The White Wolf (Half-Breed Book 1) (23 page)

“You're damn right we will,” Varg said calmly.

They tread through the dark corridor until it led them to a door. The two quietly crept towards the door and heard terrified voices inside. A crack in the door allowed them to look through and see the entire scene without alerting anyone inside.

Two men, one of whom was holding his injured arm, a woman, and two young girls huddled together while a handful of cultists patrolled the room.

“Please . . . don't hurt my family,” the injured man said as he tightened the blood-stained sheet around his arm to control his bleeding.

“Father!” a young girl cried.

Varg then realized that the injured man was King Reman, and he assumed the other man who knelt by him was Duke Rainald.

“I would advise that you make your daughter hold her tongue before I cut it off,” a cultist spat.

“Please spare them! You can kill me if you wish!” Reman cried.

“No one will harm you again while I still breathe,” Duke Rainald said boldly.

Varg wanted to charge in, but he knew it would be too risky with the hostages at risk. He looked for some kind of clue as to what he could do, then saw that only one cultist stood near the royal family.

Varg turned to his half-elf comrade and whispered, “Milea, if you take out that cultist near the hostages, do you think you can run over there fast enough to protect them?”

“Of course,” Milea said with pride.

“As soon as the others turn their backs, loose your arrow.”

Milea nocked an arrow and pointed it through the crack in the door. She looked at Varg and signaled that she was ready. In response, he nodded her way, at which point she loosed the arrow and charged through the doors. Milea charged full speed to aid the royal family while Varg ran to cover her and keep the cultists' attention on him. Fortunately it worked, for the cultists now aimed their weapons at him.

Varg stared daggers at the cultists and said, “Where's Jin?”

“The Serpent will be along momentarily. He has to decide the fate of the royal family after all,” the lead cultist said.

“Jin won't live long enough to make the decision,” Varg declared.

“We will see about that,” the cultist said.

Without another word the cultists charged at Varg, who released a gust of sharp icicles through the air with a swing of his axe. The ice struck several of the cultists and shattered against the wall into small, bloody pieces, but most of the cultists were still standing and charged again. This time, Varg allowed them to get within close range before he swung again. Frost Fang glided through the air as the closest cultist rolled to avoid the enormous strike, then attempted to counter Varg during his back swing. The cultist was met by an arrow from Milea, but it only slowed him down. Varg picked up the slack and attacked him again, and this time he didn't miss.

Frost Fang's larger blade met the cultist right on his neck and beheaded the cultist before Varg swung yet again. He charged forward and brought the weapon down, then up again, and from side to side before he finally left the throne hall nothing but a bloody mess that was once a handful of Shadow Hand cultists.

In the midst of the carnage, the royal family huddled in awe and fear of the White Wolf's might.

“By the gods . . .” The Duke whispered.

Milea turned to the royals and said, “Come with me. I will bring all of you to safety.”

The royals heeded the half-elf's command and followed her to the door. Milea helped Duke Rainald carry King Reman out of the room, and Milea gave an assuring look to Varg, who stayed behind to wait for Jin.

Varg took a deep breath, then gazed around the empty room. His heart beat rapidly, though it was more out of anticipation than anxiety. He finally looked up and shouted, “Jin, where are you hiding, coward? Your followers have fallen before me. It's time to face me!”

After a moment of echoing silence, a familiar and all too eerie voice came from behind Varg, “Then turn around.”

CHAPTER 21

VARG TURNED SHARPLY in the direction of Jin's voice and witness him materialized from the shadows. The Serpent sat upon the throne with one leg crossed over the other and remarked, “You are quite loud, you know. It is the middle of the night.”

“I'm in no mood for your games, Jin,” Varg spat.

Jin calmly stood from the throne and replied, “My my, aren't we touchy? I had to get you to listen Varg, and this was the only way.”

Varg's breathing halted when he realized what Jin had just said. Once he caught his breath again, he said, “You mean to tell me that the capture of the royal family, the countless lives lost tonight, and the needless bloodshed of your own followers was all so that you could lure me here?”

“You are a stubborn one,” Jin mused, “so forgive me if I needed a little leverage to get your attention. Besides, I never intended to allow the royal family to live. As I'm sure you already know, I have plans to place a much more cooperative king on the throne.”

“So you made Greenwood lead me here, then?” Varg asked.

“Yes, but the poor fool had no idea he was doing my bidding. I had long since realized he was unworthy, so I made sure the information leaked to him and sure enough, he ran off to seek your help like a little swine,” Jin explained.

“With all this carnage and terrorizing, you'd better have a good reason to talk to me,” Varg warned.

“Oh but I do, Varg,” Jin said.

“Then what is it?” Varg pressed.

“You already know what I want,” Jin said.

“I already told you that I'm not joining you,” Varg shouted.

“Now Varg, you haven't even heard my speech,” Jin said.

“All you do is hurt people for your own selfish gain, and I want no part in it except to stop you.”

“Selfish?” Jin asked, his calm demeanor suddenly turned violent. “I am not the selfish one here, Varg. Our people do nothing but spread the truth to people who will listen. Those we kill are simply the ones who get in the way of our destiny. We strive every day to aid in the arrival of the Dawn so that all those who are worthy can live in paradise with no strife, sorrow, or fear.”

“Get over yourself,” Varg spat.

“You and your comrades are all like the others who have stood in our way. You're all nothing but arrogant, worthless, and ignorant fools who fight what they can't hope to understand simply because they fear it!” Jin yelled.

“My friends are the most selfless people I have met. They fight to protect what they love and cherish!”

Jin scoffed and took a step forward. “Your friends only fight because it's the most convenient for them. If Milea hadn't been framed for murder, she would have nothing to do with the Shadow Hand or you. Oliva and Conley only fight because of their warped sense of justice. Erril fights with you because she has nothing else, and Tain is only driven by his desire for coin.

“And then there is you,” Jin now smirked again. “You, Varg, are the worst of all. You love the thrill of battle, the sound an enemy makes with his throat slit, the bubbling of a burning man's skin, and the screams when your axe freezes a man alive. The blood of battle is all you live for. No matter what, it will always call you back.”

Varg wanted to call Jin a liar, but the more his words sunk in, the more truth Varg found to them. He found himself thinking back to the day all of this became reality, and the pit of his stomach churned when he could smell the blood again.

“Your power is sensational, Varg. If you would allow it, I can teach you to put your skills to better use. No more killing and capturing for money. No more living on the battlefield. You can live and use your battle skills for the sake of those who would not only appreciate it, but praise! You can live to see the Dawn and put these selfish masses to eternal slumber.”

Varg paused, trying to think of some way to argue, but all he could sum up was, “It doesn't matter why we're fighting you. The Shadow Hand is responsible for countless murders and must pay for it, no matter who enacts the justice. I owe it to my friends and loved ones to put a stop to you and your cult.”

“Loved ones?” Jin said curiously. For a moment, Jin looked as though he were thinking on Varg's words, but then he smiled again and said, “You mean people like Treasa?”

Varg's heart nearly stopped. “How . . .?”

To his further shock, Jin laughed at Varg's reaction. “How do I know about your lost love? It matters not. What matters is the task at hand, and she will prove to be the key to your enlightenment.”

“You leave Treasa out of this! She has nothing to do with our fight!”

“That's where you're wrong. She is a shining example of what happens when the thrill of blood lust calls to you.”

Varg's blood began to boil. “Shut it . . .”

“Oh now Varg, you should learn to control that temper. I think we both know what happens when you let your temper get the best of you,” Jin replied.

Varg smashed Frost Fang onto the stone floor, shattering bits of pebble everywhere, and spat, “You know
nothing
of me!”

“Oh but I do, Varg. I know that you are a battle-driven beast. You cannot deny what you did,” Jin said.

“I don't deny it . . . I . . .”

“You run from it, you try to forget it, but no matter what you do, the memory will haunt you until the day you die,” Jin taunted.

Varg didn't understand why, but his head soon became clouded and his vision darkened. He fought it through the pounding pain in his head, but all he could see was the same nightmare he'd had for the past three hundred years.

It had been a hard journey, but Varg finally had the coin he needed to build a proper home for Treasa. With jingling pockets full of hard-earned gold, Varg trotted into Wild Valley with a smile on his face and his heart yearning to see his love. He ran up to Treasa's home, but her mother told him she went to wait for him “in the place where it all began”. Varg knew all too well where that was, so he went to the outskirts of the village to Treasa's secret clearing.

He found Treasa waiting there, and her face lit up when she saw him and his heart leapt.

“I have something to ask you, Treasa,” Varg said, and he was sure she knew exactly what he meant.

Before he could finish, however, he noticed something behind Treasa that made his heart nearly stop. Two strange man ran up behind Treasa and they both grabbed hold of her arms. She shrieked, but before Varg could run to her aid, he too was apprehended two more strange men. Despite his strength, Varg could not break their firm hold on him. He panicked when he thought of what might happened to Treasa if he couldn't break free, and that fear turned to reality when an all too familiar face stepped in front of him.

“It's been a while, hasn't it Varg?”

Cyrus, the bandit leader that Varg left for dead more than two years ago, stood before him and stared him in the eyes.

Varg gasped for the right words to say, but could only manage, “How did—”

“How did I survive? Well to be truthful, it wasn't easy given the circumstances you left me in,” Cyrus said. He then held up his right arm, which was amputated in the middle of the forearm. Varg remembered how he'd severed the bandit's arm during their battle, and Cyrus had apparently cauterized the wound, which left burn scars in it's place.

Cyrus smirked. “You ruined everything for me, and you made the horrible mistake of leaving me alive. Now, I'm going to take everything from you.”

The color drained from Varg's face when Cyrus turned towards Treasa. He tried to beg, protest, or anything, but no sound came from his mouth. It wasn't until Cyrus brushed his good hand across Treasa's trembling shoulder that Varg finally found his voice.

“GET AWAY FROM HER!” he bellowed.

Cyrus ignored his screaming, but said, “You have good taste in women, I'll give you that. I've always had a fondness for women with red hair.”

“No . . .” Varg pleaded.

Cyrus chuckled, then said, “Leave the begging to your woman. She's going to be doing plenty of it.”

As Cyrus spoke his last words, the two men holding Treasa forced her to the ground and Cyrus began to climb on top of her. The love of Varg's life screamed in terror as Cyrus began to put his hands on her. Varg thrashed violently as he tried desperately to break free, but all it did was cause the bandits to laugh even more.

Then something inside Varg broke free, and all he could smell was the blood of the men around him and all he could hear was the beating of their hearts. He could feel an icy stream traveling from his shoulders down to his fingertips. Before anyone even knew what was happening, the hands of the bandits holding onto Varg began to form ice on the surface of their skin. The ice spread and thickened so that they couldn't move, despite their feeble attempts to release their prisoner.

The blood curdling screams of the bandits alerted Cyrus and the other two to what happened and they halted their assault on Treasa just before they began to disrobe her. They charged after the savage beast while Treasa took the opportunity to flee from their grasp, but it was too late for their comrades. The ice had covered their entire bodies, and with a swift, inward jerk of his arms, Varg ripped their frozen arms off and freed himself of their icy grasp.

Varg lunged for the attackers full force and struck with his bare hands. He ripped, clawed, and smashed every single body part he could reach on the bandits. With the third and fourth beaten to death and the first two bleeding beyond recovery, Varg set his sights on Cyrus.

The bandit leader could only face him with a single sword, and though he tried to maintain his fearless demeanor, Varg could see the utter terror in his eyes. He swung and disarmed the wretch, causing him to fall backwards. That was when Varg gave Cyrus a twisted, primal smile, and the bandit leader knew then and there that he had made his final mistake.

Cyrus screamed as Varg tackled him and began to dig his hands straight into his chest. With no concept of mercy, Varg ripped Cyrus apart from the inside out and enjoyed every second of it. The bandit begged for mercy with the little breath he had left, but it wasn't long before Varg had crushed his throat. Varg continued his savage assault until Cyrus lay still and the life left his eyes.

In the wake of the gore, Varg's fury slowly subsided. He stood and searched about for Treasa and was relieved that she wasn't harmed, but he could still see the fear in her eyes.

Varg took a step closer to her and gently said, “It's all right, Love. They're dead.”

Treasa then found the courage to move as she backed away from Varg. To his shock, she shook her head and stuttered, “S-stay back!”

Varg stopped, unable to understand what was going on. He was about to turn around to see if she was pointing at another bandit who came out of hiding, but it didn't take it long to realize she was speaking to him. Varg didn't understand at first, but when he caught a glimpse of his hands, his heart sank to the pit of his gut.

The hands that once held Treasa in the happiest of moments were now stained with the blood of multiple men and his fingers had become claws during his fit of rage. Varg's eyes then fell to the ground that was now littered with the torn, frozen, and withered flesh that was once five, breathing men. Their bodies were unrecognizable due to the carnage he had delivered unto them, and all he could think of was what kind of beast could do such a thing. It was then that he caught sight of a nearby pond. He tread through the sea of bodies to the water's edge and peeked at his reflection.

The thing he saw was no human. The whites of Varg's eyes were now black and his face contorted to resemble some kind of demonic creature he never wanted to meet. His nose was wrinkled and as he opened his mouth to let out a scream, he noticed sharp fangs protruding from his gums.

Varg turned to Treasa with pleading eyes and said almost as a growl, “Treasa, please, this isn't me.” It was then that he made the mistake of trying to get closer.

“NO! Don't come near me!” Treasa cried as she turned and ran away from Varg and disappeared into the wood beyond the clearing.

Varg tried to run after her, but all his legs would allow him to to was collapse to the ground and stare at the last place he saw her. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but it would never be enough to wash away the blood stains. “Treasa! TREASA!”

Varg opened his eyes and all of the fear and dread he'd felt in that moment returned. He lost his breath and dropped to his hands and knees. He fought back tears but shamefully lost the battle.

“It's all coming back to you, isn't it? You're experiencing the same fear you had that day and for many years to come, the greatest fear you've ever known: the fear of yourself,” Jin said.

Varg's body became weak and he finally broke down. Jin was absolutely right, and he knew it. All the drifting and wandering was simply Varg's way of escaping what had happened. He avoided emotional involvement at every turn, but it always tempted him back.

“You don't have to be afraid anymore. You possess great power that you don't know how to use. Had you known then, it wouldn't have cost you the love of your life. You should never regret embracing your bloodline, for I can help you control your darkness,” Jin said. The Serpent held his hand out to Varg and added, “Join me, and you will never have to live in fear again.”