Return of the Ancients

Chapter 41 Not All Can Be Honourable

The figure moved silently along the cobbled street. It wore no armour or clothing of any type, and if it had stepped out of the shadows, the moonlight would have shone on a coat of dark fur.

As it made its way to the edge of the stone channel that carried the stream through the castle, another, older figure emerged from the gloom.

‘A Wolfen without clothes — either you go to meet your love, or you do not wish to have your family crest seen by others. Which is it, young Wolfen?’ The older figure stepped closer. ‘Ah, Bergborr of the house of Bergrinne.’

Bergborr straightened, but kept one hand behind his back. ‘Vulpernix.’ He bowed. ‘Lurking in the shadows could get one into trouble.’

‘Only with those who look for trouble. You haven’t answered my question.’

Bergborr nodded. ‘I go to meet Eilif.’

Vulpernix laughed softly. ‘She would rather marry a Lygon than be in your embrace.’ The old Wolfen lowered one of his hands to the hilt of his sword. ‘If I was a traitor, I might be tempted to give an enemy a way into the castle. Perhaps… by unlocking the river gates?’

Bergborr bared his teeth and growled. ‘You dare accuse me? It is your own plan of which you speak. Besides, Panterran will never go near water.’

Vulpernix nodded. ‘That is very true. But unfortunately for the kingdom, we are not just at war with the Panterran. Everyone knows the Lygon have no such fear of water. You are cunning, Bergborr — but do not take me for a fool.’

Vulpernix drew his sword, pointing at the chest of the younger Wolfen. ‘I have been watching you for days. You slip out to meet with the Panterran. I know the secret meeting places, for I have used them too. I know those creatures better than you, young fool. I feed them useless information, and watch for it to be used to the detriment of their accursed Panterran queen. You also deliver them Wolfen knowledge, but it is solely for your own betterment, and to the detriment of our great race.’

Bergborr lifted his chin. ‘Not all Panterran are as you believe, there are…’

Vulpernix suddenly leaned forward. ‘Fool! What is it you think you will accomplish? They don’t make deals with Wolfen — they use them, and then crush them, as they surely will do to you… and the Princess Eilif.’

Bergborr fell to his knees and reached out his hand, beseeching the older Wolfen noble, ‘You are right, and I am a fool, and perhaps made more so by love. Do you know what it is like to love another, who barely knows you exist? What it is like to be the perfect suitor, but then be scrubbed from your love’s consciousness by a creature that shouldn’t even exist? If I am a fool for love, then I am one rendered deaf, dumb and blind to everything and anything but that love.’ He shook his head. ‘Perhaps it is a sickness.’

Bergborr beat his chest with one hand, punishing himself, over and over, his face a mask of humiliation and sorrow. Vulpernix kept his sword up, the point only a few hand spans from the young Wolfen’s torso.

‘Love makes fools of some, and heroes of others. Get up.’ Vulpernix watched as the young Wolfen’s hand beat his chest again harder, and he made a sound of disgust deep in his throat, at the dark Wolfen’s lack of dignity. He was about to order Bergborr to his feet again when on the next motion, instead of the hand striking his body, it shot out and grabbed the tip of the sword. The razor sharp edge would have bitten deeply, but the weapon was locked, only momentarily, in a steel grip.

It was enough.

Bergborr gritted his teeth from the pain, and stared into the old Woflen’s eyes as he spoke. ‘But if there is a chance for that love, then would I not be a greater fool not risking all for it?’ He lunged forward, swinging his other arm up from behind his back, the full length of the metal key protruding between his knuckles. The blow struck Vulpernix in the neck, piercing deeply, and crushing his windpipe so that no sound other than a strangled hiss fell from his gaping mouth.

Bergborr whispered into Vulpernix’s ear, ‘What do I hope to accomplish, old fool? I do not just hope; I will accomplish Grimvaldr’s downfall, and in his place will rise King Bergborr, with Queen Eilif at my side. The king believes the Panterran can never be made into our allies — but he’s wrong. I’ve already done it.’

Vulpernix looked up to the sky, to the tiny pinpoints of light, which he knew to be the candlelight from Valhalla’s golden hallways. He’d be there soon.

A final thought drifted across his mind as his single clear eye began to cloud over. Sorry, my king. I have failed you. May Odin give you luck and strength on the morrow.

Vulpernix sped to Valhalla.

Bergborr slipped over the side of the bank, dragging the old Wolfen’s body with him. He paddled silently to where the river flowed into the arched, gated tunnel. Sucking in a few deep breaths, he ducked below the surface, dragging the body with him.

The slight murmur of the river masked the sound of heavy, ancient iron gates being unlocked and forced open.

Later, Bergborr would tie a length of dark cloth to a flagpole on the highest turret of the castle — that would be the signal. His job would then be done.