. I blew once more, and again, the clouds of my breath vanished through the dark energy of the barrier.

“The spell lets air pass through. It would have to, of course, if the intent was for people to survive inside it any length of time.”

“Makes sense. But how does that help us?”

“When the wind is your friend, many things are possible.” With that, I left Gryff at the barrier and headed back through the opening in the trees to the woods beyond. I found a small clearing where stars twinkled in a patch of sky visible through the forest canopy. There, I threw back my head and called to the wind using the special voice taught to me by the wood sprites.

Thrice more over the next few minutes, I called the wind’s name before he announced his arrival with a soft breeze kissing my cheek.

“So, you have discovered the Witch’s blight upon this land,” he hissed.

“I must kill those that hide within it. They have brought an evil to this place that must be avenged. Can you help me breach the barrier?”

Leaves rustled, and branches creaked as the wind sighed through the forest around me. “Good it is to see you restored to something of your old self. Too long did you hide away from a world that needed you.”

“Yes. Far too long. But I am here now. Can you help me?”

The wind closed around me until I felt myself being lifted into the air. Leaning back against the swirling breeze that held me, I let the wind carry me skyward. Up, up we went until we were so high I could see the whole of Eli’s realm bathed in shadows of moonlight.

“Can you hear it?” sighed the wind. “Voices whispering their treacherous plans in the night.”

I strained to listen. “No.”

“You would do well to learn the ways of listening to such things,” cautioned the wind. “Many things would you learn if you did.”

“Can you tell me what they say?”

The wind shuddered. “They say the Witch is on the march. She comes looking for you.”

A strong breeze running fast and cold carried me to the peaks of the Five Mountains. The air was thin at that high altitude, and it was difficult to breathe.

“Beyond this point, I cannot protect you,” said the wind. “Are you prepared for what is coming?”

I stared over the mountains to the dark lands beyond. I suddenly felt very small and alone. For a moment, all my old doubts returned, and my resolve wavered. “I am not,” I whispered. The sky rumbled with a deep thunder, and I could feel the wind’s worry stirring the currents. My thoughts drifted to Eli and Luna and all their kind, who had been my friends since I was a child. I thought, too, of Gryff. And of his sister, who was likely already lost. Some of my resolve returned as I realised only I could protect them from the Witch.

“I have answered the call of my oath,” I said. “If I am prepared in any way, it is to protect this and all realms against the Witch. With my life if necessary. This I vow to you.”

This seemed to please the wind, for he carried me swiftly back to the clearing without another word. As my feet touched the ground, the wind released its grasp. Though he still swirled around me, and I felt his breath on my face.

The sky rumbled again with thunder. “How can I help you?” he said.

“This has to be quick,” I whispered to Gryff a few minutes later after explaining my plan as we stood beside the barrier. “The minute the wind creates an opening in this thing, I will jump through and then all hell is going to break loose in there. That will be your queue to sneak in from the rear and retrieve your sister while all the attention is on me.” I swallowed hard as a pang of guilt passed over me, believing his sister to be already dead. I hoped Gryff could not see it in my eyes.

Gryff looked troubled. “Do you not want me to help you? There were at least six of them last time I was here.”

I cleared my throat to give myself a chance to regroup. “No. Your only job is to find your sister and get out of there quick as you like.”

I could see the doubt in his face, so I gripped his arm. “I can handle whatever is in there. You just get your sister out and then run like hell back to the party. They will protect you there until I return.”

He nodded.

“Okay, then. Off you go! I will wait a minute so you have time to get in position.”

Gryff padded off into the dark. After he rounded the nearest corner of the barrier, I counted down the time in my head, then crouched and signalled to the wind.

A blast of wind whistled overhead and slammed into the barrier. For a moment, the barrier held, but then the ground shuddered as the dark energy split open with a loud crack! Wind rushed into the opening, pushing back the edges of the barrier until the gap was several feet in diameter.

I pulled out my dagger, taking comfort from feeling its weight in my hand, then leapt through the opening.

The wind rushing through the gap carried me further into the interior than expected. I rolled headfirst and jumped to my feet, skidding to a stop almost in the middle of the space as the wind dissipated and the opening slammed shut behind me. Though the air went quiet, the wind was still there, keeping me company and biding its time.

I spotted six people inside the barrier. Five rough-looking men and a wisp of a woman. All had been asleep in their bedrolls, which told me Gryff’s sister was not alive, or they would have posted a sentry to watch her. A small tent had been erected at the rear of the space, though it appeared empty as I could not sense anyone within it.

Already, the company were scrambling out of their bedrolls and reaching for weapons kept close to hand. They were a seasoned bunch, moving with the cool efficiency of professional killers as they rose from slumber to meet an armed and unexpected intruder in silence.

The moment they were on their feet, two men went wide, one on each side of me, in a classic manoeuvre meant to flank me and split my attention. Still in their sleeping attire, each man wielded long, steel swords with fanciful decorations on their hilts. The man to my left was heavy-set, older, with cropped, greying hair and arms like tree trunks. He barked terse instructions to the others, revealing himself as the leader. To my right, the man was tall and lean, with dark and elaborate designs burned on his forearms.

The other two men advanced directly towards me, crouched in a fighter’s stance and already swishing their blades to stretch and warm the muscles in their arms in preparation for battle. They were both strong, barrel-chested young men with massive arms and grim faces.

At second glance, the woman proved to be a young girl, no more than eighteen or nineteen at a guess. Wendelin, no doubt. She carried a twisted wooden staff for a weapon, marking her as the most dangerous of them all. We locked eyes, and a sinister grin crossed her lips.

All this I noticed in the first few seconds after breaching the barrier as I sized up the situation.

I tried casting a quick immobilisation spell, thinking I could stop them in one fell swoop, but nothing happened when I uttered the words. The Witch must have put a dampening spell in place, I thought. I hefted my dagger. I would have to do this the hard way.

Unpredictability can be the greatest weapon in a fight. When used wisely, it often allows vastly outnumbered combatants to prevail over a stronger enemy. This knowledge I had used to my advantage in the past, and I used it again that day in the barrier.

“Stop!“ I commanded, and my voice boomed in that small space. The men froze, momentarily overcome by the power of suggestion in my voice. Wendelin only smirked, seemingly unaffected, as she stepped closer and pointed her staff at me.

Gryff slipped through the barrier behind her and ran to the tent.

“Put down your arms and leave this realm, swearing never to return and never again to work for the Witch. Do this, and you will not be harmed.”

The girl let the tip of her staff droop until it no longer pointed directly at me. “You do not ask for return of the girl.” Her eyes mocked me, her voice so silky and full of guile that it made my skin crawl.

“I sense no others here. Only death.”

She stepped closer, still. “Knowing this, why would you let us go?”

“My faith teaches me to offer the chance of repentance. Even to the vilest of creatures.”

Wendelin scoffed. “Then your faith will be your downfall.”

She leapt to one side and crouched, firing two quick bursts of flame from her staff. At the last second, I flicked the blade of my dagger and managed to deflect the flaming blue bolts. They ricocheted off the blade and struck dead the man on my left. He crumpled to the floor in a heap. The sound of the shots roused the others from their trance, and they stormed towards me all at once.

Everyone turned as a tortured, chilling scream came from the tent. It stabbed at my heart, knowing Gryff had found his sister dead. Anger grew within me until it could no longer be denied. I had offered leniency and had been refused. But my duty to my faith was fulfilled: there would be no more mercy from me that day.

The girl fired twice more as she rounded on me from the left. Both shots I deflected with quick flicks of my dagger.

I started to run towards her when the man on my right flung a knife at my chest from about ten paces away. It pierced my treasured cloak and was only prevented from killing me by the chainmail I wore beneath my clothing. I ducked as Wendelin fired again, then grabbed the knife from my chest and whipped it back at the man. His skull burst open as the blade struck him in the head. He dropped to the ground and lay there motionless. Blood oozed from the gash in a slow streak across the floor.

Another blaze of blue fire sizzled over my shoulder. I dove and rolled away. As I jumped to my feet, the other two men were already slashing at me with their swords. I parried with my dagger and spun away, clutching at one of the men to stop from falling as I turned.

Still holding onto the man, I yanked him in front of me like a shield as his companion lunged at me with his sword. His ribs cracked with a sickening crunch as his friend’s powerful thrust ran him clear through to the hilt, killing him instantly.

More blue flames whizzed past my head. I ducked behind the dead man clutched in my hands as a volley of shots hit him in rapid succession and splattered blood all over me.

The firing stopped, and I let the lifeless body fall with the sword still lodged in his chest.

The remaining killer was now unarmed - but he was far from defenceless. He rounded on me, catching me with a kick to my temple. I stabbed at him with my dagger, but he deflected the strike. I gave him two quick, powerful punches to his heart, then pivoted and kicked him in the stomach.

The man was strong and swift on his feet. As I stabbed at him again with my dagger, he blocked and grabbed my arm, twisting it in the socket until I dropped to my knees. Despite the agonising pain shooting up my arm, I tugged on the man as I fell, using my weight and momentum to pull him off his feet.

We both crashed heavily to the ground. He landed on top of me and cried out as he impaled himself on my upturned dagger. But instead of slowing him, it only seemed to enrage him.

With an angry cry, he picked me up by the shoulders and slammed me to the ground with such force it knocked the wind from me and made my ears buzz. I shook my head to regain my senses and tried to roll away, but he caught me by the leg and tossed me across the room.

I landed hard as a volley of blue fire exploded all around me. My right arm hung limp as I scrambled to my feet, crouching and running as Wendelin fired again and again. Somehow, I dodged it all. But the last few fireballs exploded so close the force blasted me through the air, tumbling end over end. I crashed to the ground a few yards away in a crumpled heap.

I looked up. The tent was almost within reach. I thought of Gryff and wondered where he was. Heavy footsteps approached from behind. I turned and got to one knee as the man ran towards me with a gleam in his eyes. My hand started to reach for my dagger until I remembered it was still lodged in the man’s chest. An image of Byrnsweorde leaning against the wall at home flashed through my mind, and with a tinge of regret, I wished I had not left my favourite sword behind.

In desperation, I reached down and palmed a small knife that I kept hidden in my boot.

The man pulled my dagger from his chest as I rolled to avoid more fireballs from the girl. Springing to my feet, I charged the man, weaving side to side to keep him guessing. At the last moment, I faked to my left and then slipped around him on my right. He slashed at me with the dagger as I ran past. The tip of the blade sliced over my left eye, and I tasted blood in my mouth as I grabbed his arm and swung up onto his back.

He leaned forward and began to roll to shake me off, but I managed to slice his throat with my knife before leaping clear. The knife skittered across the ground out of sight as the man fell to his knees, dropping my dagger and clutching at his neck. Blood gushed from the wound. It spilt through his fingers and ran down his arms in dark streaks.

I calmly picked up my dagger with my good arm and hefted it in my hand. The man’s eyes were pleading as he knelt before me, still clutching his neck. His face slowly turned pale as his lifeblood splattered onto the floor. I raised the dagger over my head. “You had your chance to repent,” I said. “Now you can rot in hell.” The man closed his eyes as my arm fell, running him through the heart with my dagger.

His lifeless body slipped from my blade as the man dropped to the ground.

Wendelin screamed, “No!”

I wiped the blade across his chest to clean the gore from it, then turned to face her and breathed deeply. Now, it was just the two of us.

My right arm still hung limp, and blood from the gash on my forehead ran down my face, blurring the vision in my one eye. I wiped my face with my sleeve and waited for the girl to make the first move, using the time to recover some of my strength.

I did not have long to wait. Firing from the hip with her staff, she ran at me with fury in her eyes. I dodged most of the flaming blue fireballs shooting from her staff. Others, I deflected with my dagger. But as she continued firing, one shot found its mark, striking me full in the chest and knocking me on my back.

I must have blacked out for a moment or two. The next thing I knew, Wendelin was standing over me with the tip of her staff pressed hard against my chest and one foot pinning my dagger hand to the ground.

She leaned on her staff until I could hardly breathe. A wicked smile crossed her lips as she fired twice more into my chest at point-blank range. My whole body spasmed as the dark energy from her staff pulsed through me. The shock wave sent clouds of dirt into the air. Then, she pressed down even harder, her staff vibrating against my chest as she charged it again.

With my last gasps of breath, I whispered to the wind, knowing he had lingered in that space lest I might call upon him. No sooner had I called his name than a spiral of air formed overhead, spinning faster and faster until it created an updraft so strong that my hair was pulled skyward.

Wendelin cried out in surprise as the vortex lifted her into the air. Released from her hold on me, I scrambled to my feet, gasping for breath. My legs were unsteady, but I got out from under the vortex just as the wind spun faster, tightening its grip on the girl. She screamed and fought against the wind, but the wind was strong, and she had drained her energy fighting me.

I stumbled towards the tent, intending to grab Gryff and run for it. Before facing the girl again, I needed to find a way to escape the barrier and cast a regeneration spell to heal my wounds. Only then would I be strong enough to defeat her.

But it was not to be. Showing a surprising strength, Wendelin drew the dark energy of the barrier into her staff. It glowed with blue fire as the energy flowed into it until its power was so great it was too bright to look at. The staff exploded as a massive pulse of energy and light flew from it, shattering the vortex and scattering the wind in every direction.

Freed from the wind’s grasp, Wendelin landed on one knee just as the resulting blast of air battered me to the ground and shredded the tent into tatters that flapped noisily against the tentpoles before collapsing on top of me.

As I fought to get out from beneath the tent, the girl sprang towards me, pulling a narrow blade from a sheath at her hip. I managed to free myself from the waist up, but with my right arm still hanging limp, I struggled to untangle my legs from the tent fabric and guidewires.

Stooping down, Wendelin grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head back to expose my neck. She pressed her blade against my throat, and our eyes locked. I felt a trickle of blood run down my neck as I stared up into her fanatical gaze. Looking deep within her, I glimpsed the evil presence that had possessed her. I felt only pity, knowing her mind was no longer her own. The Witch had entrapped her soul.

The girl tensed, and I braced for the mortal blow.

But instead, her eyes dimmed, and she coughed. There was a death rattle in her breath. Blood dripped from her mouth as she released her grip on my hair.

Wendelin’s life waned before my eyes, and then she toppled over onto the ground. Dead.

A shadow loomed over me, and I looked up with a start. Gryff stood staring at the girl, his face working furiously with anger and sorrow. His bloody hand gripped a knife.

With Wendelin’s death, the barrier started to groan. The air went still, and I coughed as a bitter smell like burnt almonds burned my throat. Gryff and I could only watch as the barrier dissolved around us, and the forest reappeared as though from out of a fog.

In one last burst of blue energy, the barrier vanished silently into the sky overhead.

Gryff dropped the knife and fell to his knees, his face dissolving into a mass of tears and grief. I had to do a double take, for as I looked at Gryff, I realised I was seeing his true appearance for the first time - his masking spell had vanished along with the barrier.

He had a youthful face. Strong and lean. And still, those striking, gentle blue eyes. I liked what I saw, but more pressing matters were at hand.

Freed from the barrier and worried there might be more of the Witch’s operatives nearby, I quickly cast a regenerative spell to heal my wounds and restore my energy. Then, I scanned the surrounding area with my senses to ensure we were not in immediate danger.

There was nothing I could do for Gryff save to hold him in my arms until his tears had run their course.

And so that is what I did.

A little while later, after Gryff had regained some measure of composure and had steeled himself to the task, we buried his sister beneath a pile of stones at the base of an ancient and beautiful tree. Gryff seemed at a loss, so I said a few words over her grave and then etched her name into the tree with my knife.

I stood back and admired my handiwork. The name “Violet” was visible in the tree’s thick bark.

We stood in silence as Gryff ran his fingers over the word. Then he seemed to gather himself together, for he breathed deeply and turned to me.

“Thank you,” he said. “For everything you have done this evening.”

I put my hand on his arm and smiled. “Thank you. For saving my life.”

“What happens now?”

“I don’t know about you, but I plan to get well and truly sozzled.“ I squeezed his arm. “Care to join me?”

Gryff looked at the pile of stones and then at the name carved in the tree. He took my hand and kissed my fingers. “I would like that.”

“Good. Then, let us return to the party and put this night behind us. On the morrow, we shall figure out what is to be done about you. And that book.”

Hand in hand, we walked through the woods with the noise of the celebration as our guide.

The merriment of the celebration continued well into the wee hours that night as Eli’s clan made the most of the festivities. As morning approached, the crowds thinned, and the remaining diehards settled in for a last few hours of quiet drinking before the sun rose to start another day. There would doubtless be more than a few groans and remorseful curses throughout the community the next morning.

Looking around the clearing at the handful who remained, some seated with their friends and others who wandered amiably about with no apparent direction in mind, it was hard to believe what we had been through earlier that night had really happened. The whole thing felt like a bad dream until I looked into Gryff’s eyes and found there the sorrow that still haunted him.

Before it had happened, we had danced together with a passionate excitement that had been intoxicating all by itself. Afterwards, when we returned to the party, we reached new heights of drunken revelry as we both let loose with careless abandon in a desperate desire to forget.

By the end, we were legless and leaned against each other as we staggered off in search of a warm bed and a bit of privacy. Thankfully, Eli’s partner - a she-wolf named Luna - had arranged for my old room to be prepared, and so it was that I awoke there late the next day with a thick head and a stubborn blurriness of vision that stirred my stomach to mischief whenever I moved too quickly.

Even as I woke, my time amongst the wolf-folk was already running short, for I intended to resume my journey that very night as soon as the sun had set. Although there was much that needed doing before then, I was reluctant to leave a place that had felt like a second home to me ever since I was a child. I stared at the wooden ceiling with watery eyes still stinging from the night before and admitted I was also not yet ready to leave the warmth and comfort of that bed.

Though my ale-dulled head rebelled against my attempts to concentrate, I forced myself to review my plans for the days ahead one last time.

That night, I intended to hike to the end of the glen, where I would find the remnants of an ancient track leading up over the lower mountains between Kallithea and Arrochar. All being well, four nights would it take to summit the lesser peak and work my way down the other side. From there, it was another night’s walk along a gently sloping path down from the foothills and into a small forest where I would rest and wait until daylight on the sixth day to enter the town of Riverton.

Despite my desire to remain concealed, I had no choice but to enter the town during the day. The alchemist in Riverton was a stickler for routine; her shop had opened from precisely nine until midday, no more and no less, every day without fail, for as long as anyone could remember.

I reminded myself I would need a disguise of sorts for that part of the journey as an added precaution against discovery.

After Riverton, I would journey many more leagues into the Misty Mountains and, from there, down into the Standing Stone Caves. Beyond the caves was the Lost Forest, a place I longed to visit once again.

It was difficult to see much beyond that, for after the Lost Forest, the road ahead became clouded to me. I sighed. Perhaps a month’s hard travel all told. And that would see me not even halfway through my journey. I sank further into the soft mattress in my room and decided that although I missed travelling the land, I much preferred a good bed and a warm hearth to sleeping rough in the wilds.

I thought then of what I must do in readiness for my journey. I knew without checking that my travelsack would have been replenished overnight with an assortment of foodstuffs. Luna would have seen to that. My flask I would fill from one of the many excellent springs that flowed clear and cold out of the mountains. Any other supplies that might be needed I would have to find along the way.

It sounded all too meagre for what lay ahead. Though, I was heartened to know I would be leaving with one unexpected treasure. The night of the celebration, Eli had taken me aside and pressed a folded cloth into my hands. “This will guide you when you need it most,“ he had whispered in my ear. I had lifted a corner of the cloth to discover a sliver of white Star Stone glowing faintly in the folds of the fabric. I had gasped as its power began to flow through me the instant I had glimpsed it. Eli had quickly covered it up again, wrapping it tightly and tying a deft knot with the corners of the cloth. “Careful, lass,” he had whispered. “Best tuck it away before anyone sees it. Keep it hidden until it is needed.” I had wholeheartedly agreed and had slipped it into one of the many secret pockets in my cloak.

I stretched and luxuriated in the warmth of the bed, knowing I could not delay much longer. Before nightfall, I wished to visit with Luna. Secure in her care was the fourth volume of the White Book of Magic. Its pages were rumoured to contain a history of Grimfeld, not to mention a particular spell I thought might prove useful in a pinch. I also sought counsel with Loic, the Delta wolf of the pack. Loic instructed the pack on sparring and combat techniques, but his true speciality was something altogether different, and I hoped he might advise me on a private matter which fell within his realm of expertise.

I stretched again. Most reluctantly, I slipped gently from the warmth and comfort of the bed, lest the day grew much older before I had even made a start. Very quietly, I padded across the room to wash my face from a bowl of cool water sitting on a shelf beneath the window, and there I found some relief from the still lingering effects of the night’s misdeeds. Then I bathed my hands and feet as was the custom in that realm and took a moment longer to fashion my hair into a braid so it would be more easily cared for while on the road.

Dressing as quickly and quietly as possible, I grabbed my gear and headed for the door. There, I stopped with one hand on the doorknob and turned back to the bed, where I could see a toned, hairy leg hanging uncovered from the far side of the bed. My eyes followed the leg upwards to an equally hairy and, I had to admit, nicely shaped bare buttock tangled in the bedsheets.

A vague memory from the previous night gradually appeared through the drunken fog in my brain of a man who said his name was Gryff and of his kind, pleasant face smiling back at me with the most startling blue eyes as we danced wildly amongst the wolf folk. I remembered, too, that afterwards, I had taken him to my bed, where we had continued a dance of an entirely different sort as we struggled to find comfort from the sorrow we both felt.

I had not had that kind of sweet company in all the many lonely years since going into isolation at Log Hollow, and I decided I had a great deal of catching up to do. I admired the bare buttock again. At least we had made a good start of it, I thought as I recalled the night’s activities with a sad smile.

I tried then to decide which was my worst weakness – the sweet green ale or quiet strangers with kind blue eyes. After debating this thought for a moment, I firmly concluded it was the green ale – for without its influence, all other weaknesses could be resisted. The briefest tinge of guilt passed over me as I remembered I did not know the real name of the man whose backside I was admiring. Though I knew it did not matter, for this, too, Luna would take care of.

As she took care of so many things.

With a small sigh and one more backward glance at that alluring buttock, I stepped onto a small veranda outside and closed the door behind me, careful not to make too much noise as the latch snicked into place.

My room was in a modest wooden treehouse high up in one of the gigantic ironwoods that filled the glen. The veranda where I stood high amongst the tree branches overlooked the gathering spot below, and beyond that, the view extended far down the glen to the place where the foothills of Kallithea and Arrochar met. I looked at the distant lower peaks between the two mountains where the track to Riverton would lead me; even from this distance, the snow looked cold upon them.

I stood a moment longer gazing at the mountains, and as I did so, my thoughts drifted to long-neglected memories of Eli and his kind from when I was a child living with the wood sprites. Often had I trained and hunted with the pack, and it was in those distant times that I had met Eli and Luna.

We have been good friends ever since.

They were a good match, Eli and Luna. Strangers might think Eli quiet or perhaps even stand-offish, but amongst good friends, he would come alive – full of life, loud and boisterous, and always up for a drink or a good party. Luna was the opposite – comfortable in the public eye but reserved and shy at other times, seemingly content within herself. Steady and loyal, the pair were quick to jump to the aid of anyone in need. It was obvious to anyone who saw them together they shared an unbreakable bond, for whenever they looked at each other, the love in their eyes said it all.

The Alphas of the pack, Eli and Luna spent most of their lives living as wolves high in the mountains at the entrance to their realm. They had been the Alpha pair since before my father’s reign, and under their faithful rule, the realm and its inhabitants had flourished.

I had always found the realm of the Lycanthropes fascinating. Some there choose to live primarily as wolves, while others prefer the human form. When I say human form, I mean only that they stand erect and resemble the human shape, with human-like faces and hands which are usually hairless. The rest of their bodies remain covered in thick fur with solid pads on the bottoms of their feet and sharp claws instead of toenails. When in human form, they speak human languages; as wolves, they speak a language all their own.

Hundreds of treehouses filled the woods thereabouts in a small community called Glahdring. Most who lived there did so as two-leggers**, while higher up in the hills, the native wolves roamed wild over great distances in small familial packs. Each year at Hunter’s Moon, all their kind met in the central gathering spot for celebrations beyond compare.

I roused from my thoughts as I spotted Luna passing through a clearing below where I stood. Her long red hair and startling green eyes were rare amongst her kind. Though we were not, some took us for sisters with our matching red hair. “Luna!” I called out and saw that she smiled and waved as she saw me.

“Niri!” she called back. “Join me, lass! I am headed to the chancellery to find that book you wish to see.”

I knew the book she spoke of, and I did very much wish to see it; I hurried down the circular steps that wound around the massive tree trunk and fell in step beside her.

Luna was one of a handful of her kind who wore clothes while in human form; most relied on their thick wolf fur taking on a sort of wool or tweed-like appearance that gave the impression of clothing. At least from a distance. Despite not being at my best, I noticed how striking Luna looked that day in a cream-coloured blouse and a full-length, draped brown skirt. Her feet were not visible beneath the skirt, but the custom amongst the wolf clans was to go barefoot when in human form. Walking next to her that day, I felt like an unmade bed in comparison.

“You look no worse for wear this aftermorn,” said a bemused Luna as we walked.

I was pleased to know I did not appear as rough as I felt. “I have yet to learn this lesson despite such painful reminders as this morning has revealed.”

Luna brushed an errant lock of her long red hair from her face and smiled. “You were quite…,” she hesitated as if searching for the right word. “Lively last night. My poor Eli will feel the fulsomeness of his age this day. And the day after as well, I shouldn’t wonder.”

I rubbed the back of my neck to ease a persistent stiffness there. “I will be glad when the thundering heartbeat quietens in my head. This is no shape to be in to start a journey through the pass.”

A brief look of concern crossed Luna’s face. “Must you leave so soon? We could provision you more fully after the next hunt. They are expected to return within the fortnight.”

I weighed this news carefully. The chance of further supplies was tempting and would ease my journey greatly, but the wind’s warning still echoed in my ears. “I fear I have already delayed too long,” I said with misgiving. “There are foul shadows in the night sky. I can feel their presence more than I can see them. And the wind tells me the Witch grows steadily stronger. Something is afoot, and I must get to Grimfeld with all possible haste to discover what it is ere it is too late.”

Luna stopped and looked at me with concern. “Your behaviour may sometimes be suspect, but I would trust your senses more than I trust my own sight.”

I was not offended by her comment about my behaviour - I knew more than anyone there was truth in what she said.

Luna looked deeply into my eyes. “Come,” she whispered. “We must keep up the pretence of you see this book. Then, I will leave you to see what can be done about your friend.”

A few minutes later, as we stood at the top of the winding staircase of the chancellery building leading to the caverns below, Luna professed to have urgent duties elsewhere, so with a quick wink, she handed me off to Chancellor Bryn - a slim, dark-haired two-legger who was Keeper of the building and all it contained.

After brief introductions and a description of what I was seeking, Bryn led me down to the central library archives on the ninth level. There, we searched by lanternlight for many hours for the fourth volume of the White Book of Magic. The stonework and lack of sunlight made the archive feel cool. Thankfully, the fires maintained on the very lowest levels provided a steady, dry breeze passing upwards through the building that helped keep the dampness at bay and aided the preservation of the tens of thousands of books stored there in seemingly endless rows of long, dusty, wooden shelves.

It was while I was at the end of one of those rows that I heard Bryn cry out from somewhere off to my left. “Aha!!” she shouted triumphantly, sounding strangely muffled in that cavernous place. “Here it is! The White Book of Magic. Volumes one, two, three…” Then there was a pause. “Now that’s strange. There’s no volume four. Why is there no volume four?!”

I had wandered quite far into the archive, not wanting to be anywhere close when she found the spot where the book should be, so it took several minutes to work my way back to Bryn. When I finally spotted her down one of the many corridors between shelves, she was standing before an empty spot on the shelf.

She looked up as she noticed me approaching, and I saw that her eyes were angry, her face troubled. “Volume four is missing! It is supposed to be here.” She tapped her hand firmly at the vacant spot where the book should have been, marked by a dusty outline on the shelf. “I confirmed only yesterday that it had remained here untouched since before your time - back when your mother was just a lass herself, learning her powers.” She tapped the vacant spot again, only more angrily this time. “So, why is it not right here!”

I could think of no reason I wished to mention, so I just shook my head quietly.

Bryn’s voice was strained as she said, “After all this time, why would anyone wish to take this book unless it was to prevent you from seeing it?” She made a good point; the timing was suspicious. “If that is indeed the case, then we have a traitor in our midst.” Bryn’s face partly transformed into her native wolf-self. It never ceased to astonish me how the Lycanthropes could so readily shift any part of themselves between wolf and human form. With her long wolf snout, she sniffed the gap on the shelf where the book should have been. Then she sniffed the books nearby and knelt to check the floor for any trace of scent.

“Whoever it was,” she said as she transformed her face back to human form, “they knew what they were about. The only scent here is ours. Any others have been masked.”

“No easy thing to mask scent from a wolf,” I muttered, as I recalled returning to this spot in the middle of the night to do just that.

“Agreed. There must be some strong witchery involved here; otherwise, I would have marked our intrepid thief. This must have happened last night. Everyone would have been at the celebrations. Even me. It was the only time the library would have been left unguarded in the whole of the past fortnight.”

My gaze shifted into the distance as I thought of the man I had left in my bed and tried to hide those thoughts from Bryn.

The pounding in my head returned. I closed my eyes briefly to try to ease the dull ache. Feeling somewhat guilty, with a small voice, I asked, “Bryn, do you know the man I danced with last night?”

She thought a moment. “No. I have not seen him before. But the way you two were carrying on, I thought he was familiar to you. One of the many men from your past.”

“What do you mean by ‘many’?” I said irritably.

Bryn cocked her head to one side and shrugged, “Do you not know this yourself?”

“Hmph,” I muttered and decided to let the matter drop. I gripped her arm and squeezed it tight. “Come with me to my room. If there is a man there, we shall question him. But if my room is empty, as I suspect it will be, then I shall know who our thief is.” The plan Luna and I had concocted in the wee hours of the morning suddenly seemed far too transparent. To change the subject, I grabbed the third volume of the White Book of Magic from the shelf. “May I borrow this volume, instead? There is a transfigurement spell I wish to learn before my journey.”

“Yes, of course. But why transfigurement? Is not a masking spell much less taxing?”

“It is. But masking spells can be detected. Transfigurement cannot. Leastwise not without considerable skill, and even then, only at very close range.”

Bryn’s eyes narrowed. “What are you up to?”

Ignoring her question, I put the book in my travelsack. “I shall leave this with Luna before I go,” I said. Then we hastened back to my room, though I already knew what we would find there.

“Why do you suspect the man you danced with?” asked Bryn as we stood inside my empty room a few minutes later. As I had predicted, there was no trace of the stranger who had spent the night in my room.

I shrugged. “He was the only human there who was a stranger to me.” I hesitated before asking the question Luna had suggested when we devised our plan. “If he had stolen them as I slept, would his wearing my boots have been enough to mask his scent?”

Bryn seemed surprised by this question. She thought about it for a moment before answering with a questioning look in her eyes. “Not on its own. If nothing else, he still would have left some trace of himself in the air. But I detected nothing of his presence there. It would have required some powerful witchery to mask himself from me. Or perhaps he used a levitation spell from a safe vantage point to whisk away the book undetected. Of course, there is also the possibility that he bewitched you into taking the book yourself.”

Grudgingly, I admitted, “It would take a highly skilled mage indeed to have done any of these things. I did not sense any trace of magic use in the library today, though there would be little left to trace after more than a few hours.” I was hesitant to ask, “I have not read the fourth volume. How dangerous would it be in the wrong hands?”

Bryn looked hard into my eyes. “I can say only that we must find that book ere we discover the answer to your question to our grave detriment. Whatever quest you may have been on before, your only obligation now must be to retrieve that book. No matter the cost. Let us seek counsel with Eli and Luna. No doubt Eli will wish to send the pack to scour these mountains. Rest assured, the pack will find a trace of our thief if there is any trace to be found.”

Red-faced, I looked around my room as I struggled to hide my thoughts. Three things had I learned since my arrival in that realm. Firstly, that despite Eli’s assurances, there had indeed been a traitor in their midst, as Bryn had so shrewdly suspected. I had sensed his treachery at the celebration the night before, having discovered the powerful masking spell he had cast to conceal his identity. As fate would have it, his beautiful blue eyes had been his downfall, unable as he had been to hide his true self from reflecting within them.

Secondly, that even with Gryff’s arrival there, my presence in Glahdring was not then known to the Witch. This I had confirmed in the small hours of the night, having grilled him after taking him to my bed. By the time I was finished with him, he had confessed all that he knew, which was only of having been hired to steal a particular book the Witch wanted for herself. He did not know anything about me or my reason for being there.

And, lastly, as I thought of all the kind and generous souls who called that place their home, I knew for their safety, I must stick to Luna’s plan to let them and the world believe the book had been stolen, rather than risk the Witch learning of the book’s true fate – which was that I had taken the fourth volume of the White Book of Magic for myself, so I might keep it safe from the Witch’s grasp.

I looked sideways at Bryn and wondered what she would think if only she knew I had the book hidden on my person at that very moment, bound to me by a secret keeping spell of my own making.

Eli did not know the thief had already been neutralised, and Luna and I had no intentions of telling him. At least not until my quest was concluded. It was safer for the pack to spend the next hours and days scouring the area for an unknown thief than it would be for any of them to accompany me on my journey. Which they were sure to do if they thought I was in danger for having taken the book.

Luna understood that - just as she understood it would put everyone there at risk if we were to leave in her realm a magic book so greatly desired by the Witch. And so, for the safety of her people, Luna had assisted me in devising our small deception, letting everyone believe it had been stolen. Which, in a way, I suppose it had been.

“Just let me find him! I shall rip out his thieving heart and feed it to the vultures!” growled Eli, outraged at the news of a traitor in their midst. Luna and I exchanged furtive glances at that, relieved in our knowledge that the thief was not likely to be found. “Our borders have not been breached even once in all the long years of my rule. My deepest apologies, dear Niri. This should not have happened.” He gnashed his teeth and growled, “It will not happen again!”

A wave of guilt passed through me as he apologised. But I knew in my heart that this was how things had to be. For all their sakes. And so, I remained silent, keeping my secret and my guilt to myself.

Afterwards, it took many hours to gather the most able trackers and organise them into search parties, so it was quite late in the day when Eli finally left with the last group. Regretfully, circumstances as they were, I was unable to seek the counsel of Loic as I had hoped, and this I knew would be a grievous loss as my journey progressed. But Luna and I agreed that the sooner I resumed my quest - taking the magic book with me - the sooner the danger would pass for those I left behind.

And so it was, later that evening as the light grew dim, soon after Eli and the last of his search parties had headed into the surrounding wilderness, that Luna and I walked together unnoticed to the far end of the glen where we paused at the foot of the mountains at the start of the rough path that marked the next part of my journey.

“Thank you for what you have done for us this day,” Luna said, turning to me and taking my hands in hers. “You have rooted out an unexpected thief in our midst and have once again ensured the safety of my people. In so doing, you have put yourself at no small risk should the Witch ever discover what you now possess. We owe you so much already, and now we owe you for this, too.”

I squeezed her hands. “You owe me nothing. But if you did, your wonderful hospitality would be more than ample repayment.” We embraced, and while in her arms, a part of me wavered, wishing I could remain with Luna and Eli and all their kind in that remarkable place.

Instead, girding myself against what must come, I stepped back and allowed myself one last long look down the glen as I remembered so many good things from long ago. Then, with a quick smile and nod to Luna, I turned and stepped out onto the path, unsure in my heart if I might see any of them again.

Long after, Luna’s mournful parting wolf call echoed on the wind, keeping me company as I walked alone through the night.

 

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* There were twelve commonly known levels in the Thieving Guild. Each level required considerable training and achievement to progress to the next. The higher levels granted access to a greater share of Guild revenues. To be ranked ninth in the Guild system was to be an exceptionally skilled thief.

** “Two-leggers”: A common local colloquialism meaning a Lycanthrope who lives in human form. Sometimes also used as a derogatory term to refer to outsiders.