Chapter Two:
Toomay didn’t want to wake up. She didn’t want to feel anymore. She didn’t want to think. Yet she forced herself to open her eyes, filling her vision with the marble ceiling of King Eeran’s quarters. A small noise came from within Toomay’s throat, resembling a feeble whimper. She bit the inside of her cheek and slipped out from beneath the feather comforter, wiping away a tear with the back of her hand and leaving the empty bed.
The soft rug beneath her bare feet almost made her cry out. It was so soft, so gentle. So unlike anything that had happened in the past month. The past night. She gritted her teeth, hugging herself as she walked through the stone archway and out onto the balcony, her thin under dress rippling in the cold ocean breeze.
The city of Tatorak lay sprawled before her eyes, bathed in early afternoon sunlight. The harbor was below the palace, filled with great wooden ships and small fishing vessels. Across the water from the palace were the wharves and docs, filled with minute black shapes that bustled about. Behind the wharves was the warehouse district, filled with huge stone buildings, the shipyards, moneylenders, and the odd pub. As the harbor shore curved around towards the palace, the warehouse district gave way to the small thatch houses and shops of Gildertown, the poor and destitute district of Tatorak. Toomay could just see a break in the thatch houses where three temples had been built. The tallest and most exquisite temple with its great turrets and golden colours was devoted to Tatorak. The one opposite was devoted to Luna, its turrets smaller and the colours all shades of silver and gray. And the third was there to please Lachista and Tahaka just enough to not curse Gildertown with some godforsaken disease.
As the land began sloping up towards the cliff Tatorak Palace stood on, Gildertown gave way to the Treb District. A stone wall corrupted with vines and wild flowers separated the two districts, even though the districts were so different in looks; there could be no mistaking one for the other. For the Treb District housed the rich citizens of Tatorak, with their stone villas and hanging gardens. Toomay could only see the very beginning of the Treb District from the balcony, but she knew that behind the palace, a fourth district laid. It was the Tatorak Palace District, filled with courtiers and nobles. To separate the Treb District from the Palace District was the Amoray River that flowed past the palace and cascaded down the rock face into the harbor below.
Toomay watched the waterfall absently, leaning on the alabaster rail and tracing her finger along its cold smoothness. She sniffed, her eyes finally dry of tears, before she turned and went back inside to find a tray of pastries and fruit placed on a dresser for her.
The fruit soured in her mouth and the pastries seemed stale, but Toomay ate it, forced it down, and crawled back into the bed. Pulling the comforter up under her chin, Toomay tried to lose herself under it. Tried to crawl into her cocoon and never come out.

~<*><*><*>~

Eighteen days. Eighteen days Auggi had been stuck with this damnable man. Not to mention Lisbeth as well. Auggi truly thought that she would go mad. It had only taken five days for them to reach Chicoten. Yet Eeran had had the slave auctions shut down in an attempt to catch Toomay on her way back from the mines in Unabid. Fortunately, the local black market slave masters had been scared off of Chicoten’s market for at least the next month. Unfortunately, that meant Auggi and Lisbeth were stranded with Niron and his gang of outlaws.
Now Auggi sat in the corner of a Chicoten tavern, her wrists bound in front of her, and her blue-green eyes smoldering as she glared at Niron from across the room. He and his men were laughing obnoxiously, drinking their ale and eating their dinner as she and Lisbeth watched from the dirt floor, hungry and sore.
Auggi had been weighing her options these past few weeks. She had had no opportunity to escape, not if she was going to bring Lisbeth with her, which she supposed she should. Niron had shown no interest in selling them, or keeping them, for that matter. He couldn’t just keep them around, could he? He was a thief lord, he thrived off illegal business. And they had been weighing him down for a while now. He had to be getting restless. Auggi knew his men were. The way they eyed her, the way their voices, low and greedy, interrupted her thoughts and sent the hair on the back of her neck prickling in warning. Auggi shivered and shifted on the dirt floor. There had to be a way of getting to Niron. Convincing him of letting them go, or bringing them to Tatorak.
She waited patiently as the men drank, their words slurring and their movements becoming even more lethargic. Lisbeth had fallen asleep, leaning her head against Auggi’s shoulder and murmuring in her dreams. The older girl ignored her as she watched the men. There had to be a weakness somewhere.
Finally, the group pushed their chairs away from the heavy wooden table, knocking over a few mugs before they stumbled towards Auggi and Lisbeth. Sasha, as Auggi had learned was his name, picked up Lisbeth with a grunt, throwing her unceremoniously over one shoulder. Auggi got to her feet before anyone could touch her. She shot them a glare and pushed her way through the door of the tavern out into the dark streets of Chicoten.
“Home, lassie, home,” Niron jeered as he blundered down the road, an arm thrown around one of his men’s shoulder. The men laughed as Auggi continued walking. The only thing that kept her from slipping off into the shadows of an alley was Lisbeth, caught in Sasha’s beastly arm. She swore under her breath as they came to a three-story thatch building with an attached stable. Auggi pounded on the side door with her bound fists, waiting as the innkeeper hurried to open the door.
The innkeeper was an old gypsy, his gray hair pulled back behind a bandana and his tunic patched with fabric from countries beyond the sea. His expression was blank, his misty blue eyes blind, and his face impassive as Auggi slipped past him and up to the stairs to the rooms Niron and his company had rented. He was the ideal innkeeper for the thief lord and his followers; a blind man cannot see what illegal rogues stay within his walls. Not that the law was that strong within the town of Chicoten to begin with.
Auggi collapsed on the straw mattress in the corner of one of the six bedrooms Niron’s company was staying in. She waited as Niron wobbled through the doorway and collapsed on the bed on the opposite side of the room. Sasha came in after him, dropping Lisbeth on the straw mattress and leaving quietly and obediently, though his steps were haphazard and a stupid grin was plastered on his face.
Niron didn’t move from his bed. A faint hope grew within Auggi’s heart as Lisbeth sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and glancing around. Auggi pressed a finger to her lips, signaling Lisbeth to stay quiet. Then she stood up, motioning for Lisbeth to do the same. Carefully, Auggi and Lisbeth crept towards the door just beside Niron’s bed.
“Back on the mattress,” Niron said suddenly, his voice muffled from beneath the blankets.
Auggi scowled and returned to the mattress with Lisbeth, defeated and angry. Even when he was drunk, the thief lord still lived up to his reputation as a clever and heartless master.
Morning brought a bleak sun rising over the horizon; winter was on its way. If Auggi was going to make the twenty-day ride to Tatorak, she had to make it soon before the snows filled every road and every track.
Niron groaned, rolling over on his bed and throwing an arm across his face to shield his eyes from the dull light that poured in from the window. He grumbled something and rubbed his face with his hands before he forced himself to sit up.
“Have a nice sleep?” Auggi snapped, glowering at him from her mattress.
Niron scowled and held his head in his hands.
“Too much ale will do that to you,” Auggi said.
“And too much talking will kill you,” Niron threatened as he stood up and went to the small washing stand, dipping his hands in the basin of water and splashing his face.
Auggi fell silent, watching him as he moved about the room, assembling the furs, packs, clothes, and valuables he had stored here for the past week. Lisbeth stirred on the mattress beside her, mumbling and opening her eyes. She yawned as she pushed herself up to lean against the wall. She glanced around the room before she looked at Auggi.
“Where are we going now?” Auggi asked, not looking at Lisbeth.
“You ask too many questions,” Niron growled as he rolled up a sleeping sack.
“And Toomay didn’t?”
Niron faltered, glancing at Auggi before he returned to his packing. Auggi knew Toomay was a sore spot. Apparently, according to the things Niron’s men had said, the thief lord had shown a certain softness towards her and Keyar, which was why a handful of his men had left and forced Niron to recruit new outlaws. This had given Auggi an idea.
If Niron’s men’s loyalty towards him had been so shaky to be broken by one display of compassion, how much would it take to get this new group of men to desert him? And if Niron really had been soft towards Toomay and Keyar, how much would it take Auggi to convince him to take her and Lisbeth back to Tatorak?
“You know, with winter coming on, you’ll have to settle someplace,” she mused, picking at a piece of straw that had stuck out from the canvas of the mattress. Lisbeth frowned slightly, elbowing Auggi.
“And you have a suggestion?” Niron muttered as he continued to pack.
“Tatorak.”
“Auggi-“ Lisbeth began. Auggi threw her a silencing glare.
Niron straightened, turning to look at his prisoner.
Auggi continued, “Think about it. It’s a huge city with its own network of underground thieves. It has four different districts to space out your loot and men. Where better for a thief lord to winter?”
He narrowed his eyes. “And who lives in Tatorak? The king. If he found me-“
“King Eeran rarely leaves his palace. And I think he has more pressing matters on his hands,“ Auggi paused, “you know how much ransom he’d pay if someone were to kidnap his new princess? How much ransom anyone would pay if you kidnapped Toomay?”
Lisbeth stared angrily at the older girl, her teeth gritted to keep her from saying anything.
Niron barked a laugh. “I’ve never stepped foot in Tatorak. How am I supposed to plan the kidnap of Princess Toomay?”
“With my help,” Auggi said evenly, ignoring Lisbeth’s stare. “Think about it. I grew up in Tatorak, in the palace district no less. I know my way through that palace like the back of my hand.”
“What’s the catch?” Niron asked, his silver eyes sharp with suspicion.
“Ten percent and my freedom.”
Lisbeth let out a strangled growl, eyeing Auggi with hate. “You despicable, lying-“
Auggi kept her gaze firmly on Niron. “Deal?”
A slow grin grew on his lips. “You are evil, Auggi Tanshen.”
“I survive,” Auggi countered.
Niron smirked. “Deal.”

~<*><*><*>~

Kumar looked upon the small town of Kessar with a critical eye. His army was sprawled out behind him along the road from Forest Immul. He glanced up as a shadow passed over him; he could just make out Weiryn’s distant silhouette against the clouds. He looked down to his bay war-horse before his eyes flickered back towards Kessar, watching a group of three riders loping up the road to meet them.
Kessar was nestled in a low valley, the only building not on the flats was an ancient barn, standing alone and proud on a hill at the southern outskirts of the town. The hair along Jeera’s spine bristled as she looked at that barn. It was Boss’s barn, the dog fighting facility that Jeera had been trapped in so long ago. Where she had met Keyar. Where she had met Airies.
“Do you recognize the riders coming up the hill?” Kumar asked her as they stood together at the head of the company.
Jeera looked up at him briefly before she sniffed the air. Her eyes darkened as she said, “One of them is the owner of the dog fighting barn. They called him Boss, I don’t know his real name. The other two I’ve never met.”
Kumar nodded and waited as the three riders came within earshot. They slowed their horses to a walk and approached Kumar hesitantly. One raised his hand in greeting. Kumar nodded to him as they halted in front of him.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Kumar said.
“Morning, sir.” The youngest of the three spoke, his eyes open and kind. The other two were older, one thin as a rail with a nose like a hawk’s, the other a burlier fellow that looked to be a mere farmer.
“What is this?” Boss asked, waving his arm towards the army behind Kumar.
“The Northern Provincial Army,” Kumar replied. “We march for Tatorak.”
“How many are with you?” the farmer asked incredulously.
“Two thousand men are fighting with Natalian forces on the Langarian border. Seven thousand six hundred and twenty men march with me.”
The youngest and the farmer gaped, glancing behind Kumar. Boss watched Kumar with stony eyes. “How many of those soldiers are human?”
The question caught his companions off guard. They hadn’t noticed Jeera standing in the shadow of Kumar’s horse. Now they caught sight of the many wolves standing beneath the other horses, their yellow eyes glowing in the shadows.
“Seven thousand six hundred and twenty including myself,” Kumar repeated, “I have four thousand two hundred wolves here and another fifteen hundred at the Langarian border.”
“Are you Kumar Guylo?” the farmer asked slowly.
“I am.”
“Marching on Tatorak?” the youngest asked.
“Yes.”
Boss had been watching Jeera, his eyes distant as he tried to remember where he had seen her before. Then he narrowed his eyes at Kumar. “Is the boy with you?”
“What boy?” Kumar kept his face innocently blank as Jeera growled lowly.
“Keyar,” Boss pressed. Kumar smothered any hint of surprise or concern.
“I’m sorry, sir, I’ve never met who you speak of. I’m here to recruit as many more soldiers as I can and look for lodgings for my men for a night, seeing as we’ve been on the road for many days and still have a long trek ahead of us. May I be granted an audience with the appointed town elders?”
“We haven’t had town elders for a while, sire,” the younger man said carefully, glancing at Boss.
“Who keeps the peace here, then?”
Boss straightened in his saddle. “I do. My business brings in the most trebs to this town. Without my business, Kessar would be a ghost town.”
“Kessar thrives off an illegal gambling operation?” Kumar challenged, his voice hard as Jeera began to pace in irritation, baring her teeth at Boss.
Both the farmer and the other man blanched as Boss scowled. “We know who you claim to be, Kumar Guylo. The true king. More nonsense than Tatorak knows. You are not welcome here.”
“Is that Kessar’s wishes, or your own?” Kumar’s voice was dangerous as his hand slipped unnoticed to his sword hilt. There was the sound of gravel crunching from behind Kumar as a horse was ridden up beside him. Kin watched the three strangers carefully before he turned to Kumar.
“My lord, the men are getting restless with the forest at their backs.”
Kumar nodded, looking at the three strangers. “Will no one offer us lodging?”
“Your men are welcome to camp on my fields, Highness,” the farmer said, “and my cousin owns the inn just down the road. He will accommodate you happily.”
The younger man, the farmer’s cousin, nodded. “And I will pass the word that you are recruiting down in the town. We have a small militia of two hundred men that have been waiting for action-“
“You two cannot offer the town’s services to a complete stranger-“ Boss began angrily.
“We have a duty to the monarch of our province. It’s the law,” the farmer parried, “you have no say in this. I suggest you leave, Boss.”
Boss glared at him before he whirled his horse around and galloped away down the slope. The group watched him quietly until he was a speck on the road.
“He may be some trouble for you, sire,” Kin said lowly.
“We’ll make sure he doesn’t cause anything,” the farmer said, “I’m Hiram and this is my cousin Eric. We will escort you back to town.”
Kumar smiled gratefully. “Thank you. We can pay for your services.”
Eric shook his head, “My cousin was right when he spoke of the law. It is our duty to provide lodgings for our ruling monarch free of charge. Besides, it is not only Amorak and New Castle that have been suffering from King Eeran’s rule. He has no support here. We believe in the true king prophecy and we are willing to fight to see it come true.”
“I couldn’t ask for anything more,” Kumar said as he clucked to his horse and began riding down towards Kessar.

~<*><*><*>~

The pass where Lyle and Vixum had set up camp was frosted with a touch of snow this morning. The army’s tents crowded against the foot of a mountain for shelter. Already, swords were flashing and armor was clanking against each other as King Dufthak had launched an early morning attack on the camp. His camp had pitched their tents at the foot of another mountain, across a flat expanse of tundra from the Trebizond and Natalian camp. On this expanse of gray exposed rock and scraggly tundra bushes, was where the third battle of the week was taking place.
Dufthak had sent a group of a thousand soldiers mixed with a hundred of his captive bears. Vixum had gone out to meet him with a matching thousand men and three hundred wolves. Now the two forces were locked in battle, their blood staining the tundra and their ragged breaths hanging in a low mist above them that shrouded everything in fog.
Vixum snarled as she leapt onto the back of a bear that had just crushed a soldier beneath his paws. She was thankful for the light fitted wolf armor as the bear threw her off his back and sent her smashing into the tundra. Vixum growled and shot back to her feet, catching her breath as she circled him. Another wolf turned from a dead Langarian soldier and joined Vixum, his blood stained armor creaking slightly. The bear glanced back at him, baring his teeth. Vixum took the opportunity and launched herself at the exposed neck, sinking her teeth into the muddy brown fur and locking her jaws into a death grip. The bear grunted, throwing his head about in an effort to loose the wolfess. The other wolf leapt for the back of the bear’s neck and closed his jaws around it, snapping the spinal cord. The bear crumpled to the ground as Vixum released her hold and hopped out of the way.
“General,” the other wolf panted, “the Langarians are retreating. General Starkin has called us back.”
Vixum nodded and looked around the battlefield. A few stragglers were limping back towards the camp, Vixum could just make out their silhouettes through the fog. The black outline of the dead sent a chill down her spine as she and the other wolf headed back for the camp, their ears ringing in the eerie silence. The fog muffled the wolves’ paw steps as they loped back, Vixum’s thoughts straying to her cousin halfway across the country in Kumar’s army. Romanna could take care of herself, she thought as they loped along the tundra, she would see her when this was all over. When Amorak celebrated under bright fireworks and danced on the grass.
Finally the mist began to thin as they reached the first tents along the foot of the mountain. Vixum parted ways with the other wolf and headed for Lyle’s tent. She ducked under the deerskin flap and entered the tent, immediately slowing to a walk as the heat of a small fire greeted her. It crackled happily, the light smoke winding up and out of a hole in the canvas. Bear skin rugs littered the floor, most of them Langarian warriors. A table stood on one side of the tent, scattered with maps, letters and quills. A cot stood on the opposite side, piled with more furs and skins.
Vixum collapsed by the fire, sinking into the bear skin rugs with a tired sigh. She didn’t even raise her head as the tent flap was pushed aside and a man entered. Lyle Starkin strode over to the she wolf, sitting down beside her and running a hand through his black hair. He had cut it short to free his eyes of it, leaving his brown gaze ready to flicker freely to the next enemy he had to cut down.
“How successful was it?” he asked as he began unclipping the clasps that held Vixum’s armor over her shoulders, back and head.
“From what I saw of the dead, we only lost a few,” Vixum replied tiredly, taking a deep breath as Lyle removed her back plate. Her golden brown coat, flecked with auburn and black streaks, was matted with sweat and dried blood. A few sores had formed along her spine where the metal armor chafed her skin.
“Dufthak sent a group of messengers back to draft more soldiers. We cut them off in the mountains,” Lyle told her as he took off her head and shoulder plates, placing them with the back armor in a pile for one of the pageboys to clean.
“Prisoners?” she asked, raising her head and looking at him.
Lyle shook his head, frowning as he found a set of teeth marks along her foreleg. He stood up and went to his cot, taking a small basin of water and a cloth from a stand at the end of his bed. He came back and sat down, taking he leg gently and cleaning the wound.
“Kumar should be at Kessar by now,” Vixum mused as Lyle began cleaning the dried blood from her fur.
He nodded, “We should be with him.”
“Not until Langaria is defeated.”
“And how much longer is that going to take?” Lyle said, more to himself then her.
“King Ollivander is arriving in a couple of days with another group of reinforcements. We should be able to advance our position in a week, battle them back out of these mountains and onto the flats.”
Lyle didn’t comment, continuing to pull the mats gently from her coat and wipe away the blood. The pair sat there quietly, like they had been together their entire life, like every Trebizondian had once been; incomplete without their wolf companion.

~<*><*><*>~

In Amorak, Garnier lay on her bed, her head resting on her paws, her breathing shallow and halting as she tried to focus on the woman pacing in her bedroom.
“Ollivander is arriving today to gather more reinforcements to join his soldiers and march back to Langaria,” Lydia said as she halted in front of Garnier, folding her arms across her chest to keep herself from swinging them restlessly.
“And you’re concerned about this because?” Garnier asked, her voice soft and quiet. Her health was deteriorating quickly now, and her voice was fading. Her coat that had once been a rich cream had faded from gray to snow white, losing its luster and smoothness.
“They already have six thousand men at the border with fifteen hundred wolves. Is the battle there going so poorly that they need more reinforcements?”
“It’s a precaution, Lydia,” Garnier assured, “they’ll be beginning to push the Langarians out of the mountain passes and back into the tundra. The more soldiers they have, the more discouraged the Langarians will be to continue fighting us.”
“I know,” Lydia sighed, stroking her braid of long auburn hair that hung off her shoulder. She looked at the bookshelves that lined Garnier’s quarters before she looked back at the she wolf. “I’m sorry, Garnier. I worry too much when Kumar’s not here. Is there anything I can get for you?”
The she wolf shook her head slightly. “Go await King Ollivander. We must show him the utmost respect and gratitude. Without him, we might all be dead.”
Lydia nodded and left the room, hurrying down the stone corridor until she came to a flight of stairs that wound down to the palace entrance hall. She crossed the marble floor slowly, her knee high, deerskin boots padding softly against the tiles. She wore hunting breeches and a heavy winter tunic. With Kumar away, she had no time for pretty dresses and fancy dinners.
Two palace guards bowed to her as they pulled open the great oak doors. Lydia smiled at them before she stepped out into the cobblestone courtyard. The high stone walls that surrounded the palace entrance usually held blossoming vines, but the vines had dried up in the cool weather, becoming brittle and winter ridden. Lydia looked around the courtyard, overseeing the preparations for Ollivander’s arrival carefully. Men bustled about hauling food from wagons into the kitchen door that was tucked away in the corner of the courtyard.
The clattering of hooves grew in the distance and shouts from men and wolves positioned on top of the palace walls caught Lydia’s attention. She took a few steps towards the front gate of the palace walls. Then a party of around twenty men rode through the gate, their horses snorting as they came to a halt before Lydia. “Queen Lydia, I presume,” one of the men said, bowing in his saddle. He wore a thin circlet of gold over his black and gray hair.
“King Ollivander,” Lydia smiled, curtsying, “I welcome you to Amorak. I have assembled a force of seven hundred men but that is all we can safely spare at the moment.”
Ollivander nodded, his amber eyes sweeping about the courtyard, “I have a thousand men camped at the foot of the city. If it’s agreeable, we’ll leave tomorrow morning.”
“Certainly. Please dismount and come inside for a rest. I’ll have my men tend to your horses.”
The Natalians thanked her as they dismounted, handing the reins of their mounts to the stable boys that had rushed up from the side of the courtyard. They followed the Amorak queen inside, examining the palace with curious eyes as she led them to one of the only dining halls with a view of the city. They sat down at the long oak table, Lydia at the head of the table and King Ollivander at her right.
“Any news from Kumar?” Ollivander asked as servants came forward with hot drinks and bread. Lydia waited until they had set the food down before each of Ollivander’s company before she replied.
“No news yet. He should be arriving in Kessar today,” Lydia said, masking her concern with a careful expression. “News from the Langarian border?”
Ollivander nodded, taking a sip from the mug of hot ale before he said, “We’ll be advancing sometime next week. Dufthak isn’t as organized as we thought he was, he’s losing ground and soldiers quickly.”
“A drunk old fool, he is.” One of Ollivander’s men put in.
“An enemy drunk can sometimes be more dangerous than an enemy sober,” Lydia said quietly, “they can be more restless, more risky and-“
“More irrational, which is oft’ what is needed to win a war.” Ollivander finished the old war proverb for her with a gentle smile. “Don’t worry, my Queen. Dufthak is not clever enough to win this. It will be over within the month.”
Lydia sighed as she gingerly tore the small loaf of nutbread in half, offering half to Ollivander as she placed the other half on her plate. Ollivander thanked her as he took it and tore a piece off, chewing on it slowly, savoring the taste of fresh bread.
“You’re asking a wife not to worry about her husband, my lord. You must realize the impossibility of that,” Lydia said before she took a small bite of her nutbread.
“I do,” the king said, “and that is why we are riding at first light because as soon as Langaria is secured, we will be riding to join Kumar in Tatorak, I promise.”
Lydia smiled, watching King Ollivander and his men eat Trebizondian food gratefully. She ate in silence with them, feeling reassured that the war would turn out for the better.

~<*><*><*>~