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Mack was frequently surprised with how long he'd been alive. It was strange really. Men like him weren't supposed to be the long-livers. He'd accepted that pretty early on. It was part of the training he got in the Wolf Guard. The goal was the mission. Surviving the mission was optional. Failure was not.
So he never had reckoned on what it would be like to fail. It hadn't borne considering.
"Time for home I think" King Weregar said in a contemplative voice as he stared out across the rocky hills before him. The campaign hadn't left him looking very kingly. His beard had gotten long and his curly hair a bit wild. His armor was of the highest quality, but with road dust and sweat worked into it he didn't look much better than any of his soldiers. He tapped a hand on the hilt of his sword. There was a fresh scratch across the crossguard where the Jackal had got him with a set of claws. The King had a few fresh scars on his forearm from that too. Another set for his extensive collection.
Omir was a ruddy blighted place. It was all sharp brown mountains and between those were sharp brown rocks with sharp brown sand between the rocks. What was between the sand? Sharp brown plants. How could plants be sharp? The gods liked misery, it was why there was so much of it in the world.
"Bloody long fight that was" Mack commented as he wiped sweat off his brow. The sun was setting red on the horizon. Somehow, the brown land of Omir stayed hot even with the sun this low. The fortress they'd busted open and burned was still a smoky smear at the top of the mountain pass. They hadn't had to besiege it, thank Bren. They'd caught them with the gate open. The Jackal Lord was too full of himself to harden up his defenses, ruddy stupid rich twat.
Weregar grunted, arms crossed as he watched the smear of smoke trickle up towards the empty sky. "We'll be home before winter at least. My wife shouldn't be too put out with me. I told her we'd be back by fall at the earliest, winter at the latest"
"I told mine I'd be back by spring if you didn't get me killed" Mack snarked.
Weregar barked a laugh and turned away from the result of their work. He started to pick his way down the sharp brown hillside. He slapped Mack on the shoulder as he passed "Come along Captain. If we hurry we might see those children of ours be born"
"If Tilley bears me a son and I miss it I'm blaming you personally your Majesty" Mack said to his King's retreating back.
His King shot him a yellow-eyed gaze over his shoulder "And if its a daughter?" he asked.
Mack considered for a moment as he slid down the hill to walk at the King's right shoulder "I'm challenging you to a bloody duel for makin me miss my daughter's birth" he decided.
Weregar snorted "Then I'll pray to Bren he gave you a son"
"You better"
....
Mack had served Weregar since they were both boys. The Wolf Guard recruited fairly early and started apprenticing the Prince's personal guard in his teen years. It was a long and strict selection process. It was meant to grow the warriors that would follow him into battle for decades. The Wolf guard were not a terribly large force, but they were bred and trained like no other.
Mack had always known that serving Weregar would leave him with his hands full. The man was an exemplar Graywolf. He put himself at the front of every charge and covered every retreat. What this meant for Mack was that he also had to be first in every fight and limping out of it last. It was the curse of following someone so ruddy heroic. He wondered what it must be like to be a personal guard to a Lord that didn't get into so many scrapes.
He wondered, but he couldnt picture serving another Werelord. He knew this one too well.
Weregar was uneasy on the road back from Omir. The path back through the Barebones was treacherous. They had an easier time of it than some. Lord Gryphyn circled overhead in multiple sorties a day. He would find them the easiest path and let them know of any approaching threats. What's more, they had Stag Rangers with them, who were by far the best mountaineers in Lyssia.
Which was why the Wolf's uneasiness was starting to bother Mack.
"Not sure why you look like someones stepping on your tail. The Jackals aren't chasing us. We made sure they didn't have the forces for it" Mack said as he patted the neck of his charger. The horse was in better shape than either man. It wouldn't do to take poor care of his horse. But he found worry over looking presentable on campaign was one worry too many.
Weregar jerked those piercing yellow eyes over. His brow drawn down "Ah, its nothing. I know they have not got the forces to hit us from behind. I am not worried"
Mack squinted at him "Then why do you look worried?"
The Wolf scowled at the horizon ahead of them. If he was in his Wolf body his hackles would be up "I...do not know. Something just feels wrong. I cannot put a finger on what"
Mack grunted. Werelords, he noticed, tended to get vague when their instincts were telling them something "If ya think we're about to get ambushed let me know. We're bottlenecked in the mountains like this, but I can break up the column a bit more..." Mack started, looking back to identify his platoon leaders and starting to map out in his head how he'd disperse the column a bit to react to an attack.
Weregar held up a hand to stall him "No Mack, that's not it. We are not in danger. This feels...bigger. I cannot pin it down more than that"
Well that wasn't helpful at all. Mack squinted at the King for a moment "I know sleeping's shit on campaign but maybe you ought to try to turn in early. I can run the rotations tonight on my own"
Weregar blew out a hard breath "No Mack, you are not doing battlefield circulations on your own. I do not care how many times you offer. If you are up getting troops in order then so am I"
"What do you even keep me for if its not for doing work?" Mack grumbled.
Weregar finally cracked a very tired smile, that worried look fading but not going away "Who else would cover my flank?"
Mack kept grumbling and he cast another critical eye on his King. He'd convince the man to turn in early. The long nights on campaign were probably just geting to him. Probably.
........
They were half a day out from Highcliff when Mack saw the dust of a column approaching up the Dimling road. Lord Gryphyn landed in a whirl of feathers and a cloud of dust a few yards away from Mack and the King. His hawkish nose and brow giving him an extra severe look "Its Bear Troopers your Majesty. It looks like messengers. Id' say Duke Berghan has sent word from the Capitol"
"The Lord Protector is likely rumbling with impatience to be relieved of his duties" Weregar said lightly. But he still had that worried look to him. Mack was starting to feel on edge as a result. It was probably nothing.
.........
The message was not good. But Mack didn't believe it until Duke Berghan arrived.
The Lord Protector of Highcliff had followed behind his own message by a mere few hours. The man was injured, and looked like death. But, he'd pushed through to arrive at the impromptu council that got set up in the King's tent. Baron Huth, who had been attending the Queen arrived with him, patching the Duke's injuries with frazzled speed.
Mack felt nauseous and half out of his body as the Duke gave his account to the Wolf's council.
Bastians had attacked the capitol. Bastians. Mack hadn't ever even SEEN a Bastian in his life. The Catlords were powerful, but they kept their nonsense on the southern half of the world. They hardly crossed the ocean, but when they did it was largely for trade. You'd only see the odd trader in the southern port cities. But Catlords were little more than vague mentionings on the wind.
But apparently, one had attacked Highcliff. The Bastian fleet had managed to outmanuever the royal navy in the white sea and a small flotilla had slipped through Vega's net. The Count himself had chased them down, overhauling a few but missing their main force.
That force had no intention of conducting a war. No, they'd sent a small group directly into the palace and taken the Queen and the entire royal residence hostage. Berghan himself had been in the force that fought the Bastians as they made the first hall of the palace. But the common soldiers were all armed with silver. Silver! Normally you only saw the stuff on weapons to be used in fights between Werelords. It was sheer insanity to arm one's whole force with it. But this Catlord had done just that.
Duke Berghan had taken a few silver arrows before his soldiers had to haul him away to save his life. Huth had been outside the residence at the time. If he hadn't been on hand, Berghan wouldn't have made it. There was no doubt. As it stood, the Bear could hadly walk on his own.
Berghan was telling all this as the assembled Werelords peppered him with questions. They all looked a half second from letting their Beast forms out with agitation. The Stags both had glowing purple eyes. The Hawk was practically growing feathers. Even Fripp the old Badger-lord was rumbling nonstop in his chest.
Mack was hardly paying attention to their growing argument. He was caving in on himself. Tilley was in there. She'd been due to give birth very near to when Queen Amelie was due with Weregar's youngest. The Queen had insisted that Mack's wife give birth with the royal midwives on hand. Tilley was fully planning to wet nurse for the new prince or princess when they were born. Might as well, she'd be nursing their own child anyway.
If she hadn't already given birth, she was trapped in there. If she had given birth, there was no way she hadn't been in the residence with her Queen due any day. He'd never felt like this in his whole life. He realized that he'd never actually been afraid before. Scared, yes. But this was true fear. Fear of losing...everything.
The thing that snapped him out of his own spiral was the look on the King's face. If Mack felt near collapse, Weregar had already passed that point and circled somewhere worse. He was in his chair, both arms planted on the armrests and his sword leaning against the leg of the chair. But Mack could tell the man wasn't even in his body. His eyes were dark empty pits and his whole frame looked like it might shake apart.
If the residence was taken, then it was certain that the Queen was being held. But, his three other children were in there as well. His two daughters were barely three and four. His eldest, his dear son, was seven. Children. Too young. Too young.
Mack ghosted up to his King and put a hand on his shoulder. Weregar jerked, his face shooting up. His eyes flashed bright yellow for a moment. The Wolf in him likely wanted out with his family in danger like this.
Mack clenched down harder on the man's shoulder, it likely hurt. But Mack thought he'd prefer any physical pain to how he felt at the moment. So, he imagined Weregar might feel the same. "What are your orders. Your Majesty?" Mack asked. This was something the Captain always asked. Every time they'd been in a scrape they might not make it out of. When the fight was rough, when the supplies were short, when they'd both lost too much blood to stay on their feet for long. He always asked this. It always made the Wolf plant his feet, and peel back his lips for another snarl.
It worked to snap the King out of whatever dark place he'd sunk. Those yellow eyes focused on Duke Berghan, his voice filled the room like the crack of a whip.
"Who is this Catlord?" he asked the Bear even as the Wolf shined out of his own eyes.
Berghan rumbled, whether from pain or frustration it was hard to tell "After he...took the keep, he declared that he was Leopold of Bast. Cousin to Emporer Orsinoe of Bast. Frankly, beyond the Emporer, I haven't the slightest idea how the Bastians reckon their family trees. He might be a nobody by their reckoning. He might be next in line for the throne"
"But he is a Catlord?"
Another rumble "He's a Lion-Lord. I traded clawmarks with him. I'd have had his throat in my paw but his soldiers shot me when I got him on the ground"
Duke Manfred leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin. It seemed he'd got his Beast under control once the King started speaking "The Emporer is a Panther-Lord. This Leopold must be a distant cousin then. Its possible he doesnt have the full support of Bast in this. If we can foil the forces he has, he may not have backup on the way"
Earl Mikkel, twelve years his brothers junior with a hot head to match, "What does he need reinforcements for? He's got us by the throat with the little he brought"
Lady Ygwain, the Were-Fox spoke with sharp certainty "He can't hope to hold Highcliff with the numbers Berghan has described. Even if he can keep his hostages, his plan is short-term at best. He must have some other trick up his sleeve" she studied the dark claws on her hand. She'd gone ahead and let the orange glow of her Fox overtake some of her features. In fairness, she usually did this when strategizing. She said the Fox sharpened her wit. Mack supposed her strategies spoke for themselves.
The King flicked his hand to quiet the chatter "Has he made any demands?" he aked the Bear, seeming to suck the air out of the room with his question as all the Lords swiveled to see the Bear's face wrinkle in a snarl. He did not like what he was about to say.
"The Lionlord has demanded....your surrender. Its odd, but he just wants you personally, your Majesty"
That made more chatter break out "He doesn't want the surrender of the Wolf Guard? Or the Lyssian Alliance?' Lady Ygwain asked in shock.
"How dare he!" said Fripp. This was echoed by a few more.
"That cannot be all he demanded" Weregar said with much more calm than Mack would have expected.
The Bear seemed to shrink in on himself a bit "He says he wants a peaceful transfer of power. He wants your surrender. He said he'd swear on his honor he'd send you and your family into exile"
Weregar cocked his head, looking very much like a Wolf even though he didn't seem to be near a shift. The King just stared at Duke Berghan with that same thoughtful look.
Mack did not like that particular look. That look meant Weregar was contemplating something dangerous. He leaned down to hiss into the King's ear "You're not considering this are you?" he asked hurriedly.
The King didnt seem to hear him "The Lion asks for my personal surrender? I presume that would include abdication and transfer of titles?" he asked the Bear.
Duke Berghan nodded "That is what he asked. Given how little blood he managed to spill while getting into the palace, aside from my own, it seems he's aiming for a clean takeover" this made all the Werelords present look thoughtful.
"What is the liklihood he'd honor that?" asked Mikkel "Just release the royal family and let them leave?"
"Its not impossible. The Catlords have been known to honor peaceful transfers of power. Something similar happened when Emporer Orsinoe's father took the Apelord's lands" Lady Ygwain observed in a neutral tone.
Were they all actually considering this? Mack couldn't contain himself by this point. He planted a fist on the table, making it rattle. "Oh, Im sure the Catlord would love a clean and easy takeover" sarcasm whipped out of his mouth regardless of the lordly ears it was falling on "He'll have more blood than he knows what to do with if he thinks he can take Highcliff by holding women and children hostage. The Wolf Guard won't stand for that!"
Berghan's low rumble turned into a growl as he focused on the Captain "No one asked for your advisement Farren"
Mack curled his lip right back "Well apparently someone needs to be speakin sense right now. You honestly think a kidnapper who steals in to people's homes without declaring war will follow your rules of conduct? He's no better than a thief or a pirate. I say treat him like one"
Berghan planted his hands on the table like he was about to stand "We need to consider all options Farren. We're in an impossible situation at the moment"
Mack was about ready to come across the table at the Bear "Do ya have a bloody mouse in your pocket? Who's 'we'? There is no 'we' in this situation. My WIFE!" he pointed at the King "And his wife are in danger. The only discussion that needs having here is how we're going to get to this Catlord and turn him into a blasted Lionskin rug"
Baron Huth, who had up till this point been sitting to the side a bit holloweyed finally spoke up "Its not just your wife, your Majesty" he spoke past Mack to address the King "I delivered her child two days ago. She bore a son"
That seemed to strike every soul in the room speechless for a moment.
Baron Huth looked down at his knit hands, like he hated what he was saying but needed to spew it anyway "He could have stopped myself and Duke Berghan from leaving, but he let us get away to lick our wounds. I think, considering the vulnerability of the ones he's holding, a direct attack is too great a risk. I also think its likely he would release his hostages if his demands are met"
Mack's jaw was frozen shut in horror.
Weregar spoke to Duke Berghan "You crossed blades with this Catlord. Do you agree with the Baron?"
The Duke grumbled "Werelords do not kill each other outside combat. It is the way of things....Yes, I think he'll honor the terms of surrender"
Mack swore he saw red. Were these not the King's allies? Why were they even considering sending him to the mercy of a Catlord? "You ruddy, cowardly Bear!" Mack spat. Duke Berghan actually stood up at that, his eyes glowed green and his snarl filled the tent. Mack opened his mouth to lay out some more insults, but he cut himself off when a hand landed heavily on his shoulder.
"Mack, that's enough" Weregar said with a warning growl. He'd stood from his chair to look Mack in the eye. The yellow of the Wolf in his eyes had faded. All that was left was the normal amber color, and a whole lot of what looked like resignation. Mack hated that look with everything in him.
"Your Majesty! You cant...." he started.
"Captain Ferran" Weregar started, coolness making his voice sharp and precise "You have given your opinion. If you cannot keep your composure I'll need you to leave"
Mack whirled to be nose to nose with the King "Your Majesty" he said low and dangerous "This is about your children. You can't seriously..."
Those eyes burned bright yellow as the Wolf came forward to line the King's voice "I am thinking of my children, and what would keep them safest. Leave. Now"
Mack felt an odd sinking in his gut. He cast his gaze around the tent. All the Lords were looking at him with hostility. Duke Berghan still looked ready to climb across the table and rip him apart with tooth and claw. No one was listening. No one would listen. Not even the King.
"You're all fools and you're gonna get your King killed" he snarled, then turned on his heel and stalked out.
............
It was late in the night but Mack was shaking with energy. He walked circles in between the enormous trees just beyond the glow of the watchfires. He made sure not to leave the sight of the sentries, didn't want to get mistaken for an intruder. The Wolf Guard watched him with worried looks as he wore a path with his pacing.
He gripped the pommel of his sword rhythmically and felt like his teeth might crack. Everything in him was screaming at him to move. Get the Guard scared up. Start sending out scouts and identify a way in to Highcliff. He was already forming a plan. He'd run the security for Highcliff Keep since he was a Liutenant. What's more, he'd courted a Lady's maid that was in training to be a governess. Between the two of them, they'd snuck off to many out of the way corners to get moments alone. He knew every seam and cranny of that castle. If anyone could get in and out quietly, it was him and maybe a few choice Wolf Guard.
That's what he'd do. He'd put together a rescue plan and present it to Weregar. He already had half of one in mind. If he showed it would hold water, then the King would drop this foolish idea of surrender.
Yes the risk to the Queen and her children was great. But at this point, their death was all but guaranteed. Likely to die and certain to die were two very different things.
He heard the sentries on duty shoot to attention and give quiet greetings. The Captain turned to see Weregar slapping a hand on their shoulders, then beat a path towards Mack. The King had changed into light armor, but Mack noticed the knives were missing from his boots. He was willing to bet the hidden blades weren't there either. He had his wolf's head blade. But instead of having it strapped to his side, the blade was sheathed in his hand.
Out of habit, Mack inclined his head in greeting, but rushed to speak "Your Majesty, I know what I said in there was rude, but you have to listen. If you let me take Graywolf Platoon and do an infiltration, Im certain..."
Weregar held up a hand to stall him. "No Mack, I need you to listen. I'm going with Berghan and Manfred. They're going to turn me over"
"But.." Mack started, but Weregar cut across him.
"The Lords are all convinced this is the best way to get Amelie and the children free. Once I have them clear, Ygwain is planning to take the Fox Lancers to clear out Highcliff Keep and drive the Lion out. Even if I abdicate, the Lyssian Alliance won't recognize it. They intend to turn me over and ensure we free the residence before giving the Lion an even fight"
"You Majesty! Thats the dumbest..."
Weregar stalked up to Mack and grabbed him by the shoulder. His Wolf must be coming to the surface because the grip hurt and made the Captain wince. "I am less certain than they are. Frankly, I think this Catlord is likely to attempt a double cross"
"Then why?" Mack exploded "You are the King! Your safety is more important than anything or anyone else. If we hand you over then what's stopping him from using you as a hostage? Or if he kills you?"
"That's a risk I take gladly" Weregar had a bitter half-smile on his face "At the moment Mack, Im not acting as a King. This decision is a bad one for a King to make. But right now, I am no King. I am a husband and a father. I will do whatever it takes to protect them" he held up the wolf's head blade for Mack to take. "Im going to entrust this to you. If the Wolf Guard are seen it will likely cause the Lion to assume he's being double crossed. They will form the rearguard while Ywgain gets the Fox Lancers positioned for attack once I get the residence freed. Im going to get Tilley out too, Mack"
The Captain took a stumbling step back, his head felt somehow disconnected from his body. he was almost dizzy "No. No . No. I will not go along with this. You can order me all you want but I will not order the Wolf Guard to stand aside while you go to your death. If you die then we die with you. Not a soul in the Guard would want it any different"
Weregar shoved the sword in his chest, likely making a bruise with how hard he pushed. Mack instinctively grabbed the blade around the sheath with a wince.
Weregar stepped back from Mack. With the King's back to the watchfires, Mack couldnt quite see his expression. But his voice was cool and commanding. "If you will not order the Guard to do this, then effective immdiately you are relieved of command. Liutenant Rylee will assume command of the Wolf Guard. You will stay with them" He nodded down to the sword. "If....I do not make it back, I want you to give that to my son. Tell them I did everything I could" with his orders issued, the King turned back towards the camp, his head high and shoulders stiff.
"Weregar!' Mack shouted, half rage and half desperation. The King froze for a moment. "Please, dont do this. We can find another way. There's always another way. Let me try to save them. Let US try to save them!" he pleaded, clutching the sword with both hands.
Weregar didn't turn around. "Just...Tell them Mack" he said in a low voice. Then, he strode past the sentries and into the thick of the camp. There was a great deal of noise about, horses getting tacked up and soldiers getting martialed.
Mack stayed rooted to the spot for a long time, utterly lost at what he was meant to do now.
............
Mack made it to Highcliff through a back way that took him a bit south of the palace. He'd waited till the King and the Duke's left before he shot off on his charger, armor muffled with rags and the wolf's head blade slung across his back under his cloak. If Weregar refused to carry the thing, then having a silver blade might come in handy.
He'd been in the Wolf Guard so long, it felt odd to be travelling alone like this. They had trained to be a team, thinking together, moving together. Now, he only had the anxious voices in his head to keep him company as he tied his horse in a copse of trees and slid down the sheer side of the Wolf's Causeway.
He'd had a few entry points to the palace in mind. But luckily enough, he'd arrived at low tide. This meant that the water door would be accessible. The castle was built into a sheer cliff face that dropped directly into the sea, almost impregnable due to the verticle sides of the Causeway. But, centuries ago, the fortress had belonged to the Fishlords before it belonged to the Wolves. As such, there were several entryways that were underwater for most of the day. he worked his way down the steplike rocks that made up the Causeway, his back to the stone and his face to the roiling ocean waves. He knew a few old passageways that intruders wouldn't know to patrol. He could get into the residence and find Tilley and the Queen. From there, he was less certain if he could get all of them out by way of the water door.
But, Queen Amelie was a Whitewolf of Shadowhaven, she was stronger than most. Her and her children might be able to handle the ocean door better than he could. Only one way to find out, he supposed.
He made it down to the small stone archway that was hidden from view by the sloping of the cliff faces. Mack only knew it was here because he'd been shown it by his predecessor. It was a secret feature of the palace that precious few could know about, a way out in the event of a siege. A dangerous path, but a useful one.
For a moment he worried the old steel locking bar wouldnt budge, but after throwing his back into it, he got the ancient door open and he ducked into the stone passageway beyond. It was pitch black, but he couldnt risk a torch for fear of being spotted, he worked his way up the slick steps and tried to keep his heaving breath from bouncing off the walls.
It seemed to take forever, but eventually he made it to the stone wall at the top of the steps. It took a few tries for him to remember which brick to press. But, he managed to get the hidden door to slide away. Now, he was deep in one of the wine cellars of the palace.
Just a few dozen levels left to go. Joy.
It took a very roundabout route for him to get to the residence without being spotted. The royal quarters were the newest part of the palace, separated from the keep proper into its own wing. This also meant they had the fewest hidden avenues to travel.
He went to the Queen's quarters first. Hopefully they had just confined her there. If not, he might have to weave throught he palace till he found her. Wherever the Queen was, that was where Tilley would be.
He made it to the Queen's wing and ducked around a corner. There were two guards posted. They had the Bastian crest on their tabbard and gold-painted helms. So much for Manfred's idea that the Catlord didn't have the support of the Emporer.
Mack turned the other way and ducked into a nearby sitting room. He slid through a window as soundlessly as possible and jumped over two ledges till he made it to Tilley's window. The path was easy enough, he'd snuck in here enough times in his youth.
The drapes were drawn and the window locked, he rapped on it as quietly as he could. A few moments passed. Perhaps she wasn't in there. He was about to try the next window when the drapes were ripped to the sides and he was staring at Tilley's drawn face. She was pale and there were teartracks on her cheeks, but she was alive.
He didnt realize how worried he'd been that she might have died in the takover until he almost fell off the ledge with relief. Tilley wrenched the window open and grabbed him by the neck of his cloak. Without a word, she wrenched him into her rooms and closed the window behind him, snapping the drapes closed.
He manged to stumble to the center of the room, then he had to catch his balance when she ran straight into his arms. He gripped her tightly as he could, running a hand across her head as relief threatened to close his throat.
"You're here" she whispered into his chest. He pressed his face to the top of her head and breathed in deeply.
"I told you I'd be back by spring. Had to come early" he whispered back. This felt a bit surreal, like they were teenagers sneaking around again.
He blinked, gripped her by the shoulders then held her away from him. That was why it felt strange to hug her.
"You're not pregnant?" he hissed dumbly. Fear suddenly swamped him at the mix of tears that filled her eyes.
"That happens when you have a baby" she whispered back, she gripped him by the hand and lead him to the other side of the room. There were two cradles.
Mack felt like he might pass out, terrible time to be doing that. "Twins?" he croaked.
He could almost hear her rolling her eyes "No you dummy" she pulled him up to one of the cradles. The baby inside was swaddled and sleeping, a wrinkled pale face the only thing peeking out. "This ones yours"
Mack went to touch the baby's face, then realized his hand was gray with accumulated mud and grime. He instead touched the blanket with a feather light brush.
Tilley reached down to stroke the side of the baby's head. "I named him Trent. Hope you don't mind, seemed foolish to leave a boy for weeks or months without a name"
Mack found his voice was just a husky breath "Trent's a good name" he said. He might cry. He couldnt cry. Not now.
"And this one is her Majesty's. She named him Willem" Tilley said, lifting the other baby out of its cradle. It too was sleeping. Mack blinked at the tiny wrinkled face. So this was Weregar's youngest son. There wasn't much resemblance yet, though there usually wasn't for the first several months.
"Where is her Majesty?" Mack asked, suddenly pulled out of the haze that seeing his son had put him in.
Tilley wiped at the tears on her face "They took her away not an hour ago. I haven't been allowed to leave these quarters. They separated us from the other children. I had to fight them about it, but I was allowed to keep hold of him since Im his wet nurse" she explained.
Mack clenched his jaw. That complicated matters. He could get Tilley out easily enough. But if he had to go from room to room to find the other children? While trying to keep two newborns from crying?
He dearly wished he'd been allowed to bring the Wolf Guard.
He nodded "Alright, Im getting you three out first. I'll figure out where the Queen and the Prince and Princesses are once you're clear"
"We can't leave them Mack" Tilley objected.
He shook his head "Getting two babies out that might cry will be hard enough. You're tough in a bar fight but you can't fight armed soldiers. I'll get all three of you out of the palace. Her Majesty will be alright till I can find her"
Tilley's dark eyes hardened and she straightened her spine "Alright"
She turned and rummaged about till she found a few lengths of linen. She carefully wrapped Trent up and tied him to her chest. She did the same with Willem, but strapped across her back "They're light and you'll need your arms free to fight if need be" she explained as they got the tiny Prince secure.
Mack found a cloak to throw over her light-colored dress. It would have to do.
As silently as possible, he guided her out onto the sill and snuck them back through the sitting room. They ghosted through the palace with all the expertise of a guard and a lady's maid. They were doing wonderfully, until the stomp of boots and the light of a torch came up the hallway ahead of them. They were in one of the servant's halls made of bare stone. There was nowhere to hide. Mack shoved Tilley back against a wall and drew his blade. When the torches turned the corner he struck. It was two Bastian guards. He caught them unawares, the first died by slice to the throat. The other lost his head entirely.
The gold painted helmet hit the ground and Mack was face to face with who they'd been escorting. It was a woman wearing Bastian colors. Her skin was dark brown and eyes were sharp as she sized mack up. Though he'd just killed her men she looked casual.
"Oh and who might you be?" the woman purred.
Mack sunk into a fighting stance, he didn't know who this lady was but she reeked of danger.
"Mack, thats Lady Opal. She's a Werepanther" Tilley warned from behind him.
He grit his teeth. he should have drawn the wolf's head blade. It hadn't occurred to him, he'd drawn his own steel on instinct. He reached up slowly to the hilt that stuck out of the top of his cloak. He wasnt fast enough. The Werepanther charged him, half shifting with blinding speed. he tried to block and dodge, but she was faster than thought. She kicked him in the stomach and got a claw down his arm.
He shouted in pain as he rolled back towards tilley. He fought up to one knee. Blood was already pooling across his hand and making his hilt slick.
The Werepanther held up her blodied claw and licked it. "Mmmm, you're faster than the one's I had to gut to get in here" Her dark eyes flicked up to the hilt sticking up above his back "Did Weregar send you in here? Naughty naughty. He surrendered under a white flag and he still sends in his hounds?"
She stalked forward with feline grace. Mack slid back a step. He couldn't beat a werelord without silver. He needed to get the blade free without her jumping on him like that.
"He didn't send me" Mack spat through pain. Slowly, he turned his injured arm away from her so he could reach up for the silvered blade again. "He actually relieved me of command. I aint no one of consequence at the moment'
She chuckled low "Then you will die as nothing of consequence" she said. Then pounced. This time she came for his head. He ducked, spun, batted one of her paws away with his blade. She punched him in the gut. Then jumped on his chest both claws extended. He fell back, hitting the ground hard.
He dropped his sword and grabbed her by the wrists. She was much too strong for him to stop. But she seemed to want to play with her food. Slowly, she lengthened her claws and pressed them down, inch by inch towards his chest. Her feline black lips were pulled back in a happy snarl. He cursed as he tried to push her back.
He was going to lose.
Then, he heard a shuffling and saw Tilley crouch over his head. She nicked his ear with the wolf's head blade when she pulled it free from beneath him. Mack went from pushing the Panther back to gripping her paws against his chest. Her claws went straight through his breastplate like butter. But the change in tension surprised her just enough for Tilley's swing to land. Mack got a face full of Werelord blood. the Panther's weight crushed his chest as she went limp.
He looked up into Tilley's shocked face, the dripping silvered sword held before her "Are you alright?" she asked.
Mack had to think about it a moment "I think so" he looked down, still trying to blink the blood out of his eyes "As soon as I have this ruddy cat off me"
It took some shuffling, but Mack managed to get the shifted Werepanther off his chest and using the edge of her cape to wipe the blood out of his eyes.
Tilley offered him the wolf's head blade. He sheathed it and looked down to the baby she had across her chest and the lump that was the one across her back "They slept through that?"
Tilley shrugged "Its hard to tell what'll wake them up"
He gripped her hand and pulled her down the hall, away from the growing pools of blood on the floor "Then lets get moving before they do" he muttered.
Unluckily, the babies started crying once they made it through the secret door and started down the tunnel to the water door. Luckily, the sound of the ocean in there was so strong, it was unlikely anyone would be able to hear them. Tilley gripped the back of his cloak in the pitch black darkness as she shushed the newborns.
The climb back up the Wolf's Causeway was a close thing. By this point, high tide was starting to roll back in and a large silver moon was shining overhead. They were quick and Tilley shushed the wailing babies the whole way.
Finally, they made it back to Mack's charger. The horse tossed its head in greeting as Tilley stepped off to the side to open the front to of her dress. She let the children nurse while Mack got the saddle situated for her to ride.
With the babies quiet, Mack was finally able to hear an odd noise. It sounded like shouting.
"Mack. What's that light?' Tilley asked as she brushed past him. He slid around the side of the horse to see something that would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.
The copse of trees where they hid had a good view of the residence and the courtyard before it. They were up the side of the hill so they could even see in the windows. It was why he'd chosen the spot.
So they had a perfect view to see the building burning. It had to be an intentional fire, flame licked out of every window and on every level. It lit the night for miles as it quickly got going.
Mack turned back to the charger and ripped his spyglass out of a saddlebag. He looked through the windows. He couldnt see any people trying to get out. Then, a flash of light in the courtyard caught his eye.
A man in gold armor with a bared head of yellow hair was standing at the center of it, his arms wide. In one hand was a two-handed silver sword. Mack knew the glint even from this far away, the moon practically made the thing glow.
Before him, on his knees, was King Weregar. The man looked mussed, he was staring up the burning residence, his mouth oepned like he was shouting something. He had a small body clutched in his arms, it was hard to see in the dim light. But Mack felt nausea and horror dawn as he recognized the body as the eldest prince. The child's head was hanging limp , already dead.
The man in gold armor, Leopold assumedly, stalked up to the Wolf on the ground and grabbed him by the throat. Gold light coursed across him as he half-shifted into Lion form. He was easily seven feet tall, his golden mane and snout practically burned in the light of the great fire behind him. He said something to the Wolf, who wasn't even trying to fight. Then, the silver sword flashed. Straight through Weregar's chest.
For a decade after, Mack would wake up in a cold sweat, feeling that sword plunging into his own chest. Once that decade was up, the orange of the flames and flash of silver would never cease to haunt him.
The Lion dropped the body of the Wolf unceremoniously. He twirled that silver blade and raised it above his head, the troops around him pumping their fists.
Mack didn't hear Tilley until the third or fourth time she called his name. Her hands were on his cheeks and her face was shoved up into his. He had an odd ringing in his ears. He realized his knees hurt. He'd fallen down to them when his legs failed him. The spyglass had dropped from his hand. He looked down into his wife's face, hardly seeing her.
"Killed him. The Lion killed him" Mack found his mouth saying, though he hardly believed it.
"I know love, I know. We need to run. We need to go" Tilley said, patting his face to rouse him. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks. He finally noticed the soft sounds of crying. She'd strapped the babies back to her chest and back and they were still making the odd wail. Tilley pointed out towards the open water to their left "There's more ships"
With a jolt, Mack grasped the spyglass from the ground and looked out at the water. A few of the ships had torches on them. They weren't trying to hide then. The Bastian crest winked from where it was mounted on their prows.
The Emporer had sent his cousin backup. Lady Ygwain's plan to retake the keep would come to nothing. The King was dead. The Royal family was dead. The castle was taken. And with that many ships, the Catlords could take half of Lyssia.
It was over.
Mack shook his head. He got one shaking leg under him, then the other. He tugged Tilley over to the horse and boosted her up onto it. He hauled himself up after her and kicked the charger moving. They'd follow the coast for a bit, the crashing of the waves would muffle the cries of the babies and the sounds of their horse. Then he'd cut inland to the Dyrewood.
The two would hardly speak for the rest of that night and the following day.
They didn't stop running till they'd left the crashing of waves and the smell of smoke far behind.