A Clan of Novaks
Page 30
“Yes,” he replied. “Bastien Blackhall.”
Bastien. So that’s his name.
“Where did they go?” Xavier asked.
“I do not know,” the guard replied.
“There must be somebody here who knows,” Micah pressed. “I would be extremely grateful to you if you could allow us inside.”
The guard chewed on his lower lip, but then with a grunt, he nodded. “Very well. Perhaps our ruler would like to speak with you about the matter. I will see if His Highness will grant you a reception.”
We bundled inside the grand entrance area before the guard led us up a stone staircase, along winding corridors illuminated by torchlight, until we emerged in another vast chamber. It was some kind of royal court, based on the rich furnishings and two empty thrones on a raised platform at the other end.
“Wait here,” the guard said.
We wandered about the hall a bit, gazing around at the unusual tapestries. I found myself gravitating toward Heath as he approached the thrones.
Then the guard returned with another man, a tall, slim man with light blond hair, crested with a crown. He wore an earth-colored waistcoat, and other than his crown, he was not exactly dressed like royalty.
“I introduce to you our ruler, Detrius Blackhall,” the guard said with a flourish.
Detrius’ gaze was curious as it moved over us. “You have come to inquire about my cousin?” he asked.
“Bastien is your cousin?” Micah asked.
Detrius’ face darkened. “I hate to admit it, but yes. He is my scoundrel cousin.”
Scoundrel?
“He was here just a matter of hours ago with a human, correct?” Micah went on.
“You are correct,” Detrius said heavily. “Alas, he would not stay with us longer so we could talk sense into him. May I ask why you are so bent on finding them?”
“She is my daughter,” Vivienne breathed. “Talk sense into him about what?”
“About insisting he keep your daughter with him, even though she is clearly innocent. He has made her his concubine.”
A chill ran down my spine. Xavier and Vivienne blanched.
“Oh, no,” Vivienne raised a palm to her mouth. “No.”
“I suspected she might be the daughter of a hunter, and the last thing we need is for those men to come after us. He would not listen, and fled with her during the night.”
“We have to leave,” Xavier said. “Now.”
“Can you confirm which direction they went?” my grandmother asked.
“Across the meadows and into the woods,” Detrius replied. “If you find him, would you be so courteous as to drop back this way and inform me?”
“We can’t promise that,” Micah said. “But thank you for your help.”
“Understandably,” Detrius said. “You know, it could be a long journey. Can I equip you with some water? Food?”
We all looked at each other. More water would not be a bad idea. Heath and Jeriad drank a ton.
“We will accept water if you can provide it quickly,” my grandfather replied.
“Certainly,” he said, before addressing the guard: “Come.”
They left the room and the guard returned within ten minutes, carrying copper flasks of water. He handed them to us and we stuffed them into our backpacks.
“His Highness wishes to reiterate it would be wise to find your daughter as quickly as possible.”
Without another moment’s delay, the witches vanished us from the court.
Victoria
Bastien’s estimation of a day of travel turned out to be roughly accurate. It took us about a day and a half. We had a few scares along the way—all of them involving hearing the screech of a mutant, or spotting one flying overhead in the sky—but other than being forced to pause for a while here and then, we did not meet with any major obstacles.
Early in the evening the next day, we had arrived at another mountain range—a black mountain range. The home of the Northstones, according to Bastien. During the journey, he had explained to me a little about their history, and the real reason they were on friendly terms. It was because of an arranged marriage that had taken place several decades ago, between Bastien’s aunt on his mother’s side and one of the Northstone chiefs. Although the two packs remained living far away from one another, the marriage had made them allies, or as close to allies as wolves of separate tribes could get.
As we neared a large gaping tunnel at the base of the mountain—the entrance to the Northstone lair, I could only assume—I found myself contemplating how strange it was to have an entire realm populated by the same race and yet hardly any of them were even on speaking terms with each other. Perhaps this was one reason why the hunters had set up here first. Then again, I did not know if The Woodlands was the first place they had set up. It was simply the first one we had discovered.
Arriving outside the tunnel, Bastien set me down and requested I hand him another set of clothes. I did so, and he wandered off for about a minute to transform back into a man and dress. He returned to me in his fresh clothes and then lowered himself before me, allowing me to climb onto his back. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and then enveloped my long legs around his waist, wincing slightly as my ankle brushed against his torso. At least this was more comfortable than being on his wolf back.
We entered the tunnel, which wound in a semicircle through the base of the mountain. As we reached the end of it, we were met with a wide oaken door.
Bastien. So that’s his name.
“Where did they go?” Xavier asked.
“I do not know,” the guard replied.
“There must be somebody here who knows,” Micah pressed. “I would be extremely grateful to you if you could allow us inside.”
The guard chewed on his lower lip, but then with a grunt, he nodded. “Very well. Perhaps our ruler would like to speak with you about the matter. I will see if His Highness will grant you a reception.”
We bundled inside the grand entrance area before the guard led us up a stone staircase, along winding corridors illuminated by torchlight, until we emerged in another vast chamber. It was some kind of royal court, based on the rich furnishings and two empty thrones on a raised platform at the other end.
“Wait here,” the guard said.
We wandered about the hall a bit, gazing around at the unusual tapestries. I found myself gravitating toward Heath as he approached the thrones.
Then the guard returned with another man, a tall, slim man with light blond hair, crested with a crown. He wore an earth-colored waistcoat, and other than his crown, he was not exactly dressed like royalty.
“I introduce to you our ruler, Detrius Blackhall,” the guard said with a flourish.
Detrius’ gaze was curious as it moved over us. “You have come to inquire about my cousin?” he asked.
“Bastien is your cousin?” Micah asked.
Detrius’ face darkened. “I hate to admit it, but yes. He is my scoundrel cousin.”
Scoundrel?
“He was here just a matter of hours ago with a human, correct?” Micah went on.
“You are correct,” Detrius said heavily. “Alas, he would not stay with us longer so we could talk sense into him. May I ask why you are so bent on finding them?”
“She is my daughter,” Vivienne breathed. “Talk sense into him about what?”
“About insisting he keep your daughter with him, even though she is clearly innocent. He has made her his concubine.”
A chill ran down my spine. Xavier and Vivienne blanched.
“Oh, no,” Vivienne raised a palm to her mouth. “No.”
“I suspected she might be the daughter of a hunter, and the last thing we need is for those men to come after us. He would not listen, and fled with her during the night.”
“We have to leave,” Xavier said. “Now.”
“Can you confirm which direction they went?” my grandmother asked.
“Across the meadows and into the woods,” Detrius replied. “If you find him, would you be so courteous as to drop back this way and inform me?”
“We can’t promise that,” Micah said. “But thank you for your help.”
“Understandably,” Detrius said. “You know, it could be a long journey. Can I equip you with some water? Food?”
We all looked at each other. More water would not be a bad idea. Heath and Jeriad drank a ton.
“We will accept water if you can provide it quickly,” my grandfather replied.
“Certainly,” he said, before addressing the guard: “Come.”
They left the room and the guard returned within ten minutes, carrying copper flasks of water. He handed them to us and we stuffed them into our backpacks.
“His Highness wishes to reiterate it would be wise to find your daughter as quickly as possible.”
Without another moment’s delay, the witches vanished us from the court.
Victoria
Bastien’s estimation of a day of travel turned out to be roughly accurate. It took us about a day and a half. We had a few scares along the way—all of them involving hearing the screech of a mutant, or spotting one flying overhead in the sky—but other than being forced to pause for a while here and then, we did not meet with any major obstacles.
Early in the evening the next day, we had arrived at another mountain range—a black mountain range. The home of the Northstones, according to Bastien. During the journey, he had explained to me a little about their history, and the real reason they were on friendly terms. It was because of an arranged marriage that had taken place several decades ago, between Bastien’s aunt on his mother’s side and one of the Northstone chiefs. Although the two packs remained living far away from one another, the marriage had made them allies, or as close to allies as wolves of separate tribes could get.
As we neared a large gaping tunnel at the base of the mountain—the entrance to the Northstone lair, I could only assume—I found myself contemplating how strange it was to have an entire realm populated by the same race and yet hardly any of them were even on speaking terms with each other. Perhaps this was one reason why the hunters had set up here first. Then again, I did not know if The Woodlands was the first place they had set up. It was simply the first one we had discovered.
Arriving outside the tunnel, Bastien set me down and requested I hand him another set of clothes. I did so, and he wandered off for about a minute to transform back into a man and dress. He returned to me in his fresh clothes and then lowered himself before me, allowing me to climb onto his back. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and then enveloped my long legs around his waist, wincing slightly as my ankle brushed against his torso. At least this was more comfortable than being on his wolf back.
We entered the tunnel, which wound in a semicircle through the base of the mountain. As we reached the end of it, we were met with a wide oaken door.
